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...
Summary: It's not the true cat experience without sudden, unauthorized breaches of personal space.
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Nightmare wasn't the best sleeper in the world, as one could imagine given his namesake.
The long cold dark nights he spent in bed were often accompanied by tossing and turning and the inability to find any solace in the land of dreams. A place that happened to be commonly plagued by his fears and traumas: his boys suddenly hating him, the happy life he built crumbling down around him, and, of course, the incident.
Nevertheless, the dark lord allowed his trio of miscreants to herd him off to the large plush mattress awaiting in his room.
They were tired of him watching them sleep. Apparently.
He could hardly fathom why. It was a perfectly reasonable pastime aside from catching up on writing his stor- paperwork, and their dreams provided him ample energy to work through the day.
But, according to them, Nightmare required "real" energy obtained by a restful night's sleep. Thus, prompting them to do everything in their power to keep him there once they finally managed to herd him into his dank, lightless bedroom.
Horror fluffed his scarcely used pillows before wrestling him into bed. Then Killer lit a warm, chamomile-scented candle. It cast a pleasant yellow glow across the large stone room's dark, shadowy corners, and the herbal smell it exuded quickly overtook any other odors.
Cross soon joined their efforts, plucking a worn book from the numerous shelves and letting his soft voice fill the space with fanciful tales of myth and mystery.
Nightmare felt his body - tendrils and all - relax after a few moments. All the while, sensing the love, dedication, and care his boys carried for him.
When his eye socket slipped closed, he slept for the longest he had in... well, quite possibly, centuries.
However, a heavy weight settled on his chest sometime during the night. And, eventually, the pressure became too much and roused his sleep-addled mind from an otherwise peaceful slumber.
Sleepily, he urged his eye socket open and blinked up to see two yellow eyelights peering down at him.
"Hello, brother." said the familiar figure calmly sitting on his chest.
Nightmare screamed.
The resident Sans trio startled when the Guardian of Negativity's cry echoed throughout the castle, reaching them down on the first floor in the living room.
They nearly hopped out of their seats, alert and prepared to check on him, when a bright yellow cat burst through the room, quickly followed by their leader. Who happened to be violently swinging a wooden-handled broom at the creature while rage twisted his face.
"Personal space, Dream!" He furiously screeched, aiming his bristled weapon.
The feline - Dream - yowled in pain as the broom made contact.
