Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Doodle Sphere, once brandishing a beautiful haze of gold, turned to shadow under a blanket of dark clouds. They plagued the sky, encasing Ink's precious stretch of the Anti-Void with a sense of dread. 

The skeleton watched from upon one of the sturdy islands which hovered below; scattered in rocky outcrops. He peered past the dancing branches of a young oak, his mismatched pinpricks smaller than they usually were. Despite that, a small smile came to replace his dull frown. 

"Storm clouds… In the Doodle Sphere ," He murmured, hearing a low rumble roll throughout the sky. He dipped his skull and let out a small chuckle. "A glitch like that is comedic, really. It's almost as if the multiverse knows something is terribly wrong!" He said before he turned to face the second skeleton who had kept relatively quiet since her arrival. "Buuut I suppose the two of us setting aside our differences is proof enough that trouble is brewing, huh?"

Dream's expression didn't waver from the serious stare she gave him. She looked far more focused than he did, which she was. Her golden eyelights darted down for a moment. "How are we going to keep that out of Error's reach?" She asked. Ink blinked for a moment then followed her gaze down to the rolled up paper he held gently within the curl of his fingers. He lifted it up. Oh, right. The script. His silence caused Dream to step forward. "He can't learn of its existence, Ink."

"Yeah, I know that much," Ink replied, scanning the code for a moment. He crossed his arms and leaned against the tree with a small sigh. "I just don't know of anywhere safer than the Doodle Sphere," He admitted, closing his sockets. He subtly tilted his skull. "The Omega Timeline, maybe?" He suggested. "Error would never be able to find it there."

Dream began to contemplate alongside him. "It's secluded from Error, yes," She agreed, though doubt soon darkened the lights of her eyes. "However, with so many lost souls traveling through the Omega Timeline, it would only be a matter of time before someone curious and unjust got their hands on our wayward code," She warned, leaning back against the tree as well. 

"Then what options do we have left?" Ink questioned. He was tapping his foot restlessly, that being the only sound for a few long seconds. 

Dream eventually found a response. "I can bring it to my brother," She claimed, right as a deep bout of thunder rolled throughout the clouds overhead. It only amplified the danger of her suggestion, causing Ink's sockets to open wide in alarm.

He leapt away from the tree, whipping around to face the other guardian. "Your brother?" He searched her gaze for any hint of an explanation. She didn't seem the least bit phased by her own suggestion. "You want to entrust the fate of the multiverse to the King of Shadows?" 

"You're overlooking Nightmare's intentions," She replied calmly. Ink gave her a look, so she continued. "He wants the entire multiverse in one piece. Every time a world is destroyed, he loses a fraction of his power," She pointed out. "Nightmare is smart enough to understand that keeping this safe, means ensuring he stays afloat as well."

"Oh! I get it now," Ink said, a faint smile crossing his face. He looked between her and the rolled up page of code. He took a step closer and held it out. "If you think you can safely get this to your brother, then here you are!" He told her. As if expecting him to try something, she moved slowly to open her palm to him. He placed the code in her hand, chuckling lightly. "I miss being your friend sometimes," He spontaneously added. 

Dream sighed, a surprisingly sad sound for one who usually beamed with positivity. "You're forgetting everything that still divides us," She whispered. Ink didn't get a chance to respond, Dream flinching as a droplet of water struck the ridge of her nasal. 

They both glanced up towards the sky as raindrops pattered against the oak's thick leaves. It sang to them a hidden melody, one known only to the Anti-Void. Neither of them missed the chance to bask in the beautiful atmosphere. 

The multiverse may be teeming with little horrors, but it wasn't without endless wonders as well.

“We’re both still a Star Sans though, aren’t we?” Ink asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes. Of course we are,” Dream replied, equally as soft. 

Even if we must face an unimaginable threat, the multiverse will find a way to rise above it. It will always prevail.

That's a promise.

Chapter Text

Do you want to know a secret?

Error remained motionless, hovering in the sunless place that was his mind. The vast and empty darkness made not a sound. And yet there was no serenity here... No peace.

It all feels so marvelous.

He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. Drowning in an invisible sea of fire which licked his every nerve with searing hot pain. Not a single bone was spared from the flames' relentless assault.

To be tortured by my own crashing. To have my blemished soul experience all the agony I've inflicted tenfold.

His pinpricks began to flicker back into existence, fighting tooth and claw against the glitches which plagued his vision. It wasn't an easy battle. The black little 'errors' continued to dance in and out of existence, their letters blurred to an unrecognizable degree.

These instances are the only times in which I ever feel this hopeless multiverse has found a sense of justice. No matter how cryptic it may be.

His red and yellow talon-like fingers twitched. The movement felt stifled, as if his joints were forged from rusted metal. He didn't bother trying to force any movement. He already knew it would be to no avail.

Ah, but I'd never admit to any of that out loud... and there is a very simple reason as to why not.

He felt prickles on the back of his neck's vertebrae. He welcomed the sensation of his recovering nerves, feeling the numbness travel down his spine. He no longer felt enveloped by flames, as now only small wisps of pain lapped at his limbs.

If I spoke those words aloud, I'd have to admit that my every move since becoming the so-called god that I am now, was something I deserve to be damned for. As if every piece of code I've severed, number by number, should have been left untouched.

A blinding white light suddenly assaulted his sockets. He winced, jaw clenched and bone brow furrowed. At last, his body had reached the verge of rebooting. Reality was finally within reach.

So, I've known for some time now: That's my little secret.

Error inhaled a sharp and ragged breath, which caused him to sputter and cough. The condensed flame that made up his eyelights shrank as he forced himself onto his knees. He heaved a bit, his body's sporadic glitches making his every movement a little harder to bear.

I've had better reboots than this. His crashes had a wide range of intensity, and that one had been particularly violent. All of that triggered by a simple well placed punch in the midst of battle.

He scanned the tattered Anti-Void for his opponent, but he was alone. There was nothing left of him, aside from the splattered splotches of ink secreted by his oversized paint brush. Broomie, as the artist had appallingly named it. Stars, Error hated that thing. He'd been whacked over the skull by it one too many times...

The fact that Ink hadn't taken the opportunity to finally erase him from the multiverse wasn't the least bit surprising. Although Ink had proved time and time again that his morals were a jumbled mess, he seemed to always draw the line at killing others. Stupid Guardian. The longer I live, the more stray code I demolish! He certainly held no restraint when it came to battling his nemesis. He'd use his strings to pry apart that skeleton's every bone if he could! And it would be a hysterical sight to behold!

Error hauled himself fully up off the ground, his limbs initially wobbling in a fit of protest. He didn't care. He just ignored the ache and carried himself with no sense of dignity, feet dragging beneath him. He at least watched his step. He had to.

Blasters, specifically his own, had torn up long streaks of the Anti-Void. Though like the fresh bruises upon his bone, the world between worlds would heal itself. It only needed a little time.

Wanting to return to his comfortable corner of this hellhole, he honed in on his unique ability to glitch the code which made up every aspect of reality. Before his outstretched hand formed the start of a blocky portal, though before the window could become a frame big enough from him to easily hop through, he caught sight of a contrasting color against the Anti-Void's stark white. Brown, a specific shade of which he knew all too well. It made him tense, portal fizzling out of existence as his concentration broke. Is Ink still watching me?

Though with his double take he realized it wasn't the artist's entire scarf. The blur couldn't be anything more than a stitch of it, pinned to the ground by one of his red projectile bones. However he knew better than to trust his faulty vision. Thanks to his modified tear ducts messing with his pinpricks accuracy, he had misinterpreted many sights over the years. The need to confirm just about everything he looked at was a hard learned lesson; So, Error near instinctively went to investigate.

When he stalked closer, sockets narrowed, he was certain that it was nothing more than ripped fabric. He would have left it at that if it weren't for a new detail. Scribbles of black. Is that writing? It piqued his interest. "What sort of stupid little reminders have you left behind?" He asked aloud. He hoped to find something he could take advantage of, the sinister concept sparking a wide grin.

He placed a slipper upon the edge of the fabric then pried his bone out from the ground. He carelessly tossed it aside, letting it clatter elsewhere while he crouched down to get a better look at the words. Ugh. Does he have to write in such small print? Forced to be even closer, he plucked the piece of scarf up with just the tips of two claws. He did this as if he genuinely considered the item to be toxic. He held it right before his eyes, tilting his skull to clearly read the slanted letters.

He began to speak every word he read. Despite the little glitches riddling his tone, he quite liked the sound of his own voice.

"Remember to never ever let Error know about the secret." He blinked, smile gone as he instead pulled his fangs back in distaste. "Secret?" He repeated. His voice became a snarl. "What secret?!"

Error had been caught in constant turmoil with Ink for long enough to learn a thing or two about him. One, the god of creation absolutely thrived off of secrets. And two, if Ink wanted to single him out from a certain piece of knowledge, it was definitely something he would want to figure out as fast as possible. Yet with that in mind, how was he supposed to discover the nature of this secret?

He scanned the rest of the fabric for some sort of lead. Just one hint was all he needed to begin. He admittedly didn't like what he found a few inches down, slightly more faded than the previous sentence. It caused dread to settle in the depths of his soul. There were only three other words visible to him, cut off the torn edge. One was a not so pleasant name to see or hear anywhere.

'Nightmare has the-'

Nightmare. A being even Error had to be wary of. Under the right circumstances, the god of negativity could harness enough power to bring him shaking upon his knees. That wasn't a situation Error ever wanted to put himself through again. Being forced to bow to another just that once had been more than enough humiliation. Hell, he even kept his distance from certain worlds under Nightmare's domain to avoid any sort of confrontation.

But what does Nightmare have? Could the king really be conspiring with Ink? Against him? Error wouldn't take the risk. He had to understand. He had to find answers. He could spy. He could carefully keep an eye on the movements of the few who did Nightmare's bidding. Maybe then another hint would arise, and an opportunity to snuff out Ink and Nightmare's plans would present itself.

Yes. I quite like that. And if the whole endeavor turned out to be a waste of his time, he could take it out on Nightmare's pathetic anomalies! Surely he could kill most- if not all of them before Nightmare had a chance to chase him off. High LOVE or not, mortals were easy pickings.

With a dark laugh, he properly glitched a portal into existence and vanished through the opening. 

Chapter Text

Shadows cascaded over the face of a bulky figure who leaned coolly upon an umber desk. A singular cyan eye pierced the shroud, its light draping a soft glow across a glass case which held a suspended scroll in its center. The dark god considered it, the gloom looking alive as tendrils coiled high above the monster's back. Slowly, a hand reached out from the darkness. Just one of the giant talons touched down upon the case's curved surface. He didn't seem the least bit bothered when he proceeded to drag his sharp claw tip down across the glass with a deafening screech. He may not have shown a hint of distress, but it certainly made the skeleton sitting in the chair before him squirmish.

Nightmare pulled his teeth back in a look of disdain, now clasping his hands together and placing his jaw upon them to peer further out of the shadows. He regarded the other carefully, from his stiff posture to the abundantly sketchy soul which hovered in the shape of a target over the crest of his sternum. As the God of Negativity, he truly didn't need his innate senses to read Killer. Anyone could tell he currently bristled with unease. As pleasant as the other's anxiety felt, it didn't feel the least bit satisfying to his magic. The corruption always desired more, and the king always got what he wanted.

"Killer," He spoke the other's name in a curt manner. The skeleton's grin widened a bit more though Nightmare felt a fluctuation of fear from within him.

"Y-yeah, Boss?" He replied, staring at him with those big empty sockets of his.

"It says right here-" Nightmare used two fingers to slide a paper forward before he tapped a certain passage. "-In a report given by your own comrade; that you are responsible for the deaths of several people. All of which I did not specify as a target," He told Killer, who reasonably began to form small beads of sweat upon his skull. Nightmare narrowed his socket. "Is Dust a liar?"

"No, Boss. It's the truth," Killer replied, anxiously scratching at the back of his skull. "I don't think Dusty even has the nerve to lie to you."

One of Nightmare's tendrils lashed. "Right, then answer this one simple question for me," He hissed, slowly standing from his chair. That action alone made Killer shrink back against his own. "What do people feel when they're dead?" He asked, a growl now edging his voice.

Killer tilted his skull, looking genuinely perplexed. "Pain…?"

"No! The answer is nothing, you imbecile!" Nightmare snapped, slamming a fist down on the desk with enough force to make its entirety shake and the wood creak. He aimed the deadly points of his tendrils towards Killer, though he made no effort to actually cause him harm. "I need suffering! Misery! Turmoil! Or any other synonym you could think of!" He reminded the mortal. Killer sorta just vigorously nodded along to the king's words, especially when he bared his spindly needle sharp teeth. "I get none of that from the dead, so cease your apparent trigger finger for just one mission!" Nightmare warned.

"S-sorry! I'm sorry, Boss!" Killer yelped back as Nightmare stared him down. His fear now filled the room, being eagerly devoured by Nightmare's dark magic. He basked in the sensation of the increase in power. One person's terror only made a subtle difference, but he could still feel it. "It won't happen again! It was a one time fluke! I've got myself completely under control!" He told Nightmare, attempting to sound confident.

Nightmare stood tall and crossed his arms. "Killer, this is the third time we've been over this," He pointed out. Killer paused, then shrugged with a wobbly smile. Nightmare rolled his eye at that. He then lowered himself back down to his seat. He figured Killer's had enough of the much needed scolding by now. "Fortunately for you, I actually quite like you. I'm generous enough to believe that all can be forgiven… In exchange for hard work, of course. You must atone for your mistakes after all." Nightmare told him. Some of the tension in Killer's shoulders dropped, his fear now a fleeting feeling. "You'll be assigned to a new mission. Speak to Cross. I already discussed the details with him while you were busy soaking your knife in blood," He said before he raised a hand and gave Killer a shoo. "You're dismissed."

Killer scrambled to his feet, gave him the least formal bow known to the multiverse, then hurried on his way. Nightmare watched him go, waiting for his office door to click shut. Once on his own, he leaned back against his seat with a long exhale. He rubbed his temples and propped his feet up on the desk. His tendrils whipped and he closed his eye, hoping that would be enough to chase off the headache now residing in his skull.

He hadn't been lying. He liked Killer, as much as he did the others. They all held value. They all had their uses. They've proved themselves. But by the stars, they could be so reckless! At this rate, they'd be responsible for more loss of his magic than the Star Sans' persistent tinkering. If he lost control and too much of his strength ebbed away, he wouldn't be able to maintain his kingdom. If his reign fell short, his men would all be in for a bad time. Every single one of them were damned for the things they've done. Without the king's protection, they'd finally face the consequences of their actions.

Not to mention what else will be left unprotected without me… The scroll's case on his desk remained locked with his magic. Nothing would get inside without his permission. It needed to remain that way. Forever. Or else he wouldn't be the only god to fall.

I should keep an eye on their progress. Just to be sure they don't butcher this mission too.

It looked as if he didn't move, his dark body completely vanishing into the shadows within moments. A soulbeat passed, and by then his office was abandoned.