#gaster’s leg’s too thick but. just don’t look at this too hard and we’re all set | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arts-n-anarchy · 5 years ago

Note

Any number for errorink?

Hi!

I want to apologize for having this ask sit in my inbox for about a week, I had a slump where I felt like I couldn’t bring myself to complete the prompt (I went a little overboard on it, it’s LONG).

I do want to say, however, that I am very happy with it! I tried some new things and I was a little unsure how they would turn out, but I read over it and I think it worked out well. This *may* not be my best work, but here ya go!

Error x Ink- You owe me. (80)

Word count: 1265

This was the nastiest fight that had broken out in the multiverse for some time.

It had started in Swapfell, and then made its way to the Omega Timeline. Core Frisk was forced to evacuate the AU and send the inhabitants to Outertale as a safe space.

The entrances to Outertale were chained and barred, and there was a bubble of magic cast on the area that were resistant to portals. They all fled to Asgore’s castle and packed themselves into the throne room to keep a roof over their heads if the worst were to come. The outcodes were shaking and friends hugged each other for dear life while a crash could be heard from several AUs away.

“Backing down, eh?” Nightmare taunted, echoing in the empty space. “We’re just getting started. Don’t tell me you’re tired now.”

Dream was kneeling on the ground several feet away from him, gritting his teeth. His skull was bruised and scraped, and the corner of his mouth trickled specks of golden blood. His arms were slashed and his legs were like jelly, rendering him powerless at the hands of his brother.

“I… I won’t give up that easily.” Dream’s body shook as he pushed himself off the ground, backing himself up so that he was standing next to Ink and Blue. They were equally hurt, with their clothes tattered and wounds bleeding. They breathed heavily, summoning Gaster Blasters out of thin air. They aimed for Nightmare and his band of henchmen behind him and fired.

Nightmare vanished and reappeared only inches away from the blast. He snickered and snapped his fingers, eagerly watching as a stampede of Sanses charged towards the trio.

Dream seized his staff and charged at Dust. He dodged a jab at his head with a knife and swung his leg at his feet, leaving his opponent on the ground. Horror was not too far behind, swinging his axe at Dream’s stomach. Dream hopped to the side and kicked him in the shoulder, knocking him over.

He turned to look at Blue, who was holding Killer off. He had narrowly missed getting his leg chopped off, and managed to grab Killer’s arm. He twisted sharply, and Killer shrieked in pain. He flopped onto the ground and Blue took the knife out of his hand.

Meanwhile, Ink was struggling to fend off Cross, miscalculating his dodges and underestimating the size of Cross’s knife. It was several feet long and the blade was twice as thick as a traditional kitchen knife. Cross was very skilled at using it, since he had used it to control his enemies by slashing through their soul. Second only to Nightmare, he was the most intimidating enemy to the stability of the multiverse.

Cross had pinned Ink to the ground with his feet on his legs and hovered his knife over Ink’s head. Ink was grabbing onto Cross’s arms, panting and sweating. Cross lifted his foot up and tried to slam it onto Ink’s shoulder in an attempt to disarm him, but he shuffled to the side at the last second. Cross huffed and held Ink down again.

Ink averted his attention to Dream and Blue, who were now being attacked by Nightmare. They were cutting off tendrils to no avail (since they could grow back) and were almost hoisted in the air. They were merely avoiding Nightmare’s blasts and their movements were slowing.

Broomy was a little more than an arm’s length away from Ink, some of the bristles ripped out and the tip breaking off. Keeping one eye on Cross, he stretched his arm out in an attempt to grab it. His fingers clawed at the ground mercilessly while Cross steadied himself. Cross raised his knife slightly and plunged the blade down onto Ink’s arm.

The blade met the bone and his ulna snapped inward under the pressure. He hissed and slipped his arm away before more damage could be done. Black ink spattered onto the ground and Ink snapped back to look at Cross. Ink was met with another blade swinging at him at full force, this time at his eye-sockets.

Ink flinched before the the knife hit his skull, so it slashed the edge of his jaw instead. The same black ink oozed out of the wound, and Ink’s eye-sockets flashed a dozen different shapes and colors.

It was then that Ink started to cough. Hard. His soul was slamming against his rib cage as black ink started to spew out of his mouth. He winced after every cough, unable to cry out or even breathe.

He kept coughing and coughing and coughing. A sliver of the paints had risen up to his throat and started to come out too. Rainbow ink spewed onto his scarf, and his eye sockets faded slightly.

Right before Cross took another swing at him, he was able to stifle his coughing fit. Ink tensed up every bone in his body and closed his eyes to prepare for the next debilitating blow.

A second passed. Nothing happened.

Two seconds passed. Still nothing.

He poked one eye open to see that Cross was gone.

How the heck did he leave so swiftly? Ink wondered. I probably didn’t hear him over Dream and Blue.

Oh my god! I completely forgot! Ink bolted up and looked to Dream and Blue. Nightmare no longer had his tendrils out, and he was kneeling on the floor.

“Fine. Have your victory.” He sneered, “But next time I’ll be prepared for your little glitchy friend to come out of your back pocket.” He snapped his fingers and all of the Bad Sanses teleported out of sight.

What glitchy fr— woah!

Ink’s arms were pulled up from the back of him and he was whipped through a portal that had formed.

The next moment he found himself in the Doodle Sphere. He didn’t know where he was at first, or even what day it was. His surroundings were spinning and his thoughts were incoherent. He took a minute or two to get himself up to speed and then turned to the person who had saved him.

It was none other than Error, and his hands were glitching uncontrollably. His face looked slightly worried, and his cheeks were a faint blue.

Ink was the first one to speak. “What… how…” He stammered for a couple of seconds until he got his thoughts in order. “Why?”

Error huffed. “I was gonna ask you something but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I heard Nightmare was in the Omega Timeline, so I…” he sighed heavily. “…I came there.”

“Did you fight Nightmare?”

Error nodded slightly. “We got into a fight the other day and I kinda wanted to get him back by not having the two wonderboys get beaten to a pulp.”

“And you fought Cross too?” Ink’s memory completely skipped over Error’s question because he was astonished that Error had actually done something to help him. He would have poked fun at Error a bit, but he was still lightheaded from almost dying.

“Yep. Saw you were on the brink of death, and he couldn’t look behind him.”

“W-why did you save me? You could have just left me to die.”

Error stammered for a couple seconds, turned his head away from Ink and pulled his face into his scarf. His body was glitching like crazy. He tightened his grip and slowly lifted his face up. He looked back at Ink.

“You owe me, asshole.” His cheeks returned to a faint blue color.

Ink chuckled. “Okay then, Glitchy. Whatever you say.”

#writing prompt #undertale #undertale aus #undertale fanfic #undertale fanfiction #error sans #ink sans #errorink #errorink fanfic #errorink fanfiction #error x ink fanfic #error x ink fanfiction #au sanses

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askmicrowaveayem · 7 years ago

Text

Boink! The Gaster Brothers Pt. 28

[Previous]

[Archive] [Cast]

Rage paused as well.

...he decided now would probably be a good time to use his clumsy wingdings.

‘Probably not too thick,’ he said. ‘Why? Are we gonna fuck with people?’

Dings grinned and nodded, ‘What do you think we should say?’

Rage stared down a moment, thinking hard.

‘...fuck, there are so many things we could do.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t know. What do you think is the worst thing we could convince them of?’

It was always fun to fuck with people who were already terrified of you.

Worst came to worst, they could talk very loudly about slowly eviscerating humans. How surprising it always was when humans were so much more fragile than they first appeared. But he kind of wanted to get creative with this.

Dings fell silent as he thought, pulling off his armor in the meantime. ‘What’s the most ridiculous, weird rumor there is?’ He signed, his brother always having paid more attention to them than he did.

‘They think I’m a necromancer, right? Or you? What else?’

Rage thought again. ‘That you’re a necromancer who raised me from the brink of death to do the talking for you, or that you’re a gollum that I cobbled together… even though you’re clearly the cobbler of us.’

He snorted suddenly.

‘….once I heard people wonder if our stomachs were connected, since you never eat and I eat a lot when we go into town. But I don’t think we can do much with that one right now. But. You needed to know.’

Dings stared.

He.... he couldn’t help it. He broken the silence and laughed.

“WH-WHAT!?” He said, grinning.

Rage cackled, beginning with a grin and quickly escalating to laughter as well, his brother’s amusement infectious.

“I’m serious!! That’s what I heard!! Connected stomachs! You need to eat more, damnit!!”

“What the FUCK!” Dings laughed, “Because I don’t eat shit tavern food? Fuck’s sake!”

“Tavern food is wonderful, damnit!” Rage said, cackling, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t criticize the food when you drink their swill!”

“They don’t always make the swill, they buy it! That’s why it isn’t shit! Someone who actually knows what they’re doing is making it!” Dings argued in defense of his habits.

“Then they have shit taste in alcohol!” Rage said. “You need to drink something strong first to dull everything, so it tastes better!”

“Last time I drank something stronger to start with some assholes knocked off my helmet!” He said, laughing despite the fact that could have gotten them hurt and was how the rumors of his eye had started.

“Yeah, and now they’re dead, so?” Rage said back, grinning. “The next time someone does it, we’ll just make an example of them instead of doing a normal kill. Besides, monsters last longer than humans, anyway.”

That was their topic of conversation.

He gave his brother a look and then moved over towards the bed, “That’s true-” He said loudly, “-humans can’t even live through getting their arm sawed off. I mean, what the hell?”

“Okay, yeah, I’m still kind of pissed about that?” Rage said, following his brother to the bed, keeping his voice clear. “I mean. I had my arms sawed off, and I was conscious the whole time? But you take off one little arm and a human dies in half a minute? What the fuck. That was so disappointing.”

“Right?” Dings said, flopping on the bed. The frame creaked with his weight and he took a moment to stare annoyed at his feet hanging off the end of the bed.

… Fucking.

He tried to ignore it and keep the conversation going for whoever was listening, despite how irritated he looked. “They can’t even lose a piece of their head without dying.” He said, pointing to his third eye. “I tried it once. Shoved my attack right in a human’s head and that was it! They died just like that.”

“Well, they have stuff in their heads, right?” he said, trying to not laugh at his brother’s legs sticking off the bed. “...just curl on your side, you big baby. Tuck your knees. But yeah, I saw what some humans looked like with their heads split open on the front--this… weird goo starts leaking out along with the blood? It’s so weird. Humans are so gross.”

Dings grumbled, instead pulling his legs up, not really feeling like laying on his side yet. He wasn’t particularly tired.

“I’ve seen that too!” He said, “Their stomachs are the same. You stab something in and pull it out and shit just spilling.”

Rage shuddered, leaning on his brother.

“If their body’s intact enough, they shit themselves when they die,” he confided. “I’m glad we got the fuck away from that general when we did. I’d already dealt with enough of his shit. I didn’t want to deal with his literal shit. Gah.”

“Ew, do they really?” Dings said, sounding genuinely grossed out, the act dropped for a moment.

Rage nodded. “Have I ever lied to you? ...or, have I ever lied to you about something when the truth was way more gross?”

He made a face as well, shuddering again. “But yeah, really. They like… shit. Everywhere. I found that out when someone had the bright idea to send me out raiding the bodies. You would not believe what my hand have touched. And you know that I have touched a lot of stuff. Including severed heads. That I ripped off myself. Without really using bones much to help.”

Dings let himself have a full-body shudder.

“I’d fucking bathe in their organs before even fucking stepping near something like that if I could help it.”

Rage laughed.

“I hate to break it to you,” he said, “but knowing humans, their organs are also covered in shit.”

“Augh!” Dings yelled.

“Why are humans so shitty?”

Rage paused.

“...are you just making puns, now?”

“... Maybe.”

“...you’re so full of shit.”

“At least I don’t talk shit.”

“But you do have shit taste in beer.”

“You have shit taste in food. Can you even fucking call that food? Let me rephrase. You have shit taste in grease.”

“Careful,” he said, “You let people realize we fucking share stomachs and I only eat things because you’re a weeny about eating things deep fried in bacon grease. I can’t deep fry shit in bacon grease in the woods, okay?”

He couldn’t help it again and started to laugh.

“Oh!” Dings grinned, realizing something as he turned to his brother beside him. “That’s why you’re so scrawny! It all goes to me!”

“You fucking parasite,” Rage said, grinning right back, eyes shining in glee. “I can’t believe you were leeching off me to grow while I was trapped on the front. What a jerk.”

“Someone’s gotta have the muscle Mr. Shoot-From-The-Trees.” Dings laughed.

“Someone has to pack enough power to blast a hole clear through ‘em when you leave your back wide open, Mr. I-Can-See-Everywhere-Except-Right-In-Front-Of-My-Face.”

Dings scoffed indignantly, “I can fucking too see right in front of my face Mr. Can’t-Kill-One-Fucking-Archer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you see that archer around anywhere?” he asked, looking back and forth a little. “No, you don’t, because he’s definitely extremely dead.”

“After how many shots? Shit, I killed how many by the time you managed that?” Dings said, grinning.

This was probably the most anyone would ever hear him talk and it was goofing off with his brother through the walls of an inn.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome for keeping him off your back!” Rage said, grinning back. “You’re lucky he didn’t try to get at you while you were fighting the others off.”

Even though they were gone from their parents’ house, it was nice to know he didn’t have to leave his goofy little brother behind with them.

“You’re welcome for getting you out of the way of that arrow!” Dings said, finally turning onto his side and pulling his brother close, yanking the blankets up over them.

He was caught a bit off guard by being pulled in close and let out a sharp sound before finding a place to settle in.

“....it was just an arrow,” he muttered, no longer trying to be heard through the walls. Not that he’d been trying for a while. “Probably would’ve just gone through my ribs or something.”

“Or into your head.” Dings said, his voice having gone more normal too. “We don’t need to match.” He smirked, “We’re already partway there.”

Both of them had near matching scars on their cheek.

Rage groaned. “Can you imagine how many rumors it’d spark if we had matching scars?” he said, rather than letting himself dwell on the mark on his face.

“What would they think of us then? Twins? Made away in some magician’s study somewhere?” Dings snorted.

“That’s not even how twins work!” he said, rolling his eyes. “...they’d probably think one of us was really vain and wanted to look at themselves all the time or something. Even if we look nothing alike.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie, yet despite the differences in their heights and scars, Rage and Dings did have a pretty uncanny resemblance, despite not being at all physically related.

“I know that.” Dings scoffed, then looked at Rage more critically for a moment.

“... You’re right. I’m definitely prettier.”

His face was way more fucked up.

Rage scoffed.

“Just because you spend so much time primping. You don’t have to clean blood off your face all the time.”

It was dangerous to wear armor all the time without at least trying to take care of the bone underneath.

“Jealooousss.” Dings moved as though he was flipping nonexistent hair.

“Yeah, yeah, you got dad’s good looks, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes.

He laughed a little, finally shifting to try and sleep and close his eyes.

He quieted with his brother, shifting a bit more to get a comfortable position, flinging one arm around his brother and closing his eyes as well.

Dings didn’t mind, even as his brother fell asleep and the arm turned into dead weight on his chest.

His sleep wasn’t very restful, his third eye not relaxing like it had back home, but… he would sleep all the same anyway.

There were no attacks in the night. Nothing to guard against. Nothing going terribly wrong.

The other rooms were very quiet, certainly. He wondered if they were supposed to be that quiet, but didn’t dwell on it, even when he woke up in the early morning and listened as he waited for his brother to come to some form of wakefulness so they could leave the inn and figure out breakfast and the location of the nearest camp.

After only a short while Dings would notice his brother awake, his third eye doing rounds of the room slowly and eventually resting on the image of his brother.

He inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, arms still wrapped around Rage and one of his feet hanging off the end of the bed.

“Hey,” Rage said, voice soft, since even though his brother wasn’t the deepest sleeper, it was still always irritating when things were too loud in the morning. “You can sleep longer if you want. It’s not like they’ll kick us out.”

“Mhn… no. I’m fine.” Dings said, one hand reaching up to rub around his eye sockets. He honestly felt a little bit uncomfortable out of his armor away from the safety of his parent’s house and wanted to get it back on, as uncomfortable as it might have been.

“Might as well get up and start moving… what’re we doing about breakfast?”

“We can grab food from the market on our way out. They should be setting up by now. It’s late enough in the morning,” Rage said, looking out the window at the sun trying to come through the blinds. “We can eat while we walk.”

Unlike going to inns, it was certainly not unheard of for them to go to markets.

Had to get your camping supplies somewhere, after all.

“I can ask one of the vendors about the camps. They’ll be in on most of the gossip.”

“Right.” He said, shifting away from his brother and sitting up. He gave himself a moment to get his bearings before climbing off the bed and stretching. Even though it was softer than what they had at their parent’s house it still didn’t feel quite as comfortable.

Feeling safe added most of that.

“You want to head out now or lounge around for awhile?”

He got up after his brother did, stretching out and popping joints that had gotten sore in the night.

“Let’s just head out. No need to stick around longer than necessary.”

He nodded and walked over to the pile of armor to begin pulling it all back on.

Once his helmet was on he paused a moment and looked at his brother.

He helped where he could, getting the trickier parts of armor back on his brother, and nodded when it was done.

He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, heading towards the door and out into the hall.

Dings didn’t follow.

“Rage.” He said, waiting until his brother had turned to look at him.

Rage paused, a little confused when his brother didn’t follow.

He shut the door tight once more and turned, giving Dings his attention.

He stared at him a moment.

… Then took a running start and body-slammed himself into the bed.

It broke very loudly.

Rage doubled over, letting out a hyena laugh.

“Holy FUCK I can’t believe you remembered that!”

He had to sit down beside the door to collect himself, holding his face and laughing.

“Oh my fucking shit, hoo…”

Dings lay in the mess that was the wooden frame and sheets, letting out noises mixed between groaning and laughter, one armored legs sticking upward in the air propped by a piece of the footboard.

“I’ve been looking forward to it since you mentioned it!”

His shoulder hurt now.

Worth it.

“Oh my god I’ve raised a toddler,” he said, grinning and wiping his eyes, “You look very dainty like that. Good look on you.”

“Thank you.” Dings said after calming himself a little. “Now help me up.” He raised his arms, nested among the broken pieces of wood and fabric at an odd angle.

Rage continued to cackle as he pushed himself up, wobbling over and taking his brother’s arm, hauling him up out of the rubble.

“How fucking terrified do you think the neighbors are after that?”

He had to rock a few times to try and get himself out, even with his brother’s help.

“Pretty fucking terrified.” Dings laughed, reaching for the bag slung over his brother’s shoulder to pull out some gold and leave it on the dresser to cover the broken bed.

“We have to look really intimidating and serious while we leave so they think it was something horrible.”

Rage turned, letting his brother dig around in the bag more easily, still trying to fight down the last residual cackles.

“Something horrible? Like what? You had a nightmare and decided to fight the bed!?”

“No, no, before they know it was the bed. Maybe they’ll think we completely tore the place up doing… weird… necromancer shit or whatever.” Dings said, stopping his own giggles as he walked to the door. “Then they’ll walk in and see the bed and be completely fucking confused.”

“Weird necromancer shit?” Rage said, shaking his head, but still grinning. “Come on, Dings, you have to sell it more than that. Chant some gibberish really fucking loudly before we leave the room and I’ll bang on the walls a bit.”

“Oh shit, good idea.”

Dings thought for a moment and waited for his brother to get into position before saying, “Uh… daeh… tihs.. a si re-reht-orb yem!”

He had to say it a little slowly since it took some thought, but he still managed to shout enough of it.

Rage had to shove a bit of his cloak into his mouth to stop from cackling as his brother spoke, picking up one of the broken boards from the bed and scraping it loudly over the walls and window, creating a rattling, sharp sound, like claws trying to escape confinement.

When his brother finished, he continued a moment longer before dropping the wood with a clatter and signing to his brother, ‘Go now?’

Dings nodded and signed back, ‘Yeah. Very serious.’

He walked to the door and waited until his brother managed to look suitably pissed off enough before opening it.

It took Rage a moment, but he certainly had a lot of motivation.

Still. He couldn’t quite stop grinning, so he pulled a scarf out of his bag--he’d used scarves before to try and protect the bottom of his jaw, but had done it less since the manacle had gotten stuck there. Still, he carried them around, and right now, it paid off.

He wrapped it loosely around his neck, pulling it up and around his mouth, so that all he had to do was keep a certain malicious glint in his eyes instead of actually having to not smile.

He left right behind his brother, following him down the hall and towards the front.

Dings forced his eyes to go a little smaller, look a little more evil. Before they got to the end of the hall though, he got another idea.

He reached out and gestured for Rage to give him the key.

Rage blinked a moment, but handed it over all the same, not questioning it.

He took the key and went right back to being serious, rounding the corner to the same cat monster attending the desk.

She looked horrified.

Dings calmly walked up to the counter, resting the key gently on the desk before putting on a deeper, darker voice than usual.

“Thank you.”

Rage looked away from his brother sharply, hiding his face a little more in the scarf, completely unable to control his expression.

All the same, he tried to suppress the small shakes he was getting from trying to hold in his laughter. He hoped he was doing an okay job.

He didn’t want to ruin this at all.

It was far too good.

He waited for Dings to be done with the desk attendant, keeping rooted to the spot until Dings moved, worried he would crack entirely if he let himself move.

The attendant’s fur stood on end as she took the key and handed over some of their gold back for the return, to which Dings took it and stashed it away before grabbing his brother’s shoulder and leading him out of the inn.

He gripped it, holding his laughter in as they left and then sharply turning into one of the alleys beside it so they could laugh without being seen.

Rage stumbled a little, following him out, and lost his footing completely as they reached the alley, slumping against the wall and shoving the scarf into his face to muffle his laughter.

“Her face, holy shit.”

Dings doubled over, hands on his knees as he laughed. “Oh… oh fuck…” He then looked up at his brother and mimicked his own words.

“Thank you.”

Then started laughing again.

He shook his head, falling into a whole new set of giggles as his brother mimicked the words again.

“Oh my god… fuck… okay, every time you speak in town from now on? You need to be so fucking polite and just suddenly drop your voice like that and watch people flip the fuck out. Oh man.”

Dings laughed anew at the idea. “Oh shit that will be so good. I’ll be the creepiest, most polite necromancer ever.”

He had been on the fence about their rumors before, but now?

It was a game. It was a fucking hilarious game.

“Let’s just… fuck, if we ever go to an inn again, let’s smash just one random piece of furniture,” he said, “Occasionally shout gibberish in the street. Just. Fuck with people.”

This was the best thing they’d ever dared themselves into.

He was used to frightening people, used to being an oddity, but this?

This was controlling it, and in the funniest way ever.

He kept grinning.

He’d look forward to rumors starting from this event. If there weren’t any new ones cropping up, he was going to be so disappointed.

Dings nodded in agreement.

“Hey,” He said, reaching out to tap his brother’s arm, “You wanna know what--” He paused to stifle some of his laughter, “--what I said in the room?”

Rage turned, blinking at him, his laughter quickly dying into incredulity.

“That shit meant something??”

Dings started laughing again, having to give himself a moment to calm.

“I-... I tried to say…” He started laughing, breathing a few times and putting his hands on his knees before looking at Rage. “I tried to say ‘my brother is a shithead’ backwards.”

Rage stared at him a moment, face impassive.

“I should’ve hit you with that board.”

Dings went right into more laughter, his legs trembling as he took deep breaths and tried to stop.

His brother’s reaction was just too good though.

Rage pulled the scarf off his neck, folded it in two, and started hitting his brother with it wordlessly.

He deserved it.

He kept on laughing, putting up one of his hands to try and block it.

“I’m s-sorry! It- it was just the first thing I th-thought of! From the night before!” Dings paused, peering around the scarf as it smacked him. “E-even though you are totally a shithead.” He laughed.

Rage continued his assault relentlessly, eventually moving forward and shoving the scarf over Dings’ helmet, shoving him to the ground and smothering the face of it just as a witness walked by.

Dings tumbled to the ground, still laughing as he was smothered. He clawed at the scarf, kicking his legs a bit, totally unaware they were being watched.

Rage continued to smother him, “No! Nope, no laughing while I’m killing you. You deserve this.”

The witness very very quietly snuck away.

“I’m sorry!” Dings pleaded, his laughter starting to subside. “I’m sorry! You-- please, big brother, no!” He laughed, “I apologize, please forgive me!”

He tried to grovel as best he could, his words flowery and meant to impress.

The witness might not have snuck quite far enough away.

Rage snorted, shifting his grip and rolling Dings over, wrapping the scarf around his brother’s neck and tugging up in a ‘strangle hold’ that wouldn’t really do much more than give a light tug on the neck.

“Nope. Sorry. Unforgivable. You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Dings put his hands together, dots of his eyes looking up at Rage as he sat on top of him. “Please, my wonderful and loving big brother, accept my sincerest apologies. You are clearly the best and not at all a shithead.”

He stifled more giggles, although now that his giggles were over he was paying more attention to his surroundings with his third eye.

There was a monster hiding at the corner, peering inside the alley and watching them with wide, terrified eyes.

Rage didn’t see him, not at the angle he was at. Too used to his brother watching out for him. “No dice. I want something more substantial than ‘sorry.’”

He moved one of his hands closer to his chest, a little out of sight from the monster peering at them and signed, ‘We have a spectator.’

“What would you like of me, oh dearest brother?” He said, really laying it on thick.

Rage’s eyes narrowed at the signing.

“Kill the snitch.”

Dings very, very slowly tilted his head back to look out at the monster watching them.

Rage stood, unwinding his scarf from his brother, and stepped side.

The monster’s eyes widened and they stumbled back, skidding into the street and breaking out into a run.

Dings grinned and chuckled once he knew they were gone, pushing himself to his feet.

“That was fun.”

He chuckled too, holding out a hand to help his brother up.

“That poor monster will probably think they’re the luckiest piece of shit in the world after that.”

Dings nodded, reeling himself in from all the laughing he had been doing and sighed.

“Okay, so, the market. Let’s see where the next monster camp is.”

Rage nodded, grinning a bit. “Yeah. Don’t strain yourself with all the talking you’ve been doing, though. Any requests to get from the market?”

He had to admit, stealing gold from the humans definitely had one huge perk: as long as they could carry it, they were able to get just about whatever they wanted.

He thought for a moment, “... Get one of those little travel teapots if you see one. For mom’s tea.”

His eyes brightened and he nodded. “Yeah, will do. If you spot one before I do, point it out to me.”

Dings nodded and then set out from the alley, looking around a moment before figuring where the market was and going towards it.

The supplies were almost always up to his brother’s discretion. He didn’t mind what they got, the only things he would request were usually new writing tools or notebooks if a bookstore was around.

#mayem #RP log #the gaster brothers #BOINK!#rage #dings #wartime

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askullandbones · 8 years ago

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How To Build A Barrier - Ch. 2

[Previous]

[Read on AO3]

Days went by.

Years.

Things didn't change much in the routine of the Gaster family. Before the sun even rose over the horizon they were beginning to stir. The rooster outside crowed loudly, waking up the rest of the animals and their caretakers within the farmhouse made of wood and stone.

Vrinda was always the first awake, wiggling underneath the burly arm of her husband before peeling herself away from him and sitting up. She rubbed at her eye sockets before standing and heading over to the window, opening it up to let the rising dawn slowly creep into the room.

She gave Trebuchet the time it took her to get dressed for the day before walking over to his side of the bed and sighing.

“Treb.”

There was no response other than the rhythmic rising and falling of the skeleton's ribs.

Vrinda sighed again and reached for him. “Tre-”

Before she could get his full name out of her mouth a large arm swooped around her waist and gently pulled her back into bed. Thick, rough bones wrapped around her as she made a number of disgruntled noises.

“Treb-- ugh.” Vrinda groaned into her husband's chest. “The animals can't feed themselves.”

Trebuchet mumbled what he could in response before a long sigh left where his mouth would have been. Tiny eyes cracked open and he leaned down to tap what was left of his teeth against his wife's head.

Vrinda smiled and leaned up, tapping her teeth back. “I love you too... now get your rear out of bed or I'm dragging you out.”

He whined and let her go, wheezing a little as she rolled right over him to get to her feet and start heading out.

Served him right, being lovey.

Her footsteps were silent as she walked down the hall to her son's bedroom and opened the door, the little skeleton still sound asleep with the blankets kicked half on the floor, little feet sticking out.

Vrinda walked over and wiggled her fingers on the arch of one of Wingdings’ feet, the little boy twitching before forcefully yanking his legs up and trying his hardest to hide under the covers.

His mother chuckled and sat down beside him to tug the blanket away from his face.

“Time to get up, Wingdings. Get dressed and go feed the chickens.”

The little skeleton turned what little nose he had up and tried to wiggle deeper into the blankets, grumbling, but failed when his mom's grip was too strong for him to pull them away. He gave up and lay still, eye sockets cracked halfway open as Vrinda yanked the blankets the rest of the way off him and then stood to open his bedroom window.

The sun was still barely over the horizon, but the little light that did pour in made Wingdings squint and rub at his eye sockets.

Soon Vrinda left the room, leaving her son to slowly sit up and start getting ready for the day.

He tugged off the large tunic that fell past his knees and started to pull on the same shirt and trousers he had worn the day before. They were a little dirty from playing and doing his chores, but aside from that it wasn't uncommon to wear the same thing for days if not weeks at a time depending on how dirty they were; skeletons especially. It wasn't as though they sweat very much.

When he was fully dressed Wingdings walked out of his room, eyes scrunched shut and mouth wide open as he yawned quietly. The silence of the house was starting to fade by then, especially once his dad was awake. The floorboards under the large skeleton's feet creaked with his movement as he walked towards the stairs, ruffling his son's head as he passed him. Wingdings’ little feet followed the THUNK, THUNK, THUNK of his dad's down the stairs with their own tap, tap, tap.

The creaking floorboards joined in harmony with the crackling of fire as Vrinda started to get one going for the day, the rest of the family putting on their shoes and heading out the door to tend to the animals.

Wingdings had a few more responsibilities around the farm now that he was eight, for the most part having taken over the chores that his mother had done in the morning when he was younger. He always fed the chickens first though, no matter what.

He liked the chickens, even though it always made him a little sad that they ate them when they stopped laying eggs.

Trebuchet and Wingdings went about taking care of the farm while Vrinda prepared breakfast. The sun slowly inched over the horizon, light pouring in through the windows to help her see without lighting any candles while simultaneously blinding Treb and her son whenever they had to do work facing the skyline.

The world as a whole was waking up for the day, and while in some places things might not be going so smoothly, things in the Gaster residence were just as they had been every day before.

When breakfast was ready Vrinda called in her family and they all sat down to eat; a nice porridge with some fruit and sweet bread. The conversation was always rather light in the morning, everyone was still waking up and there wasn't much to talk about other than how everyone slept the night before. The only thing that ever really changed was when Vrinda started to discuss the day’s lessons to her son; what they would be learning or reading about that day and what their magic practice would consist of.

Sometimes Wingdings wondered how his mom ever found time to plan this stuff out when she was always doing something. Maybe she was just some sort of amazing multitasker. Nevertheless when breakfast was over Treb got up, kissed his wife, and walked back outside to keep working while the other two gathered up the dishes to wash them and then get on with their lessons.

The morning light was always great for reading, and lately Wingdings' interests had been turning more towards the sciences, medical in particular. They didn't have too many documents on those subjects, but Wingdings was only eight, so getting through them was still difficult.

But of course, that didn't stop him.

Wingding was still a superb reader in comparison to most children his age who didn't even know how. So, to make things more challenging, Vrinda had turned half of his reading lessons into public speaking lessons.

It had... not been easy.

Despite being able to actually speak, Wingdings hated doing it. His voice was loud and he had a hard time controlling just how much volume came out, and even though he could read great in his head when it came to actually putting his mouth into the equation things just got muddled and confusing.

But they were getting somewhere.

Wingdings could talk for the whole lesson now without his voice becoming hoarse, and even though it took him much longer to get through a page verbally than it did in his head, his speed was improving every day.

When his lesson was finished they both stopped for a drink so he could soothe his non-existent throat before getting to their magic practice.

“Do you think you would like to talk with Doctor Sompa about an apprenticeship when you're a little older?” Vrinda asked as her son downed his cider.

The little skeleton looked at her over his cup and thought about that for a moment. It was a pretty big decision, going for an apprenticeship. He did really like reading about medical procedure and magical healing, runes especially. That was different than actually practicing though.

'… Do you think he would let me watch before I decide?' Wingdings asked with his hands.

“I don't see why not.” Vrinda smiled. “We have to head into town tomorrow, I'll stop by and ask him. How does that sound?”

The little boy nodded thankfully.

“Now finish up your drink, we need to get started on your magic practice.”

Wingdings finished up his cider and then moved out the door with his mother as they rounded their farmhouse and started on the trek across the backyard and up a hill to a more wooded, secluded area where their magic practice always took place. It was never done out in the open or in plain sight, and Vrinda had made sure that her son knew that using magic wasn't something that was to be bragged about.

Skeleton monsters were particularly adept at magic because they had so little between themselves and the magic that gave them life. There was no blood or skin or fur to maintain, just bones, which meant their magic could be put to greater use elsewhere.

Of course that wasn't to say skeleton monsters were the most powerful, not by a long shot. Elemental monsters were far stronger, and nevermind boss monsters.

As they reached the top of the hill they went in a bit further to a clearing where they typically practiced, a few logs buried into the ground and some of the trees scratched up and bark missing from previous sessions.

Wingdings summoned his own attack, a two foot long white femur held in his hand, and practice began.

Vrinda would toss little rocks at him and have him block them, have him try and hit her without moving and using only ground attacks, and trying to maintain turning or summoning blue attacks. The hardest for him was turning someone else's soul another color, he couldn't seem to figure it out. His soul was purple, which usually meant being able to control someone else's pathing or tying them up somehow, but he couldn't seem to be able to do any of that.

That didn't stop them from trying though.

Vrinda and Wingdings would practice magic every day for at least an hour. As he became older that stretched out for longer and longer as the boy's stamina increased, but it was never for too long. They had other things to do and a farm to take care of.

As they started to walk out of the wooded area Wingdings tugged on his mother's apron to get her attention before signing; 'How come you teach me how to fight?'

Vrinda paused and looked a little surprised. “Fight? Wingdings this isn't about fighting. It's about harnessing your magic.”

He didn't look very convinced.

His mother sighed. “It only looks like fighting because that's the primary use our magic has. We're skeletons, so we summon bone attacks. But that doesn't mean they need to be used to fight. They can be used for hunting, or as a makeshift ladder, or other practical uses. Knowing how to use your magic in the ways I teach you will open your mind to using them in everyday situations.”

Wingdings listened and... everything she said made sense, like it always did, but the things Cylas always brought up about his mom teaching him how to fight always nagged at his mind and he couldn't quite let them go.

'I guess so.' He signed eventually.

“...” Vrinda turned to face her son, a hand resting on his head. “These are magic lessons, not fighting lessons. Remember that.”

The boy looked up at his mother and nodded. When Vrinda smiled, he found himself smiling back.

“Good.” She said, petting his head. “Now we're going to head into town tomorrow for the market, so when we get back you'll need to help your father prepare the wagon. And no staying up late reading, we need to be up early.”

'Yes mom.' Wingdings signed, walking down the hill along after her.

---

The following morning they all woke even earlier than usual, doing any last preparations before they started on the journey into town. They hooked up their horse and finished loading up any last goods; mostly eggs or hens for butcher, and then were off.

They arrived along with all the rest of the morning bustle and both Vrinda and Treb stepped off the front of the wagon before making their way around the back where Wingdings sat with his feet dangling off the edge. He passed his mother the baskets full of eggs and tried his best not to look at the crates of their chickens being unloaded by his dad.

It always made him sad, knowing that they were going to be killed, even if he knew it was so people could eat. He used to cry about it, but after one too many talks (and scoldings) from his parents over it, he had just accepted that it was a thing that had to happen.

(One of his earlier tantrums, where he had hung onto one of the crates and nearly broke it enough to allow the chickens to escape, Vrinda had given him a spanking and quite the talking to.)

As the market grew busier with the morning crowd, Wingdings hung around the wagon watching his parents. Trebuchet carried the crates full of chickens to the butcher's while his mom traded their eggs for gold or things they needed. Flour, sugar, fruits and nuts, anything that they couldn't grow themselves.

...

Vrinda was the one to notice it first.

Side glances.

Whispers.

Some of the humans had started to give them a wider berth than they usually did.

There were always going to be personal grudges between certain people, but things lately had become gradually more and more tense. The humans huddled together more. The monsters did the same in retaliation.

Both Trebuchet and Vrinda had noticed it over the course of the last few months. A growing tension.

Now it was Wingdings' turn.

As he sat on the back of the wagon one of the human children he knew walked past with his father, so he did what he usually did and waved in greeting.

Before the child could even wave back their father yanked them a little to stop and they kept on walking.

Wingdings yanked his hand down as though it had just been slapped.

It's what it felt like.

His smile fell and he looked away, staring into his mother's back like it would somehow hold the answer to what had just happened. The little skeleton rubbed his hand like it would soothe the imaginary sting.

Vrinda could feel his little eyes on her and looked back at him once she finished trading some eggs for some potatoes.

“... Wingdings?” She asked, her voice standing out amongst the quiet crowd to those who could hear it.

His eyes moved up to lock onto his mom's. '… Did I do something wrong?' He signed, even his motions fearful and sad.

“What?” Vrinda asked, frowning. Not angry at him, but angry at whatever had caused this before she even knew what it was.

'Did I do something wrong?' Wingdings repeated, 'I waved at Bradley and his dad and they looked angry at me for something.'

Vrinda sighed, “You didn't do anything wrong. It's nothing to worry about.” She turned back around to trade more eggs as someone approached.

'Okay...' Wingdings signed even though his mother wasn't looking at him anymore.

…

He still worried about it.

“Why don't you go find Cylas?” Vrinda said, turning to look at her son again once she had finished another trade.

Wingdings looked up and nodded, slipping off the edge of the wagon.

“Here.” She said, handing him some gold. “We'll be around all day, so grab some lunch here.”

The little skeleton made a face. He hated it when he had to eat someone else's cooking.

“None of that.” Vrinda chided, “Come back here this afternoon. I don't want to have to wander around shouting for you.”

Wingdings nodded and was then sent off with a tap of his mother's teeth against his skull.

As he walked towards the inn where Cylas' mother worked he paid a little more attention to where the humans who lived in the town were looking and who they were walking with. He realized that it was definitely a lot more segregated than he remembered. How had he not noticed this before? The adults crowded together signing to one another, and only a few of them had both humans and monsters in them. The ones that did looked a lot more worried about whatever was going on than the groups who were separated between species.

… Maybe he just spent too much time daydreaming, caught up in his own head and thoughts to notice the change. Everyone always said he had his skull in the clouds.

Wingdings shoved open the door to the inn and looked around to try and spot Cylas or his mom.

At least this place still had plenty of humans and monsters looking... mostly friendly to one another? It wasn't too busy, most of the people in town were still selling in the market outside, but there were a few eating breakfast or discussing business.

Bringing drinks to one table was a tall, orange-haired monster. From the back she looked very much human, but as soon as she turned around you saw the family resemblance. A single, large, green eye sat in the middle of the monster's face.

“Oh! Hey Wingdings. Lookin' for Cylas?” She asked, the skeleton smiling a little again and nodding.

“He should be around somewhere. Last I saw he was hanging out with his cousins. Maybe check around back.”

The skeleton signed a quick 'thank you' before running right back out the way he had came and down the little alley between the tavern and another one of the shops. He could already hear Cylas complaining about something and a trio of feminine voices adding their own two cents.

“Who knows.” One said.

“You should be more careful, still.” Another added.

“Ugh, whatever.” Followed Cylas' voice.

Wingdings rounded the corner to find exactly what he had been told, Cylas sitting on a barrel surrounded by three girls, all cyclops monsters. Triplets. Each one had a green eye and silver hair, as well as similarly matching dresses and shoes.

Despite having two pairs of eyes between them, they all managed to spot the skeleton rounding the corner.

“Dings!” Cylas grinned, leaping off the barrel and landing on his feet. Wingdings smiled and waved to all of them.

“Hey Wingdings.” All three of the girls said in near unison.

'What are you guys up to?' He signed.

“Eh, nothin'.” Cylas said for all of them and was already starting to ditch his cousins in favor of his best friend. “Tell mom I'm gonna be with Dings.” He said, glancing back to the three girls. One of them nodded while the other two started to chat between themselves.

Wingdings waved at them again as they left the back of the inn and started walking along the narrow alleys of town, winding through outside storage of different shops and garbage tossed onto back steps.

“Parents at the market?” Cylas asked.

“Yeah.” The skeleton said, verbally this time. It was easy to just say 'yes' and 'no' nowadays, especially when the person you were talking to wasn't looking directly at you. He didn't want to admit it was as convenient as his mother had said it was a few years ago when she had been first trying to get him to talk.

“Cool.” Cylas said. “Glad I don't have to hang out with my cousins all day.”

'What's wrong with your cousins?' Wingdings signed once he was sure his friend was watching him.

“They're girls.” The boy said, as though that was reason enough. “Maini totally has a crush on you by the way.” He grinned.

Wingdings made a face that wrinkled his nasal bone.

“She does! Didn't you see how she looked at you when we left?” Cylas asked, and the skeleton just shook his head.

'She smiled at me. She smiles at plenty of people.'

“Yeah but it was different. You know it was different!”

Wingdings just rolled his eye lights. He didn't see how.

“Don't you ever think about girls? Or boys? Or anyone?” Cylas asked.

'Uh. I think about a lot of things.'

“Ugh! No! Like... having a crush on them!” The cyclops groaned.

“No.” Wingdings said verbally before signing the rest. 'There are more interesting things to think about. Like mom is going to talk to Doctor Sompa today about maybe getting an apprenticeship with him when I'm older. That's more interesting than girls. Or boys. Or whatever.'

Now it was Cylas' turn to look confused. “Man you're weird.”

'You're weird.' Wingdings shot back.

As they rounded a corner they spotted a couple of other monster children they knew throwing pebbles against the side of one of the buildings.

Moen, a four-armed snake monster, was already looking at them before they turned the corner, and beside him was a dog monster named Cadis with black and white fur. They knew each other well enough, it was easy to make friends when you lived in a small town and only had so many other children around your age, although Moen was a little older.

'Hey guys.' Cylas signed, 'What's up?'

The two signed a greeting back before Moen used his first set of hands to sign. 'Nothing. Our parents are running errands, so we're just killing some time.'

'Getting away from the family for a bit.' Cadis signed with a huff, although Moen would be the only one not able to hear it.

Cylas and Wingdings settled in on the crates beside them, the skeleton curling up to sit on the dirt underneath his friend's feet. He watched for a few moments as they all signed together, asking what the others had been up to and if they had heard any gossip among the other kids. Wingdings only interjected once to say that he hadn't been doing much lately. Nothing new. After that he went silent and watched.

It wasn't that he disliked Moen and Cadis, they were really nice! It was just... he didn't have too much to add to the conversation. He had never been that great at talking to others about... stuff. Most of the kids his age couldn't read as well as he could, most didn't have the same interests as him. He didn't hold it against them or anything, Wingdings knew he was a little strange compared to most kids.

So he didn't interject in the conversation and just watched. Cadis talked about his family. Moen talked about the younger kids he helped babysit. Cylas talked about his family too, although not with the same affection as Cadis did his own.

Eventually Wingdings looked away and picked up a little pebble, tossing it against the side of the building they were all facing while the others continued signing to one another. Just as things started to die down another child around their age found them; poking an owl-like head between the buildings before stepping in to hide away with the rest of them.

‘Hey Alligory.’ They signed, and the very long monster waved his talons.

Alligory looked a lot like an owl mixed with an alligator, and while he didn’t talk too much, he didn’t require signing like Moen and Cadis did. But it was only polite to pick up the habit when company needed it, and Moen was mostly deaf.

They started the conversation anew, present company asking Alligory how he was doing and if he had done anything fun lately. Cylas had taken up to tossing pebbles against the side of the adjacent building too. But as the conversation once again lulled into the small group of monsters just sitting there and tossing things at the wall, Wingdings finally lifted his head and moved his hands upward to sign so everyone could see it.

‘So have you guys noticed how… things are a little weird between humans and monsters right now?’

‘No. What do you mean?’ Cadis signed back.

‘I have.’ Moen added, and Alligory nodded.

‘Yeah.’ Cylas signed, just to be part of the conversation. ‘Mom has been complaining about it a lot. There was a fight a few days ago between a monster and a human.’

‘What happened?’ Alligory quickly chimed in, eager to hear the story.

‘I dunno, I didn’t hear all the details. It was between Mr. Barton and Mx. Hale. Something about Mx. Hale being dangerous because they use their magic pretty often or something?’

‘Do they?’ Cadis asked.

‘I guess? I don’t know them very well. Musta if Mr. Barton got all angry about it.’ Cylas just shrugged.

Wingdings felt something in his chest tighten. He was… a little scared. Magic wasn’t meant to hurt people. It was meant to help. Surely Mr. Barton knew that. He even went to the same healer as everyone else in town, human or not!

‘I’ve noticed a lot of the adult humans giving me a wider berth.’ Moen added, not looking all that happy.

‘I’ve heard it has something to do with the human King. That he’s been telling everyone monsters are dangerous.’ Alligory signed.

‘What?!’ Wingdings signed indignantly, perhaps with more emotion than he intended with the slightly startled looks he got.

‘... Yeah.’ Alligory continued, ‘Town crier mentions crazy stuff about monsters from the human King sometimes.’

‘Damn.’ Cylas signed, looking a little worried now too.

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Wingdings looked between all of them and frowned. He felt guilty for bringing down the mood as much as he did, but thankfully Cylas was there to at least bail them out as he reached down and tapped the skeleton’s shoulder to get his attention.

‘Let’s head to the inn and grab some lunch.’

Wingdings nodded, eager get out of the tense air he had created and got to his feet. The pair said their goodbyes before walking back to the inn. Mini, Maini, and Mo were no longer there, probably picked up by their family or off playing with someone else.

They sat at their usual table and waited for Cylas’ mom to spot them. The inn was a little busier now, and upon looking around it was much easier to notice the divide between species when you were looking for it.

The two of them shared an uncomfortable look.

“Hey.” Cylas’ mom said as she approached, “You two ready for lunch? Your mom give you lunch money, Wingdings?”

The skeleton nodded and dug into his coin pouch, pulling out enough to pay for his lunch and handing them over to the cyclops monster.

“Okay, I’ll getcha both something to eat as soon as I can.” She said before walking off to deal with more customers.

The two sat in an unusual silence while they waited until Cylas leaned over to his friend and whispered; “It’s easy to notice things are weird when you’re lookin’ for it.”

Wingdings nodded in agreement and signed a little under the table so only Cylas could see. ‘Can you hear anyone saying anything different?’

Cylas had better hearing than he did, and there were still a number of humans and monsters around that spoke even if their friends had to sign back.

The cyclops turned and started to swivel his ears around to eavesdrop on the groups of adults scattered around the inn while Wingdings used his better-than-Cylas’-eye(s) to try and pick out any bits of conversation being signed.

(… Something about missing chickens? Nah, that wasn’t anything interesting.

Something… something… taxes. Definitely not worth paying attention to.

Another conversation was about the upcoming harvest.)

Bleh. Nothing.

Wingdings looked at his friend. ‘Anything interesting?’

Cylas shook his head. “Nah.”

They both sighed.

As they waited for their food they still continued to snoop in on the conversations around them, some groups leaving only to be replaced by another cluster of adults with hopefully something more interesting to talk about. When Cylas’ mom commented about how much they were behaving today Cylas spun some excuse about how they were making plans for their new fort in the woods which she bought pretty easily.

(They weren’t making new plans for their fort.

Castle Clawbone was perfect already.)

As they were beginning to eat their lunch and Cylas was starting to gripe about giving up and talking about something more fun, Wingdings caught the sign for ‘monster’ by a human. He quickly nudged Cylas and jerked his head in the direction of the group for him to listen in, although only one of them was speaking verbally, and they were keeping their voice pretty low.

All the more reason to be suspicious.

He couldn’t make out everything they were signing, but he did catch bits and pieces.

‘Magic.’

‘Powerful.’

‘Absorb?’

‘Unnatural.’

Wingdings watched for as long as he could, occasionally looking away to eat or make it appear that he wasn’t blatantly staring at them. Eventually the conversation died as all of them got their food and moved onto other topics.

The little skeleton looked at his friend as if to say ‘well?’

‘Guy was talking really quiet, only heard a little.’ Cylas signed under the table, mouth stuffed with bread. ‘Something about how humans aren’t as good with magic as monsters are, and how it isn’t right or something? It was a bunch of crazy stuff.’

Wingdings frowned. ‘I could only make out a few of the signs, but yeah. Something about magic and power, and how it was unnatural and… something about absorbing?’

Cylas gave him a confused look and the skeleton just shrugged.

He didn’t know either.

Despite how little the two of them had pieced together from the conversations they overheard, and from what the other kids had told them, it was still enough to make them both feel… anxious. Even Cylas couldn’t shake off the feeling that this actually was something they might have to worry about.

Wingdings finished as much of his food as he could even though it paled in comparison to his mother’s cooking, and then decided it was probably a pretty good time to part ways with Cylas and find his parents.

Maybe they could shed some light on this whole situation, even if his mom had told him not to worry about it.

After saying goodbye to Cylas and his mom, the little skeleton walked out of the inn and started to wander around the town. He was never too sure where his parents would end up, but they did have their usual haunts. He checked each place he could usually find them before spotting his dad talking to one of the other merchants. They were a monster too, thankfully.

…

It bothered him that he thought it was good that his dad was talking to a monster rather than a human. He shouldn’t think that. That sort of thinking was what usually lead to this sort of confrontation, right?

Wingdings shook his head to get the more negative thoughts towards humans out of his skull.

He jogged up to his dad and grabbed his hand while it hung at his side, the bone rough and discolored in comparison to his own.

Trebuchet didn’t even need to look down to know who it was, but he did anyway. The edges of where his mouth would be turned upwards in as much of a smile as he could manage before he looked back to his friend and signed his goodbyes, taking his boy being next to him as signal to start getting ready to head back home.

‘Hey kiddo. What’cha been up to?’

‘Hangin’ out with Cylas.’ Wingdings signed back.

‘Have fun?’

‘Yeah.’ He lied, not really ready to jump right into the conversation he wanted to have just yet.

Treb smiled and looked towards the sky to get a guess at what time it was before his attention returned to his son. ‘I guess we should find mom. You see her?’

The little skeleton shook his head.

‘Okay, let’s start looking.’

Wingdings squeezed his dad’s hand as they walked through the crowd, Trebuchet scanning faces and looking for the pink bandanna Vrinda was wearing around her head today. Just as he spotted her and waved her over, he felt a tug on his hand followed by the all too unfamiliar sound of his son’s voice.

“Dad…?”

Treb blinked and looked down, but Wingdings wasn’t looking up at him as he said, “Why do some humans not like us anymore?”

The large skeleton’s eye sockets went strained around the edges.

Oh.

Oh dear.

He looked up at the spot he saw his wife last, but she was still saying goodbye to her friend, and he couldn’t stall forever.

Vrinda was so much better with words than he was. Oh stars he hoped he didn’t mess this up.

‘Well…’ Trebuchet signed once his son was looking at him, just to stall for a few more seconds. ‘I don’t think they don’t LIKE us, they’re just… confused. And getting their information from someone they trust, but that person is wrong about a lot of things. I think that once they realize that then everything is going to be okay. Just don’t let anything they might say get to you. Did someone say something bad?’

“No…” Wingdings said before switching to his hand. ‘Just the kids were talking about it, and Cylas and I overheard some of the humans talking about it. Like about magic and stuff.’

… Treb nodded, ‘They’re just confused. All we can really do is correct them when they say something wrong, and prove that we’re not bad. If they see that, then they’ll realize that what they think isn’t right. Okay?’

The little boy looked up at his father’s face, scarred and rough and brown with two dark eye sockets, and nodded. He wasn’t completely convinced, but… what else could they do?

As soon as Wingdings looked back down at the ground Trebuchet caught sight of his wife heading over to them and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she could help ease their son’s mind more than he could.

And as soon as Vrinda caught sight of the slight stress around her husband’s eyes she did know something was up and her pace quickened.

“What’s wrong?” She said as soon as she was beside them, the pinprick lights of her eyes bouncing between the two.

Trebuchet made a ‘everything is fine’ sort of gesture as Wingdings looked up at his mom. Then Treb signed; ‘Little one is worried that humans hate us.’ to catch his wife up to speed.

“Oh.” Vrinda said, the flat tone of her voice saying enough of what she thought of that. Nevertheless she sighed and crouched down to get on her son’s level, her dress pooling around her in the dry dirt of the ground. “Did someone say something to you?” She asked first, voice stern.

Wingdings shook his head. ‘Overheard stuff. And the other kids were talking about it.’

“What did you overhear?”

The little skeleton shifted on his feet. ‘Stuff about magic. And power. And Cylas said that there’s been fights at the inn between humans and monsters.’

Vrinda listened, then looked up at her husband who just offered her a sad, lost look.

She sighed again.

“Wingdings, it’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s just some people being prejudiced and stupid, and following a figure of authority blindly rather than thinking for themselves. But don’t let anyone convince you that the things they say is true, alright?” She reached out, taking her son’s chin in her fingers and lifting it up so he was looking at her. “You know those things aren’t true. Just remember that.”

Wingdings looked at her, his mother’s face such a stark contrast to his father’s. She was pale, her bones were smooth, and her eye lights were bright and sharp.

He nodded after a moment, and Vrinda smiled.

“Good.” She said, then decided to change the subject to something much more positive. “... I talked to Doctor Sompa today.”

Her son looked up, hopeful.

“He said you can sit in and watch him work occasionally. To decide if you want to be a doctor. Why don’t we go see if Ms. Cara has any new rune books? They’ll be a pretty good start.”

Wingdings’ already toothy mouth turned into a full-on grin, any anxiety and nervousness being forgotten for the excitement of sitting in with the town doctor and maybe even getting a new book to take home.

He reached to take hold of his mom’s hand, the other still holding onto his dad’s, and nearly dragged the two of them towards the bookstore.

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Guest characters include:

Mini, Maini, & Mo ( @rice-baller )

Sompa ( @givowl )

Cara ( @the-writer-of-universes )

Cadis ( @thecuralee )

Moen ( @rataplani )

Alligory ( @thekrookodilehunter )

#htbab #how to build a barrier #undertale #undertale fanfiction #pre-war #wingdings gaster #w.d. gaster #gaster #trebuchet #vrinda #cylas #undertale ocs

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