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little-ideas · 3 years

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Once Upon a Fantasy

Invitation to The Mystic Dance hosted by @little-butterfly-writes here

This was so much fun to do! Thank you for having me :3 I started writing and the story just took on a life of its own resulting in my longest piece yet ^^;

I know I don’t usually write OCs, but this story centers around Vanderwood and my CMC Ao (though Saeyoung also features a bit). The setting is supposed to be in an older time, but I have no sense of history’s fashions, technologies, and music, so please just consider this either a fantasy world or some hodgepodged amalgamation of decades/centuries

Hope you enjoy! ^ w ^

Lengthened shadows flickered about the fringes of paper, the glow of lantern flame warm yet small in the dawn of night. Said paper was of fine quality but wanting in splendor next to the companion twould respond. The clinking of metal nib against glass dotted silence, followed by the soft scratch of pen on the paper’s surface.

Dear Mister Vanderwood,

the letter began, each character drawn slow and exact, crafted with as much precision their writer could muster. Before her leaned a slate, smudged with chalk and the scribbles of drafted note from which she now copied. Ao much preferred the flow of ink on parchment to the drag of chalk on rock, but paper cost a pretty penny and could not be wasted on the idle ramblings of initial thoughts, so the slate had done until she knew precisely what she would write. She only wished she knew where to send her letters instead of waiting for Saeyoung to take and deliver them; but no matter, such were simply the ways of the rich, she supposed.

Glancing at the box upon her shelf, she wondered when she might receive another letter from the gentleman.

~*~

He came the week the invitations were delivered. Town abuzz and bursting with excitement for the Mint Palace Ball, Ao had nary a hope she might see Saeyoung’s companion once more before the festivities began, yet he had appeared at her door in lieu of his friend.

“Saeyoung’s busy with the dance, then?” Ao questioned, pouring two cups of coffee. “Couldn’t escape with you?”

“He’s under extra watch after sneaking away too many times.” Vanderwood responded.

Ao flinched, had it been her fault? Vanderwood must have noticed for-

“He likes to skip his tasks to play with the town’s strays,” he explained, sipping from the cup she handed him. Ao smiled, where once Vanderwood had hesitated to drink, now he waited no longer.

Taking her own sip, Ao mulled over Vanderwood’s recent tidings. Saeyoung would be unable to visit until after the dance -her cats would be displeased at that for he always brought them delightful treats- and she would be unable to send any letters. A shame, but she understood and selfish she should not be. Not now, for if Saeyoung was busy, then surely her guest must also be, yet he was spending time here, with her.

“Vanderwood,” she began, trying to keep her tone light, “is it really ok to be here? Surely, you must be busy, too.”

At this he grinned, and for the briefest of moments, Ao felt her heart stop.

“Whose work do you think Saeyoung is doing?”

She blinked, answer unexpected. Then, slowly, his words sunk in and Ao, too, began to smile. Then giggle. Then could not help but laugh alongside him, tears dotting the corners of their eyes. Through Vanderwood’s letters and his own boasts, Ao knew that Saeyoung -their energetic, brilliant, rapscallion of a friend- had a habit of absconding to destinations unnamed and, though she knew not what it might be, forcing Vanderwood to do their work instead. How appropriate, then, that Vanderwood act in kind for the busiest event of the year. They both knew Saeyoung would not learn his lesson.

As the laughter lulled and soft silence settled betwixt them, Ao could not help but admire her friend- the ease of his countenance; his acceptance of her “tiny beasts” pawing at his sides -creatures she and Saeyoung adored but he was not particularly fond; the divide between his conversations both oral and written -the former dictated by necessity, the latter far more relaxed. Upon their first meeting, Ao had found Vanderwood to be terse and intimidating, despite Saeyoung’s introduction, but through months of correspondence, she had grown to know him -far more verbose in letter- and thought him endearing. She feared not the silence amongst them anymore.

It was he who spoke first.

“Will you be going to the dance?” His voice startled her, causing her to jump, and he hid his smile behind the rim of his cup.

“Pardon?”

“The Mystic Dance at the Mint Palace, will you be attending?”

Ao paused before responding. She supposed she should, the whole town would be off, the food was sure to be delicious, and she might even perchance to see her two friends; however, people were different in the eyes of society, and she wondered if the night might end what little relations they currently had. An event open to all, free of status on paper, did not mean such conventions would be adhered to in practice. Looking at Vanderwood, though, she shook head of such notions; he and Saeyoung would not do such, and to think as so would despair their reputation. She smiled at him.

“I will if you teach me to dance.”

~*~

The counts had been easy; the closeness, movement, and posture, not so much. Vanderwood had come several times since his last visit, true to his promise of being her instructor, and Ao might have felt bad were it not for the heat flaming her cheeks whenever she recalled Saeyoung’s laughter at her miserable attempts at turning during their last visit (how he escaped, she knew not, only that she pitied the poor soul waiting on him). She would learn, she’d vowed, if only out of spite.

Determined not to become a spectacle again, Ao’s evenings had been filled with enough practice that her head was now constantly counting off 3s, her shoulders held a dull ache, and the furniture had been misplaced for days. Yet as Vanderwood now led her around the room, she had not glanced at her feet and had only stepped on his once. Maybe twice. Alright, three times, but in her defense, she had tripped! Or so she insisted to Saeyoung, whose rapid applause came the moment they separated.

“Marvelous, indeed! Would have thought you a different lass!” He teased.

Ao stuck her tongue at him, and Saeyoung leaned against his friend, arm draped across his forehead. “Forsooth, Mary, our lady doth wound me!”

Vanderwood sighed at their antics, yet his smile betrayed his amusement.

“Perhaps you’d care to dance with the lady?” He gestured to Ao; brow quirked.

“And risk my toes?” Saeyoung gasped, “I’d never!”

“Saeyoung Choi!” Ao shouted, attempting to stomp on his shoes. “You absolute heathen!” She missed and the two began a chase about the room, jerking knees and squashing stones, until Saeyoung ran back towards Vanderwood.

“Help me, Vandy!” He cried. “A demon gives chase!” His attempt to hide was thwarted by Vanderwood’s arms surrounding his own and holding him in place, grin stretched across his face. Saeyoung gasped in mock betrayal -twisting to get out- before slumping forwards and extending a foot in defeat. A firm press upon the top of his shoe and Saeyoung was freed, rejoining his friends’ sides to complete an afternoon of mirth and merriment.

~*~

Laughter echoed down the streets as people clapped and cheered -fiddlers skipped along the cobblestone roads whilst onlooking peddlers tapped rhythms with the boxes of their wares. Shops were closing, but with the dawning of the ball in a few days’ time, taverns opened early, seeking to make coin from their many guests. In town, nary a room twas available at any inn, yet still the folk kept coming.

Parading after the fiddlers, people poured into the streets, bouncing with the beats as they sashayed along towards open spaces. All this Ao and Vanderwood had witnessed through her windows yet remained inside. Now, rocking upon her heels, Ao grabbed Vanderwood’s hand, tugging him towards the door and the festivities beyond.

Initially, Vanderwood had no intention of participating in such jovialities -his latest letter from the week prior apologizing for his previous and most likely continued absence- but Saeyoung had pulled him from his desk, knocked upon Ao’s door, thrust him at her, and vanished within the throngs of people scurrying about. Graciously, she had offered him welcome and rest in her abode, but Vanderwood had caught her gaze frequently flit to the outside merriment. Having arrived unannounced, it would not have done to kept her from whatever plans she may have had, or so he told himself. Truthfully, he, too, wished to join the crowds -the carefree and lively spirits of the townsfolk were always a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of High Society. As Ao sternly told her cats to mind the house and behave, before pulling him with her into the party beyond; however, he wondered if perhaps that were not his only reasoning.

It was not his only reasoning, Vanderwood realized, watching his friend dance about, the fires illuminating her smile as a new tune picked up. He saw her beam when her eyes met his own, then beckon him over, but he shook his head, lifting his goblet. She rolled her eyes and huffed at him, yet quick as her smile had fallen, it returned, and she twirled around once more.

Vanderwood took a swig of drink, attempting to ignore the beat which seemed to thrum louder now in his chest. He should rest while he could -Ao would soon drag him out to join her, of that, he was sure.

True to form, she had sought him out after a few more songs had pass, laughing as she spun and planted her feet firmly in front of him.

“Mary Vanderwood!” She panted, grin undermining her admonishment. “One does not simply turn down an invitation to dance!” Vanderwood merely watched as she struggled to regain her breath.

“Drink?” He offered at last, holding out his cup as the notes of a new song began. He chuckled when Ao frowned at him before downing its contents.

“Well,” she sighed, “one song can wait.” Then, as though realizing what she had just done, stammered a “thank you” and handed back his cup.

When the music began anew, Ao tugged Vanderwood towards the crowd of dancers, weaving betwixt the bystanders, pattering along seemingly as though she had missed not a beat of song. And as she kicked up her skirts and twirled about, pulling him deeper in with her, Vanderwood was glad the fire’s glow concealed his cheeks’ blush.

~*~

Well, tonight was the night. Donning the dress before her, Ao prayed it would be nice enough -what little remnants of her wages she had after necessities and paper, she had saved for the fabric to sew a proper, formal dress. Though simple in design and decoration, the dress fit her well and complemented her complexion -vibrant red to catch the eye, with a silhouette that tapered in towards her waist before flowing out about her once more. Practicing a few steps, Ao found she rather liked the way it fanned around her when she spun.

Against her neck sat not pearls, but a ring -a memento of family long gone- and she gripped it tight, wishing for all to go well. Drawing her cloak about her, invitation in hand, Ao left for a fate unknown.

~*~

Ao blinked once. Twice. Pinched her hand and -ow! - this was real. The gentleman before her -noble of birth, correspondent of the treasured letters she kept within the box upon her shelf, beloved friend- stood now with hand outstretched and crown atop silken, brown locks. He chuckled at her reaction.

“Well?” He asked, nudging her hand. “I believe one does not simply turn down an invitation to dance.”

Timidly, Ao placed her hand in Vanderwood’s, and he pulled her closer -left hand closing around hers, right palm tucked against her back- before leading her about the floor.

“You never told me!” She hissed, gaze flickering to his crown before eyeing those around them. He laughed, a familiar sound in so foreign an environment.

“You never asked.”

Ao frowned, about to retort when they spun and she tripped, stepping on his foot. For a moment, they both froze. Then, slowly, they giggled, chuckled, laughed, roared -voices filling the room, and their eyes with tears. Vanderwood took Ao’s hand once more and continued leading her around the space, and for the first time that day, she relaxed.

And if Saeyoung saw the pink that tinged both their cheeks? No, no he did not.

#mysme #mystic messenger #Vanderwood #mint palace ball #the mystic dance #saeyoung choi #whoo we broke 2k!!! :D #ao is a commoner and vanderwood the king if that needs clarification #oc #vandy may be ooc but he's king and yolo

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specialmindz · 4 years

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”NYEH!!”

“nope! try again bro,” said Sans, smiling with his arms outstretched.

“WHAT DA’ FRIGGIN’ HELL SNAS?! WHY I CAN’T DO DIS?”

“keeeep practicing pappy, you’ll get it! hee hee hee!” He laughed as Papyrus gave him an angry look, probably thinking he was being made fun of, though that really wasn’t the case. Sans had actually been trying to help Papyrus; help him stay Determined so he’d have a better chance of learning his unique Karma attack, which even his own father gave up on quite some time ago, but unfortunately, it seemed like his taunting wouldn’t be enough, as the baby bone’s frustration was beginning to become more and more apparent with each passing failure.

His brother wasn’t a full Wingdings, but he definitely shared their impatience, which was what caused that particular member of the Dingbat family to multitask. If Papyrus didn’t pick up on something as quickly as he liked, he’d soon put it aside for later and move on to something else, and if he couldn’t master the comedian’s Karma technique with his FULL attention, then, well…

“WHY DIS HAPPENING TO ME? DIS AIN’T RIGHT! I’S THE MASTERPIECE, YOU’S THE ROUGHDRAFT! I’S SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER AT ERYTHING!!”

Gaster stood by the Nursery’s doorway observing the two, clipboard in hand, “I believe it may have something to do with his soul’s value…”

“Nyeh?”

“Sans values Integrity above all else, as represented by his soul’s blue coloring. Integrity itself is defined as doing what one believes is the right thing no matter what,” Gaster flipped through the papers attached to his clipboard.

SHIF SHIF!

“Kay’.”

SHIF SHIF SHIF!

“…”

SCRIBBLE SCRIBBLE!

“pfft! dad…”

Gaster stopped writing and looked up from his clipboard to see his son pointing down at Papyrus, who was staring at him with a smile from the floor. “What?”

“Are you’s gonna finish dat thought, or…?

“Hadn’t planned on it. I figured since you’re sooo much smarter and better than everyone else, you could do it yourself-”

“NYEH!” Papyrus tried the Karma attack on Gaster and failed.

“eeeasy lil’ bro…”

“Hatred is not the key Snas.”

CA-THUNK!

Seeing his father leave the Nursery and shut the door behind him, Papyrus’s whined and plopped down on the floor. “Nyeh-haaaa…Daddy went away…”

“that’s probably cause’ you tried to attack him pap.”

“I’s just trying to learn the Caramel…”

“karma, pappy. it’s called the ‘karma’ attack.”

“Kar-ma…?” Papyrus scratched his skull with a tiny hand, feeling as if he’d heard that word before. “Waz karma Snas? Is popcorn?”

“nope. Those are kernals. ‘karma’ is what happens when you either do good or bad things. If you’re a good person, your karma will be good, but if you’re bad…”

“…”

“it *sigh* it’ll be bad pappy. your karma will be bad.”

Could he really not figure that out on his own?

“OOOOHHH! Is soul-glow!”

“soul-glow…?” Now Sans was confused. He hadn’t expected his baby brother to understand what he meant COMPLETELY, but Papyrus had surprised him before with his impressive intellect and “unique” way of thinking. Maybe he had figured out what Gaster meant when he said his integrity played a key role in his attack; Sans certainly hadn’t.

The ability was discovered on accident actually, when he noticed Papyrus about to do something the infant KNEW he wasn’t supposed to be doing…that being climbing on top of their father’s chair and using their computer while it was still online. They were SUPPOSED to wait in the office quietly while their father completed their checkups and put the new information into the computer as the children were no longer allowed in the Medical Ward, possibly due to it being too crowded and idea of allowing his brother into a room full of sick people being the worst one ever. Unfortunately, being impatient to move on to whatever task he had waiting next in line, Gaster had seemingly forgotten to make sure the boys had left the room before him, but no doubt he’d be back once his mistake was realized to yell at his younger sibling.

Lying on the couch and caught between not giving a crap and caring for his little brother, Sans lazily raised a hand and swiped it to the left, pretending to move Papyrus via the psychokinesis he didn’t have.

He did not expect to actually send the baby flying into a cabinet.

“NYEHAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

CRAH-THUMP!

The sound of the cabinet doors splintering and his tiny brother’s body thudding against the wooden back from inside, made Sans wince. Any other infant would be either dead or sporting more than a few broken bones, but Papyrus’s baby formula had something in it that made him stronger and more durable than other newborns. Kicking a broken piece of door, he stomped out of the cabinet, scanning the room with his eyes for the oh-so-funny, soon-to-be dead mother FUCKER who thought they could throw him around like Scrappy Doo.

“WHO DID DAT?! WHO DA’ FEEGIN’ HELL DID DAT?!”

“holy cra-bro are you all right?”

“DAT YOU BOO BOO? WHOEVER DID DAT BETTER COME OUT RIGHT NOW OR THEY GONNA DIE!!”

“i doubt it was napstablook pappy.”

Undaunted, Papyrus ignored his older brother and waited patiently for the perpetrator to come out and admit their crime…but nobody came. He looked around the room once more, his confusion turning into concern upon seeing his lie ignored.

The Blook family were music lovers like himself, this he knew. If they weren’t listening to it, they were dancing or creating it, meaning not a single soul in their family tree was deaf. By that logic, the Verbal Font’s audio hypnosis should have worked on them…so why didn’t anyone appear? Where there more ghost monsters in the Underground? Ones Papyrus didn’t know about? Ones that liked to throw babies?

“Nyeh? NAH! NOOOOOO! DADDYYYY!”

BLOOSH!

Papyrus fired his gaster blaster below him as he felt himself began to rise into the air once more. He had HOPED to hit the legs of whoever was attempting to pick him up, but it only resulted in a small crater forming in the office tile.

“NYEHHHHHHAAAAAAHHHH!!!! DADDYYYYY, SAVE DA’ BABY!!”

“heh heh heh heh…”

“IS NOT FUNNY SNAS! GO GET THE SLEEPY WATER AND SAVE THE BABY!”

“you want me to throw a whole bottle of chloroform on you just to-”

“GET DA’ SLEEPY WATERRRRR!!” Screeched the panicked infant, swinging his fists and kicking his tiny legs wildly.

“iiiii dunno bro, that doesn’t sound safe. chloroform is metabolized into trichloro methanol, which metabolizes into phosgene, and that’s toxic-”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YO’ STINK SCIENCE!!”

“long term effects of inhalation involve cancer, since chloroform is a confirmed carcinogen verified through multiple epidemiological studies, and i know epidemiology is the study of diseases in animals and humans, but our species is hella close baby bro.”

“SNAS!!”

“i don’t really study epidemiology, but you know how dad gets when you get him talking about fonts and science, apparently virus fonts are super dangerous.”

“…”

“i can’t remember what kind of cancer he said you’d get if i gave you too much chloroform, but regardless, i don’t think you should be anywhere near it anyway to be honest. a human baby, possibly even a baby monster would be dead by now if they were in YOUR uh…feet…pajamas. why’re you looking at me like that?”

“…Why your hand up for so long?” asked the baby bones, eyeing his brother suspiciously.

“what? i exercise.”

“Only yo’ mouth. You do dis?”

“nope.”

Sans put his arm down and Papyrus dropped to the floor.

“NYEH!”

“hey! be careful with my little broth-”

“Shut up Snas, I know is you.”

CA-THINK!

“whaaaat? noooo, that was just coincidence baby bro,” said Sans, watching his father walk into the room. The scientist looked once at the broken cabinet and then at the crater Papyrus had made before fixing his glare on the infant.

“I know when you’s lying big Buther.”

“you don’t think it was coincidence? hmm…maybe i’m being framed. what do you think?”

“I think you’s an asshole.”

“i was asking dad.”

Not that he’ll find this impressive, but maybe the mystery will keep him from yelling about the office damage. Though what I REALLY want is to avoid another computer argument. I know he’s gonna accuse Pappy of something, even though HE’S the one who forgot to log off.

…

How DID I do this?

“Sans, what happened?”

“SNAS THROWED THE BABY!”

“SHUT UP PAPYRUS!”

“I highly doubt that.”

“NO, HE DID! HE DID THROW DA’ BABY! SNAS A JEDI!”

“Sans is a what…?”

Speak clearly Papyrus!

“he thinks i threw him into the cabinet even though i didn’t.”

“You really didn’t huh? Well dat’s good big Buther, cause’ if you did, I’d throw you in court! THEN you’d has a reason to raise your hand and lie to eryone…”

“i don’t get it,” said Sans, confused.

“In court they makes you pace yo’ hand on the bib-el and then you raise your other one and-”

“*PFFT!* did you just say ‘bib-el?” He immediately burst out laughing, much to the baby’s annoyance.

“Nyeh? Why you laugh? They not do that no more?”

“It’s pronounced BYE-ble, not ‘bib-el’ Papyrus, and it’s not something you should be reading.”

“Nuh-uh! It’s got the word ‘bib’ in it, so it MUST be for babies! Is the holy book of baes!”

“No.”

“It ’twas written by Jesus and his saints-”

“that part you got right.”

“No, no he didn’t. Moses wrote the Bible Sans. Your brother speaks nonsense as per usual.”

“Nope, it was Jesus all right. Moses made condoms,” said the baby, matter-of-factly.

“Commandments.”

“Condiments.”

“moses invented ketchup?!”

“No child. Papyrus, stop filling your brother’s skull with blather! Our family already has a bad reputation and some people still talk to Sans-”

“Dat’s right big Buther! He turned a whole ocean into ketchup and then made it split apart so he and his peoples could walk across it. Today, is called da’ Red Sea.”

“Shut up Papyrus.”

“cooooool!”

“Yep, he very cool. He from Egypt too, just like da’ baby!”

“Your FONT is from Egypt, YOU are American-”

“Is too bad he not one of Jesus’s saints…least I don’t think he be. I not read the whole bib-el yet and I doesn’t know all the saints. I know there be twelve dough!” The infant tapped his chin thoughtfully as if trying to remember them all.

Not that Sans believed his brother knew a single thing about the Bible or religion in general. Their father said it was a dangerous tool humans used to harm others, including their own species, and that it slowed down scientific progress. Out of curiosity however, Sans paid a visit to the “librarby” to see for himself, having been taught early that taking his family’s word for absolutely anything was usually a poor decision. Pulling it out of the history section, he opened it to find that it was for the most part, unreadable…at least to him, though that word was often used by Sans to describe books he found boring rather than indecipherable.

He could read it all right, but there were too many names and the sentences at times made him feel as if he were having a conversation with Papyrus during one of the baby’s…odd, moments. Those uncomfortable moments where his little brother would cease his baby-talk, sometimes altogether, and suddenly age in personality, speaking to him clearly with an unmistakable air of authority. It made the comedian even more uncomfortable when he spotted the word “Egypt” several times though he was only on page seven of…Genesis 15:2…?

What kind of a name is that for a chapter?

“You don’t know anything about the Bible OR religion!” Gaster’s angry voice pulled Sans from his thoughts. “You live in a place of SCIENCE and I made sure to keep those kinds of books out of here!” exclaimed the scientist.

The Sans Serif, though curious as to what his brother thought of religion, chose not to say anything in this regard. He could understand his father’s concern. He couldn’t read a lot of the book without falling asleep, but what he did read told him that it was a collection of short stories that went either two ways; people obeyed God’s orders and turned out the better for it, or they didn’t and suffered severe consequences. With one of those orders being believe in the book, he could see how people could use the Bible to control others…how people like his brother could use it to control others. All it would take is one dedicated liar to “translate” it for people too lazy to make their own interpretations. His brother could cause a lot of damage and according to Gaster, some people already had.

Were the witch trials real or did Dad make that up?

“The librarby still gots the bib-el! I go there allll the time to get the knowledge, so I be smart when I gets big. I knows more than half the saints now,” replied the baby bones proudly. “There’s St. Nick, also known as Santa…you know him already Snas.”

Sans snickered and turned his attention to Papyrus. “i do? oh yeah! i heard santa clause was called st. nick at one point, i didn’t know he helped write the bible though…”

I don’t think he’s read it.

“bib-el. Yeah, he wrote it with Jesus and even let his widdle buther St. Stephen help too, cause’ he nice like you~”

“santa has a brother?”

“Yep! They twins like us! He born on December twenty-six dough cause’ of com-pli-cations. He liked to hide things in boxes and pay da’ tricks! He take his buther’s toys and when Santa say ‘where my toys be?’ Stephen go, ‘I don’t know big Buther, where DO your toys be?”

RA-CAKCAKCAK!

Sans turned his head to see Gaster pouring a bottle of aspirin onto the office table near the computer. “stephen doesn’t sound very nice bro, ha ha!”

“Nahhh, he just misunderstood. Like da’ baby. You gots to read between the lines Snas! He hide the toys so when Santa forget about them and open a box, he get all surprised and happy! ‘Wowie! I forgot I hads this! Imma pay wit it all day!’ Then sneak Stephen steal the old BORING toys and hide THEM so they seems new in the footure! Is the perfect plan big Buther…”

“is that where santa got the idea of sending gifts to people in boxes pappy?”

“Sure is! All the saints be amazing Snas. St. Patrick the lepperkahn invented the color gween. He wanted the cover of the bib-el to be gween, but Jesus say no cause’ people might drop it in the grass and lose it. Not a lot of roads in the B.C. era ya’ know?”

“b.c?”

“Before Concrete.”

RATTLE!

“you’re not supposed to take that much dad…”

“St. Valentine be the Saint of Sweets. He had fan trouble like Babybop.”

“she’s…she’s not babybop papyrus. i keep telling you, alphys-”

“Unfortunately, they not have pastic surgery in B.C, that came AFTER concrete, A.C.”

“i thought a.c. meant air conditioning?”

“In history it mean After Concrete. They used to use A.D. After Dinosaurs, but lossa stuff came after dinosaurs, so they changed it.”

“ohhh...gotcha.”

Sans smiled at his little brother. Despite how annoying he could be with his constant lying, the comedian did in fact admire his ability to come up with bullshit on the fly. It made him wonder how useful he’d be if Sans ever were to actually get a job as a comedian. Comedians themselves were supposed to tell stories about things that happened to them in life whilst making funny commentary along the way, but HE was stuck under a mountain and had no close friends other than Papyrus and possibly Alphys. What was Sans even supposed to talk about when NOTHING ever happened to him? Being an Insult Comic was out as he only had 1 hp and was stuck seeing the same people probably for the rest of his life, puns were a spur of the moment thing and were meant to amuse the teller rather than the audience, ventriloquism wasn’t fair and wouldn’t work unless he somehow hide his text box…was he really stuck with just talking about his little brother behind his back? It certainly seemed that way.

Unless Papyrus wants to make something up for me. I’m sure he would, he’s so cool. I hope I make enough G to share with him…

“So St. Valentine? He was REAL popular. He create chalk-wit and eryone lost their minds! Too many hunnies for the chalk-wit bunny.”

“he was a rabbit pappy?”

“Nope, he was Aztec. Had a weird name baby can’t say or spell good. Quetzycoat? Quozzy motto? Dunno, but it suck…glad he move away and change it to Valentine. Moved allll the way to Europe where he met St. Peter the soon-to-be Easter Bunny. It was St. Valentine that made it happen big Buther. All the hunnies follow him saying stuff like ‘be mine, Valentine!’ and ‘give me yo’ heart!’ Not good to say to an Aztec Snas, even dough it mean something else in Europe.”

“what does it mean in aztec bro?”

“I want to remove your heart.”

Sans sockets went dark, but he chose not to say anything.

I’ll have to work with Papyrus to make sure his stories aren’t too dark before I use them.

“St. Peter got realll jealous when he saw erybody giving Valentine attention. So what if he made chalk-wit? He not cute like Peter Rabbit! St. Peter was fluffy as hell! Where was Valentine’s fluff? NOWHERE! Where was his cotton ball tail? ABSENT! HE DIDN’T EVEN APPRECIATE!”

“ugh, damn pap chill!” cried the comedian, pressing his hand against one of his earholes, “you’re not auditioning for a movie, take it down a notch…”

“I just wanted you to understand the rabbit Snas…”

“i understand the rabbit baby bro, don’t you worry.”

“Kay’. So you know why St. Peter had to steal his secrets to making chalk-wit and build his own factory in England then.”

“no…?”

“Is cause’ he was JEALOUS Snas! Daz why. Being a rabbit wasn’t good enough anymore, he had to be a CHALK-WIT rabbit. St. Valentine took it the wrong way dough, he see the factory and think ‘ohhhh, I gets it! If people can get chalk-wit at the store, then I won’t be popular no mores and people will go way! Dis rabbit is so nice. Dis rabbit is my friend.’ He told Jesus all about St. Peter and how nice he was and cause’ of him, he got to be a saint! Peter Rabbit was grateful too, he wasn’t a bad bunny. All he wanted was some infection…”

“affection.”

“Yeah that. Defection. He thought Valentine was being forgiving and stuff, so they became best friends. They shared recipes and gotted famous erywhere!”

“aww, well that’s nice-”

“…Then St. Peter died of the Black Plague and erything started all over again.”

“y-yeah that’s pretty much how all of your stories end. i don’t know what i was expecting.”

Need to work on his endings too.

“Don’t worry big Buther, there be a happiness dis time. St. Valentine eventually moved again and changed his name to Willy Wonka and people stopped trying to marry him. No one want the last name Wonka Snas.”

“heh, well when you’re right you’re right. papyrus wonka doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue now does it?”

“…”

“what?”

“Don’t ship the baby Snas.”

“*pfft!*”

“Another saint you might know be St. Michael.”

“And what holiday is he ripped from?” asked Gaster, finishing off the water he’d taken with his aspirin. Sans had forgotten he was even in the room.

“Nyeh?” Papyrus looked confused. “Michael not have a holly-day. You cwazy Daddy, nyeh heh heh!”

“No one here is stupid enough to believe you’re going to just SUDDENLY take this conversation seriously Papyrus. St. Michael might be a real saint, but I know-”

“I’s ALWAYS serious!” exclaimed the infant, interrupting the scientist. “Snas the silly bones, not me! Dis a very serious subject and I’s born to TEACH!”

“That is literally the last thing someone with your font should be doing where religion is concerned.”

“St. Michael and St. Peter were really good friends ya’ know…”

“Don’t you ignore me.”

“They pay basketball together once and saved the world even! He still alive too, even today.”

“is…is he talking about michael jorden?”

“I guarantee you, that’s exactly who he’s talking about.”

“He flies like an eagle.”

“Yep.”

“Yeah! Daddy knows! You watched the docky-mentry right? Where the black human went to da’ center of the earth and-”

“Space Jam was NOT a documentary. It was just a video you happened to find at the Dump. You know, the place I’ve asked you countless times not to go? Admittedly, I didn’t actually watch it as I’m none too fond of guilt films, but the soundtrack alone-”

“th-that wasn’t a ‘guilt film’ dad,” said Sans hiding his face in his hands.

Goddamnit…

“It wasn’t? Are you sure?”

“positive.”

“It wasn’t about a black human attempting to join and fit in with a basketball team comprised of monsters?”

“no.”

“Is about St. Michael helping his rabbit friend ah-scape slavery.”

“So it IS a guilt film.”

“no!”

“Let me guess, the black human was their star player and he was the one to save the day?”

“Yeah!”

“Psh.”

“Erybody wanted to be like Mike, so he gave them some magic water dat made them really good at the basketball.”

“He…gave them something to enhance their performance?”

“it wasn’t drugs dad! it wasn’t even really magic. he was trying to teach them that they had the power to be just as good as him, they just needed to believe in themselves. to put it in a way you’d understand, he used the placebo effect to his advantage.”

“Gazebo?”

“Ah, deceit. Very smart…are you sure Mr. Jordan came up with this? I’m not saying all black humans are unintelligent, but he IS in the sports industry, is he not? You two have amassed quite a collection of discarded sports game videos and upon inspection, I see him playing that particular game a lot. Or at least I think I do.”

Too many shaved heads…why do they have to have shaved heads AND matching uniforms? I may as well be watching my own people…

“maybe…? i don’t actually know. pappy and i usually take the video out as soon as we see it’s another taped sports game,” replied Sans, frowning. It really was disappointing to find a video in good condition, only to realize later that it was just another boring tape of a sport they couldn’t play. Even if the boys knew the rules, the Underground didn’t have many if any big open areas where they could play “basketball” or “football.” Whatever ball they used would just go bouncing off the walls of the caverns or sail into the void/water depending on where they were.

It’s too bad, I bet Undyne would love to play one of these.

Usually when he and his brother found one of these tapes, they’d chuck it into the Boring Corner, a place filled with fitness magazines, letters they had opened that ended up containing junk mail advertising things they didn’t understand, and CDs/records/cassettes Papyrus had SOMEHOW restored and found he didn’t particularly enjoy the content of.

“heh heh heh…”

“What’s so funny big Buther?” asked the baby bones smiling.

“cupcakke.”

The infant’s smile disappeared.

“For once, I’m proud of you two. The sports industry is a money-sucking trash heap of wasted potential. So many of these individuals could have been doctors, teachers, law enforcement, scientists like myself, but they chose a career in playing games that should have been left behind in high school. Disgusting.”

“…I wish to learn how to pay the basketball now.”

“Why, because I specifically asked you not to? Why do you want to intentionally cause trouble?”

“Teach me how to dunkin doughnut.”

Sans giggled, “you wanna learn how to dunk pappy?”

He raised his hand.

“Nyeh?! NO! DADDY, DAAADY! HE DOING IT AGAIN! SNAS USING DA’ FORAAAAAHHHH!!!”

THUNK!

CRISH!

Papyrus sailed into the nearby wall and fell into the wastebin overflowing with papers.

“Excellent control Sans.”

“SCU YOU BABY-ABOOZER! YOU NOT FUNNAAHHHH!!” The enraged baby bones thrashed wildly around in the basket, kicking his legs in an attempt to get out. “IMMA SCRIBBLE IN YO’ BOOKS SNAS! SEE HOW GOOD YOU BE AT WITCHCRAFT THEN!!”

“How DID you manage to do that?”

“IT WAS THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL HELP SNAS!”

“i dunno, i just sorta, did it…i saw pap doing something bad and i accidentally flung him while i was pretending to move him…with my mind,” explained Sans, embarrassed. He knew though, that if he wanted an answer himself, he needed to give as many details as possible.

“Hmm, I see.” Gaster attempted to pull Papyrus out of the wastebin using the same method he’d seen Sans use, but failed. He then tried to use it on the comedian himself, but it also had no result. “Huh, that’s VERY interesting. Moving your brother around as you would an ordinary bone attack, in theory, would mean that almost any skeleton could do the same, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“uhh, we aren’t doing anything wrong dad.”

“You are. Your brother knows he can pull himself out with his wingdings, he’s pretending to be stuck and in turn choosing to be dramatic, attention-seeking, and disruptive. YOU are supposed to be looking after your brother, but instead of helping him out of the wastebin, you’re currently speaking to me. You’re BOTH doing something wrong.” Gaster tried one more time to move both boys. “But it seems even when you’re fully aware of your wrongdoings, this karma-induced attack can’t be done, not by my font at least, or perhaps it has something to do with the soul…PAPYRUS!”

“NYEH!” The baby bones jolted in surprise and tumbled forward, rolling out of the basket in a somersault before coming to a halt at his father’s feet. “Nn…what you want stink Daddy who doesn’t help da’ baby?” asked Papyrus smiling and holding his toes.

“You’re full attention. You are a large part of Sans, so surely you too could perform-”

“IMMA LEARN WITCHCRAFT?!”

“That was NOT your full attention.”

“IMMA LEARN WITCHCRAFT!” The baby bounced up and down excitedly, obviously not hearing his father. “Teach me da’ force big Buther and I will spare yo’ books.”

“*sigh*”

Three hours…that was three hours ago.

“three hours and we didn’t get any answers whatsoever.”

“Hey, dat sounds like me Snas!”

“huh?” Looking down, the young skeleton cringed upon realizing he had spaced out again. “sorry baby bro,” he said, giving his brother an apologetic hug. “i swear i don’t do this on purpose, i really am trying to listen, what’d i miss?”

“You asked about the soul-glow and I say is karma. Karma make your soul really bright and stuff so when you die, God go ‘Ooooh! That’s a pretty soul right there! I wants to add it to my collection’ and then he take you to Heaven and puts you on his shelf.”

“*pfft!* is that right? is that how you get into heaven pappy?”

“Yep! Daz why you gots to be good, so you can be part of the Lord’s house! He gots the coolest house ever big Buther. ERYTHING glow in the dark there! He gots souls floating in lava lamps, he gots souls floating in his waterbed, he even gots souls in his floor Snas! His floor be tiled glass and underneath the glass be a special soul that lights up each widdle square-”

“you’re talking about an LED floor.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“a disco floor.”

“Yep, and If you’re reallll good, like, da’ bestest person ever, you get to be his night light.” The little Horror said this like it was the most amazing thing in the world, then looked around the office in apparent confusion. His daddy slept here all the time, so where was HIS nightlight? Did he use the glow of his computer?

“why are you making him sound like a 70s buff?” asked Sans, interrupting the baby’s train of thought.

“Cause’ he is! I readed it in da’ bib-el.” Crawling towards the bookshelf with the still broken cabinets, Papyrus took out the book, hidden in plain view amongst old tomes Gaster had long since read and forgotten about. The baby would have to remember to hide it again somewhere else later, less his daddy see it while fixing the doors.

“i HIGHLY doubt that’s in there.”

“Nope, it is! Is all true Snas! The Lord all about peace! Hugs not guns, compassion’s in fashion, make love not war, he ALL about the 70s.”

His brother frowned, though he was more worried than annoyed. There were some sensitive people out there and some who were just plain awful when it came to THIS particular topic. He remembered after reading, going to several people to ask for more information and being met with criticism for not reading the whole thing himself, and lectures from monsters about certain passages when all he wanted was a translation. There were even a few who got angry at him for certain questions.

“…a mountain of fire and smoke’ that sounds like a volcano. maybe this really did happen-”

“It did!” said a monster enthusiastically, carrying a bag of groceries from Snowdin. “God stood atop the mountain in the ten commandments story and introduced himself, but it frightened the people down below.”

Suddenly, they jumped upon hearing loud laughter erupt from the child.

“hahahahaha!” The comedian leaned forward, almost spilling the contents of the bag he was helping to carry as the monster gave him an irritated look. “What’s so funny?”

“you probably don’t know what a wrestler is, me and my bro have only seen them on old human videos, but they use pyrotechnics to introduce themselves before a match. it sounds like god was trying to use the volcano to look cool and it backfired, hahaha!”

“GOD WASN’T USING PYROTECHNICS!” shouted the monster, completely offended. “That’s ridiculous! He doesn’t HAVE to try to look cool! HE IS COOL!”

“hey, relax, chill! i’m not saying he isn’t cool, i’m just saying he made a funny mistake. to be honest, it makes him seem more real-”

“GOD DOESN’T MAKE MISTAKES! THAT WASN’T A VOLCANO!”

“then why’d he tell everyone not to come near him? volcanos are deadly, it’d make more sense for him to wanna protect his kids right?”

“Looord, give me the STRENGTH not to smack this skeletal child…!”

Sans had stopped asking questions after that.

It just didn’t seem safe, and it wasn’t safe for Papyrus either.

I can’t let Pappy go around saying the things he’s saying near other people. They aren’t going to CARE that he’s just a baby who doesn’t know any better.

He doesn’t, right?

“you know if some people hear you saying this outside the lab, they’re gonna get upset right, bro?”

“No they won’t!”

“oh no?”

“No. They’s gonna be happy to hear me! People listen and they probly think ‘Wowie! That baby sure is informed about our Lord and savior! If he read the bib-el then he can’t be ALL bad, the bib-el teaches you how to be good! I should be this baby’s friend cause’ they probably a good person.”

“that’s…that’s not what’s going to happen pappy. you’re going to get yelled at.”

“Dat’s why I needs to learn the force big Buther!”

“n-”

“So I can defends myself.”

“…you have enough power papyrus, in fact, you’re OVERpowered, heh heh…”

“…”

“get it? overpowered with pow-”

“I doesn’t get it and I doesn’t WANT to get it. Sides’ Chara say you can never have enough power Snas.”

“isn’t your friend dead though? maybe you shouldn’t be taking life advice from the dead baby bro. just a thought.”

“…”

“…i’m sorry, that was mean-”

Papyrus pushed the Bible towards Sans with his foot. “You need Jesus big Buther.”

The book ended up back at the library.

#Fonttale #Fonttale au #Undertale #Undertale au #Papyrus #baby papyrus #sans #kid sans #gaster #baby bones #undertale fanfiction #religion #funny

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fluffandlove · 5 years

Text

Pure Irony

Author’s note: First Klance fic for this blog! Very late, very random, but have two boys giggling like a bunch of highschoolers in an alley anyway Thanks for 800 followers!

Summary: Keith was going to hell for this, wasn’t he?

But if going to hell meant Lance practically pushing him against a cold wall with their faces barely three inches apart and his adorable, hushed laughter blessing his ears, then Keith was more than ready for it.

Word count: 1,650

Irony was a funny thing.

“Shit!”

Before he could even utter a sound of protest, he was yanked into the nearest alley by Lance’s warm, yet rough hand. Honestly, Keith kind of wanted to make fun of him for this, but Lance slapped a hand over his mouth and not so subtly sneaked a peek around the corner.

Seriously, this guy would be the worst spy ever. It was a good thing Allura – that girl he’d been crushing on for three years – was a couple of feet away from them and talking to someone, totally oblivious still. Keith hadn’t had time to register who the other person was exactly, but it’d looked like a girl from one of their classes.

Didn’t have to mean anything. It did to Lance, though.

“What do we do,” Lance hissed and, ah, pressed himself closer to Keith, lowering his hand when he continued, “She can’t see me. What if she thinks I’m stalking her?”

What. How did Lance’s mind even work.

“Right,” Keith deadpanned and resisted the urge to flick his ear. “You both live in the same dorm. We hang out almost every day. Why would she think that you’re stalking her?”

That didn’t seem to any effect on Lance as he curled around Keith again, craning his neck so he could take another look. “Okay, okay, shh. They’re talking. Still talking, laughing, yes I’m sure that that girl’s hilarious. Ugh, just-just turn around. Turn around and walk along, so we can, I dunno, make a one-eighty and get out of here.”

A sigh. “And where exactly do you plan on going? It’s getting late.”

“I’ll sleep on a bench in the park, it’s fine.”

Lance still wasn’t looking at him, his dark eyes totally focused on the other two and Keith couldn’t believe he was actually in this situation. Pressed against a brick wall by that one guy he’d been crushing on for about three years as well, which was fine, totally fine. Said guy’s cologne wasn’t exactly helping, though. Along with the fact that Lance’s face was so close to his own, like, he could feel the warmth of the other’s skin and ugh, Keith really hated his life right now.

Their cheeks were practically touching— anyway. It wasn’t like he could exactly blame Lance for this. He and Allura had been dancing around each other for those damn three years while Keith was on the other side of the room, casually pretending he didn’t mind Lance’s insane pining. And that his poor gay heart wasn’t suffering because of it.

It was usually easy to pretend that it wasn’t affecting him, at all. This particular situation, however, was a whole new level.

“If she sees me, I might as well die of embarrass-ment!”

That last part turned into a squeak. Keith guessed that one of them had looked in their general direction because Lance, of all things, had buried his face in Keith’s neck.

Peachy.

Keith turned his head a little and tried to focus on their voices as a way to distract himself. They seemed neither nearer nor farther in his opinion. Probably hadn’t even noticed their presence. In fact, they were laughing again, so Lance was truly being paranoid about this.

“They’ll probably talk for another two hours,” Keith whispered and, interestingly, felt Lance shiver. “You’re not gonna die if she sees you, Lance. Let’s just go. ”

But Lance was flailing and squeezing his shoulders, shaking like crazy. Keith was so confused.

“… What?” he mumbled.

“Stoptalkingittickles.”

Right. Yeah, the back of Lance’s neck was really close to his lips, so that made sense.

Surely Keith was not an asshole. He wasn’t gonna take advantage of this. No, not at all—

Never mind. Yes, he was.

“Sorry, what was that?” Keith oh so innocently spoke, making his words even breathier than necessary and almost chuckled when Lance psychically cringed, digging his fingers into Keith’s shirt.

“Fuck you, oh my god,” Lance huffed and raised his head, probably as some sort of way to defend his sensitive neck, but there were more than enough openings.

Gloved hands snuck down to Lance’s waist, slipped under his jacket and threateningly stayed there, enjoying the full body shiver he managed to cause with that simple touch. Lance was glaring daggers at him, obviously trying to look intimidating, but it was pretty cute in Keith’s eyes.

Lance was literally pouting. “Keith, my dude, my man, think about what you’re doing.”

“I already am,” was the smug reply, accompanied by a small squeeze that made Lance jerk forward with a panicked gasp. “’s pretty fun if you ask me.”

Squeeze, squeeze.

“They’ll hear us!” Lance panted, his lips curled into a forced smile, hands still holding onto Keith’s arms for dear life.

“Better make sure they don’t, then.”

It was so mean. Maybe a little too mean. Still, creating a memory of Lance laughing breathlessly into the crook of his neck was gonna be worth it. Their position had been an absolute nightmare before and now he was able to enjoy every second of it.

Now he didn’t mind their proximity, or the lovely smell of Lance’s cologne, or the way his warm hands were gripping his upper arms. He could get used to Lance’s short huffs of giggles brushing over his collarbone, his body twitching along with his fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin because, well, he’d casually flicked up his shirt and went under it.

Yeah, there it was. A muffled shriek. He could feel Lance’s lips stretching into a wide grin.

At this point, Keith was shaking with silent laughter, too. His fingers roamed over Lance’s back, muscles twitching every time he brushed over another ticklish spot and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

“I hate y-you,” Lance groaned and jumped when Keith’s fingers hovered near his ribs. “I will get you back for this.”

Instead of answering, Keith scribbled a bunch of random patterns over the other’s ribcage that made Lance go rigid before he hid his face in Keith’s chest, more soft laughter escaping. Allura and the other girl were still talking and didn’t appear to have noticed Keith being a huge dick, so he decided he could step up his game a little.

By leaning forward until his lips were close to Lance’s ear again and murmuring, “Sure you will.”

Poor Lance scrunched up his shoulders and waved his hands around like a ninja, which was so very amusing that Keith had to look away for a second to compose himself. His hands were still very much under Lance’s shirt, just chilling. Holding his waist like guy friends do.

Keith was going to hell for this, wasn’t he.

Yeah, it was bad. But also kind of fun. Lance was holding him so tightly, bubbly and giddy laughter continuously pouring out of him and Keith both loved and hated himself for being the one responsible for it.

“I’m dying,” Lance whined through his endless stream of giggles and laid his hands over Keith’s chest. Not holding him, but not pushing him away, either. All the while Keith ran his hands over his sides and ribs, barely grazing him, but it had the desired effect nonetheless. “The police will come for your sneaky ass.”

“I’ll go to jail for tickling you?”

Snicker. “Yes.”

Stupid, unbelievable Lance was mirroring his smirk. “Idiot.”

Apparently their voices had been loud enough to draw attention, because they heard footsteps. It was somehow possible for Lance to bring their bodies even closer and Keith instinctively tightened his grip on his hips.

“Thought I heard voices. Oh, hey, it’s Lance! And— Keith?”

Keith should’ve seen this coming. “Hi.”

“… It’s not what it looks like?” Lance added lamely, still curled up in Keith’s arms, face flushed beyond saving.

A few seconds passed in which Allura’s eyes darted back and forth between them before her pretty face broke into a knowing smile. “I’m sure it isn’t. Sorry for interrupting.”

The other girl politely stayed on the other side of the wall, so Keith couldn’t see her and he was thankful for that. Lance simply flashed her one of his dashing grins, clearly aware of the fact that he wasn’t gonna sweet-talk himself out of this one and Keith was starting to feel the guilt eating at him.

It had all been fun and games until now. Maybe he’d overstepped some boundaries. Damn.

He nodded when Allura told them goodnight and left him and (his feelings for) Lance alone.

“We were spotted,” Keith awkwardly broke the silence after they were out of earshot.

Lance still hadn’t moved. “Yeah and it was totally your fault.”

“Pretty sure it was yours.”

It drew another small huff of laughter out of Lance who finally decided to stand up straight and, oh, Keith probably had to pull his hands back. They felt oddly cold and he could only watch as Lance fixed his shirt and jacket.

“Guess you were right.”

Blink, blink. “I was right?” Keith gaped at him.

“Yeah,” Lance flashed him a grin. “She saw me and I didn’t die. I’m a total survivor.”

Right. That.

“Told you,” Keith managed to grin back and followed him out of the alley until he fell into step beside him. They also fell into a silence but Lance did move closer to him, their shoulders and hands shyly touching. “You’re not… mad?”

“’course not.” Lance looked back at him, a soft smile on his face. “I’ll admit I was being a bit dramatic. You can make it up to me by coming over for a movie night.”

Irony. ‘Twas truly a funny thing.

#voltron #klance #tickling #tickle fic #laith #lance mcclain #keith kogane #my fic #i'm really very rusty #it's just fluff #just boys being giggly in an alley #that's it that's the fic #I'll be taking my leave now

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