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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Nightmare trod the rustic stone brick path heading straight to his lovely castle's dark, iron accented wooden doors. His hand pulled along a rolling suitcase filled with travel amenities/necessities. And souvenirs, which he gathered during his peaceful one-week vacation to a musty sunless cave.
For his boys, of course.
The four hellkites would no doubt give him all kinds of grief if he forgot about them.
Not that he ever would.
They certainly strived to make very, very lasting impressions, not all that unlike the vivid face imprint Killer had somehow left on the ceiling in the dining hall. Nightmare still failed to understand how the target-souled Sans managed that feat. Without help, no less.
A fond smile crept up the negativity-laden skeleton's jaws. Giving an amused shake of his head, he casually hurried down the path, more than happy to finally be home and able to revel in the chaos (and delight) his boys brought into his life.
Plus, sleep in the luxurious king-sized bed awaiting in his chambers.
The rough, stony ground at his vacation spot left much to be desired when it came to comfortable sleeping arrangements. Despite his history of resting on tree branches and the hardened dirt below his mother's thick leafy canopy.
Perhaps the luxuries of a king had spoiled him.
Mostly like, Nightmare decided as he approached the two large double doors at the castle's entranceway. All the while, noting that they were, surprisingly, in one piece. His free hand gripped the goat-shaped door knocker's metal hoop and banged it against the small metallic plate beneath it, then waited a moment.
No answered.
The dark lord's brows pinched together while the first stages of a frown tugged down his teeth. Slowly, he pulled open the door - it was unlocked, worryingly enough - and stepped inside, dragging his suitcase in along with him.
He expected to be greeted by four eager, snickering murderers immediately upon entering, but no one was there. The foyer was devoid of any living monsters and merely held hollow, unwelcoming suits of armor and old faceless paints he never bothered to take off the walls.
His suspicion automatically raised. Thus, leading him to notice something peculiar. The atmosphere- the heavy, oddly quiet air encompassing everything it touched, making the old building feel like the haunted castle it was meant to be.
Dare I utter the cliché phrase, "It's quiet. Too quiet."
As silly as it may be, that didn't make it any less true. Especially considering the typical excessive volume of the insane individuals who should be lurking within the long, winding halls.
