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: Some trees don't fare well in cold weather.
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A loud sneeze echoed throughout Nightmare's resting chamber- i.e., his bedroom.
The dark lord in question laid in his large fluffy bed, covered by a thick comforter, and burrowed into the many pillows surrounding him.
His external negativity was missing. It had receded as the first sign of his illness, revealing his many other symptoms: yellow-green flushed magic, which stubbornly colored his cheeks, and bones unnaturally pale and without their natural silvery sheen.
Sniffling, he grimaced as his chest rattled when a wet cough tore through his throats.
And, of course, because his body hated him, he promptly sneezed again right after. However, unlike the first, a sickly colored magic got dislodged in his nasal cavity and began dripping down his face.
"Uuuugh. Disgusting." Nightmare groaned, sluggishly reaching for his royal purple handkerchief on the nearby nightstand. His phalanges fumbled with the fabric a second before pulling it up to his stuffy nasal cavity and gently dabbing the ill substance away. After finished, he tossed it to the side to be taken care of later.
As it landed somewhere (probably on the floor or the opposite side of his bed), the bedroom door opened just enough for Killer to poke his head inside.
His empty eye sockets conveyed a surprising amount of pity as he examined Nightmare's sickness-laden form, then softly asked, " 'mare, you alright? Do you need more blankets?"
"N-no, thank you, Killer. I'm fine." The Guardian of Negativity said.
The target-souled Sans appeared skeptical, eyeing him dubiously.
"You sure?" He stated in concern while onehandedly gesturing toward him, "You're still shivering an awful lot."
Nightmare blinked. True to his follower's words, he had been shivering and, apparently, doing it quite loudly given the muffled clinks emanating beneath his blanket.
He nuzzled himself further back into his pillows, suddenly self-conscious about the unruly rattling of his frail bones, but nevertheless replied, "Yes, I'm certain."
"Hmm, okay then. I'll be back with some soup in a minute or two. Horror should almost be done cooking it by now."
"T-thank you."
Killer nodded and quietly closed the door. Thus, leaving the sick guardian to relax back into his warm nest until lunch arrived.
Not even a full minute later, the hoodie-clad murderer returned; This time, bearing a face mask and carrying a large ceramic bowl with white strands of steam billowing from the top.
" 'm back." He chimed, slowly stepping to Nightmare's bedside. His hands held out the dish. "Here ya go. It's a little hot, so be careful."
The dark lord painstakingly pushed himself into an upright position, reclining back against a couple of pillows. Then, with shake limbs, he accepted the bowl and subsequent spoon offered to him, giving his follower a quiet "Thank you."
His weak cyan eyelight studied the creation. It had a rich-colored broth containing bite-sized pieces of meat and vegetables (carrots, onion, celery, etc.) and smelled strongly of chicken and herbs.
Perfect.
Nightmare held the bowl close, dipped the spoon in, and stirred it.
Little noodles instantly swam up from the bottom of the dish.
He paused and stared.
"Something wrong?" Killer questioned.
"The noodles... They're shaped like an angry octopus."
A tiny snort escaped past his follower's mask. "Heh! Yeah, Horror got a little carried away in the kitchen after he heard you're sick."
"But why an angry octopus?"
Killer shrugged, cheekily saying, "You are what you eat."
Nightmare huffed.
"I am-" A soft sneeze interrupted his sentence but failed to stop him completely. "- not an angry octopus."
The target-souled skeleton shook his skull, pulling a box of tissues out of his inventory. "Nope. Right now, you are a sad small sick one."
