A collection of inane nonsense (ranging from Error being reincarnated as Palette to Dust finding a new love for the color pink) circling around the many AUs and Multiverses of the Undertale world. Some stories will be connected; Others will be rando...
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(Warning: This story contains sadness, child neglect, vomiting, animal death, and blood.)
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A sighing breath echoed throughout the dense forest, carrying in it the sounds of defeat and untold anguish.
Clear blue waters filled the great lake sat amid the lush greenery. Within its reflective surface dwelled the mirrored image of a slumped, teary-eyed young skeleton sitting on a rock. He wore a (mostly) typical outfit for a monster his age: a yellow and white striped sweater (stained across the chest with a dubious, brown substance [definitely not the chocolate he stol- "borrowed"]), beige shorts, sky blue flip-flops, and a hat; the captain-style white/black, gold-rimmed cap laid awkwardly atop his small skull, being several sizes too large to fit correctly.
But it was one of the very few precious gifts from his father (that wasn't random trash the elder artist picked up like a stone, fistful of snow, or an empty cinnamon bun wrapper), so he wore it anyway.
Another heaving sigh found its way outside him.
Palette absently plucked a smooth, flat stone off the ground and chucked it at the water. Instead of skipping like he'd seen them do for Ink, it slapped against the surface, creating a small spray of water droplets before sinking nigh instantaneously.
Yet another disappointment to add to today's lengthy, ever-growing list.
Sniffling, the young artist fought back the green tears threatening to spill from his eye sockets alongside the broken sobs attempting to claw their way past his jaws. An action that only served to cause the opposite of what he wanted. Instead of being willed away, the magic droplets blurred his vision as they sprung forth, trailing down his cheeks and trickling onto his shorts, and the chest-rattling cries he tried so desperately to contain made his invisible throat clench and burn.
It hurt but nowhere near as much as bitter aching sorrow in his soul. The sheer stabbing sensation that happened time and time again when he recalled the exact source of his misery; why he traveled out to this secluded local in the first place.
