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11
Undergrounded / Re: Papy Love
« Last post by InterNutter on August 07, 2016, 04:28:43 am »
MOAR!

====8<====


  “That song saved my life,” he said. “I sing it for Sans when he can't sleep. Or when he's… Sad.” Papyrus stared into infinity for a moment. “And just three days after that, things got better. You did a news piece about our little shop. My brother and I got more work. And… a nice old lady gave us her house.”

  “That was you? It was always you! I should have remembered. I should have known. It was you! With the flowers! And the box! And-- ooooh! You were my lucky charm! I should have _seen_ it!” Nice cream half-eaten, hot chocolate half-consumed, Mettaton squealed as he launched himself from his cushioned throne just so he could dance like a massive nerd in a moment of unguarded glee. “It was _you_! All along, it was _you_!”

  It was a babble of incoherent gibberish, but there was a heart of a story in the middle of it. About a little pink ghost who wanted to be a superstar. About how the ghost didn’t know if anything they did was any good at all. And about how there was a skeleton kid in the flowers where he sang a song without words, to get all his feelings out. The look on that kid’s face was enough to inspire that ghost to go ahead with his decision. To become Mettaton.

  And he was the same little skeleton who was one of Mettaton’s first news pieces for _Good Morning Underground_. A piece that was so good that it started a flood if interest in Mettaton himself. As well as a flood of interest in the skeleton brothers who were just trying to make ends meet.

  And once again, that same skeleton was behind the very human that brought Mettaton’s highest ratings in his entire career.

  “Impossible,” breathed Papyrus. “That ghost was a girl…”

  Mettaton deflated into a depressed slump in his cushioned throne. “Please understand that I don’t like to do this. I… hate… being my old me. I… _was_… a ghost. And all the other things. I’m not that any more.” He opened his chest plate and punched in a code. An automated voice began a countdown and his SOUL chamber opened. “I’m doing this for you,” he said. “So you understand.”

  “Three,” said the automated voice. “Two. One.”

  Mettaton’s body slumped. There was a diminishing whine as his motors stopped running. His SOUL separated from its chamber and, gradually at first, a pink halo formed around it. The ghost girl from the field of echo flowers. Her face twisted up in an expression of pain and disgust. “I d-d-d-don’t like this mmm-me,” she said. “I feel… www-wrong… like th-this. B-but I am nnn-now and always have b-b-b-been a b-boy. D-do you understand, P-Papyrus?”

  He nodded. This was serious stuff. “Of course, Mettaton. Go back to your real body. It’s okay. I get it now.”

  The ghost looked so sad as he faded out of sight and the SOUL re-entered his robot body. A sadness that eased onto Mettaton’s face. “I understand if you hate me now,” he said. “Many… would see what I’ve done as a lie…”

  “Why would I hate you?” said Papyrus. “You changed my life.”

  “And now I want you in mine,” Mettaton whispered. “Please? Name the time and place. Tell me what to wear. Anything.”

  “Y-you mean… a date?”

  “Oohh, yes…”

  “Between a star like you and a humble skeleton like me?”

  “Oohh, _yes_.”

  “With a candlelit dinner and fancy clothes and flowers and music and dancing?”

  “Oh! Yes!”

  “Mettaton…”

  “Yes, darling, yes!”

  “I’m afraid I have to refuse.”

  “Y-- What?” Mettaton deflated, lost. “Y-you said you d-don’t have any r-rr-reason t-t-to hate mmmm-me?”

  “I, the Great Papyrus, have been reading up on the dating manual and Step Fifteen is: _Deliver a gentle and loving kiss to let them know you want to see them again._ I’m a skeleton. I don’t have lips.” He sighed. “I’m doomed to remain alone. I cannot deliver that which my love truly deserves.”

  “Th-there’s still hugging? I c-c-can k-kiss for the b-both of us. P-p-p-please! It’s yyy-you I www-want.” He muttered an oath. “Lll-look at mmm-me. I’m sss-so upset, I’m sss-stuttering ag-g-gain. I’m a mmm-mess.” He snagged the nice cream and all but engulfed it. “P-p-p-please, d-d-darling… I… I think I nnn-need you.”

  Papyrus had so many conflicting emotions. The star he had loved was, in reality, the ghost he owed his life to. And this same star loved him. And yet, real love could never be possible, because he, the Great Papyrus, needed lips to do the kissing part. And there were two chapters in the dating book about kissing. With graphs and science.

Kissing was _important_ if he wanted to give his date the very best. And he certainly wanted to give Mettaton nothing short of the very best. Possibly more than the very best. And since Mettaton had asked him, the Great Papyrus out… then he _had_ to deliver the very best.

“I must think about things,” he announced at last. “When I, the Great Papyrus, have a solution, then I shall return for our date.” He had to hurry. Finding a solution was going to take a long time, he was certain. And the sooner he started and the faster he worked at it.

====8<====

The next section is not finished. I am accepting the silliest things you can think of as a solution to the kissing thing.
12
Undergrounded / Re: Handplates to Freedom
« Last post by InterNutter on August 04, 2016, 01:22:28 am »

====8<====

Abduction Day 6Adoption Day 1

Papyrus could feel the tension in the air. All those un-asked questions filled him up with an unpleasant tickly sensation. And Miss Toriel Ma'am was upset. He could see it. All her smiles had gone away and there was a slump to her shoulders. And she moved slowly. Like his brother did when... when He had hurt them.

Papyrus knew from rough experience that not all hurts went away with healing.

But those prickly, tickly questions kept bothering him.

Sans was being a lot nicer to Miss Toriel Ma'am. Helping out, where she let him, or trying a few weak jokes. None of his usual... anger... was coming out. And it was good to see him being like that for someone, but...

One of the questions escaped. "What _was_ that thing?"

"...half-past breakfast," murmured Sans. "...didn't think you'd last this long."

"Brother," Papyrus chided. "This is important. I can feel it."

Miss Toriel Ma'am put her fork down. She'd only been poking her food around, anyway. "That... creature... was a human. They... They are the species that put monsters like us underground. They are the species that put up the barrier. And the barrier keeps us down here."

"...so we'd all be better off if humans didn't exist, right?" said Sans.

Miss Toriel Ma'am shut her eyes and got very, very still. He could almost see a halo of sadness around her. "I loved a human child as if they were my own, once."

"...aaah," Sans growled to himself. "...failure... stupid..."

"They were not a child of my body and soul, but a child of my heart," said Miss Toriel Ma'am. She hadn't heard Sans. "My husband and I... loved them. Just as we loved the child who did come from our souls[5]. They grew together as siblings. And for a little time, everything seemed... better."

It was not a happy story. Stories about happenings in the Underground never seemed to end happily. The human fell sick. Dangerously sick. No magic could help them. No amount of medicines or spells or potions worked. The human was fading away, and they only had one request. To see the flowers from their village one final time.

Miss Toriel Ma'am's monster-child took the human's soul. And then the humans body. Together, they crossed the barrier and Miss Toriel Ma'am's son tried to fulfil their sibling's last wish. It didn't end well. The monster child had just enough time to tell their story before they fell down and turned into dust.

"...sorry," said Sans. "...didn't know."

"Humans have choices," said Miss Toriel Ma'am. "The one that you saw chose to be a murderer. And I... I chose to contain them behind the door in the cellar. Unfortunately... when you healed me, Papyrus, I... I accidentally let them go on to the greater Underground." She hurried to soothe him. "It was not your fault, my child. It was mine. I should have... I should have..."

"...hey, it's okay," said Sans, reaching out to comfort her. "...maybe that thing an' _him_ will get together... they deserve each other, don'cha think?"

*

Welp. That went over like... something designed to sink. He dropped the subject and let Papyrus ask all the questions and say all the things.

"Why was that one so mean?"

"How did they make the barrier?"

"Why did they make the barrier?"

"How can we be ready?"

Sans surfaced from his self-blame for that one. Already, Paps was thinking ahead for the next time. Paps was real clever about that sort of thing and He never figured it out. Paps planned. He didn't always plan all the way, because some things just didn't work out all the way. But he always had some really good ideas. Lots of them very nearly worked.

"I can... teach some methods," Toriel allowed. "And I have some books. It has become clear that you will need to defend yourselves. It is usually a long time between the days when children fall. We will have time."

*

(Excerpts from Toriel's journal)

It is regrettable, but I must teach these children how to fight. The smaller of the two, Sans, will not benefit from traditional armour, so I have taken the liberty of adding speed spells to his clothing. He will have to dodge, and dodge quickly, if he has any hope for survival.

Papyrus is far more able to withstand hurt, but I will do what I can for him to allow his clothing to protect him from harm.

Their first lesson is how to use their magic to deflect an attack from another. The hallway of my cellar seems to be the best place to practice. Not even ghosts come there. But I cannot help but feel a terrible foreboding. Am I training more innocents to die? Am I training more murderers?

I know not which action is for the best. I can only protect what lives I can.

[5] Ask me about my whack theories on Monster reproduction!

====8<====

I figure in this timeline, Gaster becomes a boss monster who's out to capture Pap and Sans before anyone in authority finds out. Pacifist runs convince both him and Alphys to come clean about their abominations of science.
13
Undergrounded / Re: Papy Love
« Last post by InterNutter on August 03, 2016, 09:40:30 pm »

more at last. My compy is being an **** today.

====8<====

  He was four years old, and mad at the entire universe. The entire world was not fair. It was extremely unfair that Snowdin was cold, and that Sans was sick all the time. It was unfair that nobody wanted either of them as guests. Or employees. There weren't any other skeletons for him to play with and Sans spent most of his time sound asleep and the kids he could play with didn't want to and called him names and laughed at his oversized and threadbare clothes and his last three meals had come out of a trash pile…

  It was worse than unfair.

  He hid in the middle of a field of echo flowers and pretended that the babble of voices all around him were his friends. And that life didn't ever have to be unfair again. And that they wanted to help him and his brother.

  And out of nowhere, there was a song. Papyrus looked up, and looked around. There was a little pink ghost, floating above the flowers and singing to herself. A song without words, but full of feeling. Sad yet hopeful. Full of goodbye and wishing of hellos. Mourning in the dark, but with a little glimpse of the dawn.

  It made him think that, no matter how bad things were, there was always a slice of hope. A tomorrow. Another day. Something to work towards, like a beacon in the night.

  He had stood, grinning, with the song echoing all around him in the flowers. And the pink ghost saw him and faded away. Her song had ended, but the melody stayed with him.

====8<====

more whenever
14
Undergrounded / Re: Handplates to Freedom
« Last post by InterNutter on August 03, 2016, 02:00:59 am »
I can finally write some more! [NB for last post, this forum does not like the word c-r-a-c-k. Go figure]

====8<====

(WDG-1S)

The crying was done with, and he'd eaten slightly more than his fill. It was hard to remember that Toriel was not Him, and would not withhold food to see what happened next. With her around, there had never been a moment of hunger. And now, with a slightly unpleasant feeling just under his ribs, One would have much rather cuddled up in the pillow pile and slept it off.

No such luck. She insisted on going for another walk into the chamber of flowers.

Walking so far exhausted him. What he wouldn't give for a short cut. An easier way to get around.

Toriel stopped for rests, often. Let him get his breath back before they journeyed onwards. And maybe that was why...

He wanted to blame himself. Everything bad that had happened with Him seemed to happen because of something One had done. Blaming himself came as a reflex. If he hadn't made Toriel cry. If he had just tried to go back to sleep. If he had woken Two and let him help. If he had kept the function of the handplate to himself...

Then maybe...

(Toriel)

They met the human in the room with the long hallway and the single column. She was already dusty from murders. She wore some kind of fancy skirt that stuck out sideways and carried... a pair of shoes? She used them as a weapon. Swung them around.

"Fear not, my child," she began, but got no further. This child wanted to fight. And they were aiming at Little Brother. _NO!_ It barely took a thought. She dived between the human and the smaller skeleton. Shielding him from harm with her own body. "Run! Run and hide!" she urged. The skeletons fled.

Toriel blocked the human's way. All she had to do was stay in her way long enough and then flee. With luck, this child might not find her again. And Toriel had pockets loaded with treats. She could heal herself if necessary. But if this little girl found Little Brother again...

She used her showiest attacks, intending to frighten rather than harm. And it worked. After a long and arduous battle, the child fled. Toriel let her go, gave herself just long enough to recover her breath and then... went searching for the skeleton brothers. She dared not call out, very loud. Not at first. More time was needed to give the murderous child space.

She found their arms in a nook behind the column. Their right forearms. A misdirection that might have worked on their former tormentor. Toriel channeled her healing energy into the arms, knowing they would feel it. _ I am alive, dear ones. Have courage._ They could not hear her thoughts, but they would know she was still able to help them. She held their arms close to her heart and willed all of her protective magic at them.

And then she searched. Every room. The candy room. Wept at the rooms drifting with dust. Searched down every hole, in every linking corridor between hidden places.

She could feel the murderous child hammering at the door between the ruins and the rest of the underground. Toriel debated whether to let her through.

If the human child went on, she would kill more monsters. And Asgore would surely end her if nobody else did. If she remained... she would backtrack. Hunt down any living monster that had managed to avoid her. Two lives that were so very precious to her versus the whole of the underground. The life of a human child... who may not know any better.

Toriel increased her pace, not knowing what to do. Her imagination was quick to supply horrors. Both arms in her grasp, crumbling and turning into dust. One arm at a time doing the same. And worst of all, only one arm crumbling in her hands. And her, helpless to stop it.

She let the first door open. Felt the child slip through. Closed it again. Now the little murderess was trapped between two doors. Everyone was, however temporarily, safe.

But she could not find the brothers. She knew they were alive, yes, but she could not find them. They could be trapped. If they were hurt, they would not be hurt for long. What if they were allergic to something? Would healing magic work against allergies? What if they'd caught a sickness? What if some other creature of the underground was menacing them? What if they'd become lost?

Now her imagination pictured them somewhere dark and cold, lost and alone, separated in their flight. And each of them falling ill.

It was no surprise that she was nearly in a blind panic by the time she reached her little home. The fire had gone out. Half the food was missing. The cushion nest that Little Brother preferred to lounge in was knocked askew. She knew the murdering child could not reach them, at least. Only now did she dare call for them. "Little Brother! Big Brother! Where are you?"

"Miss Toriel Ma'am," came a distant voice. Big Brother! "Is it safe?"

"Keep calling," shouted Toriel. "I am coming for you. Is Little Brother with you?"

"Yes, Miss Toriel Ma'am. We hid good! And we stayed hid no matter what that creature did. What was that creature, Miss Toriel Ma'am?"

They were in her bedroom! Of all the sights that made her soul feel its best, it was the sight of four little glowing eyes staring up at her from under that bed. "It is safe, my children. It is safe..." She all but fell to the floor, arms open wide and hands offering the brothers their arms back. "The bad one is... contained... for now."

They emerged at last. Big Brother went straight for a hug, and Little Brother hung back as he reattached his arm. "...uh... why's there red comin' outta you?"

She hadn't even realised she'd been injured. "Oh dear. That child must have hurt me..."

Big Brother lit up like a city, healing magic flooding his body so hard that it flared out of him like a bonfire. The sheer power of it made Toriel gasp. He healed her in less than a minute and would not relax his power until she said, "Enough. Enough. I am well. All is well. We are all fine, are we not?" She felt her grip on the Greater Underground door slip, just for a moment, and the human child slid through.

_I am sorry. I am so, so sorry..._

(WDG-2P)

Two let himself relax against Miss Toriel Ma'am. Safe. Well. They were good words. Warm words. Happy words. Healing made him feel sleepy and weak. And out of breath. "We are," he panted. "Thank you, Miss Toriel Ma'am."

And then, a small miracle. One slunk into her lap (another warm and happy word) and murmured, "...i don't mind bein' called sans no more." He must have caught Two's expression because he added, "...yeah, bro... you can be papyrus if you like, too."

Papyrus had been waiting for a chance to say it. "My brother, Sans," he cheered. "You are amazing!"

He laughed. "...maybe... i'm kind'a glad all that healing stopped, though... your magic gets toasty after a while, Toriel."

She squeezed them against her and laid her lips against each of their skulls with a little squeaky noise. "I am so glad that you are well. I am so glad that you are safe."

He had so many questions that they couldn't come out. Papyrus didn't know which one to ask first. Why couldn't she heal herself? What was that bad creature? Where did all the dust come from? Why had the bad creature made red come out of Miss Toriel Ma'am? Why was it called a child? And what did Miss Toriel mean by 'contained for now'?

Questions for another day. Hugs and healing were too important.

====8<====

More whenever I can.
15
Undergrounded / Re: Papy Love
« Last post by InterNutter on August 02, 2016, 10:33:09 pm »
It's been a crowded few days :#)

====8<====


  Papyrus jogged all the way to Mettaton’s place. He had, of course, seen the metalic monster superstar and wondered why Mettaton had subsequently run away. He had never seen the star of stage and screen look so… terrified. And he had followed Mettaton’s career since that first performance on _Good Morning, Underground_.

  Him and all that associated delicate machinery had to have been undergoing a lot of stresses, lately. And since no other monsters needed his help, then it was up to him, the Great Papyrus, to do whatever he could to help. He was, after all, the great and talented, self-appointed guardian of all monsterkind.
 
  It shouldn’t matter if it was one monster or one hundred. He would help them _all_!
 
  But since it was also his morning workout, he jogged all the way there. Mettaton’s palace was dark and creepy. None of the atmospheric lighting was on, and the dawn’s early light cast strange shadows in unexpected places. Papyrus swallowed his fear and went searching.

  Room after well-appointed room was empty. Barren of any signs of life. Until he got to the smallest bedroom in the house. A pink, star-studded place half the size of the luxurious closets sported by every other bedroom suite in the house. And within was Mettaton and his costar, Napstablook.

  Ah, no wonder it was spooky in here! Ghosts always did that to their surroundings. Whether they wanted to or not.
 
  “...ooooohhhhh,” said Napstablook. “Please don’t be sad? There are nice people out there…”
 
  “...’es b’t,” snivelled Mettaton. “Th’ one I wanna be nice to doesn’ wanna be nice t’ meeeeeee…” harsh, rough sobs. Mettaton was having the worst time. “W’s the point’v bein’ popular if y’ can’t have lo-hu-hu-huuuuvvvv…?”
 
  This was the worst case of ugly crying that he, the Great Papyrus, had ever seen! He had to act at once! Papyrus ran for the kitchens, where an MTT refrigerator had every food known to man and monster-kind. He found a tub of Sweetest Treat nice cream and set it next to the most comfortable chair in Mettaton’s lounge room. That chair immediately got piled with the softest cushions and one of the plushest blankets laid nearby. Next, he prepared the most deluxe of hot chocolates. Finally, he found the softest of tissues and the plushest of dressing gowns. Those, he took with him into the smallest bedroom, where he arrived in style, with his scarf-cape waving behind him like a hero’s banner.

  “Fear not, citizen, for I, the Great Papyrus, am here to soothe your woes!”
 
  And then he scooped up the miserable Mettaton's huddled form. He applied the dressing gown and thrust the tissue box into the robot superstar’s stunned hands. Then, carried Mettaton down to the pillowed throne he had prepared. Seated comfortably, wrapped in comfort in a double-fluffy combo, and with nice cream and hot chocolate close to hand.

  Papyrus knelt well within clear view of Mettaton's uncovered eye. “Now,” he soothed. “Tell me who was stupid enough to refuse you and I, the Great Papyrus, will knock some sense into them.”

  Mettaton stared in open confusion for an entire minute. He sniffed and snuffled and then… Disaster. His eye filled with oil and he emitted a high pitched whine. His lovely face crumpled into a grotesque mask of woe. And then he burst into wailing tears.

  Papyrus had been wrong, earlier. _This_ was the worst case of ugly crying that he had ever seen. He had no idea what could have sparked it off, but he laid a comforting hand on the robot’s knee and cooed, “It's going to be all right. I, the Great Papyrus, am here for you. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

  More misery and gibbering. If there were words in the middle of it, then Papyrus couldn't understand a single one of them. No words would work. Papyrus had only really studied battle magic. There was only one thing he knew to do to soothe emotional hurts. The one thing he could do for his brother when everything else had failed.

  He sang.
 
  It was a song that stuck in his memory. Ever since he was a baby bones. It stuck with him, even though he only heard it once. It had helped cheer him up in sad and dark times, and it helped Sans when nothing else would shake him out of a dark mood. It was the song from a field of echo flowers, near the snail farm. Papyrus had run away and got lost, but he brought the song back with him, and sang away his brother’s nightmares.

  And he remembered the lonely little ghost who had sang it and then faded away. At times like this, he wished he could thank that little ghost for the gift of her bittersweet song. But he had the music, and that was plenty for needs like this.

  It worked. Mettaton hiccoughed to a halt, staring at him in utter confusion. His mouth agape, just slightly. Papyrus eased a tissue across his silver face, pressed the hot chocolate into his perfectly crafted hands.
 
  Mettaton drank automatically, and once he got a taste, he drank over half of it down. “Oh… Oh my… That's like drinking liquid joy…” Sniff. He dug a spoon of nice cream out of the tub and shoved it into his mouth. Hummed a pleased note. “How did you come by that song?”

  Papyrus smiled. “That's a bit of a story…”

====8<====

Moar whenever
16
Undergrounded / Re: Handplates to Freedom
« Last post by InterNutter on July 31, 2016, 09:35:15 pm »
MOAR!

====8<====

Abduction Day 5
(technically)
(WDG-1S)

Nightmares plagued him. Every time he closed his eyes, He was there. Either in the cell, in the experimental arenas, or, most worryingly, in places almost like Toriel's house. Only... nightmarishly twisted into hybrids of the house and the lab.

Two was out of it. Sleeping the sleep of the innocent by his side. He did not respond to One's clinging grip by squeezing in return. He didn't even wake when One slid from his arms altogether. One sidled away from his brother and surveyed the room they shared from the vantage of the bed they shared.

Toriel had placed both beds together, and rearranged the room around that.

One had no fears of monsters under the bed. He had had plenty of just one monster, coming for them whenever He liked. The dark shadows under the bed held nothing more threatening than dust bunnies and the occasional forgotten toy or misplaced slipper. What he feared was real. And it could be happening any time. One ran his phalanges over the plate on his right hand. Feeling the letters in the dark.

_Running for somewhere to hide. Desperate to find a place where He wouldn't find them. Suspecting, and then knowing, that it was the hand plates that allowed Him to find them._

Marked as a thing. Property. Experimental creations, with no more rights than lab mice. And tagged with tracking devices.

_I will always find you, no matter how far you run, and no matter where you hide._

One popped his right hand off, just to watch it fall limp. And popped it back on. He knew that wouldn't work.

_Watching in utter helplessness as He snapped Two's arm for no good reason. Hearing his brother scream the instant that the bone ****. Knowing in an instant that He could do that to any limb He found._

And he'd been having nightmares about watching Two's face as One turned to dust.

There was nothing for it. He had to tell Miss Toriel.

One slid out of bed, shuffling into soft, plush slippers that had ridiculous googly eyes on them. He liked them because they made Two laugh. Pulled on a soft, oversized coat that Miss Toriel said were only for bedtimes and for when he wasn't feeling well. Well, he certainly wasn't feeling that great right now. One shuffled out of the bedroom and went looking for her.

She wasn't in her room. She wasn't in the hall. She wasn't in the room with the stairs that lead down into the cellar. She was in the dining room. Sitting at the table with a book weighed open and paper sheets under her immense hands. Her eyes were closed and she was sitting up, and there was a pen in one of her hands.

One climbed a chair to look. Miss Toriel had been copying from one of her books. Copying common script into the Papyrus font. So Two could read the books.

He gently slid the pen out of her fuzzy fingers...

And nearly died of fright when she snorted awake.

"Oh my goodness. Little Brother. Are you unwell?"

"...nightmares," he said, trying to imitate her precise way of speaking. He didn't much care how well either brother spoke. Just so long as He could understand them. Miss Toriel cared about everything they did or didn't do. So this time, he offered her his hand plate as if he were going to pet her lovely white fur. "...these... let _him_ track us... been scared he's gonna find us."

The rest, he left unsaid. He was pretty sure Miss Toriel knew most of what had happened down there. And if she didn't... she had some pretty good guesses.

Miss Toriel yawned. "My apologies, Little Brother. May I show you something? You may hold my hand if you wish."

He clung to it as if it were his last chance. As if it were Two's last chance. As if she could protect them both from Him and all His experiments.

Clinging tightly to her, One let Miss Toriel take him to the forbidden cellar, and down the long hall to... a purple door?

"This is the only door to the rest of the Underground. I have sealed it and warded it such that it will not open unless I will it to. Your tormenter may know that you are beyond this door, but he will not be able to move past it."

"...idunno... he's got some pretty big equipment... what if--?" he couldn't speak beyond those words. His head filled with pictures. And all of them with Him as the central player.

"Well, to be safe, I suppose we must have a closer look at those things. May I?"

He was eager to nod. So worn out from worry that he let her carry him back upstairs. She was kind and did not know how horrible He was. He shivered in Miss Toriel's arms, dreading the thought of her in His custody.

(Toriel)

She didn't want to tell Little Brother that she was only up because of similar nightmares. That scientist may have had good reason for doing what he did, but torturing children was not justifyable, no matter his imagined ends. Not even with the greater good argument. Yes, thousands of skeletons had perished when that child had come through, guns blazing... But that did not mean he had good reason for torturing innocent monsters.

And he would never be torturing these innocents if _she_ had any say in things.

Once upstairs, she had to find a magnifying glass and the right kind of lamp single-handedly. Abandoning Little Brother to a cushion or a soft chair would not help his terrors to ebb at all. So she held him against her hip as if he were any other scared child who needed comfort. Only once all her equipment was together did she sit him at the table so she could peer at the fixtures on his hand.

Rivets. He had used rivets to fasten the plates onto these children. "In order to remove these, I would have to drill--" she covered her mouth and shook her head. Hot tears filled her eyes. She'd have to hurt them in order to free them.

"...it's okay," said Little Brother. "...the drilling part don't hurt nearly as much as hot rivets."

(WDG-2P)

It was a very strange morning. Firstly, his brother was awake before him. Secondly, Miss Toriel Ma'am was tired and worried. And she had put on an extravaganza of a feast. There was barely room for the placemats, there was so much food.

"...it's bad news, bro," said One.

Miss Toriel Ma'am sat on the floor, and her face looked like it was only taking a brief break between cries. "I have looked at your brother's hand plate," she said. "The bad man fixed them on the both of you with riv--*" her voice **** and stopped. A few tears leaked down her fur. "In order to remove them, I would have to dri--*" she broke down into sobs.

Two tried petting her shoulder. He didn't know if he was allowed to hug her when she wasn't hugging him. "It will be all right, Miss Toriel Ma'am. I know you won't be _trying_ to hurt us."

That made it worse. Oh no. He'd broken her. And she was so kind and gentle and everything. And He would be coming and--

Two didn't remember going to the corner, but One was there with him and holding him and repeating, "...it's okay, it's okay... she's been like that all morning, it ain't your fault, it's okay..." over and over again.

It was a very bad morning. But not nearly so bad as the rest of the day.

====8<====

More later :) Toodles!
17
Undergrounded / Re: Papy Love
« Last post by InterNutter on July 31, 2016, 07:59:49 pm »
MOAR!

====8<====


  Dawn found him walking. Just... aimlessly walking. Saying 'hello' to anyone who was awake. Just... wandering street by random street with no idea where he was going or what he was going to do while he was there.

  Mettaton checked his battery and fuel levels. More than enough to find his way home. But... did he want to? He found himself thinking the way he had thought before he started that silly club. That nobody would notice if he just... vanished.

  He could exit his body. Leave it somewhere. Become Happablook again, and be ignored. Shy, awkward Happablook who was in love with everything human. Invisible. Ephemeral. Touched by no-one and touching nothing.

  “...hey mettaton.”

  He nearly jumped out of his metal skin. As it was, he shrieked in an unseemly way and whirled to face… the brother. Sans. All skeletons seemed to be named after fonts. “Oh. It’s you.”

  “...whaddaya doin’ all the way up at snowdout? ...that’s a long way from new new home.”

  Mettaton only had one option - lie like a rug. “Oh, you know how it is. Scouting locations, seeing what local flavour I could add to the show. Keeping in touch with the fandom…” And some of that fandom just happened to be jogging by. Did he _have_ to wear those hot pants everywhere? He was too yummy for words. Mettaton struck a dramatic pose. “It’s good for me to stay grounded, you know?”
 
  Sans gave Mettaton a look so calculating that it possibly solved Fermat’s theorem. “...yeah,” he said. “...sure was nice of you to come all the way out here to see my brother.”

  Mettaton could not allow the truth to come out. He acted for imaginary cameras and smiled a dazzling smile. Laughed a conceding laugh. “Oh, darling. It’s not _just_ Papyrus. I have many fans here.” And then some of the truth leaked out with, “He _is_ a sweetheart, though.” He thought he covered valiantly with, “It’s always a treat to meet such a devoted fan.”

  “...well, i know it means the world to my brother,” he said. “...so thanks.” He started to turn away, and then turned back. “...oh, and about dating papyrus…”
 
  “I--? Didn’t--?”
 
  “...i think you’ve got a shot, even if the others don’t think you have a… _ghost_ of a chance.” Where he got the rim shot effect from, Mettaton could only guess.
 
  But the joke… Did he know? Mettaton had kept his deadly secret a closely-guarded -well- _secret_. The odds of Sans actually knowing were astronomical. Mettaton forgot himself for a moment and reverted to his pre-robot habit of shrinking and cringing in place. “...darling, is that… supposed to be a joke…”

  He shrugged, “heh, you’re right. why am i telling ghost jokes… when you’re a robot?” He winked. “my mistake. welp, see ya.”

  “O-of course, darling…” Mettaton was left speechless. But not helpless. He didn’t pay any attention to his phone as he sent an urgent text to Alphys. Watching that white-trimmed hoodie until it and its wearer vanished from sight.
 
  Alphys’ texts in return were disbelieving.
 
  _You think_
 
  _sans_
 
  _is threatening you_ and a strange character emoji that depicted a frowning, disbelieving face.
 
  Mettaton could only text back, _I CAN’T TELL_. It left him feeling more lost and frightened than the first time he tried on the old ‘calculator’ body. More terrified than the first time he tried being an entertainer.
 
  And worse, Papyrus had spotted him. “Mettaton! You’re a long way from home. Trying out jogging again?”
 
  It was his first case of bad stage-fright since he realised that nobody could know he was a ghost in a robot body. He choked. He froze. He whimpered. And then he ran. First on his sleek pink heels, and then on his one wheel. And then on his rocket. All the way to his spacious mansion. All the way to the tiny room that reminded him of the home he used to have. And even then, he hid under the bed before he called Blooky.
 
====8<====

More whenever
18
Undergrounded / Re: Handplates to Freedom
« Last post by InterNutter on July 30, 2016, 08:37:20 pm »
MOR!

====8<====

Abduction Day 4
(WDG-1S)

"Breakfast is ready. Come sit at the table."

One knew that she was going to show her true colours, today. Today, Two was going to bear the brunt of One's actions. He clung tighter to his brother's hand on the walk down the hallway to the dining table. Somehow, it was longer, this morning.

But it was the same pretty place. Even he had to admit that it was pretty. Everything was... nice. The fire in the hearth warmed without being dangerous. He could put his whole self in and not be burned. Or... that was the theory. He would wait another day to test it. Today, he was testing Her, to see if she was anything like Him after all.

Three places. The blue placemat held a plate already full of bacon, beans, and fried tomatoes. That was his. Two's placemat was orange, and had exactly the same thing. Her mat was pink, and held the same food. Each of the brothers had a large glass of milk. Good for strong bones.

Toriel was not in the dining room. She was bustling about in the kitchen. One looked to his brother. He didn't know what was happening either.

She came out of the kitchen with three plates balanced on her arm. "And a special treat... a soft-boiled egg with toast sticks."

The little plate she added to One's placemat had buttered, toasted bread cut into long, thin strips. And an egg sitting and steaming in a cup. "One for you. And one for me." the same kind of little plate. The same kind of bread. And the same cup with her own steaming egg. "And one for... oh dear."

Two's plate had the bread. And the cup. But that cup was glaringly empty of egg.

"That is not right. You will miss out, Big Brother. That is _not_ right..."

One glared at his egg. Trying to calculate how he could cut it in half for his brother.

Toriel plucked her full egg cup off her plate and swapped it for Two's. "There. Now no brother will go hungry."

_What?_

One watched her as she sat, seemingly without a concern. Watched her place the empty egg cup beside her toast sticks. And then commenced her breakfast as if nothing at all was wrong.

(WDG-2P)

Two looked to his brother. One was looking at him. Both were trying to urge each other, with their minds, to say or do something.

_You talk to her. No *you* talk to her. I'm not going to do it, you do it._ And so on.

"It is not poison," said Toriel. "You may eat."

_No, YOU say something._

"If you doubt, you may swap your plate with mine. Any time you wish."

Two finally broke. "Won't _you_ go hungry, Miss Toriel Ma'am."

"...you're supposed t' pick one..." muttered One, under his breath.

"It is only one egg. And you brothers both need to eat more than I do. And since it's a treat, I thought you deserved it more."

Everything smelled so nice. It was all nice. Everything was nice. Even she was nice. "...why?" he said.

"You have been through a lot and I think you deserve a treat."

One picked up the egg in his cup. Got up and carried it over to Toriel's setting and swapped it for the empty one. "...i don't." he said, and he sat back down. "...i was mean to you... you didn't deserve it." He took a deep breath and said something he never thought he'd say to someone in charge ever again. "..i'msorry."

"Thank you," said Toriel. "Let us be sure that it never happens again."

(Toriel)

After they got dressed, she took them for a walk. They needed to see that some things in the ruins were harmless. Starting with the tree in her courtyard. Of course she packed a basket of snacks and drinks. These were hungry little skeletons, after all. And many of the things available in the ruins were... unpalatable.

And on the trip, her desire to be a teacher came to the fore. She had all sorts of guidance about them.

"That is a migosp. They much prefer to be left alone." Or, "There is Wimsun. They are afraid of everything." Or, "That is a vegetoid. They might feed you if you are hungry, but you must be able to dodge their attacks. Look for the green ones. They will restore you."

All the way to the golden flowers. She did not talk to them, this time. She did not tell the little skeletons that there was a child's body under that trove. But she did encourage them to sit and enjoy the sunshine that filtered down. Skeletons needed sunshine, after all.

Little Brother fell asleep in a sunbeam, and Big Brother asked her questions about the flowers. The smaller brother woke up for food, of course. And he made himself stay awake for the walk back, though he leaned on his brother more often on the way back to her home.

"I could carry you, if you like," offered Toriel. "I do not mind."

"...ic'n... (huff)... stillwalk..."

He was lying. She could tell. He would fall asleep during story time and remain asleep until dinner. She slowed down for him and, since she could not say 'I love you', she said, "As you wish."

====8<====

Moar whenever.
19
Undergrounded / Re: Papy Love
« Last post by InterNutter on July 30, 2016, 05:17:48 pm »
Guess I forgot to post, yesterday.

====8<====

  Mettaton had been upgraded, of course. Alphys couldn't just stop at repairs. She found a new way for his processors to handle emotions and... well... things were slightly less painful. He knew Papyrus wouldn't be in the studio audience. He had survived such an absence, before. He could do it again.

  The show must go on.

  And yet...

  Mettaton had never paid so much attention to how he would look on the screens at home before. Fussing and primping and making sure he had just enough gloss to be the right kind of shiny. Had to look good for the viewers at home. Flirt with the camera... maybe a little more often than the requisite minimum.

  Had to give the viewers at home an experience.

  Especially the one viewer who counted the most. Visualisation was key. All he had to do was imagine that he was on the other side of the cameras and flirt like his life depended on it.

  It had, once upon a time.

  He could do it again.

  And this time, he knew the someone he aimed to make happy. Papyrus. Gorgeous, darling, sincere, and adorable Papyrus.

  Several small alerts went off. He had to stop thinking about that marvellous skeleton. Just... pretend he was in the audience. Yes. Just out of sight behind the cameras. Not even aware of Mettaton's feelings for him.

  More alarms. Focus. Mettaton glared at his reflection in the mirror. "It's going to be a great show," he told himself. "Just like all the others. I'm the star. They all love me." Even he did. Yes. Just... not as intimately as Mettaton would have liked.

  Ah, such was the life of a star. Just as lonely and isolated as he had been when he and his spirits had been at their lowest.

  "Curtain in five," said Burgerpants.

  "No angst, darling," Mettaton told his mirror. "It's all out or get out."

  The show passed in a blur. The same old dances. The same old songs. The same old generic flirting with the lucky few in the audience.

  Just as empty as it had always been. Just as reflex as his instinct to pose just so for the cameras.

  The same old dark stage with the same old Alphys tending to his recharging.

  He'd never felt more lonely in his life. Not even way back when he didn't have this fabulous robot body.

====8<====

More whenever.
20
Undergrounded / Re: Handplates to Freedom
« Last post by InterNutter on July 30, 2016, 02:22:23 am »
Part the third

====8<====

Abduction Day 3
(Excerpt from Toriel's diary)

I visit the chamber of flowers whenever they sleep. These little skeletons need me, that much is true, but I dare not forsake any fallen child for their comfort. I fear what a young human might do to them. Yet I must not allow a fallen child to fall into Asgore's hands. Not after what I found out.

Nobody had fallen, today.

Following yesterday's... misadventure... neither of the brothers have wanted to venture beyond the house. This is good in the short term, as there are many dangers that could harm them or even... kill... the smaller one.

They need names. And I need to think about how to introduce them to the idea.

(WDG-2P)

It was very strange. But then, everything was very strange. The food. The Clothes. The things. And the Other.

They got up from the big chair so they could sit on the floor. "Hello children," they said. "I would like to talk with you, today." That was her word for the brothers when they were together. Children. If they wanted individual attention, they called each of them 'big brother' and 'little brother'.

"...yeah sure, let's talk," said One. "...what are you up to? ...really?"

"Well, today, I am up to names. My name is Toriel. You may call me that when you want me, or when you're talking about me. Can you say 'Toriel'?"[3]

"Toriel!" Two grinned. This being was a Toriel.

"Very good," Toriel cheered. "Little Brother? Can you say 'Toriel'?"

Nothing bad had happened to them for three days, so of course One wanted to see what happened when he was bad. "...no. ...don't wanna."

"That is quite all right. It is far too early for you to trust me. But I have been thinking of proper names for the two of you." The Other had papers in their robe. With letters on them. "These are the fonts you speak in. Papyrus, and Comic Sans."

It was as if the Other... the Toriel... had done _magic_. "I can read that," Two blurted. "I can _read_ that! It says 'Papyrus'! I can read it and it says 'Papyrus'! And the other one says 'Comic Sans'! I can tell! I can really tell!" He hopped up and down for the sheer joy of being able to read[4]. "I'm not stupid any more, brother! I can _READ_!"

"...knew you had it in you, bro."

"Would you like to keep it as a name, Big Brother?" asked Toriel. "Would you like to be named 'Papyrus'?"

He looked over to his brother, who was suspicious. All it took was a tiny shake of One's head.

Two deflated. Showed Toriel his plate. "This is my designation. We call each other One and Two when we are not Brother."

(WDG-1S)

This wasn't the first time that something he said had made him feel bad. Just watching all the happy bleed out of Two was enough to make a flat, greasy feeling happen somewhere near his ribs. He didn't like making Two feel bad, but it was better than anything He could do.

But He wasn't around to hurt them any more.

One watched Toriel, almost ready to try another attack, for all he knew that it would do little. If she showed the slightest hint of anger...

"As you wish," was all they said. "How about you, Little Brother?" They held up the paper that said 'Comic Sans'. "You are so unhappy all the time, we cannot exactly call you 'comic'. Even as a skeleton, you need to be more humerus... hahaha."

"...heh," he echoed. Okay. That was a little funny. He was starting to like this Toriel in spite of himself.

"So," the enormous being folded the paper between the 'Comic' and the 'Sans', leaving the second half visible. "What do you think?"

He showed them his handplate. Not as an offered arm, but as the back of a raised fist. "This is my designation. We call each other One and Two when we are not Brother."

They looked a little sad, and said, "As you wish." They took a breath. "I have a few books in these fonts. How would the two of you like to read with me? We can each read a page."

Two felt like testing them, too. "May I have a hug?"

"Of course. I am available for hugs at any time."

One watched in barely muted horror as his brother almost got lost within Toriel's arms.

(Toriel)

Well. The tall brother was the most open of the two of them. A minor miracle, considering where they spent the beginning of their lives. After story time and some lessons on pronouns (she was going to get them to call her 'she' or 'her' if it killed her!), she let them help her cook dinner. A simple stew tonight. Nothing that would upset the tastes of a child.

She showed the taller brother how to be careful with knives and peelers while the smaller one of the two hung back. He always had his back to the wall. She would never win him over by grabbing or forcing him to do things. Therefore, she offered him choices.

And always for activities where he could not hurt himself.

"Would you like to strip the herbs, or stir the dumpling mix?"

"Would you like to break up the breadcrumbs, or roll the dumplings?"

He wrote what he thought were bad words in the scattered flour. And threw small objects at her. He was testing his limits. She remembered when Chara... when Chara... A moment of melancholy washed over her. The final straw was a raw egg. Toriel stopped what she was doing and turned on the smaller skeleton.

"Oh my, that egg was going to be your brother's breakfast, tomorrow. I am afraid that was naughty, my child."

"...ain't yer chile," he mumbled. "...so whatchu gon' do?"

"What am I going to do? I am going to finish making dinner. _You_ are going to sit in the corner and think about nicer things to do than throwing about other people's food."

"...make me."

She hated to do it, but he had to know where the line was. She scooped him up and placed him gently on a cushion, facing into a corner. "Now you stay there and think of a nicer way to get what you want. You may come to the table when dinner is ready."

And she cleaned the egg off herself and went back to making dinner.

"...i wanna know what th' rules are... wh't happens t' me or m' brothur when either of us breaks 'em... w's gon' make ya hurt us?" He was clinging to the doorframe as if afraid to set foot in the kitchen. "When d' the 'speriments start again?"

"O, my child..." she breathed. Toriel dropped to her knees. Offered her open arms. "There are no more experiments. There is no more hurting. I only wish to give you and your brother the best home. The best education. I feel that you deserve it. And I promise you that I will not harm you or your brother."

"Whassa promise?" said the taller one.

"O my goodness..."

The questions had begun.

====8<====

[3] Of course she's coming over all Mr Rogers at this point. Their diction leaves something to be desired and One mumbles all the time. She only has suspicions about how smart they are.
[4] Because dyslexic Papyrus gives me life. He even wrote notes in Papyrus, in-game. Papyrus and Comic Sans are both fonts that dyslexics can read with less difficulty.[insert The More You Know GIF]
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