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sleazyinnit · 2 years

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HorrorDust

TAP, TAP, TAP.

He despised the sound of his clawed phalange drumming at the side of his temple in a persistent, steady rhythm. The sound distracted him from his surroundings — it kept him unfocused from the famished hell he used to call his home.

"heyyyy, big guy, fat guy, wanna hear something funny?"

It also distracted him from the overbearing stupidity that radiated from his new, relatively strange home. Horror turned to his side, glaring hatefully at Killer, who grinned at him with an arrogance that Horror knew was as empty as the eye sockets that leaked a strange, black tar.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

Disgusting.

"no," he replied. "go away."

"all right, since you're axe-ing for it," Killer said, quick with his speech as he ignored Horror's cold tone. "so, you know how there are, like, universes or whatever, right?"

"i don't care —"

"and, like, those universes are created by these, uh, creators?" Killer shrugged while Horror felt the utter need to bash himself in the head. Maybe this time, it would actually kill him.

"well, anyway," Killer continued, "apparently, these creators have been going on some creating spree, which is pissing the boss off."

"isn't this a good thing?" Horror indulged himself in the conversation, although a bit reluctant. He realized too late that Killer had been rubbing off on him with his unwanted gossip. "more universes means more negativity."

Killer snickered, leaning on the kitchen counter. "heh, the funny thing is — these new universes are purely pacifist."

"oh." Horror felt the amusement bubble in his throat. "how angry is he?"

"i made a joke about his tentacles again, and he almost severed my arm."

"well deserved."

"ouch." Killer grinned his usual sharp smile (one that Horror wanted to wipe off with a swing of his axe) and snatched an apple from the kitchen table, dangling it from the stem in front of Horror's face. "that isn't the only thing." The leaky-eyed skeleton chuckled, seemingly disappointed with the lack of reaction from Horror. He took a loud bite from the apple, continuing quickly: "the boss wants to feed from the universes."

"well, i'm not turning them." Horror growled. He loathed how his 'boss' would command him to do things he wouldn't have ever bothered to do — it made him feel like a salivating dog that served its owner without dignity. "why are you telling me this, anyway?"

"he's recruiting a new member."

Horror, usually indulged in his sour attitude, let his agitated, empty grin slip slightly from his face — his engorged eye light giving Killer a scrutinized stare. The knife-wielding skeleton tilted his chin upward, a haughty expression of ego emptied long ago with the once-felt emotions. Other than the evident apathy, Killer was entirely difficult to analyze.

Sensing no reply, Killer took a final, large bite from his apple — studying the plentiful leftovers with what looked like thought. Then, as if an idea had suddenly popped into his skull, his grin widened, giving the trash bin in the far corner a vicious look. Horror squinted his eye sockets.

"don't you — "

A loud, dull thud cut him off. Horror growled.

"bull's eye!"

"you're an ass."

"what, mad?" Killer said, wagging his finger in front of Horror's face. "then go and dig it from the bin, buddy."

Horror wrinkled his nose, his grin back on his face. "you would have bin dead if i didn't care so much about my well-being."

"don't wanna' make any t-rash moves, eh?"

"well — "

"MINIONS, GET OVER HERE!"

Horror, shamefully, jumped — a little surprised at the angry boom of his usually level-headed and patient leader. His engorged eye light met Killer's empty eye sockets, questioning. The leaky-eyed skeleton shrugged, snickering:

"we better go check that out."

----------

"out of all the things i was expecting — this was not one of them."

Horror grunted in seldom agreement, clutching the hardwood of his axe with a broad grin and angry eye sockets. He glared, face blank, at the shifting figure of Nightmare, who seemed entirely focused on healing his body of black hatred. The midnight skeleton appeared mildly injured — a few chunks of black sludge missing from his form. Horror searched for any arrows that glowed with positive energy but found none.

That wasn't the most shocking thing, however. It was the writhing, enraged skeleton squirming in the constricting grip of Nightmare's tentacle.

The battered, wounded skeleton seemed to be a regular Sans — the hood of his dusty, bloody jacket on his skull. The most striking thing about the other was his eye lights. They were multicolored, with a bright, angry brilliance that radiated an aura Horror couldn't quite pinpoint. Danger, maybe? Or was it the hunger for torment Horror saw in himself occasionally? He found himself interested in the new Sans.

Killer whistled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approached the skeleton.

"heheh, is this our new teammate?" Killer pulled out his knife, poking the feral skeleton, who growled savagely at the leaky-eyed offender. Killer let out a haughty laugh. "damn, feisty too." He dug into his pocket, pulling out a cat treat. He waved the cookie in front of the skeleton. "down, boy, down."

"i hope he bites your damn hand off."

"nah, that's something you would do."

"enough," Nightmare seethed, standing straighter as he finished healing. He grinned triumphantly, glee burning in his icy cyan eye light. "boys, meet dust, our new recruit — "

Killer suddenly burst out laughing, cutting Nightmare off as he pointed a rude finger toward 'Dust.'

"dust??" Killer wheezed. "what kind of dusty-ass name is that??"

"and what's your name? crybaby?"

Horror blinked, surprised that Dust had recollected himself so quickly. The dusty skeleton dangled quietly from the air — a broad, empty grin wider than even Killer's settled almost neatly on his face. Those multicolored eye lights gleamed brighter. He seemed calm, too — a patience Horror attempted to grasp.

Killer choked, mock offense heavy on his face. He clicked his tongue.

"i don't like him. can i kill him?"

"no." Nightmare sent Killer a warning glare. The leader then huffed, moving his gaze to the constricted Dust.

"welcome to the team, pest."

"charmed." Dust's eye sockets were now lidded as if unbothered and tired. "i'm going to kill you all once i'm healed. i still have the kid to deal with."

"aw, is our widdle dwusty getting pwicked on by a kid?"

Dust didn't reply, only giving Killer a detached stare. Now bored with the dusty skeleton, Killer turned toward Nightmare.

"now that your harem is bigger — "

"this isn't a harem."

"okay, fine. reverse harem." Killer waved his hand dismissively. "how exactly are we gonna' get that dog to listen to you?"

As Nightmare and Killer bickered and discussed, Horror approached Dust, lowering his axe as the other gave him a slightly suspicious look. Dust seemed utterly relaxed — unbothered by his situation and injuries. Horror knew it wasn't a facade, either, understanding that the Sans had left his once caring sanity long ago.

"hey, pal, i'm horror," Horror grinned viciously, "welcome to your new hell." Dust's strange grin widened, silent, confusing Horror. "i hope you don't ever plan on going back to your old one — the boss ain't letting you go anytime soon."

Dust, once again, remained quiet — unanswering, yet listening. Horror wrinkled his nose, irritated.

He hated the silent, observant types. In some ways, it reminded him of himself. The axe-wielding skeleton huffed and turned away from Dust, shortcutting to the woods to force down the feelings of fascination that came with the strange Sans.

Whatever — the dusty skeleton would probably end up dead by the end of the week.

----

"where's the bathroom?"

"... what?"

Horror blinked, somewhat irritated, as he stared up from his position on the couch. Dust stood beside him, his burning eye lights giving him an empty stare.

"the bathroom." Dust repeated, monotone. "where is it?"

"go look for it, pal," Horror said, waving him off, "i'm not your personal map."

Dust only stood there, unresponsive, as Horror clicked his tongue.

"buzz. off."

"nah," Dust shrugged, plopping himself directly beside Horror, his eye lights never leaving him. "what are you watching?"

"none of your business."

"huh," Dust tilted his head, lidded eye sockets growing lazier. "never heard that show before."

Horror grumbled, ignoring the other as he focused all his attention on the TV. Dust muttered something, low and inaudible, as Horror propped his elbow on the armrest.

"what kind of universe did you come from?"

Horror wrinkled his nose. This Sans seemed almost as annoying as Killer on a good day — which was impressive. "that's also none of your business."

"papyrus wants to know, though."

Horror turned away from the TV, meeting Dust's gaze as his eye light dilated. It had been a long time since he heard his brother's name — so long that he had almost forgotten the very memories he chose to keep inside. For a moment, he thought of the sadness and regret he thought he should feel. Yet, only a bitterness met his tongue. He paused.

"... the core had failed on us," Horror started, "and we were left to starve 'cause of it." Dust, for a moment, turned his gaze — the bright burn of his eye lights dimming barely. He shifted, contemplative. Then, as if throwing what earlier affliction he had, he spoke, slow and gentle.

"sorry for that."

...

"what?"

"i'm sorry," Dust repeated, "at least i can do something about my underground — there was nothing you could have done."

Stupidly, Horror remained silent, confused by the words of what seemed like compassion. He didn't understand it — he hated pity. It made him weaker by gifting him something he didn't deserve.

Yet, he felt oddly comforted.

"... what happened to your universe?" Horror asked, hesitant.

Dust was a fascination, one he decided to admit to himself at the beginning of an odd yet somewhat reassuring relationship. One day, maybe, he'd get bored entertaining the strange Sans. For now, he could pretend not to enjoy the company of the other.

#undertale #utmv #horrortale #dusttale #sanscest #horrordust #killer #nightmare #dreamtale #made this at 3 am #so proud

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sleazyinnit · 2 years

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AfterDeath

I wrote this in under two days. I'm so productive...

________________

Geno was at the edges of the seldom sanity he managed to preserve in that black, empty hell that was his prison.

It had been years — as far as he knew — since he last felt the pathetic sentiment of fulfillment, forcing his determination to run on the usefulness of his purpose. Back then, he knew who he was, how, and why he came into being. It was a forthright, simple set mission that he thought would end in two ways:

He would die, and his loved ones would live, or they would all perish in the unity of a destroyed timeline.

One way or another, he would end up dead. He was all right with that — he wished for it. He, however, never thought his meaning would extend beyond that. It was startling to him — the thought of uncertainty regarding one's existence and purpose.

Did his purpose extend beyond his mission of the cessation of resets?

He only knew to save Papyrus. His younger brother was happy now — free from the constant genocide at the hands of some twisted child.

So, why was he still here?

He could join ☝︎✌︎💧︎❄︎☜︎☼︎ in the nothing that was the void. It would bring him the comfort of an end.

Or he could leave, finally dust into a soon-forgotten nothing.

What if something goes wrong? He never trusted the kid. What if they decided to forget their virtue and erase the happy ending he worked so hard to give them? Then what?

Geno decided to wait out his fate with uncertain patience.

Geno sighed with a shuddering cough, sitting on the soft grass of his void as he attempted to grasp at the distant sleep that swore a series of horrific nightmares. It was quiet under the false light that shone from an equally deceitful sky.

It would have been peaceful to anybody else — if he hadn't been here for years. The quiet that accompanied his suffering always took away the needed tangibility.

He fiddled with the hems of his scarf, his eye bag heavy with mental anguish. He wasn't usually like this — he knew to control his emotions to an impassive, numbed drift that made months feel like seconds.

Today was simply one of those days.

"huh, looks like i popped in at the wrong time."

Geno blinked, bewildered at the distraction from his thoughts. He looked to his left, finding the presence and loom of calming darkness shift behind him. The entity of dark power chuckled.

"sorry, i'd rather a-void anything ruining my day — nothing against you, though."

Geno felt the delight of amusement build up in his throat.

"Well," Geno smiled, his mood lightening, "I can't blame you for taking careful reaper-cussions."

The entity snickered, soothing and smooth. Geno knew the powerful being behind him — even if that seldom knowledge never went far from the lazy personality and morbid, taunting humor.

Geno never understood why — or how — he brought such a side out of the god. As the deity grew tired of conjuring insults and poisoning his sleep, the scarved skeleton wondered why he hadn't given in to the peaceful end promised to him in doubtful 'truths.' His story had ended. There was nothing left for him in this black hell.

Death, maybe, had wondered that too. Geno supposed his determination muddled his rationality in all aspects.

"There's nothing left for me here, Death." Geno heard the evident shuffled of cloth and shadow as the god shifted. He continued, slow: "Stars, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

The god paused for such a lengthy amount of time that Geno thought he wouldn't reply. A taunting chuckle broke that suspicion.

"hell, if i know," the god said, "i'm just here for the comedic effects."

Despite the uncaring words, Death sounded comforting, almost. Geno reveled in it.

"Thanks."

"for what?" There was a sort of bewildered surprise in the other's monotone baritone. It was endearing, in a way.

"The continuity, I guess." Geno turned and met the empty gaze of Death. "It's wrong how comforted I feel knowing that, despite everything, you would always come back here the same exact person."

The god quirked an eyebrow, bemused. "interesting ideology, pal." Death settled in front of Geno, leaning back slightly. "you yearn for a constant?"

"Yup." Geno grinned. "Is that weird?"

Death shrugged in that lazy, uncaring way. "i suppose not."

As they shared their jokes in the endless time that was his hell, Geno wondered to himself briefly what made his existence worth living.

It was Death — his constant. He made the time Geno sat waiting on the false grass under an intangible light worth the while.

_______________

Reapertale!Sans belongs to Renrink

Aftertale!Sans belongs to loverofpiggies

#afterdeath #reapertale #reaper sans #geno sans #aftertale #utmv #sanscest #hurt/comfort?#yeah #im sorry they're so gay #fanfic writing

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