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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A foul, rotten odor dominated the kitchen. Though, that was hardly the worst of the issues: the sink was piled high, one-week-old dishes were strewn about the counter, an old pan of spoiled green meat rested on the stovetop, and stuffed, possibly leaking trash bags were stacked next to the trash can.
Killer stood at the threshold of the room. His face had long since contorted in disgust, and if he had eyelights, they no doubt would have extinguished at the heinous scene before him.
"All right, who forgot it was their turn to clean the kitchen!" He demanded, voice echoing throughout the castle's stone halls.
In a matter of seconds, Horror and Cross rounded the nearby corner. Faces expressing a mixture of curiosity and worry. They soon came to stand beside the target-soul murderer, daring to gaze inside the aforementioned space.
Both gagged, then wrinkled their nasal cavity once a putrid-scented waft assaulted their sense of smell.
"...Disgrace." Horror growled.
His monochrome companion pulled sleeve over his mouth/nose, eye sockets watering as he choked out, "H-how... how did it even get this bad?"
"I don't know, but we have to do something about it before Nightmare finds out! He'll ground us - quite literally in the dirt - for an entire month, if not longer for this mess!" Killer snapped.
"Then let's get cleaning."
Everyone nodded in agreement, however, remained hesitantly stood at the decidedly "safe" side of the doorway.
Cross, ever the hero, eventually took a step into the space. Then another. And another. And another- until he finally reached the counter.
His eyelights quivered while he carefully grabbed a soiled plate's cleanest edge and lifted it. A shiny blackish/brown, oval-shaped creature with two long antennae scuttled out beneath, darting across the granite surface before flopping onto the floor.
The subsequent chaos was immediate.
The plate in Cross' hand crashed to the ground, shattering into many pieces as he shrieked, "Kill it, kill it, kill it!"
A statement promptly followed by Horror and Killer exclaiming their own thoughts, respectively.
"...Not good."
"Great! Where's a slipper when you need one?!"
While they panicked, Nightmare slipped into the room - drawn by both the negative feelings and commotion - and picked up the situation's confused catalyst.
The trio paused, holding a bated breath, waiting for their fearless leader to squash it in his hand.
"All this fuss over a little bug?" The Guardian of Negativity pondered aloud. He proceeded to turn the insect over in his hand, inspecting it, and lifted it to his face-
It disappeared into his mouth with a near-deafening, wet crunch.
Once he finished his impromptu snack, he said, "You three are hopeless."
Cross paled and quickly turned away, and Horror stared.
Meanwhile, Killer cried, "What the heck?!"
Nightmare raised a brow, passively waving off his alarm. "What, it was merely a bug? They're perfectly edible. Dream and I used to eat them all the time with our foraged mushrooms and moss."
"You... poor child." Horror said, eyeing the dark lord almost sorrowfully.
He scowled at the other and crossed his arms over his chest, tendrils swaying indignantly. "I am by no means a child; I have lived for more than ten centuries longer than you."
"...You poor child." The broken-skulled skeleton insisted.
