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kimtanathegeek · 4 years

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Two Brothers, Many Paths - Ch 20

Chapter 20?! When did that happen?!?

Oh my gosh, I can't believe it's been 20 chapters already with these dear boys! I've been having an amazing time writing this story, and absolutely adore Sans and Papyrus like my own sons! (Plot twist--*I* am their father! haha, j/k....or AM I!?)

Thank you so, so, SO much for reading, for all the likes, the reblogs, the awesome comments, and for sticking with these precious boys as they continue their struggles through their difficult life. I really hope you're enjoying it, as I absolutely love writing it!

Don't worry, this isn't anywhere near the end, there's still more to go! Here's to more chapters and more time with Sans and Papyrus!

Thank you again! :)

—

Undertale copyright Toby Fox

Story and original characters by me, Kimtana

Please do not use without both permission and credit.

Read below, or read it on AO3 here.

First

Sans stood out in the snow just outside the shelter, trembling fiercely. He sucked in air in sharp gasps, struggling to breathe, and staggered. His legs and knees were too weak and could no longer support him. They buckled, forcing him to collapse upon his stomach.

He slowly shut his eyes as he feebly slammed his left hand down on to the snow.

“I...I can’t—”

The day before, after the tickle fight and dinner, Sans sat with Papyrus on the bed quietly. Sans had been in deep thought throughout the meal about his new magic—or rather, his failure to do his new magic.

Thanks to his brother, Sans understood that he shouldn’t harbor any blame or guilt for what led to the accident. That didn’t, however, answer why he couldn’t do the magic without feeling like the accident happened all over again. He needed to figure that out—fast—because their food supplies were dangerously low.

It had been weeks since they had last foraged for food—aside from the pine cones—and they desperately needed to get to the darkened area for more mouseshroom nightlights. But with the threat of monsters leaving the cavern, walking out in the valley for hours at a time was exceedingly risky. Sans needed to get his magic to work, or his brother would starve.

Papyrus could tell that Sans had something on his mind, so he nudged his brother’s knee as he sat across from him on the bed.

“What Sas finkin bout?”

Sans snapped out of his train of thought and blinked back to reality. He sighed deeply, rubbing the sides of his lap nervously.

“I’m thinking about that new magic, and why I can’t do it anymore. Every time I think about doing it, I keep feeling like I’m getting hurt all over again.”

Papyrus’ eyebrows creased worriedly. “Sas hurt?”

Sans waggled his hands. “No, no, I’m not actually getting hurt again. It just feels like I am.”

Sans heaved another sigh.

Papyrus looked down and played with a bit of fabric by his foot. “M’sorry....”

“It’s ok,” Sans said, leaning back on the bed, supporting himself up with his hands by his sides.

“Mebbe—” Papyrus started, then went quiet, focusing on the fabric piece.

Sans sat back up, urging him to continue gently. “Maybe what?”

“No, s’dumb,” he mumbled, eyes still down.

Sans’ face furrowed momentarily. “Nothing you say is ever dumb, Pap. You’ve got brilliant ideas, you know that.”

The side of Papyrus’ mouth twitched, not believing his brother’s words.

Sans leaned down in front of his brother’s face and grinned. “Papyrus, you have some of the best ideas I’ve ever heard. If you don’t believe me, then I will tickle you again until next week.”

At this, Papyrus giggled, curling himself up to prevent any tickling fingers from finding his weak spots. “No!”

“Yes,” Sans said, a mischievous grin growing on his face.

“Kay, kay,” the little skeleton conceded. “But Pa don know if Sas fink it dumb. Pa don know if Sas feel hurt wif it.”

Sans tilted his head, his grin dying. “I’m sure it won’t hurt me, Pap. What is it? Really, I’m desperate to try anything to get this magic to work.”

Papyrus took a deep breath and released it. “Well, Sas say he go dere, dere, dere an not get hurt, right?” He pointed out various directions with each “dere”.

“Yeah,” his brother said, sitting up straight. “I was able to go to a few different places before. And...and then—” He flinched.

“Tell Pa where Sas go,” Papyrus said, looking up at him.

“Well,” Sans said, holding up a hand and counting on his fingers. “The first time was just outside, and that was when I was carrying you with me. The second was out on the trail in the spot we had finished. Then I went to the darkened area, then the tunnel, then—”

“Stop!” Papyrus shouted suddenly, making Sans jump.

“Wh-what?” Sans gasped.

“Don say more places. Das enough.”

Sans blinked, then twisted his eyebrows in confusion. “Um...okay...?”

Papyrus pointed at his brother’s face. “When Sas fink bout uver places, Sas don hurt, don make face like dis.” He imitated Sans’ flinching expression.

“Well, no,” Sans agreed.

“Sas on’y have one axyden, right?”

“Yeah...just the one.”

Papyrus grinned. “Sas! Das good!”

Sans raised an eyebrow and frowned. “Pap, in what world is that good?!”

The little skeleton shook his head “No, no. Axyden not good. On’y one is good!”

Sans blinked wide as he shook his head slowly, thoroughly confused, and didn’t even know how to answer. Papyrus sensed he wasn’t getting through, so he explained further.

“Sas go outside wif Pa—no axyden. Sas go farway snow we dig—no axyden. Sas go darky ayea—no axyden. Sas go tunnel—no axyden. Den, Sas have axyden.”

Sans watched as Papyrus held up four fingers on his hand. “Das four no axydens.” He held up his other hand with a single finger. “And on’y one axyden.”

“Ok,” Sans said slowly. “I see what you’re saying....”

“One axyden—don fink bout.” He hid the hand with one finger behind his back. He moved the hand with four fingers closer to Sans. “Four no axydens—on’y fink bout dem.”

“That’s great and all, Pap,” Sans sighed. “But it’s not that easy. I wasn’t thinking about the accident when I started feeling like I was going through it again.”

“Pa know,” he said, putting his hand down. “But las time Sas do magic, Sas have axyden, and dat what Sas fink bout.”

Sans blinked, looking away as his brother’s words seeped in. Sans wasn’t sure what he was thinking about the day before when he tried to get him and his brother to the darkened area, but that had to have been in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know, Pap,” he said, returning his eyes to his brother. “I wasn’t really thinking about it at all. What if it’s too deep in my mind? What if I never get over it?”

Papyrus looked up at his brother sadly, recalling a detail his brother had mentioned a while back. “Sas had axyden where Mommy was....”

Sans flinched, grabbing his head and shutting his eyes tight. After a few seconds, he opened them and let his hands fall back to his lap as he grunted his answer. “Y-yeah....”

“Dat way Sas an Pa come in, dat have big winnow in it now.”

Sans tilted his head, his breath steady now. “A ‘big window’?”

Pap answered, illustrating with his hands. “Yeah, big winnow Sas an Pa bang on but no open.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sans said, realizing what his brother meant. “That clear wall blocking the opening. Yeah.”

“Pa fink dat big winnow bad.”

Sans clutched his chest, thinking of how he had been pinned in the barrier as it came down over the cave opening. How it had sliced through his soul, permanently reduced his health, almost killed him—twice, now—and how it trapped them inside the mountain. He whined just thinking about it.

“Yeah, Pap.... That big window is definitely bad....”

“Dat winnow not in da four no axydens,” Papyrus stated, putting his hand on his brother’s knee.

“No,” Sans answered, his voice still low. “No, it’s not.”

Papyrus stood up and took hold of his brother’s face by the cheekbones to look him squarely in the eyes.

“Dat big winnow make axyden. Don go to big winnow. Uver places safe fom big winnow, so Sas can go to uver places wifout gettin hurt.”

Sans cringed sadly, really wishing it was as easy as his little brother made it seem. He averted his eyes again, doubt creeping into his mind.

Papyrus put his forehead against Sans’ and looked squarely into his brother’s eyes. He spoke firmly, yet softly.

“Big winnow make axyden. Not Sas. Sas can do magic. Pa bewieve in Sas.”

Sans shut his eyes for a moment, then reached up and pulled his brother in for a hug.

“Thanks for believing in me, Papyrus.... That means a lot....”

Sans slept on his brother’s words, waking up a couple times from nightmares of the incident. While his sleep might have been broken, he was extremely glad to see that Papyrus wasn’t having any of his own nightmares. Looks like the talk they had did them both good.

After each nightmare, Sans tried to push the fear and anxiety away and struggled to focus on the times he had succeeded with his magic—just as Papyrus had suggested. It was extremely hard to do, as the dark thoughts were louder than the good ones.

Fortunately, the fight between the two sides was so exhausting, Sans fell asleep quickly each time.

Sans regretted eating breakfast. The mushrooms sat heavy in his nervous stomach, making him feel slightly ill.

Sans regretted deciding to try the new magic after breakfast even more. Why did he agree to Papyrus’ suggestion?

Sans sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall across from him as his brother sat beside him silently. He tried to keep his mind on the positives, while the reasons he shouldn’t even bother attempting it crawled up and choked at him.

Papyrus broke his silence gently. “Sas did good so far.”

Sans gave a short, hollow laugh and stared at his hands. “Yeah....”

Earlier that morning, Papyrus mentioned that he should think about doing the magic before actually attempting it, so that his fear became more manageable.

So Sans went through every step except the final one—taking a literal step forward. The first few times he tried, he flinched as soon as he shut his eyes. Papyrus was right there, comforting him with soothing words and gentle hugs.

Then he was able to focus on where he wanted to go—the darkened area. This also started off difficult, as the picture of the area with the mouseshroom nightlights and glowing gems in the wall soon turned into the dark cave with its iridescent barrier that taunted his mind. At last, he could clearly see the darkened area and was able to hold on to the image.

By breakfast, Sans had been able to get through all but the final step without flinching. Papyrus thought this was an amazing breakthrough and used breakfast to celebrate.

Sans wished he had an ounce of his brother’s confidence in him. Papyrus didn’t have any idea what a mess up his brother really was....

Papyrus put his hand on his brother’s back, leaning his head on his brother’s arm. “Really, Sas did good so far. Sas can do it.”

Sans heaved a deep sigh, then stood up from the bed. He had to get this over with, hesitating was only making things worse. And he needed to do this now—the mushrooms they had eaten were the last pair. They didn’t have enough food for dinner, so time to get this magic right had all but run out.

“O-ok,” Sans stammered, his voice as shaky as his legs. “I’m just going to try a short trip, in case anything bad...happens....”

He started rethinking the whole thing, then shook his head, wiping the doubts away.

Papyrus jumped off the bed and took Sans’ hand.

“No, Pap,” Sans said, turning to him. “I don’t dare take you with me yet.”

The little skeleton looked up sadly.

Sans hugged him tightly. “Papyrus, I still don’t know if this is going to work. If anything ever happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. I have to make this first trip by myself.”

Papyrus hugged back, his voice betraying his hurt. “Ok....”

“And listen,” Sans said, pulling back to face his brother. “I’m going to try to go right outside. If anything happens to me, I’m depending on you to heal me. You’ve got a far more important job than I do, so that’s why I can’t take you with me. I’m not leaving you behind, Pap. I need you here to help me if something goes wrong.”

Papyrus’ face lit up momentarily, then he raised his eyebrow and grinned heroically. “Pa potec Sas. Pa fix Sas wif gween if hurt.”

“Great,” Sans grinned, rubbing the top of his brother’s head. “I knew I could depend on you.”

Sans went to stand in the center of the main room. Papyrus backed up against the bed, keeping an eye on his brother.

Sans shifted from foot to foot nervously, breathing heavily in an effort not to hyperventilate. He shut his eyes as he tried to talk himself down under his breath.

“Oookay, Sans...you’ve got this, you can do this, just relax, just focus, just breathe, just....”

He whimpered, cringing at the thought of his body going through all that damage again.

“Sas!”

His eyes shot open at his brother’s call.

Papyrus stood in front of him, smiling. “I bewieve in you!”

Sans smiled warmly, bolstered by his brother’s words. He gave the little skeleton a nod.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath in, held it, then released it slowly. He pictured one of the open areas just outside the shelter, keeping it firmly framed in his mind.

It’s going to hurt....

He flinched slightly, then shook his head. No, I’ll be fine. I’ll be ok.

The image of the area came back into his mind’s view. He studied the snow, the placement of the boulders near it, and where the shelter was from its location.

I really want to go there, I need to know if I can do this. I need to be in that spot, please take me there safely.

His feet felt like lead. Urging himself while holding the picture in his mind, repeating his desire to be there, he cautiously lifted his left foot. His entire body was shaking feverishly as panic gripped him tightly. He was terrified that laying his foot down meant he would be setting it at death’s door again.

Please...keep me safe.... Please...I need to go there.... I need to know.... He is depending on me.... I want to go right there, right now....

He moved his foot forward and felt it hit the floor. The deafening fwoosh filled his ears, and he tried to cry out in terror, but the blast of wind pushed his voice back into his throat. The moment it started, the sensation ended, though his panic did not. He opened his eyes slowly.

Sans was standing out in the valley, just outside the shelter, trembling fiercely. He sucked in gulps of air in sharp gasps, struggling to breathe, and staggered forward. His legs and knees were too weak with relief from the fear he had embraced and could no longer support him. They buckled, forcing him to collapse down upon his stomach in the snow.

He slowly shut his eyes as he feebly slammed his left hand down on to the snow in triumph.

“I...I can’t—” he gasped. “I-I can’t believe it.... I did it.... I did it....”

Papyrus was running towards him, calling out for him. “Sas! Sas!”

Sans shakily raised his head to his brother’s voice. “Pap....”

The little skeleton flung himself onto the snow at his brother’s side. “Sas hurt?!”

Sans grinned weakly. “No...no, I’m fine.... Just...tired....”

With Papyrus’ help, he got up to sit in the snow. He was still breathing heavily.

Papyrus still looked concerned, and Sans shook his head.

“I’m ok.... I was just so terrified.... and when it happened, it was loud and fast, and I was so scared I was going to wind up hurt again.... I’m still shaking from being so panicked like that. I just need a minute, I’ll be fine.”

Sans sat back, putting his hands in the snow to hold himself up. He started laughing softly, his grin widening.

“Pap...I did it.”

Papyrus’ face split into a grin. “Sas did it!”

“I did it.”

Papyrus came in to give him a crushing hug, giggling happily.

“Pa knew Sas could do it! Pa beweived in you!”

Sans shut his eyes as he hugged his brother back, his relief and joy washing away the fear, anxiety, and doubts, leaving him exhausted and shaky, but happy. The two brothers held onto each other, laughing at Sans’ accomplishment, as swirls of snow danced around them in celebration.

#undertale #undertale fanfic #undertale fanfiction #sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #sans undertale #papyrus undertale #skelebros #babybones #TBMP #TwoBrothersManyPaths #Two Brothers Many Paths

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likingletsplays · 6 years

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A Date at the Park

Authors note:

Thank you @theofficult for the inspiration

The original post can be found here

Dark drummed his pencil on the desk, glaring down at his stack of papers. He glanced up at the clock and huffed sitting back in his seat. It was ten fifteen and there was no way he would finish the planning that needed to be done anytime soon. All he wanted to do was crawl in bed and curl up against Wilford’s side. This is part of the life you chose Dark. Things like your love life have to be put on hold for the greater need of the Egos. Yes but sometimes love is more important than this. It’s not like he won’t have time to work on this tomorrow. Damien your love for William makes you blind Celine hissed And your hate for what Dark did to Mark makes you vengeful and you couldn’t give a damn if Dark ran himself into the ground. Stop fighting Dark growled dropping his head into his hands.There was a soft knock on the door. Dark looked up to see Wilford closing the door behind him. Wilford’s eyes always seemed to bring peace to Dark. He had dark brown eyes with a ring of bring pink around his iris and as soon as they met Dark’s Black ones, Dark felt his body relax. “Still working?” Wilford asked walking over to Dark and sitting down on his desk.

Dark sat back a soft smile on his lips, “When am I not Wil?”

“Are we getting a new Ego?” Wilford asked looking down at the pile of papers.

Dark huffed reaching for the papers and extracting a picture from the plie, “His name is Yanderplier, he is from Japan so I have to travel quite some distance for him.”

“Who are you taking with you Darky?” Wilford asked taking the picture from Dark and looking down at the pail skinned, red haired boy.

“I was thinking one of the Googles for translation, and maybe you if you wanted to go…why are you still in work clothes?” Dark asked taking in the full image of Wilford.

“Blue is still editing. He is very distractible today.” Wilford answered putting the picture back on top of the pile, “How old is he?”

“23. He is in college now, Mark said he didn’t even intend of making him but the fans kinda,” Dark answered shrugging, “And distractible how? Is he working on a full episode or half?”

“Half but Bim has also been gone all day so it doesn’t surprise me that he is off his game,” Wilford answered, “ And I would love to go with you Darky but I have too much going on in the studio at the moment.” Wilford took Dark’s face between his hands.

Dark closed his eyes temporally feeling his and Damien’s hearts soar, “I’ll talk with Blue tonight see where his head is at.”

“Spend tomorrow with me?” Wilford whispered pressing light kisses across Dark’s forehead.

Dark grimaced, “There is still so much planning I have to do.”

Wilford shook his head and said softly, “I won’t take no for an answer Darky. Tomorrow is just for you and me. You already know you’ll be taking Red with you; he is the best at translating. There isn’t much left to be done but book your tickets and Oliver could do that.”

“Let me leave an intermarry for Oliver then.” Dark said pressing a light kiss to Wilford’s lips.

“You have fifteen minutes. If I have to come back for you,” Wilford said standing up a glint in his eye, “I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you to bed. Then have my way with you all night.”

Dark groaned softly, “Give me forty-five minutes, I need to talk to Blue first then I’ll meet you in your room.”

“When will you get it through your head that it’s our room Dark?” Wilford asked.

Dark shrugged, “I probably never will Wil.” Wilford shook his head, a knowing smile on his lips as he left the office. Dark quickly began to fill out the few simple tasks he had for Oliver the next day, then walked out of his office to find Blue.

“Good morning handsome,” Wilford said his voice raspy from sleep.

Dark opened his eyes and turned to face Wilford, “Good morning Wil, what do we have on the agenda today?”

“Just a simple picnic and more of what we did last night later,” Wilford answered leaning forward to slowly kiss down Dark’s neck and bare chest.

“Wil,” Dark groaned pushing the pink haired man back, “You need to go set things in order in the studio before we go.”

“Get ready then Darky.” Wilford said standing up, pulling a pair of boxers on and disappearing into the bathroom.

Dark sat up, cracking his neck and back into place. He walked slowly to the closet and opened it, “What should I wear today?”

Wilford stuck his head out of the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, “Wear something casual; jeans and a tee-shirt.”

Dark nodded and turned back to the closet. He barely had anything in there; he really needed to move more of his cloths into Wilford’s room. Wear the black jeans and gray sweater. Do you not know any other colors besides gray and black Damien? Dark rolled his eyes not in the mood to hear their bickering this early. He did take Damien’s advice however.

Wilford wrapped his arms around Dark’s middle, “It doesn’t take you long to get ready.” Dark commented turning his face to see Wilford was already completely dressed.

“I took a shower after you fell asleep last night,” Wilford shrugged. He turned Dark around, grabbed his bare hips and pulled him closer to him pressing a kiss to his lips, “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Dark hummed smiling softly. He walked into the bathroom and started to get ready.

Dark ran around the car opening the door for Wilford, “So why a picnic?” Wilford shrugged carrying the basket and blanket out to the grass. It used to be one of my favorite things to do. That’s saying that William is also somewhere in there. That he is also part of that madness. Can you say he isn’t? How do you know he isn’t kinda like me? Because Wilford is himself and isn’t possessed. His mind is just broken.

Dark sat next to Wilford, “There are a lot of butterfly’s out today.”

Dark froze midway from taking the wineglass from Wilford’s hand, “What?” he asked

“Yeah see.” Wilford said standing up and gesturing around to the many aster bushes

“We need to leave.” Dark croaked his eyes dancing between the many plants.

“Darky they won’t hurt you.” Wilford said bending down and putting the wine glass down. He stood up and walked closer to the bushed

“Wilford, I’m under attack!” Dark yelled out watching as a butterfly landed on his sleeve.

Wilford turned his head frowning in confusion, “Wh?”

“I need assistance!” Dark yelled louder stumbling to his feet holding his arm out as still as a board.

“W-whats going on?” Wilford asked taking a few tentative steps back towards Dark

Dark pointed to the butterfly on his arm, “I am being harassed.”

“Aw- Dark its just a butterf-.” Wilford answered back a look of slight confusion still on his face.

“Unhand me fiend!” Dark yelled swinging his arm madly in an attempt to get the butterfly to get off his arm. Dark’s eyes widened when another one landed next to the first. “Wilford I’m being serious HELP!”

Wilford walked back to Dark, brushing the butterflies from his arm. He took Dark’s panicked face between his hands, “What’s going on Darky?”

“That was a black and brown butterfly Wil.” Dark answered his eyes still wide with fear.

“What does that mean?” Wilford asked a slight frown on his face.

“When butterfly’s land on you its an omen. Those aren’t good colors Wil. Black is illness of a loved one and brown means life changing news. Both of those together could mean a very bad thing for you.” Dark explained quickly.

“Good thing I don’t believe in them then.” Wilford said chucking. He pressed a swift kiss to Dark’s lips, “That’s an old wives tale my love. You can’t believe everything your told.”

“I was an old wives tale.” Dark croaked out wrapping his arms around Wilford’s middle bearing his face against Wilford’s chest.

@tmblr-a-binch

#markiplier #mark #google #googleplier #markiplier fandom #dark #darkiplier #markiplier egos #markiplier wilford #markimoo #wilford #wilford warfstache #darkstache #writersofmark #my writing #william j barnum #william #celine

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shiyabelleth · 6 years

Text

Sick Blues- Dantistache

LOOK WHAT I FOUND IN MY DRAFTS @pixiepatches , @allimeraine , @aoimatsurika

Anti and Dark wake up sick, Wilford is not sick, since he was the culprit who made them sick in the first place. Sort, sweet, and to the point. Warning: Mild cursing, and sexual humor

Tired baby blues opened as sunlight had just begun filtering through dark curtains, coating the velvet finish, and masking the floor in the winter light. The owner of said baby blues smiled slightly before closing his eyes again, only disturbed by the sound of the sheets beside him shuffling before relaxing and leaning into the warm touch of the body to his left, nuzzling into the warmth and willing himself to go back to sleep. Big mistake. When his eyes opened again, it was now way too bright, his nose was stuffy, and he literally had the WORST headache he had had in his life.

Shooting up in bed, which he regretted almost immediately, the virus glitched around as he fumbled to untangle himself from the sheets and lunged across the room, slamming the door to the bathroom shut before getting violently ill. There was footsteps and a knock of the door, and Anti knew he wasn’t the only one affected when Dark’s gruff voice was even deeper, laced with sleep, and sickness. “Anti, baby?” “Let me diiiiiiiiiie,” the glitch whined as he clung to the toilet. A similar sounding voice to Dark was heard and the bathroom door open, a man with pink hair walking in and laying some ginger ale next to his boyfriend. “Try not to spill it.” The glitch frowned and wiped his mouth before drinking some of the ginger ale, holding his stomach and making pathetic faux sobbing noises. Dark knelt by him, petting his hair and whispering it was going to be okay. Wilford was...Surprisingly unaffected. “So, you two are sick?” “Seems so,” the Demon said simply, right in the Irish Virus’ ear. Anti shivered, whining as he rested his head on his arms. “You and that damn...Deep...Voice…” Dark blinked and Wilford laughed. “If I wasn’t dying, I’d fuck you, right now.” “Fucking in the bathroom? Classy, gent,” the pinkstached man teased and Anti glared at him. “How the fuck are you not sick too?” “I’m rather curious about that as well,” Dark hummed, tilting his head to look at where his other boyfriend was brushing his teeth. “Oh, that’s simple, I was sick before, and you broke my fever.” The two on the bathroom floor froze. “You-” “You were sick?” “And ye didn’t fockin’ tell us?!” Wilford yelped when the cup of ginger ale was tossed at him. “Anti!” “I’ve got shite ta do, ya fock!” Dark chuckled slightly before coughing into his fist, frowning. “And you got Darky sick too!” “It’s a cold, you’ll live. You two are such babies, I swear,” the journalist said with a roll of his eyes, spitting out the residue of the toothpaste in his mouth before rinsing it and turning off the water. “How do you think I dealt with it without you two knowing, eh?” Anti pouted. “Aww, baby boy, there’s no need to pout.” “Yer not allowed ta call me baby boy when yer bein’ a dick.” “So only when you’re riding said dick? Got it.” Dark muffled his laugh in Anti’s shoulder and the glitch elbowed him, causing him to wheeze and smack his shoulder. “Don’t hit me.” “Daaaaaark, our boyfriend is being rude!” “And?” “You two are literally the worst.” The Iplier Egos mimicked the same smile and Anti facepalmed. “Don’t fuckin’ take that as a compliment.” * After tucking Anti back into the bed, and Dark refusing to stay in said bed as well, the two Ipliers left the room. As soon as the door was shut, the demon glared, eyes cold, face taut. “You didn’t know you were sick?” “Well, yeah, I mean, I felt stuffy, but I thought a head cold, not an actual, I’m sniffly and sneezing cold.” “Wilford.” “What? I didn’t know.” “How long were you sick?” “About a week?” “A week and you never once went to Dr. Iplier?” “No, I just took medicine and went about my life.” “...When did you notice you were sick?” “Hmmm, I’d say within the first few days.” “And you still were intimate with Anti and I?” “Yes.” “....” WIlford smiled cheekily. “You are such a pain,” Dark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. The two walked down the hall, conversing, although Dark seemed out of it, actually bumping the wall before straightening up a bit. “What about you?” “What?” Dark looked back up, confused. “You’re obviously sick as well, but you’re up and moving, instead of sleeping it off, like you’re making our boyfriend do.” “That’s different.” “How?” “I’m not as sick as he is.” “Dark, you sound like a demon from hell with how scratchy your throat is, you’re swaying on your feet, and you keep coughing. You’re sick.” “I’m fine.” “I could push you over and you wouldn’t know how to respond until you’re on the floor.” “That’s not-” Dark was suddenly shoved, landing on the floor. “True…” Wilford just raised a brow, setting his hands on his hips. “Go to sleep.” “I’m not tired.” “Then just fuck around on your phone.” “But-” “I will drag you back to the bedroom, don’t question me.” Dark laughed a bit, picking himself back up. “You’re cute. I’m not going back to the room, however, I have things that need to be done.” Wilford followed after his stubborn partner, scowling as Dark just continued on his day, despite being sick. He had done the same thing, but still. The two entered the kitchen and Wilford guided Dark away from the glassware, making him glare. “Wilford, I am fine. You do not have to guide me like I’m Host.” “The Host laughs slightly at the jab, but makes it obvious he heard your remark, cautioning you to look around the room at who all is in it before being insulting.” “Aww, sorry, chum, Dark is a little under the wea-GHK!” Wilford looked at where Dark’s elbow had jabbed him, appalled. “Did you just fucking hit me?” “Mind your mouth.” “Oooooh, tension~” The two looked over at where Bing had swung in to grab something, opening the fridge and raising a brow over his sunglasses before finger gunning and leaving again, holding two sodas. “...Can I cough on him?” “Dark, you know you can’t.” “It’d be so easy.” “I thought you weren’t sick.” “I’m not, I’d just like to pretend to be. Freak him out a bit.” Wilford looked after the android as he turned the corner. “...Was that Google’s shirt?” “...” “IT WAS!” “...Dammit.” “You owe me!” Wilford yelled excitedly, shaking Dark around as he jumped up and down, holding his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, I owe Anti, too.” Dark replied, trying to keep himself from falling at the motion. Wilford kept shaking him and the demon ended up lurching, grabbing the countertop to keep himself from toppling as he fought getting sick. He had knocked a couple of cups off the counter. The Jim Twins wandered into the room, confused at the clattering sounds they had heard, fingers covered with bright paints, a confused, yet artsy Septic Ego following them, holding a paintbrush. “Ze hell ‘appened ‘ere?” “I fell,” Dark said stiffly, fighting is turning stomach. “He fell for me,” Wilford lied cheekily. “Well, zat’s already obvious. I meant ze loud crashing.” “He fell hard~” The Jims came closer, wiping their fingers off on their clothes as they crouched to peer in Dark’s eyes. Said eyes were shaking, and the demon looked very, very pale. “Jim thinks that the Demon is not feeling very good right now. He’s got a gut ouchie.” “A boo-boo on his insides.” “Just say ‘e’s sick.” the French Ego said simply. “I’m not sick!” Dark roared before clutching his head and groaning. Okay, maybe he was sick.

#dantistache #danti #darkstache #antistache #Belleth's writing domain #wilford warfstache fanfiction #darkiplier fanfiction #fanfiction #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #antisepticeye #antisepticeye fanfiction

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snarkyowl · 7 years

Text

Teach Him To Love

as usual this falls apart towards the end. oops.

“Come on Dark! I really want you to meet him!” Mark calls, a few paces ahead of his younger brother.

Dark coughs, still a bit sick, as he chases after his sibling.

“Mark I can’t run this much, mama and the doctors said-” “Screw what they say! Come on Darkie!” Mark laughs, picking up the pace.

Dark coughs again and runs faster to keep up, still trying to whine in between breaths. Finally they reach the little area Mark was trying to lead them to, and Dark gets to collapse. He gasps and coughs, and Mark starts to get worried. Maybe he really shouldn’t have made his little brother run so much.

Author appears with his usual satchel, but frowns at the sight of some new pathetic whelp with Mark. He steps cautiously closer as Mark helps the boy up, and then realizes with a start that the kid looks almost identical to Mark. Just a lot more pathetic.

“Author! Hey!” Mark greets with his usual friendly cheeriness about him.

Author smiles back awkwardly before looking back to the new kid.

“So uh, who’s this, Mark?” “I’m Dark.” The kid says, and Author is floored by how gorgeous his eyes are.

They’re like Mark’s in shape, but the color is so much darker and holds so much more… potential. Mark is a man of potential, and Author believe that. However, the look in Dark’s eyes is something more than that. Where Mark is only ambitious, Dark has a greed about him as well as a stalwart determination that Mark doesn’t quite carry. Author wonders where that will lead him.

“Author. It’s nice to meet you.” Author says, smiling politely and offering his hand.

Dark stares his hand down before nodding to himself and shaking Author’s hand. Dark’s hand is bony and cold, and Author wonders if he’s always cold like this.

Mark and Author spend the day showing Dark around, and Author learns very quickly that Dark knows very little and yet very much. He’s awkward with social situations despite carrying a cool countenance, and Author wonders why Dark feels he has to always look unshakeable.

Mark seems more than happy to finally have his brother with him on their adventures, and his excitement eventually passes to the other two boys with him. Dark slowly becomes more talkative and asks more questions to the point Author laughs every time he asks a new one, but it’s only a laugh of friendly amusement.

They meet a kind man that sells them each an ice cream cone for very little, his smile is all too knowing and Author appreciates the kindness of someone who understand when kids can’t afford to have delights like this.

Dark is fascinated by the ice cream, and Author has to remind himself that Dark was kept inside for years because he becomes ill very easily. He wonders why his parents are suddenly letting him out, but it doesn’t take long for him to get his answer.

“They think he’s going to die.” Mark says softly, watching his brother nap in the sun.

“Why would-” “The doctor’s said he’s just in poor health. That he won’t ever get any stronger. He sleeps a lot and gets sick even more, they don’t think he has a chance.” “Have they told him this?” Author asks, watching the sad eyes of his friend trail around the small clearing.

“Not to his face, mom wouldn’t allow it. He heard them, though.” “So they’re freeing him only because they think he’s going to die?” “Might as well let him die happy.” Mark mutters, and Author frowns.

“Bullshit.” He decides, and Mark chuckles softly.

“You’re telling me.”

When Dark turns fifteen, Author takes him to the fair. Despite it all, Dark is still kicking. He still has a tendency for getting sick, but damn if he doesn’t do an impressive job of pushing through. His parents still won’t let him attend school because they’re worried he’ll be bullied over the fact he can’t write well because he didn’t start learning to write until he was 10.

Dark perseveres with his brother and Author by his sides, and Author couldn’t be more proud of him. He’s come a long way from the stick of an eleven year old that Author met four years ago. He’s still not the best in ways of physical build, but he’s getting there.

Dark is intimidated by the sheer amount of people, and Author realizes that even with his four years of “freedom,” Dark has continued to live a rather… sheltered life. With a determined huff, Author decides he’s going to start taking Dark out more. Mark has been so busy lately with work and school, but Author doesn’t bother with either of those things so it works out.

“Author?” Dark asks, pulling Author from the long halls of his mind and back to this one present moment.

“Dark?” Author questions softly, looking back to his friend.

The younger boy is dressed (adorably) in a white button down, some nice looking pants, suspenders, and to Author’s amusement Mark apparently put him in a bow-tie. Compared to Author in his simple flannel and jeans, Dark looks rather fancy.

“I don’t… Like this.” Dark seems hesitant to admit it, and Author smiles comfortingly.

“Of course you don’t, Darkipoo, you’ve never been somewhere like this before. Now c’mon, don’t worry about it. I’m here for you.” Author soothes, offering his hand out.

Dark takes it, and they head off into the fair.

Dark looks around in quiet fascination at everything, occasionally gripping tightly to Author’s hand when something startles him. They go on rides, though it takes a lot of convincing to get Dark onto them, and they eat food. Author finds a petting zoo and feels his heart melt when he sees Dark just enjoying the animals because he never really gets to do that.

When Dark looks up at him, a duck in his lap and a lamb nibbling his hair, and laughs? Author can’t do anything but laugh too because the sight makes him forget about that shadowy glint of greed that seems to haunt Dark’s eyes.

Dark seems almost angelic among the animals, Author is sorry when he has to tell him it’s time to go. Thankfully Dark isn’t horribly crushed, says goodbye in a gentle voice Author feels belongs more with human children and mothers than a fifteen year old boy and a grumpy old duck, but that’s Dark for you.

Undeterred by having to leave his animal companions, Dark practically skips along at Author’s side as they head home. For a fifteen year old, Dark is certainly excited about this all. Author is glad.

He deserves excitement.

They have dinner in Author’s favorite little diner in his favorite booth. Dark takes the time to unwind after all of his excitement, though he quietly talks Author’s ear off about everything and how grateful he is that Author took him. Author smiles through most of it, though the smile falls as he focuses on his food.

As they go different ways to get to their own different homes, Author wonders how many more innocent moments he can pull out of Dark before the boy gives in to his own pride. Not long, Author sighs.

Not long.

“Author! Author-!”

Sirens and sound, it’s all flashing and it’s all too bright. They’re trying to question him but he can’t think beyond the blood and the screaming and the eyes and oh god no they’re taking him away he can’t be taken away Dark needs him-

Dark sits in silence, eyes glossed over and haunted. His unwavering gaze is locked on one specific spot on the floor, his hands tightly gripping the opposite arm. Around him, the officers and workers give him sympathetic glances, curious glances, disappointed glances, and a few have been judgemental.

He ignores them all because what does it matter? They won’t do anything to him.

Mark is furious when he comes to pick Dark up, but his anger melts like icy when he sees his sibling. His baby brother, only 18, has just seen things no one that young should have to see.

“Dark?” Mark asks, and he keeps his tone low as he crouches down to try and catch his younger brother’s eyes.

Dark is too far gone, though; at least for the moment. His eyes search for something that isn’t there, and he feels sick when everything really settles.

Author’s body lay broken and beaten on the ground, no longer making any sound as fists and feet slammed into it. No longer flinching when the bat swung down directly into the rib-cage. No, Author was still and Dark screamed because that usually meant someone had died and Author wasn’t allowed to. He couldn’t die. Dark needed Author because Author grounded him, kept him sane on the days he wanted to rip out his own throat in place of living anymore.

Author made him want to live, and if he died what was that supposed to mean to Dark? “You should die too.” A voice whispers in his head, and he realizes that yes, that’s the obvious answer.

If Author goes, he’ll go too. He’d stay for Mark if he thought his brother wouldn’t make it without him, but he knows well and good Mark is going to be fine. Mark is stronger than that.

Author is alive, Mark has said by now, but he’s broken. Broken and it’s all Dark’s fault. All his.

He feels sick but he doesn’t let himself get sick because Mark is in front of him and people are watching them like hungry vultures. They’re waiting for him to break because if he does that they’ll think they’ve won some unspoken battle. They’ll think he’ll quit the path he’s begun to walk down.

No.

Dark has seen things tonight that will haunt him for years to come, and when another mistake of his leads to Author’s suffering he’ll blame himself then. He’ll think of this and laugh hollowly as he downs another glass of whiskey. He’ll know that this, this one night of broken bones, bloody gashes, and bruises was nothing compared to what was to come.

But in the moment, in the night that it happens, Dark remains silent. He holds himself because he can’t let anyone else hold him, not after he let his friend nearly die for the sake of his own wants. He holds himself because he doesn’t deserve to have someone else do it. Mark tries, but like a cat that doesn’t want to be pet Dark slinks away from under his brother’s arm and keeps walking.

Mark looks hurt, but Dark knows that he understands what’s going on in Dark’s head. Dark thinks he doesn’t deserve to be loved right now, and when Dark thinks something it’s near-impossible to convince him of anything else, so Mark doesn’t try.

That’s okay.

It’s okay not to try because Dark really doesn’t want him to.

And later, when Dark is in a better mental state, he’ll tell Mark that. He’ll tell Mark he’s grateful that Mark didn’t push.

When they visit Author in the hospital Dark will stand as far from the bed while still being close as he can, he’ll hold himself again and as they’re leaving his eyes will take up that glossy appearance. The hundred yard stare will return and Dark will lapse back into stony silence because for Dark silence is more comforting than sound because sound means that things are happening. That the world is spinning. In silence, Dark can breathe. He can take a break.

Silence holds him while noise shakes him, and if no one else is allowed to hold him silence can because silence won’t whisper everything he’s done wrong in his ear. She’ll hold him, and she won’t say a word.

Author settles down beside Dark with a beer, and listens to what Dark has to say.

A gang, evidently. It’s an insane idea, but Author knows Dark has mulled over this for ages. Years maybe, from the fact the tattoo idea is ridiculous.

Dark admits to meeting a man named Wilford, and the mustache had been his idea. “Alternatively,” Dark says a bit miserably, “we could have glasses. Or a box.” “A… box?” Author questions, and Dark snorts.

“It- there’s a long story. I’m holding off on that one.” “So a mustache and some glasses? Sounds dumb.” “You should hear what Brody’s little minions wear.” Dark grunts, drinking idly from his beer.

Author frowns, tilting his head to try and make Dark look at him. He won’t.

“Chase started a gang?” “Joined and managed to take it over.” “Huh. What’s his wife think?” “She doesn’t, for now, know he’s in one.” Dark mutters darkly, finishing his beer with eerie speed.

Author worries for him, wonders if he drinks frequently and if he does Author wants to know why. He doesn’t ask, but he still wants to know.

“That won’t end well.” “It won’t.” Dark agrees softly, setting the empty bottle down.

They slip into easy silence, just breathing. Author shuts his eyes and rests his head back on the wall behind him, mulling over Dark’s proposition for a while. Finally, he sits forward and looks to Dark. This time, Dark meets his eyes.

“What did Mark think about this gang idea?” Author questions, and Dark grimaces.

“He said to ask you seeing as you’re the… Wisest of the three of us. Which I disagree with because I clearly remember you thinking that setting a pool on fire would both work and be a good idea.” Dark states, smirking as Author groans.

“I was drunk Dark, cut me some slack.” “You know I’m not going to.” “It was worth a shot.” Author huffs, lips quirking into a smile at the sound of a low chuckle from Dark.

“You’re a fucking dumbass, Author, and you know it.” “Well apparently Mark doesn’t, so you shut up.” Author says, stabbing Dark in the side with his finger.

Dark squawks, and Author laughs.

“I think a gang would be fun.” Author decides, and Dark’s eyes light up.

“Great. I’ll call Wilford and Mark in the morning.” “Have anyone else joining?” “A few candidates.” Dark nods, then shrugs. “But we’ll have to see.”

Dark, with time, goes from awkward and stiff to cold and professional. In places his voice used to only be cold, it now comes out feeling like ice. Author feels he’s turned into a completely different man from the one he thought he knew, and he knows why. Envy, greed, and pride overrule most decisions Dark tends to make. He makes every decision with his own best interest in mind, but that’s okay.

They’re all in a position where he can afford to do that.

Still, Author wonders how much of their lives will change because of this.

The gang is still small, mostly, but it’s turned into something Author can rely on. The Ipliers are already notorious in their side of the town, and Dark’s will to get things done well and fast has spread into rumors that he’s a ruthless killer.

Author wishes they were further away from the truth.

Dark doesn’t kill frequently, nor does he do it for any kind of enjoyment. He does kill, though, and he does it with such unflinching ease Author dearly misses the fifteen year old that would sit and baa at a lamb because he thought it was cute.

Author stays by his side anyways, and so does Mark. They’re all in this together, that won’t ever change.

Some things, though, will change.

Author meets a man named Edward and he immediately hates him. The man is a bleeding heart doctor that works at some poor clinic, but he still carries himself with utter confidence and looks constantly as though he thinks he’s better than everyone else.

The doctor offers to help Author when he sees him limping one day, and Author tells him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. The doctor laughs, and hands him a number.

“Well Mr. Tough, if you ever do need help just call.” The doctor says, and then he’s gone.

Despite what his mind says to do, Author tucks the number away for later use.

Maybe, at a later date, the doctor can make himself useful.

Dark has gotten them into a bad situation, and Author knows this is going to be a bad one. One that Dark can’t charm his way out of, and one they might die in.

Dark keeps Author behind him as long as he can before he’s pulled into a brawl.

Author loses sight of Dark in a circling mass of bodies that pick and tear at Dark like a pack of hyenas, laughing and taunting as they go.

Author is similarly surrounded, and the torture begins.

When he wakes, there is silence. There is darkness.

He breathes in, confirms that his hearing is not gone, and then screams.

The pain he feels cannot be properly described in words, though it’s similar to having fire pressed deeply into your eyes. A throbbing, horrible pain where his eyes are. Should be.

Author screams for all he’s worth because the pain is too much.

Dark is nearby, Author knows he has to be. When the pain ebbs to a point Author can take it, he takes to crawling and searching.

Everything hurts, he’s going to go into some kind of shock he knows, but he wants to find Dark first. Has to find him first.

Dark’s hand finds his, but Dark doesn’t seem aware of anything at all. Author says his name, and Dark only slurs something back at him.

Author collapses next to him, and lets himself fade away from the pain again.

The next time he wakes, he calls himself the Host and finds the way he communicates has altered itself completely without his permission. He narrates more than he speaks, and he has to wonder if there’s a real reason for that.

There is. His mind whispers softly. It makes you feel in control.

And ah yes, of course. He’s all about control. Losing his sight is catastrophic to him, or should be, so he narrates to feel as though the situation is his to control.

He processes a soft voice talking to him, and realizes with a jolt that’s a familiar voice, and not one of the nurses he’s spoken with since waking up. The doctor. The fucking doctor.

“Author?”

“The… The Host would like to be called… Host.” He says softly, and he can see the doctor nodding.

Well he can’t see it, but he imagines it so.

“Alright, Host. How do you feel? Is the pain in your eyes any better?”

“The pain in Host’s eyes is manageable.” Host murmurs, nodding lightly.

He can imagine the doctor smiles, somewhat sadly, as he feels a hand rest on his shoulder.

“Mark has been swinging by, but-” “Dark?” Edward pauses, and Host, for a moment, fears that he’s going to say Dark is dead.

“From what I’ve heard from Mark, Dark hasn’t been doing well. He’s healing okay, but he’s…” The doctor trails off, and Host frowns.

“He is…?” He questions, and Edward sighs.

“It doesn’t feel right for you to hear it from me, Host. Mark will come by soon, so you can ask him, yeah?”

“That will… Suffice.” Host murmurs, worry tugging incessantly at his belly.

When he asks Mark for the answers the doctor wouldn’t provide, Mark lets out a heavy sigh.

“Dark’s drinking himself into oblivion, Host. He’s… He’s not doing good.” Mark admits softly.

“He keeps having nightmares that he has to scream himself awake from, and I don’t- I think he’s hurting himself Host but I can’t check. He won’t let me.” Mark murmurs, and Host can hear the exhaustion that pulls at Mark likes a persistent child.

“Mark is tired and suffering just as much as Dark and Host. He should rest.” Host says, and Mark chuckles lifelessly.

“Yeah, of course, rest.” He mutters, and Host’s heart aches.

“Host, would you want to see him?” “Dark?” “Yeah.” The Host pauses to consider it.

“Why would the Host not?” “Because it’s his fault you’re like this.” Mark says, but Host knows this isn’t Mark blaming Dark.

This is Mark telling Host where Dark is, mentally.

“The Host is worried for his friend,” Host says firmly, “he wishes to hear from him at the very least.”

Dark plays at being alright when he visits, and Host doesn’t press him. Dark has a heavy limp and has to pause to breathe if he talks too long. Once hand is covered in cloth bandages, and according to Dark he can’t see for shit out of his left eye.

“It’s only temporary.” He adds, and Host senses the bitterness there.

Host never mentions the self blame and deprecation, instead he only has Dark talk about what’s going on with the other Ipliers.

“They’re dead.” Dark says suddenly, and Host frowns.

“The-” “No. The people who hurt you.” Dark clarifies, and Host’s heart stutters.

Dead already?

“Wilford killed them all after I found their base.” Dark says, and his voice sounds so tired and haunted Host wishes he could see him.

Comfort him.

Things between Dark and Host aren’t the same once they’re both back in action. They don’t talk as much, but when they do it’s mostly like it used to be. Dark doesn’t joke anymore, though. He’s lost any kind of light heartedness he had left. Host wishes he could change that, but there isn’t a thing he can do about it.

Instead, Host spends the time he used to spend with Dark with the doctor. Edward, he finds, isn’t actually unbearably overconfident once you worm your way into his heart. He’s a sweetheart, and definitely a pushover. He’s kindhearted, and Host is mostly certain he would drop everything to save a kitten.

Hell, Edward would drop everything to save a cactus.

Host adores him, and seeing as Mark keeps himself busier than ever these days, Host tells Dark about his affections.

Dark always listens and as time goes Host hears things in his tone he thought he’d never hear again. Exasperation and amusement, a teasing tone used to prod at Host and make him blush over a crush.

He can’t see the sadness in Dark’s eyes, nor the fact that his friend is never really smiling. Dark is an actor, and pretending to be happy for Host was easier than counting to three because he just had to affect how he sounded.

Not how he looked.

Soon, Dark finds himself going out with Host to find an engagement ring. He hides his pain with a cold countenance, but lets his voice stay warm for Host’s sake. Host is buzzing with excitement and anxiety, he’ll stay better if he doesn’t know what Dark has going on right now.

Dark has fallen for the doctor as well, and he can’t begin to believe how cruel the universe is to him.

Still, he picks out a ring and describes it to Host in painfully vivid detail. Host says Edward should love it, jokes that Dark knows his soon to be fiance better than he does. Dark laughs, but it’s a little too hollow.

Host doesn’t comment as he purchases the ring, and thanks the cashier politely.

Dark counts to ten, and then follows along behind him.

Edward meets Dark properly and not just for medical reasons on the tenth of October. Dark is with Host, half asleep against him really, and Edward had been expecting Host alone.

Dark drowsily greets the doctor, and Edward has to laugh.

“Not very intimidating when you’re half asleep, I have to say.” Edward teases him like they’re longtime friends, and Dark startles himself by chuckling.

“You’ve caught me in an undignified moment.” Dark says, and Edward snorts.

“You’re telling me.”

Host smiles, small and pleased, as the two people nearest and dearest to him banter. When they both quiet down on either side of him, Dark still tucked close and Edward simply leaning lightly on him, Host lets his smile get bigger.

This is nice.

The first time one of them kisses Dark, it’s surprisingly not Host. Instead, Edward grabs Dark by the face and plants a kiss firmly on his lips.

Host and Dark are both so startled neither of them can say anything for a full five minutes as they try to process.

“You’re both slower than steamrollers.” Edward sighs, settling himself in Dark’s lap as though he belongs there. And maybe he does.

#darkiplier #the host #dr. iplier #snarky writes #gangs au #markiplier

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