dream smp oneshots and unfinished fics

an ode to l'manburg (unf.)

"Karrrlll..." Tubbo whines. "Why are we going to bed nooow? It's only six-o-clock..."

Karl chuckles, ushering the seven-year-old into his and his brother's room, who is grumbling similarly. "I promise I have a reason, alright?" Karl says, lacking his usual enthusiasm. "Now, you two stay here, I'm gonna get your brothers."

Tubbo looks slightly confused. "Techy and Wil? Why?"

Karl smiles and holds up a finger to his lips, backing away without saying anything at all. Tubbo's eyes widen and he giggles in acknowledgement -- it's a secret. For now, at the very least.

As he leaves, he hears Tommy say, "Betcha I could sneak downstairs and get a chocolate before he gets back," and Karl leans back on the doorframe and raises an eyebrow, to which Tommy sheepishly grins and says, "Sorry, sorry."

Karl sighs, walking down the hall and knocking on Techno's door.

"C'min."

Karl swings open the door and leans upon the handle, watching as the pink-haired boy snaps the lock on his journal shut and turns to face his babysitter, who jerks his head towards the hallway. "Hey Techno, d'ya mind heading into Tommy and Tubbo's room for a hot minute?"

Techno quirks an eyebrow. "I'm only the babysitter on the weekends, Karl. Got any payment?"

Karl simply laughs at him. "You, Techno, are eleven. If anyone, I'd be baying Wil, he's the oldest."

Techno huffs and shakes his head, but stands up anyways. "This is slander.

"Sure." He stands to the side and lets Techno exit the room and walk into Tommy and Tubbo's with a quiet, "'Sup, nerds." The young boys respond with a chorus of "We're not nerds," and it immediately dissolves into bickering. Karl sighs. It's like that one riddle with the fox, the seeds, and the chicken. Maybe he should have brought Wilbur in first, though, thinking about it, he doubts it would have changed much. It's more like two foxes or two chickens, or, more accurately, a four chickens that are all cluck and no peck.

Well, what's done is done. Karl crosses the hall and knocks on Wilbur's door, not even getting a word out before it's opened for him. Wilbur falls back onto his desk seat, guitar around his torso.

"Hey, Wil? Can you head on into Tommy and Tubbo's room for me? I've got something I wanna show all of you."

Wilbur looks at Karl, processing, before looking at his notebook longingly and then back to Karl. He repeats the process a few times before shaking his head with a sigh, rising from his seat. "Thiiis'd better be good, Karl, I was doing something very important..."

Karl stands to the side as the boy leaves, saying, "I promise it'll be great! You'll forget what you were doing before!"

Wilbur mutters something about that being unlikely, and Karl laughs slightly, following him into the room and leaning in on both edges of the doorframe. "III forgot the thing I need downstairs, I'm coming!"

He dashes down the steps of the house and opens up his backpack, which has a variety of different things, the most important of those being the decently-sized picture book of his own creation, which he takes out promptly. He thumbs the pages nervously before sighing and making his way back upstairs.

Almost every part of his mind, every bit of godliness that's cooped up in his body screams at him not to do what he's about to do. The logical side of him ignores it. Nothing bad will happen -- nothing bad can happen, according to the rules. In fact, the only bad thing that could possibly manage to occur is the boys thinking he's a bit weird, which is a feat he'd accomplished quite a while ago.