The simple ponderings of Purple as she floats between stories.A reflection on the previous and a hopeful glance to the next.Nothing stood between her and her Mini-Crewmate. Nothing. Not even the void of space could separate them. Purple would take her Mini wherever fate desired, and that was that.…
~Okay, so I'm putting this story under construction because I wrote this in the seventh grade and I know I can do better. I plan to rewrite every chapter before moving on. Don't worry, I have a plot and conclusion ready to be written, but I know that my story could be much better. Don't expect another update for a long time.In the meantime, check out my bookmarks if you're interested in more Undertale content not by me but way better! THIS STORY IS NOT ABANDONED, JUST UNDER CONSTRUCTION. I love you guys~ <3~~~~"Stupid abominations like you don't deserve to be alive!"He picked her up by her fragile and stick-thin neck. What had she done to deserve this? She dangled six feet off the ground, at his eye level. "You are not worth existence. Go and die in some abandoned alleyway. The only thing you're good for,"He spat before flinging her out the open window. No larger than the size of a tennis ball, she fell and fell. The wind rushed past her, flipping her ears against her head like whips. Why'd he have to live on the top floor?Even if she wanted to use her wings, they were too broken, too weak to be of any use. Might as well accept her fate now. Her dull, cracked scales stinging from exposure to the harsh summer sun. The tail she called her own flapped uselessly in the air. If she survived this fall, what would become of her? Sure, bittys were popular amongst both humans and monsters, but she wasn't like every other bitty. Other bittys were cute. Other bittys had many of the same kind. Little Bros, Baby Blues, they had more than one.She couldn't be more alone. She couldn't be less cute. Of all the bittys, who would want one so broken? Who would put up with an abomination like her? What was a single, broken, lonely, dragon bitty to do?…
You pick up a worn down journal you find on the ground. It's covered in mountains of dust that swirl around in a mini sandstorm when you blow it off. Brushing away the last of the filth obscuring the cover, you read the title plastered on it. "Dragon Types" it says. You've never seen this book in your life, and when you turn to the first page, you discover that it's written by hand in a neat print. The first page is titled the same as the front cover, the words and pages worn as if it's been read by many eyes, yet untouched in years.The author's name is long smudged out from rubbing, as if someone ran their finger lovingly over it so many times, it's barely visible. Where did this book come from? How come you've never seen or heard of it before? You turn the book over and inspect it from all angles. It looks like a normal journal someone would use for taking formal notes.The book's spine creeks when you turn to the first page...…