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 chapter contains adult humor and nonsense.)
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It was an ordinary day in the chaotic household of the Bad Sanses.
Killer and Horror were on the couch fighting over the TV remote, tugging it back and forth; Flipping through numerous channels, all the while.
Nightmare calmly lounged in the nearby plush reading chair with a book in hand and cyan eyelight intently focused on the words.
For a time, their peculiar peace remained.
At least, up until frantic footfall could be heard emanating the dark castle's echo-y stone halls.
All three skeletons glanced away from their activities when Cross appeared in the living room's entryway. Clothes disheveled, eye sockets wide, and skull flushed bright purple as he shouted, "Nightmare, help! There's a ghost in my pants."
Killer quickly raised his hand, relinquishing the remote to his broken-skulled counterpart, and shouted eagerly. "Can I help instead?!"
"No! You'll only make things worse." The monochrome warrior snapped. "I need Nightmare's help for this."
Said negativity-laden skeleton closed his book and placed it on the chair's armrest before he gradually brought himself to a stand.
"Okay," He started slowly. "So you have a ghost... in your pants. What do you want me to do about that?"
"Get it out!" Cross hysterically cried.
"...A-alright." Nightmare stuttered, a cyan blush creeping up his cheeks.
"Great, let's go!" The fluffy-coated Sans snagged dark guardian's wrist, pulling him out the room and up the stairs to his bedroom, where he soon released him three feet in front of an antique, dark oak dresser with solid gold handles.
AKA, one of the many furnishings that had come alongside the castle when Nightmare "liberated" it from its previous owner.
He stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do when his companion promptly brushed past him and approached the dresser.
The Guardian of Negativity frowned. "What are you-"
Cross swiftly pulled open the topmost drawer, revealing the contents inside: multiple pairs of the exact same styled pants and an unwelcome "guest."
"Ah... I see," Nightmare mumbled, staring down at the light blue ghost monster snug in the monochrome warrior's pants drawer. "This is... This is not what I was expecting."
"How could you expect anything else?" Cross violently gestured at the drawer. "I was very clear that there is a ghost in my pants."
"I thought you meant a different type of 'in your pants.' And possibly metaphorically."
An invisible brow raised. "'A different type of'... What does that mean?"
"Oh, Cross." The dark lord gentle pat the other's shoulder as he stepped toward the open drawer, tendrils sharpening and menacingly creeping closer to the apparition haunting the white/black apparel. Then, as swift as a snake, they struck, dusting the monster before they even had a chance to wake.
However, due to the brutal assault, strips of black and white cloth got sent flying in the air.
Nightmare smirked, satisfied by a job well done. "There. Problem solved. Though, I'm surprised the others haven't corrupted you yet."
"I don't care about being corrupted! I care about my pants!" Cross cried, falling to his knees whilst watching the dusty shreddings gently flutter to the ground. "They were too young to die outside of battle!"
