#undertale fic

[aylish91]

Thank you so much @mothiepixie for always doing such amazing work and letting me commission you! You never fail to deliver such good works!

Red from, Sea of Hope, is absolutely perfect! Thank you!

[areyoubea-why]

Just practicing with styles

[gillanfryingpan]

I didn’t get to finish these sketches in time for their Ink Tournament face off but have some more Empireverse x FTFO bc I think they would have a silly dynamic

Ink Tournament by nashdoestournaments

FTFO!Ink by Im_Sorry_Buddy

Empireverse!Ink by lunnar-chan

Ink!Sans by comyet

[starryaike]

Mi first fic ever! Damn! I'm really shy about posting it here (it's really my first real attempt at writing ever), but I figured! Why the hell not! Constructive criticism is appreciated and welcomed!

Rating: Gen

Wordcount: 2,080

Summary:

It hits me with the delicacy of a baseball bat to the face, the cold night air from the open window. It takes a moment for me to adjust to the sight of your room covered in shadows, barely illuminated by the faint streetlight that peeks through, and I notice I’m breathing heavily. Ah, so it was a dream.

“A nightmare”, you whisper, out of breath.

A nightmare, yes. My bad.

(or, Chara and Frisk Hurt/Comfort)

[aenor-llelo]

If the homies want to read a pre-canon Flowey save file Undertale fic about the skeleton brothers living out a groundhog day comedy/drama, i've put up the first chapter of Temporal Fenstra (warning: incidentally irish)

if this came on your feed and you don't go to undertale, you don't need to play the game to understand what's going on, we tell you along the way

[undertalethingems]

probably no one remembers that i once mentioned i had an angsty idea for why papyrus has so much energy

but if that sounds like fun I have just the fic for you :>

[minzart]

The way so many of Hiraeth's fic scenes are stuck in my brain

There is even more scenes but I needed to prioritize Nightmare's king moment, horror cute face and protagonist despair in first time checking people at the GALA OF ALL PLACES-

Anyways honorable mentions to HELIOS, all of his scenes, plus disheveled and PISSED nightmare who just lost a fight to his brother from another multiverse and BLUERROR AND HIS STARS.

I swear I want to eat @owl-bones ART AND WRITTING OF HOW GOOD IT ISSS HE'S SO COOL

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Introducing... 8 am in the (fucking) neighborhood

Papyrus is back with the groceries.

Unfortunately, his Karen neighbor is still mad at him for ruining her perfect white wall.

Alas, Papyrus is in trouble once again! (or not).

You can read it down the line or on AO3:

8 a.m in the neighborhood

Papyrus finally had his groceries. After a long morning that almost felt like an entire year, the house was finally in sight. He took a look at the clock in his car. He had to meet with Undyne at 2 p.m., which meant he would have to leave at precisely 1:38 p.m. to be on time. It would leave him plenty of time to clean the groceries and wait by the door until it was time to leave.

The skeleton turned at the end of the road to park in his alley. Or at least he intended to. Because he had to stop almost immediately.

His two bins were in the middle of the alley again.

Oh no. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Please, please just leave him alone…

A terrible knock on his window made him jump out of his bones. He looked up in disbelief. Here she was once again.

His Karen neighbor.

Papyrus tried to keep his cool. Everyone said he was the most patient monster they had ever met. So he was going to honor them and be patient with her as well. He could do this. He was the Great Papyrus after all!

He forced a smile and rolled down the window.

"DEAR NEIGHBOR, WE MEET AGAIN! IS SOMETHING WRONG?"

"Something wrong? You dare to ask me if something is wrong? You ruined my wall!"

Papyrus turned around. Ah, yes. He almost forgot the amazing crack he made in that horrible perfect clean white house of hers. She was just dramatic. If he closed his eyes hard enough, no one could notice it.

The skeleton rolled his eyes. Where was he? Ah yes, being patient. He was the great Papyrus and according to Tumblr, he was supposed to be nice and always smiling, because cute boys can't be sad or have a bad day. He couldn't betray his Tumblr fans. He needed to stay in his role. Hum… What would his Tumblr fans do in these types of situations?

Oh!

He knew!

"RUINED IS A BIG WORD. YOU COULD EASILY HIDE IT. I SUGGEST YOU PUT A PRIDE FLAG ABOVE IT AS WE ARE IN JUNE, THE PROUDEST MONTH OF ALL!"

Well, for sure, Karen didn't expect that. Her face turned from angry to disgusted very fast. Did he say something wrong?

"You are one of them?"

"THEM?"

"Those people who are identifying to helicopters and wearing pink thongs in the streets. Don't you think you did enough already? You're going to contaminate the children with your… Ideology. We're respectable people in this street, you can't just show your pink string to the children and call that an identity. That's absolutely disgusting."

Papyrus shuts his mouth in a loud bone noise. He took a deep breath, then made a slow turn towards the screen of his phone, hanging to the opposite window of his car.

"DEAR TUMBLR FANS, I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS AS I WILL BE OBLIGED TO USE A LOT OF STRONG WORDS IN THE NEXT FEW SECONDS THAT ARE NOT VERY PAPYRUS AT ALL BUT HOLY FUCK. EXCUSE ME FOR A SECOND."

"Who are you even talking to? Do you hear voices?"

Papyrus forced a huge smile and met her eyes.

"JEEZ LADY, YOU ARE SOMETHING ELSE. I KNEW YOU WERE A RACIST FUCK ALREADY, BUT THAT'S EVEN MORE FUCKED UP SOMEHOW. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING? DO YOU THINK THIS IS A NORMAL THING TO SAY TO SOMEONE? DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT EDUCATION WHEN YOU HAVE THE LEVEL OF EDUCATION OF AN OYSTER."

She gasped loudly.

"I am not an oyster, you sick asshole!"

"THIS IS NOT THE POINT! YOU COULD BE A MOLLUSK OR A CRUSTACEAN FOR ALL I CARE, THIS DOESN'T CHANGE ANYTHING: YOUR OPINIONS ARE DISGUSTING, HURTFUL, AND DISGRADING. INSTEAD OF BEING JEALOUS OF ME AND MY GROCERIES, WHY WON'T YOU BUY SOME DECENCY TO THE GROCERY STORE? IT'S JUST TWO MINUTES DOWN THE STREET."

"I will talk to your brother about your behavior! If I can't make you realize how wrong you are, maybe he will! I can't believe how immature you are! What a shame for your kind! And gay with all of that! Poor, poor children! What an example you are for them!"

"FIRST OF ALL, I'M NOT GAY BUT ASEXUAL AND AROMANTIC. SECONDLY, I AM AN ADULT AND CAN TALK TO MYSELF. AND LAST…"

"if it can help, i don't identify as a helicopter but i for sure wear bright pink thongs. they're cute." Sans said from the first-floor window, watching the drama show playing in the street. "also, my bro is right. he's not gay. i am though. need something else?"

Karen opened and closed her mouth in shock, like a dying goldfish. She then let out a scream of rage and left, raging. Sans lazily waved goodbye at her as Papyrus, very satisfied, flipped his two middle fingers in her back. Anyway. He still had groceries to clean.

Maybe the day wouldn't be so bad after all.

Fuck Karens.

[orisretr0]

I had a stroke of genius. On another note, perspective and hands can drop dead and feed the ducks.

also, Alice’s reaction:

Undercover deity goes to @rainachaeri

[ram-to-the-ham]

You all following me are just gonna have to deal with me Undertale posting for a while because this is the most art inspiration I’ve had in months.

Also here’s a doodle for a fic I’m reading called Rift it is amazing please read it.

[inknanda67]

I decided to start posting some of my complete fanfics on Wattpad/Spiritfanfics that I have in Portuguese, for Ao3.

And the first one I bring you is:

Nine little kicks.

Synopsis:

Months after the former arch-enemies return from their honeymoon, Ink finds himself finally satisfied with his life with Error.

Meanwhile, his perfect married life that had just begun is turned upside down when his ex-guardian feels his chest throb like a kick coming from inside his tattooed ribs, as if something shakes the soul he doesn't have, worried about the fright who took Error decides to take his loved one to the Scientist! Sans was already tired of their faces, but this time it was an emergency.

----------

It's a cute little fanfic of Ink and Error Sans finding out they're having a baby. :3

It is all inspired by a art made by @itsxroxannex

I made it during the pandemic because i in Lockdown with nothing to do, and I wanted an errorink fic with something silly, cute and dramatic :3

I've currently posted 4 chapters of it :3, and I will only translate the other five.

I hope you like it ^^.

[a-whispering-echo]

very VERY old fic

here - im gonna do this in a few sections, but this is a fic i wrote YEARS ago, and never posted, because i VERY quickly improved and git grossed out by it, but ive JUST found the document again, and figured id chuck em here to do SOMETHING with them i guess?

The air inside Moonlit Halls Mental Hospital hung heavy with despair. Fluorescent lights infrequently flicker, casting eerie shadows on the cracked linoleum floor.

The once sterile white walls had turned a sickly shade of yellow, stained by years of neglect and the suffering that permeated every corner. The pungent scent of antiseptic did nothing to hide the overall lingering stench of decay, scaring anyone it held within its grip. 

The corridors echoed with both whispers and screams of tormented souls, inescapable, much like the building itself. Scratches littered the surface of forlorn cells - futile and desperate attempts of those trapped within to leave their mark on a world that had forsaken them.

In purgatory, time has no meaning. Day melds into the night, as the line between reality and delusion blurred. Tortured cries of the patients were almost in tune with the haunting echoes of their own minds; a composed maelstrom of madness. 

The few patients who had families left had long since given up hope of seeing them again. 

It was a horrible place, and it was run by even worse people. 

 The staff members had long lost their compassion and empathy a long time ago, leaving only cold callously and cruelty behind. Their eyes, once filled with hope and a desire to heal, now held a threatening gleam. Their smiles, twisted and devoid of warmth, were the only outward sign of the animosity that sat behind their masks of professionalism.

And the few patients who had families who cared for them left had long since given up hope of seeing them again, their queries met with indifference or threats if they dare voice concerns or question the facility's practices.

After all, the doctor knows best for you. 

You can forget about getting the right medication, as the staff are much more interested in maintaining control than in providing genuine care. The cycle of medication only ever worsens their state when they end up overmedicated one moment, and under-medicated the next. 

Their fragile minds that once sought solace shattered by the very people who had promised to help. 

Well, Killer had always hated promises anyway. 

_

Killer stood in the dimly lit hallway, clutching the small bag of belongings that they had managed to grab before being taken in tightly in their hands. New to this particular institution, he hoped this one would be different from all the others. Just by looking at the place, that hope sank like a lead balloon. As a nurse led them down the sallow winding hallways to their new assigned room, Killer's exposed soul pounded with a mix of apprehension and annoyed defiance.

Shit, he really hoped the soul thing wouldn't be a problem here.

But maybe that was the least of their worries. 

Turning their head, empty eye sockets looked up at the apathetic nurse dragging them down the hallway, "Sooooo... Do I have roomies?" 

The nurse gave a quick glance back, and their eyes narrowed in irritation. "Yes, you do," came the curt reply. "But I suggest you mind your manners and keep to yourself. We wouldn't want any trouble, would we?"

Killer only scoffed, "Trouble follows me at every turn."

Rolling their eyes, the nurse carried on.

Upon reaching a withered door the nurse unlocked it, revealing a small space dimly illuminated by a flickering bulb. The room was practically empty, with two sets of bunk beds and one ratty mattress on the floor, a worn-out desk with no chair in sight, and covered head to toe in filth. 

Stepping inside, Killer takes note of the four others in the room, (all skeletons, maybe that's why he's here,) as his eye sockets lock onto a figure on the bed. Tired red and blue eyelights and a haunted expression stared back underneath their owner's hood, as their body tensed in displeasure. 

"Great," The male voice muttered, laced with sarcasm. "Another fuckup to add to this delightful mix."

Killer raised a brow bone, slightly amused by the initial hostility. "Well, nice to meet you too! 

"Dust, play nice." Spoke another skeleton voice tinged with annoyance, this one so tall Killer only came up to his chest, "Ignore him, he's having a bad day, I'm Horror." A polite smile splits his face. 

Killers' attention shifted to a third individual, a skeleton with a scar on their zygomatic bone standing by the window, seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Their weary posture and wishful gaze spoke of quiet strength. 

"And who might you be, window dweller?"

"Cross, I guess," His voice barely a whisper, "Nice to meet you...?" he trailed off like he was asking a question. 

The last person in the room, who had been quietly observing them from the corner of the room, raised a browbone as they stepped forwards and piped up, "Well, isn't this an interesting mix of personalities? I'm Nightmare. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." They seemed to be a hybrid, a mix between a skeleton, and some kind of dark slime creature, and they held an air of darkness like they had dark secrets bubbling under the surface. 

Top dog, spoke the voice from behind his skull.

"Woof Woof." Killer giggled.

"Who are you talking to?"

Killer chuckled under their breath, brushing off the question. "Just my ever-entertaining internal dialogue. Keeps me company." They offered a mischievous smile, though their eye sockets betrayed their slight embarrassment at the open reply. 

The room fell into an awkward silence as the nurse left the room with a scoff of disgust. Killer could feel the tension in the air, a mix of curiosity, weariness, and guardedness, and yet it seemed almost calmer with them gone. 

Dust sighed heavily and broke the silence, "Well, looks like we're all stuck here together," he muttered, his voice laced with resignation. "Might as well make the best of it." 

Deciding to break the ice, Killer speaks up, a mischievous smile spread across their face. "Well, Dusty, seems like we're going to be roommates in this delightful place. I hope you don't snore too loudly!"

Dust's expression softened, his guarded demeanour slipping down into a small grin. "You'll have to bear with my snoring, I'm afraid. But hey, it might help drown out everyone else's screams."

Nightmare smirked, leaning against the wall. "Ah, the screams. The sweet symphony of our beloved asylum. It's music to my ears," they said, their voice dripping with dark humour.

Horror let out a nervous chuckle, eyeing Nightmare warily. "Well, I'm glad someone here appreciates the ambience. Personally, I could do without the screams."

Cross, who had been silently observing the interaction, finally spoke up in his soft-spoken manner. "I...I don't like the screams either. They remind me...of things I'd rather forget."

"...Do you wanna talk about it?"

Cross hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting to the floor as he shuffled his feet. "I...I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it yet," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But maybe...someday."

Horror smiled, "No pressure, We're here whenever you're ready."

Killer nodded in agreement, "Yeah, take your time, Crossy. We're all in this together now."

"Does that make us friends?" 

Cross looked up, his eyelights reflecting a glimmer of hope. "Friends? Yeah, I think I'd like that," he replied softly.

Nightmare grinned mischievously, their eyelight gleaming with intrigue. "Friends, huh? Well, I suppose it's always good to have a few allies in a war."

Dust's lips curled into a genuine smile, "Friends it is then. We'll stick together and make it through this place."

Killer chuckled, "Well then friends, let's get settled in."

-

In the days that followed their initial meeting, the group treaded cautiously around each other, their interactions filled with a delicate mix of curiosity and apprehension. They were aware that their shared experiences within Moonlit Halls Mental Hospital made them survivors of the same kind, but the layers of their individual struggles kept them guarded, each convinced to keep to themselves about it. 

But one evening, gathered in the dimly lit common room, Horror broke the silence with a deep breath, his voice hesitant but firm "I think it's time we share a bit more about ourselves. Our diagnoses, our struggles, whatever. We need to understand each other better."

Nightmare, leaning against the wall, interjected with a detached air. "I was brought here for my manipulative tendencies. They couldn't handle someone who knew how to play the game better than they did," they explained, their tone void of remorse. 

Raising a brow bone in amusement, their curiosity piqued, Killer questioned, "So, you're a master manipulator, huh? Should we be worried?"

 "You should always be cautious. But worry? No, my dear. I am not here to manipulate you. I am here to unravel the mysteries that bind us. I want to manipulate them." Their eyelights gleamed with an enigmatic spark as they smirked.

 Horror spoke of his struggles with depression and his eating disorder, sharing how he had fought to maintain his strength amidst the darkness that ever threatened to consume him.

 Dust reluctantly divulged his diagnosis of Schizoaffective Disorder, revealing the pain of his hallucinations and the constant fight to distinguish reality from illusion. 

Cross muttered about his anxiety disorder, the paralysing fear that often held him captive within his own mind. 

And Killer, keeping their DID hidden for now, nonchalantly spoke about their struggles with anger and impulse control. How their BPD made life a mountain out of a molehill.

As the night wore on, a fragile trust began to form between the group of misfits, as they realised that they were not alone in their battles. And in this sharing, the shallow bond they formed grew stronger.

However, the peace and newfound companionship was to be shattered by an unexpected confrontation between Dust and Nightmare.

Skulking out of the shadows, Nightmare approached Dust, their presence almost suffocating. Dust looked up, unease creeping into his features as Nightmare invaded his personal space, their faces mere inches apart as he traces a fingertip over Dust jaw line. A chill ran down Dust's spine as Nightmare's voice, laced with an unsettling calmness, pierced through the air.

"You know, Dust," Nightmare began, their voice low and taunting. "I've been observing you closely, and I can't help but wonder... How do you distinguish between reality and your hallucinations? How do you know what's real and what is merely... a figment of your imagination?"

Dust's soul pounded in his chest, fear flooding his senses. He tried to pull away, to escape the suffocating presence of Nightmare, but their grip on his chin tightened, their gaze locking onto his with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine.

Nightmare's voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "And what about your brother? The one you see, the one who talks to you. Has he ever told you to finish off the rest of your family? Do what he couldn't finish? After all, there's only one left, isn't there?"

"Dust, come with me," Horror spoke, his voice firm but comforting. "You don't need to listen to this."

But Dust, lost in the clutches of his own torment, pushed Horror away, his eyelights fixed on Nightmare. Anger burned within him, a mixture of fear and defiance. "You don't know anything," he spat, his voice shaking. "You don't understand what it's like, what I go through everyday. Leave me alone!"

Nightmare's expression twisted into a sinister smile, their eyelight glimmering with amusement. "Oh, but I do understand, Dust. I understand more than you realise. The question is, can you handle the truth?"

Horror, his voice gentle yet determined, tried once more to break through Dust's spiralling thoughts. "Dusty, please. Let's get out of 'ere. You don't 'ave to face this alone."

But Dust, overwhelmed by his own inner demons, pushed everyone away, his trembling voice filled with defiance. "Just go, all of you! Leave me be!"

As Dust stormed away, his footsteps echoing through the dimly lit hallway, Horror watched him with a heavy soul. He wanted desperately to run after him, tell him that everything will be alright, but he knew that pushing Dust any further now is just going to make matters worse.

Turning to face the rest of the group, Horror's expression was filled with concern, "Give 'im some space, let 'im cool off, we'll talk to 'im later." 

At Killer's "Uh huh," and Cross's nod, Nightmare scoffed, "He knows what I said was the truth," they muttered, their voice tinged with frustration. "He needs to face it."

Horror's eyelight narrowed as he locked gazes with Nightmare. "You may be right about 'im needing to confront 'is fears, but you can't force 'im into it,” he said firmly. "We're here to support 'im, to help 'im through this, not to exploit 'is vulnerabilities."

Nightmare's expression shifted, a flicker of doubt crossing their features before they regained their usual air of indifference. "Fine," they replied, their voice laced with annoyance. "If you insist on coddling him, be my guest. But don't come crying to me when he falls deeper into his delusions."

As Nightmare stalked off, their steps filled with frustration, Horror let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. 'What a great first week.'

Later that evening, when the rest of the group had retired to their beds, Horror found himself sitting alone in the common room, flicking through an old dog-eared book he had stolen from a group therapy room. The book was about some kind of new type of therapy, supposed to help anxious people speak their thoughts easier. It sounded like bullshit to him. 

It was then that Nightmare appeared, their usual composed demeanour replaced with smothered vulnerability. They approached Horror cautiously, their voice hesitant yet filled with a desperate plea. "Horror, may I... can I talk to you?"

Horror looked up, surprise evident in his eyelight. He had expected Nightmare to maintain their distance, to retreat back into the shadows. But the vulnerability in their voice struck a chord within him, and he nodded, his voice gentle. "'Corse, Nightmare. What's on your mind?"

Nightmare hesitated for a moment, their eyelight avoiding Horror's gaze. "I... I don't understand how to...care," they admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. "I've spent so long detached,  observing others.. that genuine compassion eludes me. But... you care for Dust, and the way you all care for each other, it's... foreign to me. I want to understand, to learn how to care like you do."

Horror set the book aside, his attention fully on Nightmare. 

He had seen the facade Nightmare presented to the world, the carefully constructed mask of indifference, and now, as Nightmare stood before him, vulnerable and searching for answers, he realised that there was more to him than what had previously met the eye.

Horror watched Nightmare closely, their inner tempest palpable in the way they shifted their weight and avoided his gaze. His voice softened as he spoke, "Empathy isn't something you can learn just like that, but the fact you want to change says everyt'ing. But you still don't want to let go of the mask, so we'll start simple - right now, in this moment, what are you feeling?

After a brief moment of hesitation, Nightmare's voice trembled as they admitted, "I... I don't know what I'm feeling right now. It's all so... confusing. I've spent so long using my manipulations like a shield - I don't know who I am without them. It's like... I'm not even a person - just a collection of masks and schemes."

"Nightmare," he began gently, his voice soothing, "you're more than just the masks you wear.  Compassion is not an easy journey, but it's one worth taking."

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "Caring for others isn't about grand gestures or putting on a show. It's about being there, listening, and offering support if they want it. Even if all you can do is listen to their questions when asked - like this."

They listened intently, their gaze slowly lifting to meet Horror's eyelight. "But what if I do not have the answers? What if I am not capable of giving them what they need?" their voice filled with uncertainty.

Horror's voice held gentle reassurances as he shook his head and replied, "None of us have all the answers, Nightmare. We're all just trying to figure things out as we go along. Sometimes, all someone needs is a shoulder to cry on."

Nightmare's brows furrowed as they contemplated Horror's words . "I've always been the one who observes, an outsider, looking through a window at others outside," they admitted, face full of longing. "But watching you all... I see the strength in your connection, you support one another. I want that. I want to be a part of something real." 

Smiling warmly, Horror solaced -  his voice filled with genuine encouragement: "You already are a part of something real, Nightmare. You're a part of us, and we're 'ere for you."

-

On a quiet evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in dappled hues of pink and gold, casting warm rays of light over the figure by the window, Cross sat alone in a secluded corner of their room - on the ledge of the window the showed the courtyard, the small foliage and trees swaying in the wind - a taste of freedom he could not achieve from inside the walls. He clutched a worn-out journal in his hands, its dogeared and ripped pages filled with sketches and the scribbled words of his innermost thoughts.

Unbeknownst to him, Nightmare observed from a distance, their curiosity piqued by the sight of Cross in such a vulnerable state. Ready to play his usual games, he started to stride over, before he hesitated. Horror's words from their previous conversation echoed in their mind. "Listen, offer support if prompted."

This was the perfect time to try it out. 

As they got closer, they noticed Cross mumbling to himself in Spanish, his words a soft, soothing melody that seemed to calm the turbulence within him.

Walking over to where Cross was sitting with a newfound determination, Nightmare cleared their throat as they greeted him in Spanish, "Hola, Cross. ¿Te importa si me siento contigo?" (Hello, Cross. Do you mind if I sit with you?)

Cross looked up, surprise flickering in his eyelights at the sound of his native language. A hint of a smile touched his lips as he nodded, "No, adelante. Siéntate." (No, go ahead. Sit.)

Taking a seat beside Cross, Nightmare could feel the nervousness bubbling beneath their typical aloof facade. But Horror's words kept replaying and they were determined to forge a connection with Cross, to break free from the walls they had built around themselves. They didn't want to be like this anymore.

"¿Te gusta el jardín afuera? He notado que a veces te sientas junto a la ventana," (Do you like the garden outside? I've noticed you sometimes sit by the window,) They asked, trying to break the ice with a simple observation.

Cross’ eyelights softened, a glimmer of surprise at Nightmare's attempt to engage him. "Sí, me gusta el jardín. Me ayuda a relajarme y despejar mi mente," (Yes, I like the garden. It helps me relax and clear my mind,) he replied, his voice hesitant and wary at the psychopath's confrontation.

Nightmare nodded, trying to maintain the conversation. "Entiendo. La naturaleza puede ser terapéutica, ¿verdad?" (I understand. Nature can be therapeutic, right?)

Cross seemed to relax just a bit more, a small smile gracing his face. "Sí, es como una pequeña escapatoria en medio de todo esto," (Yes, it's like a little escape amidst all of this,) he admitted, his voice softening.

And in that moment of shared understanding, the walls between Cross and Nightmare began to crumble. They found solace in the familiarity of their native language, speaking freely in a way they couldn't in English. As time ticked on, the sunset turned to dusk, as its warm shades turned to sympathetic  shades of indigo and mauve. 

In the time of quiet revelations, Cross continued "Siento que no encajo aquí," he admitted softly, his gaze cast downwards. "Es como si todos fueran piezas de un rompecabezas que no encajo."(I feel like I don't belong here. It's like everyone else is pieces of a puzzle, and I don't fit.)

Nightmare's eyelight softened, a newfound empathy shining through their usual veneer of detachment. "Entiendo cómo te sientes," they replied, their voice gentle. "A veces, también me siento así." (I understand how you feel, sometimes, I feel that way too.") 

"...You know, sometimes it feels like the world is just too loud, too overwhelming," Cross confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of noise, and no one else seems to understand."

Nightmare nodded, their expression empathetic. "I know that feeling all too well," they admitted. "For me, it's not just the noise; it's the emotions of others, the weight of their expectations. It's suffocating."

"It's hard to feel like a stranger in your own mind, isn't it?"

And as the night wore on, they found comfort in the safety of the shared secret language, a safe haven where they could express their deepest fears and struggles without the fear of judgement. Their strings of fate entwined inside the chaotic world of Moonlit Halls.

(ENDING THIS PART HERE, no clue why the FUCK i did the spanish part; i dont SPEAK spanish, nor do i know ANY of the language, with im sure is obvious based on my google translate spanish there, but yk, im sure it'll give someone a giggle at how wrong it is, so-)

[redherringz]

Did I write Stretch as a butler just for an excuse to put him in a suit? Maybe. Am ashamed? Nope.

I’m doodling all of them and realizing that Stretch is one of the only ones who actually wears the mansion uniforms… I think he secretly likes it.

Welcome to the Mad House!

[thetelleroftale]

Just a game

[Dust&Reader one shot]

... you huffed, running for what it seemed like forever, lost in the darkness of the streets, barely illuminated by its lights.

you peeked past your shoulder to see if he was still chasing you, but there was no one.. did you manage to lose him?? or did he lose you?? whatever happened, it didn't matter at the end.

relieved, you stopped in a turn, resting against the wall catching up on your breath.. slowly and silently just to keep an ear on his footsteps, comforting yourself with the dim lights of the casino.

you sighed, trembling, hoping you've finally deluded this psycho.

of course, this was too good to be true —

in a blink of an eye, the skeleton was in front of you, a cigarette between his fingers, leaned against the wall, giving you a long smile. it was almost like.. he was already there.. like he purposely led you here, your eyes widened realizing the trap you just fell into.

you looked at him, terrified, asking yourself how could you fall for such a trap? since when you fell into it?? how did he manage to do this?! you began to feel overwhelmed with thoughts until it interrupted by the monster's humings.

your whole body froze, pressured by his simple presence, by a simple look..but, this wasn't simple, that look, was the look of a predator, and you, were his prey.

dust then chuckled, exhaling the smoke he kept in, staring at you with great amusement —

* gotcha.

yes......... you looked up at him, smiling in disbelief.

this, was just a game for him.

♡ ♡ ♡

[hoesinthishouse13o7]

Dudes!!! I'm so hyped, I'm finally getting to post my first ever fanfic! It's a comedy, hurt/comfort (but mainly only sillies happen), mettaton-centric (for the au Underlust). There's gay shit and arson! What more could you want?

Shout out to my lovely beta readers @hydrajones @fandom-gal44 @justanevilsheep for being dumb and gay <3

(as a secret bonus it'll be finished by the end of November! And there will be a super silly bonus chapter in December!)

[glamoureddreamer]

Idea 3

Cross, Dream and Nightmare, hurt/comfort

I’m not really sure these are ideas anymore lmao, regardless enjoy :)

Cross sat alone at a bar, one he had completely forgotten the name of. His vision was doubled and if he moved at all it felt like he could barely see. Cross was sure he was swaying in his chair but he didn’t care. The drinks were making him feel nice, that was the goal.

Unknowingly to him, practically no one was at the bar anymore. Even the most heavy of drinkers knew they should get home at a reasonable hour. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Two figures walk into the bar, both looking so similar yet so different. They stand for a second looking around before they spot Cross at the bar. One of them smiles the other sighs.

“Glad we could finally find you.” A monotone voice says startling Cross from his blank stare at the bar counter. He looks up at the voice and recognizes his boss immediately, along with his brother.

“Nightmare! Dream!” He cheers with a slight hiccup.

“Man, am I glad to see you guys!” Dream smiles taking a seat at the bar. Nightmare follows suit, sitting on the other side of Cross however he does not look so happy.

“Yes. I’m sure you are-“

“Brother..be nice.” Dream interrupts him, he leans forward and grabs Cross’s hand cupping it in his own.

“Cross, are you aware of the time?” Cross stares at Dream for a moment before he looks around to find a clock. Once he finds one he looks back at Dream with a nod.

“Okay? And what didn’t think to tell anyone you’d be out this late? Didn’t think to come home?” Nightmare snaps crossing his arms. Dream pulls his hand back from Cross. Cross chuckles however even when drunk it sounded forced.

“Didn’t think anyone cared.” He picks up his shot and downs it before setting it on the table.

“What the hell are you talking about? The only reason why we are here is because we care.” Nightmare nearly growls.

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Cross forces out a laugh. He feels like if he didn’t laugh or smile he would be crying and they shouldn’t have to deal with that.

“Cross?” Dream asks sensing his pain.

“I’m a terrible person. All I do is fuck up. Make my problems everyone else’s cause I’m pathetic.. no one should love me.” They nearly get whiplash from his response, Cross was never direct about anything let alone his emotions.

“Cross…”

“I’m not stupid you know.. I see what you and the others are trying to do. Get me to join the poly but I don’t belong.. I’ll fuck up like I always do and ruin everything. You should love someone else.”

Both Dream and Nightmare take a moment to think about how to approach this. Dream is the first to speak up.

“Cross none of us think that, any of that. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit or kindness.”

“Frankly you’re just incorrect. You never fuck up missions- in fact, you seem to do so well it fixes all the fucking up Killer does. You never come to us about your issues so you have never once made your issues ours.” Cross chuckles a little.

“And you don’t belong with us? That’s because no one belongs in this group. A guardian of negativity, a guardian of positivity, a murderer with no soul, an insane brother killer, a starved beast, the only thing that ties us together is our pain.”

“And our love for each other.” Dream adds. Cross had tears dripping down his face, he covered his mouth trying not to let the sobs escape. Dream notices however and hugs him tightly.

“It’s okay to cry, no one here will hurt you for that.” Dream whispers to him.

After Cross’s drunk emotions stopped he took a deep breath and turned to Nightmare.

“Can we go home?” Nightmare gives him a small smile, chucking warmly.

“Of course Cross, let’s get you home.”