#gave froggit a dirty look

[macithemaci]

A flight companion - Chapter 1

Thank you @Latam for inspiring me to write this. Next time, warn me if my flight was rearranged. Fuck You

————

There are two types of people.

Well, there are many types of people, but here we’re going to talk about two, on a certain situation

When a problem shows up, type one silently resigns and quietly looks for the calmest answer and solution, trying not to call anyone’s attention, always politely

Then there’s type two, who gets incredibly mad and shows their anger, throwing a fit and demanding solutions and answers

This type of people can meet in many different situations.

——

Sci had to board his plane from California to Canada with a connection in Texas at 8 pm that night. He would get to Dallas at 11, then wait an hour, and board the plane to get to Ottawa and land at 5 am.

He got to the airport at 5pm, to see a sea of people, both humans and monsters, checking in, or well, trying to check in. He prepared everything he needed and joined the monster line, along with all the other monsters.

He didn’t really like the fact they were separated from humans. It was the case for a few things. Restrooms, some lines, but with what he investigated, it wasn’t as bad as it was in the past with skin color, yet some people could be extremely mean and monsterphobic and sometimes the separation wasn’t AS bad. He didn’t think about it for long.

Ahead of him were a quite a few monsters. A few snowdrakes, bunny, dragon, cat monsters, some tiny ruins monsters like froggits, two goop balls and a monster he didn’t quite see, since he was in the front of the line, but he could tell was a skeleton monster.

Sci just patiently waited until his turn arrived. Single monster with a small bag and one piece of luggage. He handed in his passport, and was given boarding tickets, and a little sticker as added to his baggage before it was sent away

After quietly asking monsters to move, he got out of the line, and walked towards security check and customs. Here the monster human separation was a bit more logical. Monster anatomy is varied and complicated, so having different scanners wasn’t a discrimination thing, but more of a practical thing.

He checked his boarding ticket and sat on a chair on his gate. He still had half an hour before the boarding call, so he decided to inspect the people he was going to spend the next three hours with.

Quite a lot of humans of different ethnicities and, just from sight, religions, the same and a few other monsters he saw on the line, but no sight of the skeleton monster.

He stopped caring soon after, and decided to take a short nap

Who knows how long he slept. Probably forty minutes, because he was waken up by the speakers giving an announcement.

“Last boarding call for flight 7112 to Dallas with Delta airlines. Please, Mr. Jonathan Hawker, Mrs. Patricia Rawson and Mr. Sans Font, Present on gate 15. Thank you very much ”

The message was repeated once in Spanish, and that’s when Sci stood up, stretched a bit, and RAN TOWARDS THE DOOR.

The lady at the desk gave him kinda of a dirty look before asking for his passport and boarding ticket

“Have a nice flight sir” she said after giving him back his stuff

“Thank you, and sorry”

He looked down at his ticket. Row 41, Seat H. The one in the window.

Almost everyone was done settling on their seats and putting their stuff on the upper compartments. He squashed his way up to his seat, wishing whoever was gonna be sitting with him…. was gone. The less interaction, the better. He didn’t see that much people sitting on the gate so maybe his company wasn’t there, but his dreams didn’t become true. Other skeleton was right there, sitting on the window seat. He was wearing a black hoodie with fluff and a red sweater underneath, shorts and sneakers. He had this dangerous air, shown by his red glowing eye.

Sci took a deep breath, preparing himself to gently ask this monster to move, since that was his spot, and that they were supposed to go in the corridor seat, but the other skeleton was scanning him kind of the same way the body scanner was. After he was done looking at Sci, he huffed, and turned to his screen. Sci sighed, and sat besides him. The less interaction, the better.

The safety instructions were given, the plane started moving, and the flight begun. Skeleton was looking through the window, with a soft feeling, like flying made him feel light and relaxed, unlike many people.

Sci started checking a few things on his phone until the fasten seatbelt sign was turned off. That was his clue to throw his seat back and take his computer off to finish some reports. Math, math, math and calculus and more math and science terms and formulas. He thought he heard something coming from the other monster. A small comment, a “nerd”, but he wasn’t sure. The less interaction the better, he kept telling himself.

An hour later, he felt something heavy on his shoulder. His seat partner had fallen asleep, and was laying his head on his shoulder. Sci rubbed his face uncomfortably, feeling it a bit hotter than usual, but carried on with his work.

Soon after that a human man came with a good cart. “Good night sir. As you’re on a trim flight, all we’re giving out are sandwiches. Would you want one?”

Sci wasn’t really that hungry, so he declined, but when he was asked to wake up the guy sleeping on his shoulder, his hopes of no interaction dropped even lower. He quickly moved his shoulder in order to move this guy’s head, but there was no response. He did the same thing another time. But he was in a deep sleep.

“I think he’s dead but, just in case I’ll take the sandwich for him. Is that possible?”

The guy chuckled. “Yes sir. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Just a cup of water. Thank you very much.”

He saved the sandwich on his bag and drank his water as he kept filling the document.

Time flew away. Literally. The timezone changed and the plane was about to land. The “Please put your personal items under the seat in front of you, close your tray tables and put your seats in the upright position” message was given, and he had to find a way to set both his and his partner’s seat upright, making as less contact as possible.

Moving as little as he was physically able, he saved his computer on the seat pocket and closed his tray, before leaning to both his button and skeleton monster’s button, who was luckily close to where his arm already was. He slowly pressed both buttons and the same time, and the seats went back to the upright position. This guy’s sleep was impossible to break. The only thing he did was nudge Sci’s arm with his head, which made Sci feel his face warm up again.

The only thing able to wake this guy up, was the shaky landing. He was so shocked he didn’t even realize where his head was before he got suddenly woken up.

“God fucking damn it we’re here already? I missed the fucking food”

“You were impossible to wake up”

“Excuse me?”

“I tried waking you up, you were dead”

“Fuck.”

“I did save your sandwich tho. I can give it to you in a minute”

“….thank you I guess”

“No problem”

That was a lie. Yes problem. This guy’s voice made Sci feel even weirder. He wasn’t completely despising the interaction by this point, yet he was still bothered by it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed in the city of Dallas, Texas, USA. We request you remain seated until the aircraft stops moving. Passengers with connection with the flight 2767 to Ottawa Canada please go to customer assistance once out of the plane since the flight was re arranged due to technical difficulties. Thank you very much”

As people huffed and puffed and groaned, the message was repeated once again in Spanish.

You have got to be kidding me thought Sci under his breath

“yOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME” Said the skeleton with a stone sleep besides Sci. He dropped his body back on his seat, covered his face and groaned, as Sci put his stuff away

[mcdoogly]

Didn’t Know It was Asgoriel Day

No one told me. Luckily I had a sad thing I was working on.

The context is that it was in a bigger fic, and this that and the other. Toriel blows up at Asgore while they’re on a vacation before they got back together, and the whole thing most likely isn’t gonna be finished.

It’s probably a little rough, but I felt like writing sad one day, and here it is.

Toriel stood in front of the door. She stared at the slightly dirty white as she raised her hand to knock-- nearly letting her knuckle collide before she stopped, suddenly. She could hear two voices inside, one Asgore’s, the other Undyne’s. She listened though she knew she shouldn’t, frozen in place when she realized what she was hearing. She covered her mouth with the hand that wasn’t stuck in time, stifling a gasp.

Asgore was crying. It was a sound that scratched and scoured against her ears, something she had never recalled hearing. He was always stoic, he never let anything touch him, and faced everything with a smile. But tonight she had managed to bring the one person she never knew she could make cry to tears. Guilt wracked her, though she didn’t move. She wanted to tear herself away from the door, forget what she just heard, but the voices continued and she couldn’t leave. Molten curiosity burned in her chest as she heard the two talking in the room.

“... I just don’t know anymore Undyne.” Asgore sniffled. “I can’t blame her for how she feels. It’s my fault.”

“No it’s not.” Undyne said back. Toriel couldn’t see how she looked, but could imagine her, her posture sad and reassuring but her words audibly venomous. “What she did was inexcusable, no one should talk to you that way. Doesn’t matter what you did.”

“But I did do something wrong.” Asgore almost pleaded with his adoptive daughter, sounding as if he had buried his face in his hands. “I overstepped my bounds.“This trip, my attempts to talk to her, everything I have done to her. I’ve come to be desperate and I can understand why she’s acting like how she is.”

“I don’t want to hear it. You are not blaming yourself for this.”

“But I am to blame! In the past few centuries I haven’t done a single thing that I can forgive myself for.”

“You’ve done so many good things! Look at how you helped the people in Snowdin that one winter when the weather got very bad and the temperature dipped further than it ever has? Or that one time you dedicated a week just to help that family of Froggits? You are not a bad person.”

“I can understand why you think that, but there’s so much bad I’ve done that just completely outweighs the good, Undyne. I’ve been blessed with the love of subjects, and a beautiful monster that I can gladly call my daughter, but what I have done... what awful, wretched things I’ve committed and have to carry on my back? Tori isn’t the only one who’d be happy if I were just to disappear.”

“Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.” Undyne’s voice was small, which made her words carry more meaning. “It was a war, Asgore. You cannot blame yourself for what the humans did.”

“It wasn’t a war! They were children!” He almost yelled, his eyes widened at Undyne’s shocked expression, scaring even himself with how loud he got. “They… They were so small, ones that didn’t know better, that couldn’t even protect themselves. And I slaughtered them, like they were criminals. What kind of father am I if I can do that to people who were no older than my son when I lost him? How can I call myself the husband of the woman I love when I betrayed her like that? I don’t deserve regret, or even pity. I’m the reason that people are scared of monsters.”

Undyne opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but no words came out. She stood still, watching as her father cried into his fingers. Toriel still held her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with sorrow as she heard what she wasn’t supposed to hear. There was an awful silence as words died in monsters’ throats, no one really knowing what they should or what they should do.

Asgore finally spoke up, shocking everyone from the silence. “Undyne, can I ask you something?” He looked up at her from his hands, his eyes serious. “What would you do if Alphys didn’t care for you, acted as if you had wronged her in every way imaginable because you have. If it seemed like every time you opened your mouth it made her angry so that you start to hate your own voice. But whenever you close your eyes or are about to fall asleep you see her, and think of the times when you were happy together, as if nothing was ever wrong in the world, and you feel so happy you could burst… only to wake up.” His breathing turned ragged. “What if you dreamt that you fell in love again, feel that lovely, wonderful feeling of having someone you love sleep next to you. You could feel everything vividly well, as if they truly never left. Then when you open your eyes there’s no breathing body next to you, only cold sheets greet your fingertips as you realize that she will never be there because of what you’ve done. Would you feel the same way I would? Would after years and years of this… feeling, that you’d start to realize that you truly deserved it?”

Undyne stayed silent.

“When I saw Tori that day when Frisk freed us, I thought that maybe, just maybe, there was hope. That I could possibly have some semblance of my family back. And that feeling stuck, even after every mean look, after every time she ignored me or told me to go away. I was so hopeful that maybe her seeing me would lessen that anger, make her realize her ‘Fluffybuns’ is still here and she could come back to me, and we could be a family again. But now it’s painfully clear: she doesn’t want me back. She never wanted me back. It was over, and it was all my fault. The look she gave me all those years ago, of rage and fear in her scowl and voice, and the look of utter heartbreak in her eyes, is burned into my memory. It haunts me every time I think of her. I have no greater regret than what I have done to her, and the pain I must have caused her from that day onward. She had every right to look at me only with contempt, and she still does. ”

“... No she doesn’t.” Undyne attempted, but Asgore looked at her in a way that almost begged her to stop trying to make him feel less pitiful.

“I broke her heart, Undyne. I broke it far worse than she has done to mine. I wish so much that we could try to see if things get better, if that little spark comes back and I can return to her. But the truth is that she most likely would be happier if she never saw me again.”

His posture looked absolutely defeated. His hands covered his face as he tried his best to ration his voice between sobbing and breathing. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give just to have one day, even just one hour, where I could look at her and smile, and see her smile back. To feel her wrap her arms around me as if she still loved me. But after what I have done… that is merely just wishful thinking. I can never, ever repent for what I have done. There is absolutely nothing that can make up for these awful, awful sins I’ve committed. Tori deserves to feel the way she does about me, and deserves someone better than I am.”

There was an elongated silence. Toriel still stood outside the door, looking down at the old fabric of the hallway, her eyes threatening to turn misty as she could only listen. She could hear his sobs. The heavy and dull sounds hit against her like torrential waves, making her feel unsteady. Part of her just wanted to wrap her arms around him, make him feel safe and warm as if nothing bad had ever happened. She sniffed, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

The bed’s springs squealed, signalling that Asgore stood up. There were sniffs and sobs as Undyne hugged her father tight, squeezing him as if he were about to disappear like dust in the wind. “I’m so sorry.”

Asgore looked at her, smiling as he ruffled her hair. “It is fine. Thank you for listening to me, Undyne.” He hugged her again. “Now go. I may not have anyone to sleep with tonight, but that doesn’t mean you don’t. I’d never want to keep Alphys waiting, go on. I’ll be fine.”

Undyne looked surprised, analyzing his face as he released her from the hug. “Are you sure?”

“When am I not?” He now wore a somber smile, his face carrying as much certainty as it could.

They shared a sad chuckle and said their goodnights as Toriel still stood petrified in front of the door. She shook herself out of the shock, realizing that she didn’t want to be in sight when Undyne was on her way out. Toriel knew better than to face Undyne when she was out for blood, especially since she was known for not just ‘getting even’ with any one who wronged her. She hid behind a small nook that separated one section of rooms from the other, peering over as she watched the fishy monster open the door and walk off to the room that she and Alphys shared.

Toriel returned to her spot as Undyne disappeared, though this time she couldn’t conjure the strength to lift her arms up to the cheerily colored wood. Her knuckles shook as she wondered what would happen if she was to talk to Asgore. What would she say? What would HE say, more importantly? She had never truly seen him sad, and after what she had done to him, she surely deserved to.

The queen realized the irony of how she was now in his position. How he must’ve felt, standing in front of the door of the ruins, wanting to knock so badly, but afraid of what would happen when he did. Standing in perpetual anxiety, knowing that the situation was beyond tense and the only defusal was either if he knocked or if he left, but both options were equally hard so he just stood there.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Somehow she mustered the strength and lifted her arm up, striking the door gently, but still loud enough to be heard.

[bittyreaders]

Picasso & Ink Sans: Part I

           “PICASSO!”

           You froze, paint-covered finger squeaking against the drywall as it came to a halt. That had not been a happy yell, and a familiar cool sweat began to bead along the back of your neck. Pulling back your hand, you twisted your head to look at the wall behind you. The plastic siding of the doll house met your eyes, and you let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t know where you were yet, meaning there was time to escape before she found your newest masterpiece. You wiped your hands off on your pants (which had once been a light gray, but were now a mishmash of rainbow handprints and messy splatters) and packed up your tools. Miniature paint brushes made of bristles taped to cut-off toothpicks were tucked in the bottom of his knapsack – a fold of green felt held shut at the sides with a pair of clothespins, and a button over the top fold to keep it shut. On top of his tools went a dozen twists of tin foil, each filled with a different color of paint. You slipped off your sweater, stuck your arms through the yarn straps, then pulled the bulky sweater back over it. You’d have to map out a careful route to avoid the upset deer – she had sharp eyes, especially when one of her charges were in trouble.

           The entire dollhouse shifted, then jerked away from the wall. Before you could make a break for it a gray-furred hand swept down and seized you around the middle, scooping you a bit roughly from the floor. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t the usual gentle ride Rivet gave her charges when lifting them.

           When the deer didn’t stand up straight immediately, you followed her line of sight and was met with your latest masterpiece, painted on the drywall behind the house. It was one of your better paintings, you had to admit. Rolling green hills resting beneath streaks of orange, yellow, purple, red, all the way to dark blue at the top, which was dotted with spots of pale yellow and white to create stars. Pride bubbled in your SOUL at the sight, and you decided then and there that if Rivet made you wash it off, you’d re-paint it somewhere else.

           “You…you…” The deer let out a rather predatory growl and turned away from the wall, instinctively bringing you up to rest against her collarbone. You grabbed the edge of her shirt and held on tight as she stepped over the pen wall and crossed the room to her desk. The glow of your artistic achievement was beginning to fade, overtaken by worry. Rivet was rarely angry beyond words, but the crackling of her magic against your body suggested she’d reached the point today. Past her desk and into the backroom you went. Well, this wasn’t too bad. Maybe she just wanted to talk? Oh – nope. She turned left, towards the wall of isolation tanks against the wall.

           The tanks were simply small aquariums, meant to quarantine sick Readers or hold violent ones. Rarely, they were used for time outs when Rivet’s temper boiled over. This was apparently one of those times. The deer gently set you on top of one of the aquariums and crouched slightly, bringing her scowling expression level with you.

           “Picasso,” her voice was flat and nearly emotionless, “this is the tenth time this month I’ve found you drawing on the walls.” She paused, and you tried to look anywhere but her eyes. A thin finger caught you beneath the chin and forced you to look at her. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

           Ah, geeze. Her ears were drooping a bit, and her stern expression had softened, becoming sad. It was a dirty trick, one you were well acquainted with. She was an expert at dealing with unruly Readers; luckily, you were an expert at getting out of trouble.

           “I’m sorry Miss Rivet,” you slipped your chin from her finger and looked down at your feet, drawing your shoulders up slightly to try and seem apologetic. “I forgot.”

           “You forgot?”

           “I forgot the rules,” you tried, twisting the bottom of your paint-spattered sweater between your hands. “I just saw all the nice space on the wall and wanted to make it look pretty.”

           There was a long pause, and you felt a bloom of hope growing in your chest. Surely, she’d let you off with a warning, like every other time?

           “I’m not buying it.” Rivet straightened up, taking you off guard. “Picasso, we have had this conversation nine times this month alone. You did not just forget the rule about drawing on the walls.”

           “I wasn’t drawing, I was painting,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest, but Rivet’s ears flicked and her expression darkened.

           “I am not in the mood for your sass, young man,” she snapped. “There is a stack of paper as tall as you in the pen for you to use, and I have always been happy to get you canvas to paint on as well. You do not have any reason to be painting on the walls, and I will not deal with it anymore. You’re in time out until tomorrow.”

           “What?!” You shrieked, the warm glow of hope at this being just a talk extinguished. “That’s – you can’t do that!”

           “I can, and am.” Rivet lifted the top of the tank next to you. The bottom of the tank was lined with a soft blanket, which was folded over in one corner to form a bed, and there was a huge teddy bear in the other corner for any Readers in isolation who needed some comfort. There were also a few books and a miniature bean bag chair to keep any sick readers from getting bored. Rivet plucked you up by the back of your sweater and gently lowered the enclosure. “You are staying there until after lunch tomorrow. It will take me that long to scrub all your paintings off the walls and windows.” She scowled. “Not to mention the posters, the bottom of the guest chairs, the underside of the shelves, and the inside of Spice’s room.”

           “I just wanted them to have something to look at! They’re a baby – they need something interesting to look at!” You protested, stomping your foot. Rivet gave you a withering look.

           “Painting King Asgore riding a dinosaur into battle against a horde of vampire Froggits is not what a baby needs to be looking at.” She slid the lid of the aquarium back into place, leaving a thin line for fresh air and noise to enter and exit. “Now, stay in there and think about what you’ve done, and who has to clean up after you.” The monster turned with a flip of her tail and left the backroom. A murmur of unpunished Readers slipped through the swinging door for a moment, until the wood stilled and you were left all alone.

           Night fell and you were bored. Still bored. You’d been bored since Rivet had imprisoned you in this stupid glass-walled chamber of torturous nothingness. B-O-R-E-D. There were books, but even you weren’t going to deface a form of artistic expression, even if you were dying of BOREDOMNESS!

           Rivet had brought you dinner and taken the plate away when you were finished, but beyond that hadn’t even looked at you. She hadn’t even said goodnight when she flipped out most of the lights and flopped onto the mattress in the far corner of the room. The only light left on was the dim bulb in the middle of the room, which she always left on for Readers who needed her in the night.

           You rolled over and blamed the light for keeping you awake, not the fact that you’d slept half the afternoon away in a bored stupor. No, this was all that stupid deer’s fault. If that pen she’d dropped hadn’t rolled under the shelves, she never would have bent down and seen your masterpieces hidden on the underside of the wood slats. That had led to her checking the underside of every surface in the building, and she’d found months of your work.

           And now it was all erased.

           All that time and effort you’d put in when he couldn’t sleep at night, gone with some harsh scrubbing and a bottle of acetone. Not to mention your work on Spice’s bedroom ceiling! It had been brilliant – every line of Asgore’s flowing beard carefully etched, each Froggit with their own unique set of fangs. And now it was gone! All gone, poof, like you’d never spent hours on it.

           What if she did this to your next round of art as well? What if she just kept destroying what you created, even when it wasn’t in the way? What if she threw away your artwork done on paper and canvas as punishment the next time you got in trouble? The idea of losing all your work made your stomach hurt.

           You know what? No! You weren’t going to stick around and wait for the dumb deer to destroy more of your work. You jumped to your feet and grabbed your backpack, which you’d taken off and stashed out of sight beneath the blankets when you napped earlier. It had all your art supplies – the paints and brushes, crayon shavings, chips of chalk, a bit of charcoal, and ink pen nubs alongside a foil twist of black ink. After checking to make sure everything was inside you slung it over your shoulder and began examining the walls of the tank. There were no cracks or holes to slip out of, and the walls were much too slick to climb up. You groaned, rush of enthusiasm dashed, and tilted your head back to release a stress-filled huff. Air was left un-huffed, however, because there was one way out. The top of the cage was cracked open, just as Rivet had left it. The crack was along the front of the cage, and the over-sized teddy bear meant to be a comfort item had ears that nearly brushed the lid.

           Wasting no time to give this idea proper thought, you scrambled up the bear, using the plush fur as hand holds to drag yourself up its belly and onto its muzzle. It took some careful balancing to get to the top of the bears head. You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach the edge of the tank, but once your fingers were wrapped around the edge it was only a matter of a quick jump and some scrambling to haul yourself over the top. You almost let out a victorious whoop, but the shifting of the monster across the room made you shut your mouth so fast your teeth clicked painfully together.

           Whelp, you were up and out, but how did you get down? The table was a good drop from the top of the tank, but maybe if you carefully turned and let yourself dangle, the landing wouldn’t be too hard. You carefully swung your legs over the edge and turned, so you were resting with your stomach on the top rim, legs dangling on the outside of the tank. With slow movements you slipped off the edge, until you were dangling from your hands. After taking a few deep, bracing breaths, you dropped. The wood table rushed up to meet your feet, and a jolt ran up your locked legs as you landed. You fell back onto your rear with a soft groan, mindful of the sleeping deer across the room. Pain buzzed along your legs for a moment before dispelling, leaving only a phantom ache in your shaken bones.

           Once the ache disappeared, you glanced back at what had been your prison. Time-out? Hah, it was no match for you! Grinning in triumph you stood, brushed off your paint-splattered pants, and headed for the ladder bolted to the side of the table. Down this ladder, through the door to the front room, and through the secret emergency room, and you’d be home free.

           Your work would never be destroyed again.

Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Please let me know what you think!