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.
====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.