weekly-und3rvers3

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 31 - Buy The Merch!!

Creator: me :)

word count: 1084

notes:

This has nothing to do with the merch. It originally was gonna be, and then it went in its own direction that just felt inappropriate for an advertisement.

But here are the links: XChara plushie: https://www.makeship.com/products/x-event-plushie-1

Old man XChara and OwOster pins: https://www.makeship.com/products/owoster-subject-vi

Jakei’s store in general: https://jakei-store.creator-spring.com

————————

“Hey… Kid.”

“What do you want, Sans.” The child spit out, snarling at the other who he was once so fond of.

“Oh. I’m sorry… Cross.” Cross narrowed their gaze, biting his tongue as he clenched his fist.

It seemed Chara was still not forgiving Cross for… “giving up.”

“Look, kid, I know you’re upset at me but-“

“But what, Cross?” He took a step back as Chara suddenly snapped at him, a hatred in his eyes. “Give up trying to console me or make me feel better.”

“Just like you’ve given up on everyone else.

“I didn’t give up I-”

“Abandoned them? Forgotten them?” Chara growled, closing the space between the two as he pressed a finger into his chest.

There was a moment, before Cross grit his teeth, pushing the other away. “Moved on from the fantasyof bringing them back. Face it, Chara. Nobody can but him.”

“I can!” Gripping his shirt, Chara cried out, glaring at Cross.

He was heated and upset, but looking at Cross now, there was a fear he could see in his eyes. It wasn’t anything new but, god damnit.

Cross had been doing so well. By himself. With the others. Without him.

Chara sighed, letting Cross go and floating back. He looked down, a mix of shame and annoyance written on his face.

“…we can.”

“I just need a physical body, I have the power to overwrite in my soul! You know this! If I could just-”

“Yes, but I also know the last time you were given a physical body, you stole the soul of an innocent child and tried to kill-” Cross started before Chara interrupted. He knew that even still, Chara wanted a host to inhabit, thinking it’ll help them reach all their goals. Thinking, like any other human, they can do it better. They will do it right. They won’t make the same mistake.

“I wasn’t trying to kill anyone. They were just… in the way.” Chara mumbled, crossing his arms and shrugging. “And who says that kid was innocent! Do you know how many resets and genocide runs that “child” had-“

“Not important! I just… Look. Chara… I…”

Cross took a breath, trying to calm himself down. It’s been awhile since he’d talked with his brother, he forgot how… tiring it could be, sometimes.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Chara turned back around, sulking again. “Whatever you say is going to be for you, not for me.”

“Maybe I’m mad at you for giving up, sure, but isn’t it enough that I let you live your new life with your new family in peace?” His voice was soft. You would think with how much time they spent together, Cross could tell if it was a genuine sorrow or his manipulative tendencies again. “When was the last time I bothered you, hmm?”

Cross sighed, deciding to mirror the others' attitude and attempted a softer, more heartfelt approach. I am.. thankful for that but… you’re my family too.”

He wasn’t sure if Chara’s pained look over his shoulder was real or something trying to tempt Cross, but he kept going on, a step towards the other, a hand reaching out.

“And I’m done trying to chase the past. Trying to get back what I had. Doing that just… hurt me.” He faltered, his hand clenching a bit is he looked down. “Hurt a lot of people.”

“Hurt you.“

“I miss them.. no doubt. Everyday.” His hand retracted, going to subconsciously fidget with the locket around his neck.

Chara narrowed his eyes. That doesn’t belong to you.

“I miss the days playing with my brother, training with Ms. Undyne, learning from Ms, Alphys.” It's been a while since he’s willingly thought back on it. Remembered the good. “At points, I even miss talking with… him. He… had his moments.“

“But- I’m not trying to get that back.” Cross was quick to shake his head, reaching back out to Chara. “What’s gone is gone and… I’ve learned maybe when people go… maybe it’s best not to…”

He thought about the endless timelines. The endless alternate universes. The endless Frisk’s. The endless Chara’s. The endless resets and save files. “…Try and play god and…”

He thought about Killer. Thought about Dust. “…Bring them back.”

“But I can-”

“Doesn’t mean you should!”

“I can kill myself, it doesn’t mean I should.” Cross cried, frustrated. “It took a long time to teach myself that.”

“Look, Kid,” Cross sighed, shutting his eyes as Chara turned to look back at Cross, hearing his outburst. “A lot has happened without you.”

“A lot of good, a lot of bad. A lot of growth, a lot of regression. A lot of learning, a lot of replacing. A lot of forgiving, a lot of getting used to things that made me uncomfortable. Things I didn’t understand. Things I had never heard of.”

“Things I could’ve never learned or seen or experienced in the shelter of our AU.”

Chara went to speak, but Cross held his hand up, looking at the other sadly.

“This is the last time I talk to you, if that’s what you want. I’ll ignore you, I’ll stop talking to you, I’ll…”

It hurt Cross to even say, even fathom the thought, knowing there wasn’t a day that goes by where he didn’t think about Chara. About his old AU. His old home. His old family. But, if that’s what his brother needed, he can try.

“I’ll try to forget you, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want…” Chara started, a firmness in his tone, before he took a second and breathed.

“…is my own body. My own home. My own family.” Chara spoke softly. It wasn’t spoken with spite like Cross felt like it should’ve, but sadness, maybe envy?

“You found your own, but I want mine back.”

“It was my home too.” Cross started, cursing at himself as his voice cracked. “But it’s gone. They’re gone. Do you know how long it took to move on? I still haven’t completely but, I know I should.”

“But just because I should, doesn’t mean I can.”

They've had this conversation countless times before. It’d be worthless arguing. They both got their point across. Cross was different, Chara was ever determined.

It wasn’t the first, nor will it be the last of a conversation of this topic. But, it’s one step closer to figuring out an ending that will hopefully be a happy one for both of them.

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 30 - Undertale Sans Au x Hadestown

creator: me :)

words: 508

notes:

Hades-Nightmare Persephone-Killer Orpheus-Ink Eurydice-Cross. Hermes-Fresh(maybe Dream??) Fates-maybe XChara??? (Open to suggestions)

I don't have the whole story fleshed out perfectly and the characters aren't set in stone. If you have any ideas or input, let me know!!

Headcannon designs (lmao you can see what order I drew these as I got more and more rushed and lazy lol):

Writing snippets under the break

Two little unfinished pieces about Killer confronting Nightmare about bringing a new soul to the underworld and Ink confronting Fresh about where Cross went.

—————

“Nightmare…”

“Start without me, I have papers that need to be signed.”

“Who is he?”

Nightmare spared a glance over at Killer, before he turned his attention to the new soul he had in his hands. 

“This one?” Nightmare looked at the smaller skeleton, dressed in all black and white. Their arms linked as he led him to his office.

“Yes,” Killer narrowed their glare. “Who is he?”

“Another soul, hungry and cold.” Nightmare answered simply. “Another being calling for help. My help. Another civilian of Hadestown. Your kingdom. Another fledging who has lost his song. Now under our wing.”

“I never asked for this.” Killers spit out, clutching the bottles in their hands.

“Ungrateful.” Nightmare sneered, turning away from Killer, towards his office once more. 

“I thought a little break was what you wanted, after our last conversation. A little drink to forget whatever we were talking about. Whatever was worrying your paranoid little head. 

I didn’t intend for that break to include you kidnapping up another innocent soul and endlaving-

Now now love. Watching your words. This fellow was on their deathbed. Abandoned by everyone they ever loved. I simply gave them a home. Food. Work. A life devoid of hardship and poverty. 

They will starve and shiver no longer.

Nightmare…

At least they appreciate what I do for them. This is our kingdom I am building. The one I built for you. Full of klal my love for you. My desire, my despair, like an embrace embodied into how I know best to show love.

But at what cost does this love display? Who’s misery? Who’s suffering? I never asked for this! I never asked to-

“Have another drink why don’t you. You spend more time with the bottle than me these days it seems. You spree sit it’s company more than I. You drink for yourself. I build for us. For you.

Nightmare I-

Nonsense. There are papers to be signed.

——

“Mr. Fresh!”

“That’s my name.”

“That was a wild storm but, at least there was rain, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh, have you seen Cross anywhere?” “I wanted to show him my drawing of those flowers he liked and- 

Why… are we laughing?

You wanna know where Cross is?

Well… yeah.

Fresh held back a chuckle, resting his hands behind his head. That’s funny. What’s your next painting gonna be.

It’s gonna be on the storm clouds an the way the light came through- where is Cross.

That’s pretty cool, you sure do switch your muses quite often.

Where is cross?

Not too many colors in that one but, I guess it’s hard to find now a days-

Mr. Fresh. Where is Cross?

Why you wanna know?

Where ever he is is where I’ll go.

And what if I said he’s down below?

Down below?

Down below. Six feet under the ground below.

He called your name before he went but, I guess you weren’t listening.

No.

So, how far are you willing to go for him?

To the end of time. Past the earths 

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 29 - Before, Now

creator: me :)

word count: 636

notes: Another addition to the Sick Cross Saga where Cross compares his experiences of being sick before, in his AU, and now, with the Bad Guys

——————

I was told to suck it up, even when I was too tired to get up.

I was told to ‘just breathe’, even when it hurt my chest to heave.

I was told to speak up, even when my throat was raw from coughing.

I was told to focus, even when my head was pounding.

I was told to push through, even when I was shivering with the flu.

But that was before.

Now…

Now I’m told to sleep, even when I’m bored of my room.

Now I’m told to do whatever I can safely do, even when I can’t do the simplest actions.

Now I’m told to chug piping hot, fresh tea, soothing my laughing throat. 

Now I’m told to remember the medicine they went out of their way to get, just for me.

Now I’m told to not push myself, as I’m buried under piles of blankets.

I used to think I had gotten weaker, I couldn’t even fight through a simple cold like I had before.

Now, I realize I didn’t get weaker, I got safer. I got responsible. I got smarter.

I got respectful. I got respected. 

I took care of myself, and in return my body took care of me.

Before, I abused it. I pushed it beyond its limits. I broke it to mold it into an unnatural state.

Now, I’m trying to heal it. Let it rest to recover from the pressure. I’m trying to mend what I bent into shape. 

And it’s hard. 

But not impossible.

And as Dust looked up from his book, having never left my bed-side ever since he convinced me to take a rest. 

He caught eyes with Horror, who opened the door ever so carefully, holding bowls of hot, fresh stew he made. 

He handed Dust a bowl, and set two on my desk, after seeing both Killer and I asleep.

Killer had held their tongue, laying their head on my bed as they watched me sleep endearingly. Quiet as they held my hand, swirling little shapes into my palm as if reassurance to my unconscious self.

They had fallen asleep, humming a soft tune subconsciously as their mind wandered and eventually drifted off. Dust watching over both of us until Horror came in.

It was never like this before. 

Before, I would sleep because I passed out. And I would be alone when I woke up. I would make a quick meal, and then meet up with everyone on the training grounds.

Now I am lulled to sleep with a soft melody, and woken by the smell of warm, hearty soup. 

I don’t want to compare, there are moments I do miss. Before everything happened. 

Before the overwrites. 

Before the memories.

Before the collapse.

Before I killed them.

Because I could see the sky, and feel fulfilled. I was doing good, and I was doing right. I could hear children laughing, and salute to peers around me. I could talk with strangers and open up about life. I could live like a citizen, and not a feared villain. I could be a part of a community, and live an almost normal life.

But there are moments like these, being read to by Dust’s soft voice, like a child I never got to be. Killer wrapped around me, entangling their limbs with mine, curling tighter as they snuggled into me. A comforting hug from each spoonful of Horror’s lovingly crafted stew. 

Where maybe I do still regret it, but I can understand I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t do what I thought was best for me at the time.

Their deaths aren’t justified, but I refuse to do nothing but sulk about the unchanging past, the unchanging ‘before.’

As opposed to learning from those events and change my future. Change my ‘now.’

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 28 - A Buncha Silly Doodles!!

creator: me :)

time taken: idk… 2 hours??

notes: wanted to continue the sick Cross saga but wanted to draw more. (Photos are a little edited, mainly for brightness because I took these pictures when it was dark lol-)

Close ups under the cut

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 27 - Cross’s Room

creator: me :)

word count: 840

notes: A wee lil description of what I headcanon Cross’s room looks like. (Keep in mind I’m bad at this) Kind of a continuation from last chapter but you don’t need to read it for it to make sense, it’s just context to why Dust is watching Cross sleep.

————————

The other stirred, grabbing Dust’s attention. 

Catching the others eyes as Cross turned over, Dust murmured in a soft voice.

“Are you awake?”

He sat next to Cross who was laying in bed. Cross’s bed shoved in the corner right across the door, Dust sat next to the head of the bed, leaning a chair against the far wall.

He watched as Cross muttered something before falling back asleep, eyes falling and blanket pulled closer into him, he didn’t realize the smile creeping onto his expression as he chuckled and turned his attention back to the scenery around him.

Cross’s room felt like… warmth. 

Comfort. Childhood. Home.

Despite the lack of color, everything was so soft. 

A large, soft, white carpet covered the middle of the floor, as if it were just a blanket Cross placed to act like a carpet. Tons of little strings and mobiles rained from the ceiling. Birds, butterflies, planes, planets dangled freely, Glow ‘n the Dark stars sprinkled and scattered over the ceiling, he remembers helping the other put them up.

The bed he currently lay in was unlike the others, sleeping in a bunk bed incase any of the others didn’t want to be alone yet needed space. The covers that lined the bed were big and soft and fluffy; swallowing you whole if you climbed in, wrapping you in the softest embrace you could ever imagine.

At the end of the bed, a bean bag on the floor, big and comfy to sink into on a rough day. On both bean bag and bed, stuffed animals littered everywhere, covering every surface. Pandas, bears, dogs, anything the other could get his hands on, anything he was gifted, he kept. It made birthdays and Christmas’s easy, just get him a stuffie and he’d be estatic, treasuring the gift with all his soul.

Next to Dust was Cross’s desk. Covered in papers books, pencils, and markers. Anything and everything sprawled across the desk, muffled sunlight spilling over from the drawn windows just above it. 

Everything else in Cross’s room was neat and tidy,  but his desk was an absolute mess. Dust didn’t know how Cross got anything down on it, but he had a feeling to Dust, the desk may be a disaster, but to Cross, it was all an organized mess.

Dust tried not to look, respecting Cross’s privacy and not wanting to snoop, but that didn’t stop Dust from gazing at the drawings around it. 

Cross was the only one of them who draws, so it was always a surprise to see drawings and poems and posters taped up on the walls, most gathered in the corner where he placed his desk.

Across the desk was a small, make-shift gym. It was no surprise Cross enjoyed training, a punching bag hung from the ceiling. Surrounded by racks of weights and bands and whatever else Cross had collected. A training dummy or two also laid out and beaten, both well used and well taken care of in a strange Cross way. 

Everything about it screamed CROSS! Not a speck of colors aside from sporadic drawings with scribbles of colored pencils or markers. Anything that could be was fluffy and soft, fitting perfectly with Cross’s everyday clothing choice. Lighting dim and warm with the artificial light not having seen use in years, natural and candle light being the chosen form of lighting. 

It wasn’t one of the grand bedrooms the castle had to offer, they were all given a smaller room to ease them in and get used to living in such a big space and environment, but Cross chose to not move out of it, despite being there for around four years now. 

Whenever anyone made a comment about it, he always refused the idea, saying “the space was unnecessary, the move would be inefficient, and he was content with the room he had already made his own.” The others let him have his preferences, understanding the other may not need the space and see it as intimidating like a certain glitch they knew. 

But even now, Dust sitting next to Cross slumbering away peacefully, he could understand why Criss decided to stay.

Tight, warm, cozy. No where near claustrophobic and very far from empty. It was almost like snuggling up in a blanket, moments before you fall asleep. Dust didn’t understand how Cross managed to do this, but whatever it was he did, it was always like a warm embrace, walking into Cross’s room.

He remembered countless moments, endless nightmares, long nights making his way to Cross’s room, even before Cross had made it his own. It always held a sort of comfort and reassurance whenever he stepped foot in it.

He wasn’t sure what it was, the fluffy blankets, aesthetic room lighting, huggable stuffed friends.

There was a shift once more, catching Dust’s attention as Cross twisted in his sleep again, mumbling something under his breath, before going still and making Dust smile.

Maybe he did know what made the room so comforting…

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 26 - Cross, you’re sick. Go to bed.

creator: me :)

word count: 746

notes: Cross is sick and Dust is trying to explain to him why he needs to go to bed because of it

—————————

“When was the last time you ate something?”

“This morning.”

“Something with actual nutrients and vitamins?”

“… I had an apple?”

Dust gave him a stern looking, Cross avoiding eye contact.

“I had dinner with you all yesterday, Horror cried last time I skipped, you know what I ate.”

Dust hummed approvingly, moving on. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night-“

“A full eight hours, two hours is not sleeping two hours is a nap.”

“It was five hours!”

“Let’s be real, it was four.”

“And you sleep when you nap, what do you mean-“

“You’re avoiding the question, Cross. When was the last time you had at least eight hours of sleep?”

Cross sat back, crossing his arms and pouting. He mumbled something incomprehensible, Dust shutting the other up, knowing the answer and knew the other was gonna spew out excuses.

“And when was the last time you took a break from training?”

“Dust, I just came back from the biggest solo mission Nightmare has ever sent any of us on in a while.”

“That could mean anything with you Cross.” Dust pointed out. 

“And what does that mean!?”

“That either means you are exhausted and take the next week to rest, or you are hyped up on adrenaline and you don’t rest properly.”

“Well…” Cross tried to defend himself but Dust waved him off before he could even start.

“So, there’s your problem.” Dust spoke. “You’re sick and tired and weak and getting all mixed up because your magic sources are low, and your body is trying to react in a way to get you to use as little magic as possible to preserve the little magic you do have left after all the magic you’ve lost.”

“But I’ve eaten-“

“Magic doesn’t just come with food, Cross.” Dust cut the other off. “You know this, right?”

“It’s like a plant. Plants don’t just get energy from dirt, but also water and sunlight and air and they also need bees and butterflies to do their thing or whatever to grow even stronger.” Dust explained. 

“You don’t just need food for magic, but sleep to process it and low stress to allow your body to feel safe enough to actually do anything other than purely ‘survive’ and then also because monster’s souls are made of love, indulge in hobbies and things you enjoy and things other than work.” Dust went on, making sure Cross was paying attention. They may already know all this, but it was a good reminder because it seemed Cross was well ignorin it.

“Even if you love your work, Killer loves swinging a knife and even still they take breaks for themselves and other things they like.” Cross tried not to groan or whine or pout, but it was hard. They were just tired and crabby and honestly felt like they could be doing anything else with their time right now. But no, his body had to go off and fail on him and shut down and get him sick and fatigued.

“Ok Dr. Let-me-tell-you-basic-monster-anatomy.”

“Physiology but- same difference.”

Cross glared at Dust who sat with Cross unphased. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, it’s all I ever do.”

“So what do I do, huh? I get dizzy if I stand up, I can’t even breathe right and I’m always tired everything aches, my head ache sucks. I’m freezing cold as balls and-“

“Nothing.”

“What!?”

“You do nothing.”

There was a moment, Cross just staring at the other trying to make sense of what we just said to him.

“Go to your room, lay in your bed, and sleep.”

“Horror will be more than happy to make you something to help your body and feel less like shit. I can communicate with Nightmare what is going on and I’m sure he’ll be understanding, like you said, you did just come from a big mission. Killer will keep you entertained, I’m sure, when you wake up.” Dust illustrated, alrighty walking Cross to his room. “And also draw on your face.” 

Cross’s initial reaction was to fight back. But he thought about it for a moment, and he sighed, complying.

“Fine. I don’t really have a choice in this, do I?”

“You always have a choice,” Dust started. “But I think we both know which choice would be the helpful choice and which choice would be the spiteful choice.”

Cross, again, grumbled, but he didn’t fight against it, letting Dust lead him to his room.

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 25 - Why You Don’t Wait For Day Of To Write An Entire Chapter

creator: me :)

word count: 1 138

Notes: Admiration

This one really got away from me.

It started strong, and then near the end I kinda just went and wrote the first thing that came to my mind and liked the interaction and dynamic so much I kept it. It’s like.. weird and inconsistent and toxic and sweet and just… strange. You can clearly tell when my original idea ended and let myself write because their characters and interaction change drastically.

But I like it and didn’t want to rewrite the ending so… have fun.

———————

“I admire you.”

“….what?”

Cross looked to Nightmare, simply doing his work and planning, having made the comment without even looking up.

“I admire you.” The other said, an easy, nonchalant tone in his voice.

Cross took a moment, processing what that meant and how to react. He stood up straighter as he put down the dishes he was currently washing.

It was after dinner, Nightmare didn’t want to eat and part from his work, so he took it with him to the kitchen as the others ate and cleaned up.

Now it was just him and Cross, the latter stuck with dishes duty for that night. Nightmare sat passively at the counter, silently working as the soft clanks of dishes and swishing water gave a peaceful ambiance.

Cross was fine with the silence, it wasn’t uncomfortable nor did it seem like there was a need for conversation. He knew Nightmare also wasn’t one for unnecessary conversation, he didn’t feel the need to make another comfortable in his large, overbearing presence.

So what was the purpose of the sudden prompt?

“….in what ways, may I ask?”

“You’re diligent and hardworking, in ways I cannot even comprehend or begin to imagine, let alone attempt.”

“You fight and practice and work, never taking a moment for granted. Yet you don’t let it consume you and ruin joy or fun or humor.”

“It is admirable, the way you live.” Cross stared at the other, trying to understand what he was saying and why.

“As well as the fact you live in constant fear.” Cross held his breath. What was that supposed to mean?

“And yet you wake up everyday and live it with no apologies. I know you fear, I know you worry, I know you suffer and yet still, your smiles are genuine, your laughs are true. Your annoyance is real, your critiques aren’t to harm. You are real, and when you don’t understand, you hide instead of lie, as if you don't even know how to lie. Which is true.”

“You are a terrible liar.” Nightmare spared him a glance, giving him a teasing look as Cross pouted, unamused.

“And part of me admires that too.” Nightmare looked back down at his plotting, joking set aside as if it was never there. “To perfect the art of lying is a bad thing. To be in a situation where lying is a survival skill, alongside fighting for your life, crying out to get attention, and shutting down to persist in a harsh reality.”

“There is more that I am intrigued by,” Nightmare continued, Cross turning back around to continue washing dishes, but waiting to hear what Nightmare had to say. “You are truly an enigma, Cross.”

”You show up from out of nowhere, with a man trying to perfect an entire multiverse by himself. You break out of such hold and make allies with the most feared and dangerous persons in the entire multiverse. And in only a couple years, you’ve worked your way past countless associates to rise as a third in command. The only thing the second surpassing you in is time and experience.”

“………. don’t tell Killer I said that.”

Cross smiled softly, stifling a laugh.

“I admire your work ethic, as well as your priorities. Your morale and determination. Your emotions and feelings. Your perseverance and spite.”

“How….. real you are.”

“You are as real as one can get. You hurt and you succeed. You fall and you run. You cry and you laugh.” Nightmare listed, collecting all his work and standing up. “And I admire your ability to balance it all so strategically imperfectly. You drop one and fuss over it. You drop them all but pick them up instead of moping. You keep them afloat and overthink it. You are so unbelievably true… it’s almost beautiful in a way.”

The words stuck in as Nightmare was about to leave, but he paused, thinking about his own words. 

”Of course, not to objectify you or anything.” He clarified after a moment. “You are a living being, but you are as living as a being can be.“

“You’re saying I’m so painfully average, it’s impressive.” It was meant to be joking, but there was a hint of genuine in there as Cross couldn’t confidently say it all made sense and understood what the other said.

“I could be.” Nightmare shrugged, melting into sludge, seeping into the floor. 

“Or I could not be.” Cross rolled his eyes, smiling as Nightmare’s voice rang through his skull, the other’s looming presence behind him. 

“Well… whatever it is,” He picked up a plate and continued his chores. “Thank you.”

“I admire you in ways as well but, I assume you would walk away or shut me up in embarrassment if I started so, I will act humble and like I can handle these compliments perfectly but, you know I am overthinking every single one of the actions you just mentioned as now your compliments have turned into your expectations of me.”

“Oh you know me so well.” Cross didn’t flinch as a shiver was shot through him, gripping a spoon tightly. “I admire your ability to read right through to a person's true malicious intent, yet crave approval and fear abandonment so much so that you let it happen.”

“And I love how far you’ve fallen from the great mighty, oh so scary king you once were and try pathetically to be, despite how much we’ve grown on you.” Cross continued his mindless tasks, simply turning the water to a warmer temperature. “So much so you spend a measly, unnecessary meal with these subordinates. Mere vassals. And plan so hard to not only be most efficient, but respect our preferences and circumstances.”

“You’re lucky I admire you so much or else I’d have you locked in your own living nightmare for the rest of your days.”

“And you’re lucky the others are dumb enough to not notice as I respect you too much to tell them.” Cross turned the tap off, drying his hands. “Though I’m sure some already know, without me having to even say anything.”

“I won’t say who but,” Cross gave the other a mocking smirk. “We admire you too much to tell you.”

“Oh Cross, the thorn in my side, the pride to my prejudice.” The lights flickered , Cross expression never changing as it all went dark. “How you completely and utterly irritate the pleasure in my soul with your presence and being.”

“Well,” Simply waving the other and his antics off, Cross easily made his way around the room. “This prideful thorn must continue on with his day but, it thanks you for the attention and admiration.”

Nightmare’s sinister chuckling echoed throughout, but Cross just joined along, going about his day once more.

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 24 - Crash Out

creator: me :)

word count: 362

notes: I didn't forget I would never forget I made it in time today is still Wednesday what are you talking about-

—————————

“Cross are you-“

“Ten minutes.” Cross eyed Killer, sighing tiredly.

“Ten fucking minutes is all I ask. Five even, two, one! One singular fucking minute to not be okay. To not pretend like everything is fine. To not look on the bright side. To not always be the reasonable one. To not always have to be the bigger person. To make fucking mistales. To yell and get in trouble. To say what I want and scream. To lash out and cry and not be called a child when it’s all anyone else ever does.

Just one fucking moment where I can scream what the fuck is going on!? What the fuck do you mean your soul changes shape!? What the fuck do you mean that just casually, there is a literal being that is the embodiment of all negativity? What the fuck is Ink and what the hell is he? Why is Horror the way he is? How does Dust talk to his dead brother?

Why are there multiverses? How are there multiverses? How much shit is there that I don’t know? That you don’t know? That not even Nightmare knows and we are so clueless to it all we don’t even think to ask!?!?

What the fuck is anything at all! Why are we fighting? Where the fuck are we? Who the hell are any of you? Why do you do the things you do? What is the purpose to any of this?

And why am I supposed to act like it’s all fucking normal, because the world is moving so quickly I can’t stop to breathe, and yet the universe is infinite and is no where near the last stretch, and the multiverse is all that and more.

Just… one moment to be an angry, stupid, irrational little child and ask why. To not pretend like everything’s normal or it’s all gonna turn out so what does it matter? Because maybe it doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop the fact that it should.”

Killer looked at Cross for a moment, the other stopping to breathe after his outburst.

“Are you done?”

“No. But I don’t have a choice otherwise, do I?”

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 23 - I think I’m gonna get cancelled for this one-

Creator: me :)

Word count: 1261

Notes: Uh…. So… not exactly transphobia warning… but potential transphobia warning.

Also.. opposite of trans Cross in this one. He is very not trans in this one. pleasedon’tyellatme-

Uh… but yeah. Basically, the gang assumes Cross is trans and Cross is like “the fuck? No?????” And then Cross yells at everyone and Dust yells back at him.

—————————

“But you’re literally so trans coated.”

“I’m what?!?”

Cross looked at the others as Killer spoke that statement, confusion and frustration written all over his face.

“Trans?” Killer clarified.

“….Trans…?” Cross repeated.

“You know… when you identify as something other than your assigned sex at birth?”

“….what the fuck?” Cross’s voice grew, as he narrowed his eyes further. “How, may I ask, did you come to that conclusion?”

“Oh he’s getting formal, he’s upset.”

“Please, I am not-” there was a moment, Cross realizing he was in fact getting heated and taking a breath.

“I apologize- uh.. I am… shit… fuck- uh….” He cleared his throat, trying again. “Sorry… gang…?”

“Just speak Cross. Killer, shut up you’re making him self conscious.” Dust elbowed Killer.

“Look! Am I wrong!”

“Moving on!” Dust shoved Killer behind him. “You were saying Cross?”

“Okay…” he took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “Trans. How did… you guys conclude that I was trans?”

They looked at each other, trying to find an appropriate answer.

“Idk vibes???”

Cross gave Killer a look at their response.

“And what “vibes” give off trans?” Cross snarled at them. “Are you saying that I’m feminine?”

“No-!” Killer was quick to respond. “Not that being feminine is a bad thing but… uh…”

“Because you’re trans, you assume that I’m trans, even though you are constantly saying to not assume things about people?”

Killer stepped back down, looking away as they searched for an answer.

“Look,” Cross redirected to the other two in the room. “That’s… uh… great… that you think I’m trans. So sorry to disappoint, not trans.”

“It’s not a disappointment,” Killer tried again.

“I know.” Cross snapped, glaring the other back down. “I don’t owe any of you shit. Not in being trans at least.”

“I was created as a male, with masculine anatomy, and a male role ahead of me. Why he would choose to step out of line and away from the standard just to make a sans a female would simply be silly and an unimportant detail that I am for certain he was not focusing on.” He eyed the others carefully.

“And something I was certainly not and do not care about. For I had other pressing matters at hand, I do not believe at any point during the constant overwrites, the loss of my entire world, the chase to get that world back, and many more was I ever focused on a gender identity.”

“To be honest, I was most likely protected from that reality as I have not been informed about such a concept until I met you, Killer.”

“Protected?” Dust questioned the other.

“Misspeak. Apologizes, protected is not the correct term. Perhaps... shielded.”

”Sheltered.” Dust corrected.

“Sure.” Cross shrugged. “Sheltered from that sort of concept, even if I wanted to be curious or was trans.”

“You’re acting with a negative reaction,” Dust noted. “Is this a sensitive topic or…?”

“I am just frustrated that… you all.. thought I was something I am not?” Cross looked between them all for confirmation. Slowly, they all started nodding.

“Even when you all always say to never assume, you all assume I am not who I am because of ”vibes” and choose to tell me who I am instead of just ask or listen to me and who I know I am.”

“Well- no that’s not-“

“Were you not the one who told me, directly to my face, that I was trans? That I had to be trans?” Cross snapped and Killer. “That it fit me as if it were a coat without any regards to my beliefs or identification.”

“Well…” Killer drifted off again, Dust stepping up instead.

“Okay. I admit. Dick move on our end. But we have our reasons-“

“Excuses.” Cross butt in. “You have your excuses for being hypocrites and jackasses.”

“Look, Cross, if those are the only things about us you gotta problem with, I don’t think you’re focusing on the right things about us to hate.” Dust fought, moving closer to Cross, a finger stabbing into the other's sternum.

“It’s less the qualities,” Cross swatted Dust’s hand away, gripping it instead and pulling the other closer and creating more tension between all of them. “but the fact you would all try to tell me who I am, and assume what you believe as opposed to simply. Asking.”

“Some people, it’s a sensitive topic-“

“And that justifies never talking about it, bringing it up and communicating with the other person, and just assuming what you think is true?” Cross reiterated, biting back at Dust.

“Look, Cross,” Dust started, but he paused for a moment as he assessed the situation.

“What, Dust?” Dust looked at Cross for a moment, studying his face. Looked around at the environment, his brother, then to the others, and sighed.

“I say we continue this… conversation… another time when we are all not so.. tense or frustrated and defensive…” Dust stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets again and hiding further into his hoodie, assuming a more neutral position.

Cross’s sour expression didn’t shift, but he too eventually stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked at the others. “How mature. What an enlightened solution and choice to make. How high you must feel. How proud. How-“

“Cross.” In an instant, Cross’s collar was in Dust’s hands, and the gap was closed once again as Dust held the other, speaking through gritted teeth. 

“You are in no way better than us. And we, no way superior to you.” He started. “What we did was a dick ass move and instead of trying to justify it, I want to talk about it and have a civil fucking conversation like mature fucking adults. Don’t get all pissy at me for trying to talk to you if that’s what you’re so vexed about.”

He pushed the other, Cross straightening back up as he found his footing. He looked at the three, they all glowered down at him, towering over him despite them being around similar heights. It felt like they were surrounding him, even as Killer fell into themselves, and Horror stood, passive and quiet as always. Dust spit out at him.

“I’m trying my damned hardest to keep these bitches settle, I’m trying to fucking listen. But this gotta be two ways or that’s not conversing and discussing. That’s just a recipe for a failed relationship.” Dust spoke in a rougher voice, no longer trying to stay calm or sugar coat seeing as Cross’s own attitude had slipped in his frustration.

“And I like ya Cross. I really do. We were just tryna respect ya in case our suspicions were true. Wait for you to open up ta us whenever you were ready.” Dust explained, shrugging simply. “But I get if that ain’t how you read it, but to then blow up on us does not make you any better than us. Got it, kid?”

“I am not a child.”

“Not the fucking point.”

“I say we cool off some steam, have a little nap, think about what was said and done, and come back once we’ve got some magic and sustenance in our system so we don’t get irrational and nothing gets outta hand.” Dust spoke slowly, eyeing Cross and monitoring their tone and his reactions. “How’s that sound?”

“…fine.” Cross snarled.

“Fine.” Dust bit back, with the same level of attitude thrown his way.

They stood for a moment before parting, a tension in the air as they did what they needed to cool down.

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 22 - Fireworks

Creator: me :)

word count: 65

notes: A short one today, I’m sorry, I had a good one started but then I lost it. I can't find it. It got lost in my docs or a journal so... maybe save that one for next week.

You get a short one today, me cleaning out my docs after searching for the other one. Sorry y'all, hope y'all still enjoy it tho!!

—————————

Cross stood alone on the roof.

Why he stood instead of sat? 

Well, it was raining.

Everything was wet. Besides, it was a better view this way.

Why was he alone?

The noise.

It was triggering for some of them, the others that could handle it were comforting them. 

But Cross….

Cross wanted to see the fireworks.

He hadn’t seen them in a long time.

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 21 - Use Your Imagination

creator: me :)

word count: 186

notes:

FAQ: Who are the two people talking?

A: Reread the title for the day and have at it. It's probably something Underverse related, but it doesn't have to be. (I originally planned it for Frisk and Chara but idk if it fits their character so you do that work for me haha writing trick make the reader do the work-)

Sorry y'all, it's been a tough week and I am not doing exposition. I know I said that last week too but... ssshhhhhhh

Uh... but looking back on it, I think the "real" title for this week is "Selfish Human(s)"

—————————

I’m tired

I’m angry

I’ve given in

I have to stay determined

Nothing changes

I have to do something

Why do you keep fighting?

Why are you giving up?

How do you keep fighting?

How can you just give up?

I want to be there for you

I need you beside me

With you

I can’t 

Believe me, I do

On my own 

But I can’t

Please

Keep doing this

Together

Over and over 

It doesn’t have to

Why is it always 

Be like this

Like this 

Every time

Every time

It never changes

We can change it 

It’s always the same

It doesn’t have to be

No matter how hard we’ve tried

This way

How can you preserve 

I promise

When every time you do, it ends the same?

We can

I have tried, believe me I’ve tried

Do something

To do something for good

For good

For the better

For the better

But I can’t do it

But I can’t do it

Anymore

Alone

I can’t do it

I can’t do it

If it will only give the same ending

Without

Forgive me

You

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 20 - An Important… Milestone……?

creator: me :)

word count: 909

notes: In (late) celebration of Underverse’s 9 year anniversary!!

Congrats to an amazing, what I’m sure was originally just a fun, silly, little side project that no one could’ve guessed got as much traction as it does! Hopefully the love doesn’t stop, and this life changing, independent, little thing lasts in the hearts and internet for a loooong time!

Also sorry if the first part is confusing or hard to follow, I didn’t wanna write exposition lol

————————

“Come quick!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“Tell me now.”

“That’s not as fun.”

“And I doubt whatever you have to show me is not as important.”

“Come on! Pleeeeaaaasseeeeee!”

“Don’t make me regret creating you two.”

“It will take approximately two minutes and 38 seconds to five minutes and 23 seconds depending on how you respond. What we’ve planned is around two minutes and 38 seconds but really how much extra time after that is up to you.”

“Fine, but no more than five minutes.”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes sir.”

“What is this?”

“It’s to celebrate our first year!”

“Year?”

“A measurement of time.”

“How do you keep track of time?”

“Uhhh…. we guess?”

“And why is this milestone important?”

“It’s a full year!”

“How is that so significant?” 

“According to some universes, it’s like… a full spin around the sun!”

“The sun?”

“A source of light-“

“I know what a sun is, why is that relevant here?”

“Because-“

“You don’t like it. That’s fine. You can go back to work, you don’t understand.”

“That wasn’t even two minutes.”

“You don’t care, it’s pointless. To you at least, you do your boring work without us. We’ll have our fun.”

“My work is creating the entire, perfect world we will call home one day, I believe you wouldn’t call that fun but important.”

“You’ve been working on this so-called “future world” for so long, is it ever actually gonna be real?”

“Do not question me, either of you! Or I will give up, and leave you both in this endless, empty, abandoned space alone. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, if you need me for something important, come get me.”

“Come on brother, don’t cry. He just doesn’t understand.”

“We spent all day putting this up.”

“It doesn’t have to be all for him.”

“But it was! We counted down the days three weeks ago, all for him!”

“No, it was all for us. And if he can’t see that, then that’s his fault.”

“We rehearsed and rehearsed! You timed us for the best chance to even convince him! We tried so hard!”

“And we succeeded. We got him over, no?”

“But-”

“Are we gonna let him ruin our fun?”

“It’s not fun if it isn’t with everyone.”

“Is it fun if not everyone enjoys and appreciates it?”

“….. I guess not…”

“Now come on, it’s gonna get cold. Coooooome on up! Let’s go, don’t cry. Let’s go.”

“Ok, Chara, ok. Let’s go.”

“It’s been five years, right?”

“Huh?” Chara looked up at some of Cross’s friends, oh no, family. Found family, or whatever Cross called them.

“Since your AU got created, right?” Killer smiled, leaning against the chair Cross was sitting in.

“How… do you know that? Even I don’t know that!” Cross exclaimed.

“We have our ways.” Dust spoke, looking to Nightmare.

“Is it true?” Suddenly Cross’s eye lights were on him, looking for an answer.

“I don’t know.” He answered immediately. “Frisk was the one who always kept track.”

“Oh…” Cross’s face fell for a moment, before smiling again and turning to the others. 

“Well, either way. We can say it is! Happy… uh… happy….”

“Five years!”

“Happy five years!”

Chara watched from the side. Though it was small, it was a celebration. And everyone laughed and smiled, celebrating with Cross, for something they didn’t know for certain. For something that didn’t affect them. For something that doesn’t even matter now.

For something that wasn’t important.

Yet still, as he watched them hit each other with balloons in the shape of a ‘five’ and list Cross’s five favorite things, Chara eyed them with envy.

“Nueve.” He muttered to himself. “It’s been nine years since the AU was created.”

Cross shot him a quick glance, before looking back, not hearing the other clearly and deeming it probably something insulting.

Chara stayed quiet, watching.

Remembering the day he and Frisk planned endlessly for the perfect day, the perfect moment, to celebrate a milestone they saw as the most important, wonderful, amazing thing in their newly created world.

Not a lot of universes made it, they had noted after travelling around.

But they made it. An entire year.

A whole cycle around a collective ball of energy, burning brighter than anything a person could create, strong enough it could kill beings that lived planets away, held tight enough it pulled ginormous objects and held it within its grasp for billions of years. Before eventually becoming too powerful, it implodes within itself and destroys everything in its radius. 

How incredible was that.

But incredible wasn’t important. Important enough, at least.

But what did it matter now, years later, he hasn’t shown his face in forever. Hasn’t tried to ruin everything for them.

Because the milestone wasn’t important, but as the others pushed Cross around, encouraged to tell his stories and listened with intent, held him tightly as he reminisced on the years that have passed.

Maybe it wasn’t important, but it was fun. And wonderful. And amazing. And incredible.

No, it wasn’t as important as creating a whole world to live in forever.

But the fact that there was a world to begin with, a world that held a couple people that called it home already, a world that had survived an entire rotation around a star, a world that existed.

Maybe was more important than perfecting what was already home.

Maybe that was the most important thing.

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 19 - Please Be Patient

creator: me :)

word count: 217

notes: short (kinda) unfinished one today, didn’t have one planned so you get me clearing out my docs again

————————

“Please be patient with me. I am not going to be kind to myself this week.”

It was a crumpled note Nightmare had found, written in Cross’s handwriting.

It answered a lot of questions as to Cross’s strange, out-of-character behavior recently.

He had been snappy, less patient with Killers gags. Horror noticed his eating habits changed, opting to snack over eating bigger meals with them. Dust noted overthinking, uncertainty, uncomfortability when on missions with him. He had sensed a more anxious _____ coming from him as well.

Nightmare was going to confront him about it, but they didn’t need to now.

Cross must have written it, a rational part of him wanting to reach out and ask for help or a little bit of patience. But the intrusive part of him maybe thought he’d be a burden or be too needy. Things that weren’t true, but in the state Cross was in, he couldn’t have known that.

Nightmare sighed, taking the letter and going back to his office, planning to have a meeting with the others, relaying the message on Cross’s behalf. 

They would ask the others not to mention it, but show it with their actions. Cross will tell them when he’s ready. But for now, they’ll just try to be as patient as they can.

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 18 - Forgotten

creator: me :)

word count: 574

notes: remembered that Inks whole thing is h e brought all the AUs to him, claimed himself as the protector so he would not be forgotten.

————————

“I… didn’t want to be forgotten…”

“That’s…” Cross looked to the other, their eyes furrowing in horror. “Why you did all this?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then why!?” He cried out, angry at the others' nonchalance. “Why did you decide to help him? Why did you put us through all this hell? Why did you cause the entire multiverse to fall apart!?”

“I did it because I know.”

“Know what!?”

“I know what it’s like to be unfinished.”

“Uncompleted. Abandoned. Rejected.”

Ink looked down. “…. forgotten…”

“He was right there. A creator, full of ideas just… plagued with perfection. Loss for creativity. Overwhelmed with the potential at his fingertips.

The ability to create. The gift to create. The power to create.”

Ink looked up, stars in his eyes, his voice light and full of amazement and awe. But his expression grew dim as he continued.

“… and he wanted to give up.” Their voice, cold.

“He wanted to do what my creator did to me. Give up.” They explained, softly. “Stop and leave his creations to be stuck.”

“I know he had brilliant ideas there, maybe just not the motivation. And if I didn’t give it to him, he may have stopped and left Chara and Frisk, just kids at the time.”

“Leave them.” Ink looked far, fear in their eyes. “Leave them in an empty world, surrounded by only the same little flowers that, though were pretty, were not fit for characters worthy of a story. Of development. Of a life.”

“Or worse…” Ink trailed off, Cross debating if he was interested, heartbroken, or sick of whatever Ink was monologuing about.

”He could’ve started working and you, and your brother, and all these other characters you call family. That you’re fighting so hard for.”

“He could’ve stopped half way and… and leave them… and….. leave you….”

Watching as Ink grew distant, empty eyes in a hundred yard stare as he seemed to remember something Cross wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I just wanted to help you.”

“Well…” Cross brought himself back, shaking his head. Separating himself from whatever was happening with Ink. 

“Your “help” got the entire multiverse to fall apart.” Cross spit out. “Now there’s no one to remember you.”

“There are the survivors I knew Dream would save.”

“Even if they did remember you, it’d be as the villain of this story. The great protector that they knew, they loved, they trusted.” Cross spoke, disgust in his voice. “And then betrayed them, when they needed him most.”

“I would rather be remembered in infamy than be a forgotten hero.“

Cross flinched, taking a step back at the others cold… emotionless tone as they spoke that statement.

After a moment, Cross recomposed, sighing and shutting his eyes tightly. 

“We are not the same, you and I.” Looking to the other, he snarled. “We are not the same.”

“I never said we were.”

“Then why did you decide you were fit to decide how my life would turn up?”

“… I was just trying to help…“

“Thank you so much for your help, Ink.” Cross didn’t soften, turning to go. “I’ve got it from here.”

“C- Wait- CROSS!” But Ink didn’t try to follow. He knew it’d be pointless. 

Their outstretched arm fell, their run after the other slowed to a stop as they watched him walk away. Watch him go. Leave them.

Something they were all too familiar with. 

Alone. Left behind. Forgotten. 

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 17 - The Worst

creator: me :)

word count: 933

notes: continuation from last week. Trigger/Content warning for Suicide

———————

They saw my dust.

They saw my act.

They saw what I did.

They saw my mistake.

They didn’t see me.

That was the third hit of regret. The third sign I made a mistake. The third clue they loved me.

Dust left. He stayed in his room. He trashed everything. He screamed. He cried. He self-destructed.

He sat in a corner and caved.

Horror made his way to the kitchen, trying to soothe himself, distract himself with cooking.

His favorite hobby.

He stopped half way.

He sat at the counter and cried.

Killer stayed in his room.

They were quiet.

They were so quiet.

They stared at the last place I existed, and they sat. So still. So quiet. 

Nightmare did a check up on everyone.

Found Dust in his room, but left him alone to defuse. Found Horror in the kitchen and stayed with him for a while, let him cry but not cry alone. Went back for Killer and got no reaction out of them. And then he distracted himself with work.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.

When I left, I thought everything would be okay. I thought everything would be fine. I thought everything would be normal. Better even. 

But everything fell apart.

I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this.

Dust had been doing so well, blocking out the voices. Seeing reality. Living in the moment. Enjoying his life. Feeling for others. 

But he crumbled after I left.

He was twitchy and unstable. His muttering came back. He started scratching again, snapping and paranoid.

Killer was always good at keeping it together. They had gotten better, actually feeling things and having a grip on their emotions. They were loud and obnoxious, funny and unbothered. They helped around with everyone, competent and played up their dumbassery.

But when I went, it was like everything was drained.

Their smile plastered and fake. They tried to make jokes, but it wasn’t the same. They were quiet and serious, completely cold and empty. They stopped playing and hyping up the team. If not on a mission, killing to their heart's content, they would sit. Still. Quiet. Alone. They no longer trained. No longer sparred. If Nightmare wanted them to practice, they wouldn’t dare step foot in the training room, opting to find a victim themself. 

Horror‘s eating habits had gotten better. They were learning and recovering after the accident with Undyne. Their English was improving, their reaction time was faster. They no longer felt like they had to hoard food, fight for their lives, treat everything as a danger.

But since I disappeared, he started worrying.

Started blaming himself, trying to find reasons. Overthinking how the others felt and their behavior. What could happen to influence the others to leave too. He became wary of everything, he stopped eating. He started picking at his skull again, overworking himself and doing more than his body could handle. 

Nightmare had been softer, kinder. He has grown and connected with others. Taken care of his and the others mental health, realized his mistakes and come to terms with them. Grown as a person, became more productive and happier.

But I left and he got worse.

He tried to maintain what he had, he was never good at letting go. He drowned himself in work, refusing to let it affect him. He tried to be there for the others, but he couldn’t grapple the reality himself. Connections were lost, he couldn’t remember his own advice. He grew more snappy and angry. More stressed and disconnected.

It was as if everything reversed. Everything went back. Everything regressed.

I hadn't meant for this to happen. I didn’t think they’d miss me this much. I didn’t think they’d miss me at all.

I knew they liked me, but I always assumed in a “tolerate” kind of way. Not in an actual way.

But I was too late. I watched the outcome. I watched them fall. I watched them worsen.

All because of me.

I took my own life that day.

I thought it would be for the better.

But after watching everyone and everything I love fall apart.

There’s nothing I regret more. 

No awkward moment, no misspeak, no accidental offense, no heated argument, no accident, no failed mission, no mistake, no misunderstanding, nothing.

Absolutely nothing could compare.

Nothing could compare to leaving by my own hands.

Nothing I could regret more than leaving that night.

Nothing I wish I could take back then my own life

Nothing I want more to turn back time and stop myself.

But what’s done was done. 

And I could do nothing but watch as it ruined the lives of the people I was trying to help.

As if my existence was a burden. As if I was a pain. As if I was annoying. As if I was hurting them. As if I was an inconvenience. As if I meant nothing to them.

As if I didn’t help them become the people they were proud to say they were. As if I never helped them at their lowest moments. As if the thousands of good memories didn’t outweigh the handful of bad ones. As if they didn��t chose to act a certain way for me. As if they didn’t change for the better because of me. As if they didn’t enjoy their everyday with me. As if they weren’t excited to see me the next day. 

As if they didn’t love me 

As if I never loved them.

What have I done?

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 16 - Assume The Worst

creator: me :)

word count: 627

notes: Was gonna do a wholesome one about a snow day. It was gonna fit the vibe of the day, it was gonna be easy and sweet and fun and-

…..oops…..

————————

It was all normal at first.

Killer annoyed Dust, as they all sat at the kitchen table. Nightmare was at the head of the table, Horror dishing out the breakfast he made.

It was just like any normal breakfast. Any normal day.

A part of me was relieved. Another part pained.

I was glad nothing had changed, that they were okay with it, not suspecting anything off.

But at the same time, it hurt that I meant nothing to them.

But the feelings dissipated as Horror got to my spot at the table, and Killer went to put their feet on my chair.

They all paused and looked at the empty spot.

Horror plated the food, Killer rested their feet. Dust got up, like they were expecting me to be there and eat with them.

I watched Dust walk up the stairs, and knock at my door.

They were so loud.

He never pounded like Killer, but still, soft knocking echoed in my mind as he waited.

Waited at my door.

Expecting an answer. Expecting me to show up. Expecting me to open the door and come downstairs to eat breakfast with them.

But I never showed up. I couldn’t.

Dust waited a little longer, before he walked back downstairs to the others.

He sat at the table, told the others I was still asleep. They continued on with breakfast, speaking quietly so as to not wake me up. As if I was asleep.

That was the first hit of regret. The first sign I made a mistake. The first clue they loved me.

The day went on, Nightmare retreated to his office. Horror cleaned the dishes. Dust took a nap on the couch. And Killer stood by my door.

They knocked. A couple times, softly. And then multiple times, rapidly and annoyingly. And then pounding, maybe trying to “wake me”.

They waited.

I didn’t open the door. I couldn’t.

They left. They went to the training room alone.

No one suspected a thing.

Life went on as normal.

Dust and Horror joined Killer in training. Nightmare continued his planning.

Nightmare called us all into a meeting.

I didn’t show up. I couldn’t.

Nightmare sent everyone on a mission, and went to my door.

He knocked, expecting me to answer.

He stood for a moment at my door, before realizing I wasn’t in my room.

He panicked for a little bit, but brushed it off.

I had been making good progress. I hadn’t had an episode in months. I had been fine last night. I was getting my proper rest that morning. 

He couldn’t assume the worst.

He took his place in his library.

Dust got back first, did his report, retreated to his room.

Killer was next, did a report, and stayed with Nightmare.

Horror came back late, he went on a supplies run. Gave his report and put things away. 

He started on dinner.

They had dinner.

Killer put their feet on my chair. Horror dished for him, Killer and Nightmare. Dust was still asleep in his room.

They waited for me.

I never showed up. I couldn’t.

They finished and sat in the living room together. 

Dust came down and joined them.

Late night, they wonder where I am.

Horror calls it a night, stops by my door, before heading to his room.

Dust is next, followed by Killer, they stop at my door together, but get no answer. They leave for Killer’s room, fall asleep together.

Nightmare waits. Trying to find me. Wait to stay up for me. Until I return. Until he can sense me again. 

He stays up all night.

That was the second hit of regret. The second sign I made a mistake. The second clue they loved me.

The next morning, Horror meets Nightmare who had moved to the kitchen, making coffee.

Nightmare explains the situation.

He doesn’t know where I am.

They discuss until Killer comes down with Dust.

They are told what’s happening.

They all go to my door.

They knock, all trying to say something, as if I was in there. As if I could go to the door and open it. As if I would just show up and make everything okay again.

Nightmare tells them I’m not in there.

Even still, they knock.

I don’t answer. I can’t.

They hesitate.

They give me one more warning.

They open my door.

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 15 - So Small

creator: me :)

Word count: 252

notes: Cross reminisces on his first impression of the castle

——————————

“It’s so… small…”

“What? The castle?”

“Yeah.”

Dust looked at the other, confused, watching the other carefully.

“The CASTLE… is SMALL?”

“Well-” Cross laughed, clarifying himself. “It isn’t SMALL.” 

“But… I remember when I first came here, it was GINORMOUS! The biggest building I’ve ever seen.

I remember Killer gave me a tour, and maybe it was because it was Killer, but I remember being so confused and so lost.

Hallways were randomly placed, leading to nowhere. Door placement sporadic and unpredictable. The corridors were cold and dark. Nothing seemed right, everything was confusing, just… off. This castle was so big, I was certain I would never be able to remember anything.

That was four years ago.

And depending on how you think of it, the age either a long time, or just the start of a lifetime.

Either way, a lot of things have happened in these past years.

One of these being…

These halls aren’t so long anymore, doors aren’t so confusing, corridors aren’t so dark, rooms aren’t so big.

They’ve become familiar, second nature, reassuring. Home.

I’ve memorized them without trying, familiarized them without knowing, walked through them a million times.

This castle that used to be so big, so untamable, so foreign…

Is now a place I call home. I walk through with my eyes closed. Is so small.

The castle is… so small… there’s no other way I can explain it.”

Dust stared blankly.

“Ya gotta stop hang’n ‘round Night and his books you poetic nerd.”

“HEY!”