HI SO
I'M WAYYYYYY FUCKING BEHIND ON UPDATING HERE EHEHE I'M SORRY
you guys are getting a LOT of updates today because i was lazy and put it off, so i'm 5 whole ass updates behind. there are four more fics on the way guys, and one of them is fuckin, what, 10k words????? yeah, you guys are getting a fucking MEAL
ANYWAYS, HERE'S CAN U GET PREGANTE CHAPTER 4!!! if you haven't read the other chapters, please do aspdhfasdga
this update is pretty, hehehe, epic if you ask me
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The infirmary floor was cold against his bones, an icy chill that had him shaking. There were other reasons why he was shaking, but he was trying not to think about it. He was trying.
His back ached, protesting his curled posture against the unforgiving wall, but he didn't dare move away. He pressed himself into the corner harder, clinging to the blanket he'd dragged along. [It was distressing, the lack of clothes. He felt naked.] He held a fistful of it in one shaking hand, keeping it in place against his chest to hide as much as he could.
In his other hand, against the floor at his feet, a long needle from one of the IV drips stuck out between his clenched fingers. Cross shut his eyes against the images in his mind, chest constricting as he tried to breathe through it.
̶M̶a̶y̶b̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶n̶e̶e̶d̶l̶e̶.̶ ̶H̶e̶'̶d̶ ̶a̶l̶r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶ ̶t̶r̶i̶e̶d̶.̶
He couldn't bring himself to leave the room, to run. His legs would buckle, his body would ache, when he tried to stand. Would it be cowardly if he did? He already felt like a coward, huddled and trembling in the corner like a̶ ̶c̶h̶i̶l̶d an idiot afraid of a storm.
Where would he even run to? The Stars? The Omega Timeline? H̶o̶t̶l̶a̶n̶d̶. There was nowhere to go where he'd be safe. Even if he did, the growing strain on his magic told him that he'd have a hard time getting there without help.
He didn't have help. He had no one.
̶N̶o̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶?̶
His bones rattled the slightest bit louder, the cold seeping into his body, leeching away his energy faster than he could think to fight it. He was so tired. So stars damned tired of everything. Gritting his teeth, he shifted a little closer to the wall, trembling. Any second now, the shadows would betray him. His emotions would out him, give away his state.
Any second now, Nightmare would come and it would all be over.
̶S̶t̶a̶r̶s̶,̶ ̶p̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶l̶e̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶o̶v̶e̶r̶.̶
His ecto twinged, his abdomen aching. He shut his eyes, squeezing them shut against the incessant call of the thing that had burrowed into the empty space of his stomach. The pulses were pleading. A cry for help.
Opening his eyes, Cross let go of the blanket, pushing his fist against the softening surface of his stomach through his medical gown. Maybe if he just.. He pressed harder, a new pain blooming. Nausea washed over him as he felt the souling begin to squirm almost frantically. ̶G̶e̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶,̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶-̶
He choked, something in his mind snapping like a whip, a freezing shock crackling down his spine. Gasping, he pulled his hand away and covered his mouth, muffling his heavy breathing. Tears trickled down his face, dripping around and through his fingers and seeping into his mouth, leaving a salty taste. He couldn't.
It stopped squirming, its pleading soulbeat slowing to a calm pace, and Cross sobbed into his hand. He let go of the IV needle to flatten his hand against his stomach, a tender ache making him wince. "I.." He could feel it move, the souling responding to his touch and drifting just the slightest bit closer to his hand. The same hand he tried to crush it with. The corners of his mouth twitched down, his grimace twisting into a pained line. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice thin.
The souling simply answered with a warm humming, the silent vibration flooding his eyes with fresh tears. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do a single thing to it.
Cross chuckled weakly, the sound watery. Epic was right. He was a big softy.
̶E̶p̶i̶c̶?̶
He blinked, eyes widening. Epic-
The temperature in the room dipped, the cold burning against the wet tracks left by his tears. He stiffened, ripping his hands away from his stomach and mouth and fumbling to pick up the IV needle. He whipped it up as Nightmare came speeding out of the shadows, the usually graceful and cold king stumbling into an unused cot.
The bed clattered under the sudden movements, springs creaking under Nightmare's hands as he pushed himself away and looked directly at Cross. Nightmare's eyelight was feverishly bright with c̶o̶n̶c̶e̶r̶n anger. His thrashing tentacles tightly coiled into a ball at his back, his voice unsteadily calm. "Cross?"
Cross's watery eyelights grew thin and sharp and he bared his teeth, his hand shakily wielding the only weapon he had. "Get away f-from me." Nightmare took a slow step around the cot. Inhaling sharply, Cross hoarsely snapped at him, "Stay the fuck away from me!"
Nightmare stopped short, holding his hands up, his expression twisting into something Cross couldn't understand. His eyes fluttered as he tried, tried, to summon anything. His soul throbbed in response. Nightmare took a small step closer, and Cross's breath hitched, panic welling up in his throat. "Cross-"
"Leave! I don't want you in here, get--" Cross rubbed at his face aggressively, breathing heavily, "Get out, just get out." Nightmare's hands lowered slightly, a faint grimace on his face. "I can't do that, Cross." Panting openly, Cross yanked at his magic and gasped at the responding wave of exhaustion. His eyelights flickered and his hand went limp, the needle clicking against the tile as his hand dropped, and he slumped like a puppet with cut strings, his body heavy.
His eyelights stayed dimly lit, eyes lidded as he clung to consciousness. He wanted to be awake when it happened. He wanted to be there. H̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶d̶i̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶. The blackness rushed forward, eager to rip into him, to tear him apart and kill and destroy-
To cradle him and gently lift him off the floor. The hateful black was overly forgiving, plush coolness easing him into the nearest cot, Nightmare's voice like white noise. Soft cloth covered his body, thick and warm. His soul was coaxed into forming, caring hands cupping it. The intent was like a balm on his aching soul, the want to help and to save overpowering.
A faint chill brushed against his soul, and magic came flooding in. It was like a shockwave of energy, power rushing through his useless body. Warmth came with it, his cold bones heating with the new abundance of magic. Over and over, the intent to care for hit a chord in his soul, potent in its strength. Cross wasn't sure he'd ever felt anything like that from anyone before.
---
Nightmare hissed, his corruption rippling as he pushed a little more magic into Cross's soul. It drank it down almost greedily, taking anything Nightmare would give it. The weak positivity, fragile yet still there, stung against Nightmare's own soul. Echoes of Cross's emotions flitted through his soul, a complicated knot of so much negativity and little positivity, full of fear and desperate hope alike. He wasn't sure that was something he could fix.
He lessened the flow of magic slowly, the stream turning into a trickle, then drops, before finally stopping altogether. Cross's soul was no longer alarmingly pale or dry, the organ full of powerful magic that would hopefully last a while. Nightmare gentled their souls apart, shutting out the odd flash of longing that flickered briefly, and nudged Cross's soul back to his body.
It winked out in a flash. Cross sighed a soft noise, watery and weak from the undoubtedly exhausting turmoil thundering in his aura. Nightmare caught a faint sparkle of light in Cross's half-shut eyes.
Cross's dim eyelights stared at him, their edges fuzzed and blurry, unfocused, yet the confusion was strong despite how diluted it started to be. Nightmare could taste Cross's fear fading into tamer emotions, a grey fogginess muting them after several long seconds. The tension lingered in his stiff shoulders, a fine tremble in his slightly curled fingers.
Nightmare had no doubt that if Cross could, he'd be making fists and spitting venom. But he was incapacitated. Because of their negligence. Nightmare's tentacles squirmed in their ball, his repressed anger finally coming in full force now that the immediate concern had passed. Where the hell were the others?
Which of them had the bright idea of leaving Cross unsupervised? He'd told them, explicitly, to stay and keep an eye on him. He had given them an order, and it had been outright ignored.
Nightmare spared Cross a quick glance over, frowning at the pinched expression on his face. A peak into his emotions revealed that he was warring with that bleak grey, clinging to anger over his confusion, to rage over his exhaustion. It was a dangerous cliff he was dancing along, and Nightmare itched to drain him of his emotions, if only to prevent it.
He rubbed his neck, turning away with a half-bitten-off hiss to step halfway into the shadows. He kept tabs on Cross's emotional state as he tracked down the others' signatures, his eye narrowing at the tight swirling ball of negativity that always marked Killer's presence.
He hadn't seen it like that before. The writhing of that negativity was far more aggressive than normal. It was an unusual type of squirming. He'd never seen this kind of negativity from Killer. He honed in on the source, dragging the space between shadows to a tight sliver, standing halfway in the infirmary and halfway in the kitchen.
The darkness fell away, like rising from the murky depths of a swamp into clearer water. He broke the surface silently, and immediately was struck with the smell of Horror's work. He could taste Horror's contentment faintly, the bitterness of it settling in the back of Nightmare's throat.
He didn't know, nor did he care, what Horror had made, his attention diverting to the cook and his assistant. Killer's head was bowed, the skeleton's undivided attention focused on some menial book, one hand keeping pace on the page and the other scribbling away furiously on a notepad. It was most certainly an usual sight, especially considering that it was Killer.
Nightmare was transfixed with the image of such an unmoving, intensely focused Killer, just for a moment. It was a short moment, however, as Horror paused his stirring and turned around to blink at Nightmare, his eye blinking and curious.
"boss... y'need somethin?" Killer's head jerked up, the tip of his tongue retreating into his mouth as his focus was broken. Nightmare stared at him a moment longer before scoffing and addressing the two of them shortly. "Fetch Dust and come to the infirmary immediately. Cross is awake."
The odd warmth in the room, nevermind the strange negativity from Killer, winked out in the face of Nightmare's blunt news. Horror gave a burst of something mildly positive, a crooked grin stretching on his face; Killer did too, but his turned sour sharply, his permagrin twitching downwards. Self-reproach wafted from him, as well as some disappointment, which was.
Interesting.
Horror fiddled with the stove, clicking and twisting things before stooping to dig out a pot lid. Killer shut his notebook and jammed his hands in his coat pockets, shortcutting away with a grumble. Assured that they'd follow through, Nightmare gave Horror one last look before stepping back into the infirmary.
He pulled himself out of the shadows, turning around to assess Cross's state. He found him sitting up, his expression thin and shoulders hunched. The complicated knot of warring emotions was everclear in the crease of his brow, his mouth twisted with something bitter and unhappy.
But he was no longer on the verge of going unconscious, nor was he in hysterics. Though, judging from the fine trembling of his shoulders and the way he fisted the bedsheets, he was close to it. Fear, pain, anger, stress, confusion, worry; the mess of emotions was overwhelming even to Nightmare. He couldn't imagine how it must've felt to Cross, who was drowning in those swirling emotions.
Nightmare wordlessly siphoned off some of the excess negativity, frowning at the spiking of anger that followed the wave of realization. Even more alarming was how quickly it snowballed into hot rage, and Cross opened his mouth, teeth flashing in an ugly snarl as he began to spit venom.
The door opened, however, and his words died as Horror stumbled in, a small box in his hand. Horror spared Nightmare a look, simply acknowledging him before looking at Cross with an unreadable expression. [He looked hopeful.]
He seemed oblivious to the tension in the room, his words as slow and careful as his steps were, the box in his hands held out in offering. Cross's breath hitched the closer Horror got, but he didn't lash out, only eyeing him warily.
Horror stopped about a foot away from too close, his shaking hands cracking the box open. The smell folded out in a cloud of hot steam, carrying spices and the scent of carefully cooked meat.
Nightmare took that moment to slowly step closer as well, curious to see what Horror had made. He could see some tacos, positively overflowing with meat and cheese. [Cross's favorite.]
Cross's expression crumbled into dismay at the sight of it, a sharp, painful sadness flooding his aura. He inhaled shakily, a weak noise escaping him. His hands gripped the cot blankets, his arms trembling as he stared at the steaming food in mounting upset. Horror encouraged him to take the box, "i.... made ya sum' food... fer strength.."
Cross miserably took the box, whispering his thanks in a choked voice. No one made any mention of it, nor did they acknowledge the way Cross teared up at the first bite. He pressed his wrist to his teeth, chewing at a snail's pace before swallowing harshly, as if it pained him to eat it.
Horror looked pleased that his offering was accepted, and for a moment, Nightmare wished he could sense the positive spectrum more clearly. He wanted to get a read on Horror's strangely positive aura. Perhaps if he knew what the emotions were, he'd be able to figure out why he felt them.
The room was silent as Cross ate, which was no doubt the reason for Cross's rising anxiety. Nightmare found his way into one of the seats, and Horror sat on the bed adjacent to Cross's, watching him eat with rapt attention. [With pride.]
—
Cross felt like he'd been punched in the throat by the sheer amount of positive intent packed into the fucking tacos. He almost burst into tears the instant he took that first bite, and he wanted to vomit because where the fuck did Horror scrounge up the will to generate this much... care. They were delicious. The meat was cooked and steamed to perfection, the shells were soft and easy on his teeth, the tomatoes were somehow still cold, and the seasoning was heavenly. It was the best thing he could remember eating.
How long did Horror spend cooking this damn meal for it to have become so saturated in his good intentions? How long did he slave away, squeezing every bit of his will and desire to heal and soothe into them?
Cross ate every last bit of it, ignoring the way it made his magic roil in ravenous hunger and nausea alike.
Horror happily– and why is he so happy?– took the dish once Cross finished, tucking it away into his inventory and keeping his bloated red eyelight focused on Cross. As if he were important, something precious. Cross had seen Horror look at food like that before. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but he didn't have the energy to despise him for it.
Not right now, not when Nightmare was eyeing him so strangely. His expression was unreadable, the emotion behind that sharp eyelight intangible and out of Cross's realm of understanding. He turned away from Nightmare, staring down at his lap, a creeping burning crawling up his neck as he waited for something to happen.
They just stared at him. He could practically hear Nightmare thinking, the debate clear in the tense air. Cross didn't dare open his mouth, despite how much he wanted to keep Nightmare from spewing any earth-shattering truths.
He heard them before he saw them, the approaching drone of voices, and Cross's soul sank in his chest, dropping like a lead weight as he realized how very little he wanted to see anyone else right now.
The universe ignored his wishes yet again, and the infirmary door creaked open. Dust stepped in first, his eyelights immediately focusing on Cross with a keen interest that made Cross cringe into himself. His arms crossed over his stomach, a defensive action that made him want to vomit because since when did he care for the little fucking—
Killer stepped in and Cross choked on the rising anger in his soul. His expression contorted in fury, the sight of Killer like the cherry on the cake, and it was like reality sank in with the vengeance of a rabid fox.
The door had barely even shut before Cross spat at Killer, "I'm not having this conversation."
Nightmare's tentacles dropped in surprise at the twist in Cross's behavior. "What?"
Killer hurried in, stepping up to Horror's left, entirely too close and looking stupidly concerned. In a blur, Cross snatched his pillow and hurled it at Killer. It was the only projectile he had, but Killer recoiled like he'd been shot as the pillow struck him in the chest and landed with a puff on the cot.
Killer looked taken aback at the action, blinking down at the pillow in confusion. Every other feeling, mainly distress, was washed out and replaced with a massive wave of rage. And really, with how he treated Cross before he passed out, he deserved whatever the fuck he got.
"I'm not having this conversation. I'm not fucking talking to any of you," Cross snarled, but his voice wavered with undeniable hurt. Horror made a noise of dismay, the sound entirely lost as Dust responded with equal anger, "We're going to have to fuckin' talk about it, you know that, right?"
Cross shot him a glare, his mouth twisted in a hateful expression that darkened as Killer tried again to speak. "I'm not talking to any of you. I don't even want to see you!"
"Cross, you-" Nightmare tried.
"No," Cross hissed back.
"Cross-"
"No."
Killer butted in, his soul spinning like a sawblade, "Cross, calm the fuck down. We're not tryina-"
Cross kicked at him, a weak tap more than anything, but Killer stepped away nonetheless, looking bitter and sour.
"I don't want to talk to you," Cross hissed again, but it was less aimed at the group and more at Killer this time. He didn't want to speak to any of them, much less about the parasite they put in his soul.
Nightmare cut into Cross's spitting, firmly and harshly, "We are going to talk about this, Cross. We have a choice to make, and I refuse to let you cower from it."
Cross knew what they were going to ask. He knew it, but his soul shriveled with dread because he didn't want to make that choice. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to ponder what he could and couldn't do. Cross just wanted to fucking get out of there, away from the source of his problems. [He'd never fully get away.]
Cross didn't want to talk to them about this.
------
"Cross."
"No."
"Cross, if you will not speak, at least allow us to take you to Sci."
"Fuck off."
"You are behaving-"
"FUCK OFF!" Cross kicked at his door, biting back a snarl of pain as he stubbed his toe in the process. He didn't want to. He didn't care to, didn't need to, would never want to.
He'd locked himself in his room after neatly avoiding the conversation. [He simply said no over and over until they let him leave the infirmary and retreat to his own bedroom.]
Dutifully, Horror brought him his dinner, and Cross found it a little harder to turn him away when he asked to come in. [It honestly felt like he was trying. Like he wanted things to be okay.]
Begrudgingly– because he didn't want him to come in, but he sounded so honest about his intentions, and in the end, he'd been truthful– Cross let Horror in to eat dinner on the floor.
It was nice that Horror was capable of being nonverbal for a while, because Cross absolutely didn't want to speak. He didn't care for words. They ate in silence, and Horror left easily when they finished, nodding at Cross respectfully before vanishing through the door.
[Cross hated that he didn't want him to go.]
It was a long night. Cross tried to muster the courage to take a shower, but he was wary of the mirrors. Of himself. It was hard to avoid looking at the soulling when he didn't have a shirt covering it up.
Cross crawled into bed without showering, feeling gross and exhausted. At least the soulling wasn't in his soul anymore. A part of him had been terrified that he'd have to carry the baby in his soul, but knowing that he'd carry it elsewhere was even worse in a way.
He found himself staring at the murky translucent purple of his ecto, at the small underdeveloped soul within. He felt like an idiot, crying over something so incredibly small, but there he was, bawling like a babybones over...
His phone buzzed loudly, singing that familiar tune that made his own soul pound with unfounded relief, and he picked it up, answering in a soft, "Hey."
"Bruh! I've been tryina reach ya for three days, where ya been?"
"...Can I come stay with you a few days, dude?"
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here goes cross, avoiding his problems, AGAIN
aha huh? what do you mean i'm avoiding writing the scene? pffff, that's silllyyyyy i would never /lie
wehe thanks for reading :D
i'm sorry for the slow updates, though, i suppose you guys are lucky, since I'll swoop win with like 5 or 6 updates all at once every now and then, huh?
yk,,,,, if you had Tumblr, or Archive of Our Own, you'd get to see the updates a lot sooner.... teehee
ANYWAYS
I'll also be updating the art book today!!! got some new art!!! some kissing, perhaps, kross art, some crossmare, cross in a dress, silly shenanigans, there's a lotta new stuff :D
why dontcha go check it out! I'll also be posting an animatic! it's still a draft, but it's pretty clear still what it is!
anyways!!!! next is uhhhhhh some KROSS!!!! because kross has become my top, one hundred percent,,,,
there's also art!!! wehehe we love kross <33
ALSO!!! to those who comment!!! thank you, like a lot.
it means so fucking much to see comments on my fics here, especially from you, DormantLurker and Killer_sans_qwp! you two are like, some of the OGs, you know? it means a lot to see you guys still around! sorry for the tagging, ehe,,,,
also!! killer! i'm pretty sure i see you both on youtube and A03 every now and then, and it's utterly amazing to see you there, even if i'm kinda slow in responding
anyways!! thank you guys, for the ones who comment and the ones who've stuck around this long. i know some of you are just here for the fics, but there are some who i consider friends, and even if it may not be mutual, the sentiment is still there :]
love you guys /p <33