Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Snap.

He didn’t even need to turn around. Dream’s arrows glowed with bright blue light, so they were too easy to spot. His idiot brother should have thought that through when he designed them. Nightmare’s black tendrils splintered the attack into two.

The Lord of Negativity strolled across the field without a care in the multiverse. The screams and bloodshed meant nothing to him. He attacked Birdtale for a reason. Besides the fact that this AU was obnoxiously cheerful, it was the perfect place to draw the Star Sanses to. The jagged cliffs, dark sky, and high altitude made it difficult for the Stars to fight together. The monsters fled the scene long ago, which gave the teams more fighting room. Nightmare dodged another of Dream’s arrows as he surveyed the current status of his team.

Dust had Blue in a one-on-one battle. The hooded skeleton locked the Star in a miniature arena made from sharpened bones. Blue bounced around, swinging his giant hammer made of teal magic. He used one of the fallen trees as a springboard to gain the upper hand. While he was full of energy, Dust showed no emotion, which wasn’t uncommon for him. His movements were robotic and bored, like he wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t here. Even his pistols were slower than usual.

Across the field, Dream tried to fight off Killer while watching out for Horror. Killer flirted with Dream between strikes, making them blush and scowl in embarrassment. Nightmare smirked at his awkward aura. Dream bashed Killer’s ribs with his bow before drop-kicking him. Nightmare assigned Killer to distract his attention. Usually, he would handle his twin, but this time, he was after a different member of the team.

From the corner of his teal eyelight, he caught Horror sneaking up behind Dream. He gripped his blood-coated ax tight. Horror glanced over to Nightmare, and he winked in response. Horror raised the weapon above the guardian’s head and shot it down for a clean slice. Dream must have sensed his emotions due to him spinning around and screaming. He fiddled for his bow, but it would have been pointless.

A blast of black paint stuck Horror’s forearm to the cliff wall. Nightmare stepped behind one of the pine trees, laying his back against it as he smirked in anticipation. Ah, there he was.

The attacker was an athletic skeleton in a brown and white outfit, wielding a paintbrush as tall as he was. He was around five-foot-seven. He wore a sash of colorful paints across his chest. Black paint smudged his left cheekbone, the edge hiding behind a thick brown scarf covered with black marks. Ink’s shifting eye lights glinted with mischief. He flipped Broomie and held it out to Horror. “Come on, eggshell! Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to chop someone’s head off? I didn’t think that head injury of yours would destroy your common sense.”

Horror growled. No one talked about the oversized crack in his skull, especially as a joke. The larger skeleton ripped his arm free, tearing his pale blue sleeve in the process. Dream took his chance to slip beneath his arm and run toward Ink. “Thank you. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” he said.

“Pfft, you’re fine,” Ink assured. The artist looked around with a red question mark in his left eye socket. “Now where did Killer go-”

A knife sliced his small brown jacket. Killer leaped down from whatever perch he was watching from. He and Horror circled their prey. The two Stars stood back-to-back. Dream loaded their bow, and Ink spun his paintbrush. Nightmare itched to join the battle, but he knew he had to wait. If he planned this out correctly . . .

Ink pulled one of his paint vials from his sash. Dream spotted it and gulped, shaking his head. “Ink, no. You’ve been having bad effects with-”

“It’s going to be fine. Calm down!” Ink ignored him and downed the red drink in a single gulp. His eyes turned into a crimson target and an exclamation point. A sharp smile spread across his face, matching Nightmare’s grin. This was what he was hoping for.

Killer and Horror launched themselves at the Stars. Dream shot an arrow to knock Killer’s knife out of his hold. Blood oozed from the wound in his hand, but Killer didn’t budge. The knife was still tight. Ink went on a rampage, throwing spears of black paint at Horror. Nightmare fed on the emotions caused by the red vial. Anger, aggression, and obsession. Ink chose a target, and he wouldn’t let them go.

Now.

Nightmare waved his black skeletal fingers and focused on Ink’s aura. It was his first time trying his magic on the artist. Ink lacked a soul, unlike the rest of the Stars, so his solution was to drink bottles of paint. He never understood how that worked. Nightmare had never tried to manipulate artificial emotions before, but it was easier than he expected. All it took was intense concentration. He channeled Ink’s new anger elsewhere.

Ink froze mid-attack, clutching his skull and stumbling. Horror stepped back, unsure what to think of this sudden change. Nightmare twisted his wrist, and Ink gritted his teeth. He threw one of his paint daggers at Dream.

“Dream,” he said, speaking as if the word hurt. “DUCK!”

The golden guardian followed his advice, and the dagger hit Killer instead. Killer stared at the now-solid paint protruding from his upper rib. “Are you serious?”

“Ink, what’s wrong?” Dream asked, “Why are you attacking me?”

Ink didn’t answer, only narrowing his eye sockets. Fury burned through his bones as Nightmare squeezed his hand into a fist. He harnessed Ink’s worst memories and feelings about his twin. Despite being on the same team, there are a select few topics they’ve never seen eye-to-eye on. He subconsciously told him to fight Dream. He warned him that if he didn’t, he would suffer humiliation and pain. The artist cringed, and Nightmare felt a tug in his hand. He’s fighting back. Interesting.

Straining, Nightmare poured all his power into controlling Ink’s emotions. He screamed and fell to his knees. Dream ran over to his friend and placed his hands on his cheekbones. Golden magic flowed from his fingertips, feeling like pins and needles against Nightmare’s magic.

Ink’s eye sockets fluttered as he shook his head and groaned. With a bit more encouragement, he flipped Dream on his back and wrapped his hands around his neck. Dream coughed and kicked, trying to get his friend off of him. Neither Killer nor Horror knew how to react to Ink’s behavior change. Killer glanced at Nightmare, pointed the tip of his knife at the Stars, then air-sliced it across his neck. Nightmare shook his head and whispered, “Not yet.”

“Get-out-of-my-head!” Despite his grip on Dream, Nightmare knew Ink was trying to talk to him. Between the fake emotions, Ink’s defiance, and Dream’s positivity, Nightmare struggled to keep him under his control. Dream’s powers are just about balanced with his. He made a note of the latter two; it would be important later. Nightmare’s eyelids went heavy, and his black apple soul started to ache.

Dream’s eye sockets narrowed. “Ink, hold on. Just don’t fight me and I can help you!” He covered Ink’s mouth with one of his hands and held the other up, summoning golden light that practically radiated positivity. He cried out and shoved it down onto Ink’s torso. Tendrils of yellow spread across his body and Nightmare winced. The black malice on his hands dripped and burned. He pulled his hand back and snapped his fingers, setting Ink free. The artist gasped as his eye lights switched back to their default: a green circle and a yellow star.

Dust was distracted by Ink’s screams and the gold light; he dropped his attacks for a few seconds. Blue took the opportunity to smash his hammer into Dust’s lower spine, releasing a loud thump. Dust fell to the ground, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Blue put his hammer back on his shoulder. “Dream? Ink? Do you guys need backup?”

“No, it’s okay, Blue. Everything is going fine.” Dream’s voice sounded raspier than usual thanks to Ink strangling him. It almost made them look intimidating. Almost. He watched Ink get back to his feet with dazed eyes before staring back at Nightmare. “Brother, I’m going to give you one chance. Leave this place and leave Ink alone! What has he ever done to you?”

Nightmare chuckled, stepping into the light. His hand was still distorted and it looked like the tips of his fingers were missing. “Nothing; he hasn’t done anything. Anything yet.”

“What?” Ink coughed and stared at him. “If I didn’t do anything to you, what the hell was that for?”

Nightmare didn’t answer, only smirking in response. Ink stared at him with his mouth agape, like he had told him a disturbing joke he only now understood. Dream huffed and summoned another bright blue arrow out of thin air. He loaded his bow and Nightmare prepared his tendrils to parry the attack, but Dream turned his heel at the last minute. The arrow shot into Horror’s open eye socket with extreme accuracy.

Horror howled and grabbed his eye socket, the pupil in his blood-red eye tiny with pain. Blood oozed between his clenched fingers. Even Dream winced at seeing him suffer so much; he never liked excessive violence. Seeing his team in pain, Nightmare scowled. Now his idiot brother has crossed the line.

The dark king stood up straighter. His form distorted, warping his body into an incoherent mess and his face into a melted monster. He hated how pitiful he must have looked. Dream’s aura and dissatisfied look did nothing to help.

“Killer! Horror! Dust! We’re leaving. My work here is done.” Nightmare’s body dripped more malice than usual, turning the grass from green to gray. The plants withered and crumbled at his feet. One of the tendrils shot across the field to grab Dust, who was obsessing over Horror’s injury. The smallest of the Murder Time Trio yelped at the black limb wrapped around his torso. Nightmare dragged the other two killers toward him. He held them by their hoods like a mother cat holding the scruffs of her kittens, keeping a close eye on Horror.

“Boss!” Killer complained, struggling in his tendril.

Nightmare ignored him. With his remaining tendril, he drew out a circle in the ground, wide enough for himself plus the others in his tendrils. With a shudder, the liquid malice turned into a whirling blue and black portal. Dream tried to say something, but Nightmare cut him off with a growl. “Don’t you dare pity me, brother. The look doesn’t suit you.” After a long glare at his brother, Nightmare jumped in, bringing his henchmen with him.

Birdtale’s pine trees and cliffs faded away and were replaced with gray stone walls, a high ceiling, and a throne with a tall back pedestal. Despite the minimal sunlight slipping through the grayed curtains, most of the hall was coated in darkness. The place was practically built out of negativity, and the energy and power soon seeped into his body. Soon his form returned to his preference: a tall skeleton in a white dress shirt, a black waistcoat, a teal tie, and heeled boots. A silver pocket watch dangled out of his right breast pocket. Nightmare was very picky about his fashion choices.

Killer, Horror, and Dust dropped to the ground. Dust winced as his rib cage crashed against the stone. Horror grabbed his hand and pulled him up with ease. His shot eye still bled, dripping through his closed lid, but it didn’t seem to be causing him pain.

“Why . . . we leave?” As deep as it was, Horror’s voice was no louder than a whisper. His head injury damaged his mind, leaving him with slurred speech and memory problems.

“Yeah, we were winning!” Killer protested, “Especially with whatever the hell you were doing to Inkblot. We could have taken over that AU!”

Nightmare considered a response. He still hasn’t told his team about the plan he had for Ink, even though he’s worked on it for almost four months. Once he started a project, he tended to refuse to tell anyone until he was certain it would be completed. Besides, the MTT’s expressions will be worth it if he hides the plan a little longer.

Nightmare cleared his throat and turned to them. “If everything goes according to plan, I’ll explain this evening. You three are going to need to trust me.” He had his hand on the door and pulled the long handle. “Besides, Horror is injured and needs medical care.”

“You and your bullshit plans . . .” Dust muttered to himself. Unfortunately for him, Nightmare happened to have excellent hearing for someone with no ears.

The dark king turned and scowled down Dust’s uneven eye lights, one red and the other a mix of purple, red, and blue. He hid under the brim of his baseball cap as Nightmare glared at him. “Are you doubting me? Because if you are, that’s a very bold move.”

Dust averted his eyes as much as he could. “No, boss.”

“Good. Now go heal yourselves up; it would be unfortunate if those injuries became infected. Killer, that includes you too.” Nightmare added the extra bit as he caught the hate-dripping skeleton attempting to sneak off. “I mean it, you can’t go walking around with an injured rib cage just as Horror can’t go around with a bleeding eye.”

Killer groaned but didn’t argue further. The dark king watched his team disappear to the infirmary. A half-smile crept on his face, but he waited for them to leave before he smiled fully. He left the throne room for his office.

When Nightmare first created his castle, he made sure his study was easily accessible, as it was the room he spent the most time in. He made it to the door with a full moon design. The long room had a high ceiling with a solar system design painted on it. Bookshelves lined the side walls with a mix of traditional hardcovers and scrolls. At the end of the corridor was a large dark wood desk covered in stacks of papers.

Nightmare sat in his black office chair. Each of his drawers had a black handle, though one had a matching lock. He shifted the shape of his pointer finger into a key. Breaking the lock, he pulled out a small, dusty-purple notebook with a single word branded on the cover.

INK.

The dark king flipped through the pages. Everything he knew and learned about Ink since he initiated this plan was written in black cursive. What he hated, what he loved, his apparent fears, and the traumas he learned about. He knew the least about the last one. Was the artist aware of this? No, of course not. He would never find out about this. It was his personal secret. In the middle of the notebook were his most significant notes. Ink’s paint vials.

Eight drawings were split into boxes across the two sheets. The left side was colored red, orange, yellow, and purple, while the right was green, blue, teal, and pink. Nightmare dipped his crow-feather quill in a pot of ink and wrote in the red box.

October 12, 20xx

As expected, the red vial controls anger, obsession, passion, and danger level. I theorize it even makes his magic stronger. With effort, the fury can be harnassed against any monster he feels a spark towards. He’s even willing to fight his friends. However, he resists my advances more than I thought he would. Plan PV appears to be the best option, unfortunately.

Nightmare leaned back in his chair, thinking of his next move. All but one box had writing in it—the pink vial. Plan PV was only a hypothesis, one that almost guaranteed success, but he didn’t want to use it. Nor was he certain it would even work. For all he knew, the pink vial could cause more destruction than production.

Destruction . . . AUs crumbling . . . strings . . . Error.

Oh, how he had been blind. It was such an obvious answer that could have saved him weeks of careful planning. The dark king growled at his own ignorance. Regardless, he couldn’t remain in his self-hatred if he wanted to get anything completed.

He shoved the notebook into his pocket and drew a portal into the ground. The sludge edges formed a light blue center, darkening as it opened up the world.

Nightmare went to find the Guardian of Destruction.

Chapter Text

“Well, that was weird,” Ink groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head. His skull pounded after having Nightmare inside it and his ribs throbbed a dull ache. The artist looked around and realized the Villain Sans Squad was gone, thank the stars. He felt tempted to lie back and nap for a while, watching the fluffy clouds pass through the blue sky. As soon as Nightmare left, the atmosphere cleared up. Birds were singing and flowers were blooming. Hopefully, laying back would clear the fog in his mind.

“Ink?” Dream kneeled down next to him. He had a concerned look in his golden eye lights. “Are you feeling okay? Nightmare’s influence can leave . . . scars on people.”

“Never better.” Thanks to the positivity magic still making him feel warm and fuzzy, Ink was only half sarcastic. Hate and anger didn’t burn through him anymore, which was a plus. But he was still pissed that the octopus played him like one of Error’s dolls. Why him out of the three? Why wouldn’t Nightmare go after his brother when he was standing right there?

Blue joined them with blue stars in his eye sockets. His energy hammer was gone, snapped away now that there was no danger. “Mweh, that was easy! I expected them to fight harder! But are you two alright?”

Dream looked up and nodded. “For the most part, we’re good. The mission was a success, no one died, the Villain Sans Squad is gone, and the AU is safe. The one negative was that Nightmare messed with Ink’s emotions and forced him to fight me.” He turned back to Ink. “Are you okay?”

Ink snorted. “Yeah, I’m fine. You worry a lot for the ‘embodiment of positivity’. Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually who you say you are and not a hoax.”

Offended, Dream crossed their arms, stammering. “How dare you! I am not a hoax!” He stuck his tongue out. Despite his efforts, Ink laughed harder. Blue repressed a smile but gave up fast. Even Dream dropped the angry facade and smiled with his trademark giggle. They all broke down laughing, needing a bit of group positivity after the battle.

The Star Sanses were so distracted that they didn’t notice the human child flying above. One of their white feathers fell on Ink’s scarf, which is what finally made him realize they were there. They had brownish auburn hair, a baby blue sweater stripped with gray, and a pair of black goggles on their head. Their huge smile looked even larger with their closed eyes, or at least what appeared closed.

“Hey, kid!” Ink shouted up, “How’s it going?”

The human zoomed down a skeleton from the sky joined them. He had raven-colored goggles, which matched his jacket and wings pretty well. His only pop of color was an electric blue turtleneck. The two bird monsters blew up dust from the ground as they landed.

“Now that was an emu-sing battle.” Aviar winked, blowing dust from his goggles. The human’s smile faded in seconds. Aviar laughed. “Lark says thank you. We got the rest of the monsters out of danger and they insisted on watching the fight.”

“It was no problem,” Blue said through gritted teeth as his left eye socket twitched. “I’m glad you’re all safe.”

“That’s what we do. Protect you guys and make sure everything goes to your Creator’s vision. And this AU doesn’t involve skeleton killers. And if does, then oh well. You’re all screwed.” Ink shrugged. He stared at their unamused expressions. Lark signed something with their hands that he didn’t think was friendly. “What? I don’t make the rules around here.”

“Anyways,” Aviar coughed as he changed the subject, “I don’t know about your schedule, but I’m free for a while. My next guard shift doesn’t start for another two hours and I have to make up for slacking on the job. How about we go for nice cream? My treat.”

Dream blushed yellow. Ink never knew why, but he always seemed embarrassed when people offered to do things for him. “Thank you for the offer, but unless Ink and Blue-”

“Hey, I said it’s on me, don’t worry about it. I don’t do anything with my gold besides buy coconut oil. None of you are birdens, relax.”

Blue pressed the tips of his pointer fingers between his eye sockets, forcing a smile. “Sounds magnificent! But if you say another pun, that’s going to change very quickly.”

“You guys were right,” Ink said, his mouth full of Neapolitan. “Birdtale has the best nice cream.”

The Star Sanses, Aviar, and Lark sat with their legs dangling over the edge of one of the brown flight platforms. Some monsters flew around in the sky. The drop below was at least a thousand feet into an empty abyss, but Ink wasn’t scared. He could teleport with Broomie, Dream with positivity, Blue with his magic, and the birds . . . well, that’s self-explanatory. Even though Ink didn’t have lungs, he could feel the light air pressure against his bones. Lark lived up here so long their body could take it, so they were fine.

“Aviar, question.” Ink looked down into the chasm. “What’s down there? I’m guessing it’s either a river, rocks, or an abyss. Has anyone ever fallen?” Usually, Ink would know the answers to these questions since he explored the AUs and read the code so much. But sometimes the Creator didn’t make an answer, so the monsters had to figure out themselves. Even if most of the time there was nothing there. Sometimes he wondered if he could create the endings to stories himself, maybe he should try it . . .

The bird monster looked over the ledge. “No one knows. And I don’t . . . think anyone fell down. Kid, do you?”

Lark shook their head.

“Can I jump down?” Ink asked.

“No,” Aviar replied.

Ink leaned away from the edge, a bit disappointed. “Please? I’ll be fine! Trust me, I’ve been through worse.”

“Ink, no,” Blue said with a stern voice. “The last thing we need is you hurting yourself because you decided to be a reckless little shit and hurt yourself again! Look, I don't know how emotion magic works but . . ." He looked up at Dream. "Is it hard?"

He thought about it. “Speaking from experience, it depends, but usually no. The stronger a person’s will and determination are, the harder it is to control them. I don’t understand why Nightmare only waited until now to use his magic.” Dream brushed his spoon against his banana sundae, making a swirl with the ice cream and syrup. “Oh, speaking of the battle, did anyone feel as if he retreated too easily?”

Ink shrugged. “Nope. He fought hard enough to me. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll do this.” Shoving his nice cream cone in his mouth, Ink stood up and shot a bullet of paint into the sky with Broomie. The black pellet flew threw the sky until it hit the edge of the AU, sending an almost invisible ripple. It took years for Ink to get that trick right, but now he could make a protective shell around any AU until he left it. He sat back down with nice cream melting all over his chin. “Boom, shield. They can’t get in if they tried now, we’re a-okay! What gave you that idea they weren’t fighting enough?”

Dream watched the ripples go by before turning their attention back to their sundae. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. Most of the time, he puts more of an effort in. It was like he was toying with us, buying time. ”

“You’re overthinking, Dreamboat.” Dream frowned at the nickname. “You need to chill out and stop worrying about everything. Take a page out of my playbook and don’t care about anything for few hours. Yeah, that should be enough time . . .” Ink was talking to himself by that point. He was trying as hard as he could to erase the memory of Nightmare taking him over. He still heard the red vial messing with his head. Kill him! What has he done to you besides being a pest? He’ll only make things worse. I’m the right one. He’s a crybaby and makes you look bad by being around him. Kill them both.

Like sure, the team had their arguments. Dream was a serious people pleaser and wanted to protect everyone in every AU. He was a complete sucker for the ‘happily ever after’ that Ink didn’t understand, angst and suffering was more fun. He didn’t see why saving people was so important. The worlds were unique and magical and one of a kind. Meanwhile, the monsters were all copied and pasted with different clothes. There were millions of worlds with billions of monsters, so a few deaths won’t affect anything. But noooooo, Dream wanted to save everyone. Blue tended to side with him and that didn’t help anything.

But at the end of the day, they were teammates and friends with a common goal: To protect the Doodlesphere.

Moments like this were one of the reasons he was glad to have the worst memory in the Doodlesphere. He once forgot his name for an entire day and Fresh still jokes about it. He’d forget he ever got mind-controlled by the end of the week. At least he hoped he did. He didn’t count on it. Especially after trying to forget his weird nightmares and . . . everything else weird going on.

For the last few months, Ink felt like he was being watched. Well, people were always staring at him, but this felt different. He’d get a sick feeling of dread in his nonexistent stomach out of nowhere. Some of his stuff went missing. At first, they weren’t huge things— colored pencils, paint, drawings— but it freaked him out. Then he lost more personal things. Clothes, entire sketchbooks, battle strategies, and worst of all, his homemade flute. He didn’t even have a backup flute! Why would anyone even steal a flute? And then there was the cold feeling he woke up to some mornings. It made him feel miserable and worthless, but only when he stayed in the room. Ink tried to blame the missing stuff on his memory, even though the cold didn’t make sense. He didn’t tell Dream or Blue yet, but he planned to if he lost anything else.

Blue licked his pina colada-flavored nice cream. “So how do we keep Nightmare from coming back here?”

Ink crossed his legs over each other in his pondering position. “Why don’t we . . . I don’t know, set up a trap back? Ooh! I got an idea! How about we make a giant spider web made out of paint or something, then we put in an AU they’ll attack-”

Blue stared at him as if he were insane. “Absolutely not! Remember the last time we tried something like that?”

“For the last time, it wasn’t my fault that apartment got set on fire!” Ink crossed his arms in a pout.

“Yes, it was.” Dream and Blue said at the same time.

Lark opened their mouth and raised a finger, but put it back down and closed it.

The group talked about whatever came to mind. Ink lost track of the time, though it was probably an hour. He spent most of that time laughing at the others’ jokes (and his own for that matter). Sometimes he got distracted and forgot what they were saying.

The wind grew stronger and the temperature dropped. Ink’s bones tingled like he got a nervous stomachache, but he wasn’t scared. On the other side, Lark’s face paled. He could recognize the feeling from anywhere.

A child who looked about nine stood behind them. They had gray skin and shadow gray hair cut into a choppy bob. To continue with the gray color scheme, they wore a gray-striped sweater with shorts. Instead of eyes, they had empty black voids. They weren’t black and soulless-looking twenty-four-seven. Ink has seen Core Frisk’s eye sockets glitter entire galaxies when they used their magic.

“Core! You almost gave me a nonexistent heart attack!” Ink dramatically clutched his chest.

Lark put their thumb under their chin and circled their index finger in the air. Their eyebrows raised.

Aviar translated. “Who are you?”

“No one important.” Core winked their empty, mischief-filled eye. “I came for Dream. I need your help with an AU I found, but if you’re busy-”

“Oh, no worries.” Dream ate the last of his nice cream cone and stood up. “Thank you for everything, you two. Core, what’s the problem? Please don’t tell me it’s another Code Purple.”

Ink groaned when he brought it up. There have been so many of these things lately! AUs corrupting with negative energy and turning black, purple, and misty. It didn’t affect the story much, besides getting darker in tone, but it was the inhabitants that suffered. A black goop spread across the AU and turned the monsters into negative hateful zombies. Did they have a cure for it? Not yet, but Dream’s working on it.

Core’s face turned grim. “I’m telling you it’s another Core purple. There may be some souls still alive and I want to help rescue them, but I can’t find them under the sludge, so I was hoping . . .

“I understand.” Dream shared their expression.

Core opened up the portal they came through. Their’s was glitchy, white, and purple portal opening to a dark forest. They looked behind themself at the artist. “And Ink, your face is covered in nice cream.”

Ink touched his cheekbone and it came back white, brown, and pink. Being the mature individual he was, he licked it off his fingers with his rainbow tongue. Then he licked the rest off his face. Once he finished, he sighed and brushed off his hands. “Well, I guess I should be going too. See you around, bird brains!”

Blue blinked shocked at the “Ink, aren’t you forgetting something?”

The artist squinted his eye sockets, trying to figure out what he had forgotten. “Say thank you?”

Blue facepalmed. “That, and I can’t make portals! Are you just going to leave me here?”

“Oh, right!” Ink laughed as he swirled Broomie in the air and made a portal to the Omega Timeline. “Thanks for the nice cream, Aviar!”

“No problem.” He waved lazily. “Hope you have an im-peck-able day.

Ink could hear Blue screaming in his head. He snorted and grabbed his arm before covering them both in black paint, sinking them into the ground. Even though he didn’t mean to, he teleported up too high and they both crashed onto the ground. Their two-story clubhouse stood in front of them, made of light brown wood and had a mix of things from each of them. Blue put a pirate flag and blue streamers around it. Dream lined the front, sides, and balcony with flowers and sun banners. And Ink splattered buckets of rainbow paint around it.

“Ow!” Blue cried out when he hit the ground.

“Oops, my bad.” The artist brushed the dirt off his pants, laughing. Blue didn’t share his sense of humor. Ink held out his hand and helped him up. Blue was a person who didn’t stay angry for long though, so he took it.

Ink waved goodbye to Blue before jumping into the ink puddle. He fell into his personal doodle AU workshop. This world didn’t have an ounce of white. Instead it was beige with rainbow splatters all over the walls and floors. Ink had some . . . not so great experiences with empty white spaces. His first-ever memory was waking up alone, afraid, and with no clue where he came from or who he was. That was at least three hundred years ago, but the nightmares still haunted him.

He glanced over at the pile of stapled papers under a swirling white portal. They appeared out of magic all on their own, the new AU ideas. Each packet was full of story, art, and notes.

Ink plopped down on his beanbag, an idea he may or may not have stolen from a certain Windows Vista. He sifted through the new AU ideas with an excited smile plastered across his face. The Creators were getting crazy creative lately and Ink loved it! Some of the ideas were pretty violent, but he thought the angst potential would be fun. He didn’t accept an AU idea if it looked boring or was an exact copy of another, but there was only one in this pile. But he didn’t throw them away, he changed things up as he wanted until it was original. The rest were new and fun. As long as he wasn’t involved or getting hurt, Ink was up for a dark story.

As he was preparing to make the brand new worlds, the smell of bubblegum filled the air. Ink lowered the pencil in his mouth, knowing what was coming. He braced himself for the sparkles and rainbow explosion. “‘Eyo, brotato chip!”

Fresh appeared from an explosion of colorful confetti and a rubber duck squeak. He was one of the tallest Sanses, almost a foot taller than Ink, and years or even centuries older. The reason? Something, something, parasite body mutation. His outfit screamed 90’s. A bright blue and purple jacket, neon green shorts, and multicolor heelys. A red fanny pack hung around his waist with the word SWAG in giant white letters. He had a backward multicolor baseball cap with a blue propeller. But his most iconic thing his sunglasses, which changed depending on his thoughts. They defaulted to YOLO in yellow and teal letters.

Ink was so shocked he vomited a pile of ink, which was common for him. Heh, Ink vomited ink . . . where was he? Oh right, Fresh.

Ink took the pencil out of his mouth and set it in his sash instead. “So what brings you to my corner of the Doodlesphere?”

The parasite grinned. “I wanted to let ya know that Cross is havin’ a get-together because of some surprise dat he’s not sharing. We’re all gonin’ ice skatin’ and it’s going to be totally rad! Do you wanna join!”

Ink’s left eye socket turned into a question mark. “Wait, does Cross want me there?”

“Probs not! But I bet it’ll be fine!” His smile didn’t waver at all, not a single speck of empathy or regret in those eye lights. As cool as he was, Fresh was emotionless like he was. Ink tried to convince him to drink paint but it . . . didn’t go so well. Short version is that Fresh shoved it down his throat instead, then he possessed his body and beat up Error. So an average Tuesday.

Ink wasn’t the type to turn down an invite. He wasn’t even the type to turn down something he wasn’t invited to. “Sure! I’m in! It’ll surprise Cross! Maybe we can even make amends for . . . you know what.”

“Yah, I know what ya did. He’s ranted about it once or twice.” Fresh glanced over to the stack of AU’s and picked one of them up, flipping it around to see it better.

Ink it them out of his hands, catching one that flew out of the pile. He tried to look angry, but he found it funny so his mouth twitched. “Don’t mess with these! They’re important. Unless . . . do you want to help me with making these? You’ll just need to like hold them and I’ll make them. I’ve never done it with someone else before, so it could be something new . . . ?”

Fresh cocked his head as he thought about it. He was almost always smiling, which Ink would’ve found creepy if he hadn’t seen worse. Most Sanses were always smiling anyway, at least the less powerful ones.

Eventually, his glasses shifted to SURE! “Alright, brah! Hand me da AUs and I’ll fire them to ya!”

Ink picked up the stack of papers and dropped them in his arms, making sure they were all straight and even. He snapped his fingers and covered them both in black paint. Ink was double careful this time, teleporting them to a better height and landing in an empty space. The Doodlesphere was a giant gradient, yellow at the top and white at the bottom, and filled with islands. Most of them were portals with decorations for their corresponding AU, but some were empty, like where they stood. When Ink created them, the AUs would drift toward where they would fit the most. The Fell AUs were all in one area, the Swap AUs in another, etc, etc. It was his favorite thing to watch.

The two stood straight apart from each other. Ink’s scarf and Fresh’s pinwheel hat blew in the wind. Ink could never figure out where the gravity and wind came from. Magic? That was the only explanation. Number one rule of the Doodlesphere: Nothing makes sense and you would drive yourself insane trying to make it make sense.

Ink held his paintbrush and aimed it in the distance, making little ‘pew pew’ noises. Then he swung it in a circle, calling to Fresh. “Whenever you’re ready!”

Fresh’s look turned more malicious as he tossed him the first paper. Ink smacked it with Broomie’s and it went soaring.

The paper stretched into an island with rocky ground. Skulls built up around the stone archway of a portal. A ball of light glowed in the center before turning into a swirling portal. It drifted through the yellow void before landing in its proper spot.

Ink took a deep breath when he finished up. Each AU drained a bit of his power, hence why he slept about fourteen hours a night with several naps, but it was worth it. Creating new worlds to explore was the best thing ever and he never wanted to stop!

Fresh took a second sheet and balled it up like a baseball before throwing it at him. Ink knew he wasn’t supposed to do that, but Ink did it too, just because it was fun, so he let it slide. He hummed a number with each one he hit. He had a huge grin on his face.

Fresh smirked, his glasses changing to IT’S ON. He teleported around Ink in balls of confetti and sparkles. He didn’t have a pattern, so he had to go by sound alone. At least the rubber duck squeaks weren’t sneaky at all. By some miracle, he hadn’t died in battle from being so colorful and noisy. To be fair, the same thing could be said about himself; Ink was very noisy on his own.

Eventually, all the AUs were gone and his job was done. Stumbling, Ink put his paintbrush away. Exhausted from doing so many at once and still worn out from earlier, he panted. But he was too excited to rest. Creating the AUs was only the second-best part of the process. The first was being able to explore them, their lore, and all the characters built. He had so many to choose from this time! He glanced over at Fresh with a smile. He turned around and held his arms out so it looked like he was holding some of the AUs. “Pick a world, any world!”

Fresh crossed his arms as his glasses changed to HMMM. His finger hovered between AUs until landing on the one with rainbow colors. Skulls were covered with some kind of rainbow goop that dripped down the sides. “Dat one.”

Ink waved his hand and put Broomie behind his back. He held his hands out to make a square and took in a rough idea of what it would look like. The black box appeared with a list of code. Ink learned to decipher it over time. The plot of this AU bubbly children’s show with a darker, more malicious element underneath. It was cliche, but there were so many ways it could go it sounded fun anyway. A fizzy feeling shivered through his bones and he bounced on his feet. He beamed and held his hand out to Fresh. “Undertop it is! Are you ready for this, it’ll be fun, but it might get a little bloody . . .”

“Dat’ll be no prob-blemo.” Fresh snapped his fingers and summoned his baseball bat. It had a sticker that said VIBE CHECK in bright red letters.

Nodding at his words, Ink shrugged and teleported up. He readied his paintbrush and jumped in for a quick new adventure with Fresh.

Chapter Text

Nightmare never cared for the Anti-void.

The hidden barrier between worlds was nothing but an endless abyss of white. It was almost impossible to find it unless you knew it existed. Even if you did find it, there was a slim chance you could ever escape. Time didn’t exist, nor did hunger or sleepiness. Not even the wind was audible, if there was any at all. There were no emotions to feed from, positive or negative, so it served no use to Nightmare. Rumor has it that if you overstay your welcome, you could lose your mind, memories, and sanity before glitching into a husk of your former self. Nightmare only knew one victim of the void’s game.

He could’ve been walking for minutes or hours before spotting the first change in scenery. A blue bean bag covered in patches of fabric, an excessive pile of chocolate bars, and blue strings. They dangled from the sky with no clear source, seeming like they stretched forever. Some suspended alone while others held bound souls and homemade Sans dolls. He could have sworn he heard a faint screaming from the multicolored hearts.

One of the dolls swayed and hit the side of his face. Nightmare scowled and moved it aside, though he couldn’t help but look at it. The stuffed skeleton looked like a palm-sized version of Blue. Gray shirt, silver shoulder pads, and a blue scarf and boots. Its mouth was stitched into a wide smile, uncanny against the black button eyes. Besides that, it was a perfect replica of Blue. Nightmare slipped his fingers between its torso and played with its soft arms. He almost laughed. It was so cute, so helpless, so easy to control . . .

“And what do you think you’re doing?” A voice echoed as the Blue doll zipped into the air.

Nightmare looked up at the monster who was now holding and examining the plush. Nothing about Error matched in the way it should. His skull and hands were black though his limbs and fingers were red. Both his black shorts and jacket had one sleeve too short. The blue stripes below his eye sockets were the source of the Anti-void’s decorations. One of his eye lights was yellow, white, and blue while the other was pure white, all against red eye sockets. The destroyer stared down at him from a handmade swing.

“Playing,” Nightmare said. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. Can’t I come in for a visit?” His fingertips touched his sternum with a scoff. “I thought we were friends. I’m hurt.”

Error’s glitched cackle changed pitch and octave. “Friends? Ha! Don’t play dumb with me, octopus. I can think of many words to describe your sorry ass, but dumb isn’t one of them. Tell me what you want so you can get out of my face.”

Nightmare rolled his eye light. “Fine. I need you to provide some information.” He pulled the journal out of his jacket pocket, shaking off the drops of. malice stuck to it. “I have a plan to help take down Ink, to use him to destroy Dream’s soul. We would both benefit from this. I would be invincible and nothing would stand in the way of your multiversal destruction.”

Now he had his attention. Error lowered his swing so they were at eye level. His skull cocked to the side. “Go on.”

“I believe his paints are the key to winning this war.” Nightmare flipped the pages until he reached his vial notes. Error looked over at the other pages with curiosity. Nightmare smirked. “As I said, my plan was to use his hatred and anger against Dream. Keep him from protecting the AUs that give Dream power. I have watched Ink’s usage and gathered the negative and positive effects of every vial. Being that they are artificial, I wasn’t certain if they were even possible to manipulate. Not long ago, I put my research to the test and found I could manipulate his ‘emotions’ with enough effort.”

“However, his defiance is more potent than I expected. It’d be near impossible to get him to obey by persuasion, so I have a backup plan. The one vial I haven’t seen him use is the pink one. But, through the power of deductive reasoning, I assume that vial is love. So the idea is: I will force Ink to drink the pink vial, make him obsess over me, turn him into a weapon, and make him kill Dream. Dream couldn’t fight back. If he values the lives of random civilians over himself, well, he will never be able to harm his own friends. Once he’s dead, I’ll dispose of Ink and take over the Doodlesphere. Now, I need you to give me as much information about the pink vial as possible. I don’t want to draw this plan out any longer.”

Error took a moment to process his words, kicking his swing back into action. It stopped as soon as it started. He blinked faster and looked away from Nightmare. “Are you saying . . . oh hell no! I’m not helping you with this! Look, I hate Ink as much as the next guy, but I still need him. There’s this itsy bitty little thing called the Multiversal Balance-”

“Of course I know about the balance-”

“I’M NOT DONE!” Error cut him off. “If you do it, my creation-destruction balance with Ink is going to get messed up and there will be problems. The voices get worse and I can’t get a break. It’s my destiny to destroy Ink and you got your banana-colored brother of yours. It’s not worth it. And I know how you work, anomaly four hundred forty-four. You fuck up everyone else’s lives to improve your own. If you want to do this so badly, let me do it.”

“I refuse to change my plan unless I find a better solution and that’s final.” The back of Nightmare’s mind itched; his patience was running its limit.

“Then I’m not telling you anything.” The destroyer snapped his fingers and a portal appeared in front of Nightmare. “There, now get out of my Anti-void and don’t come back.”

Nightmare stood with a blank expression. Sighing in defeat, he turned around and walked towards the portal. Error started to raise his swing when a tendril shot and pulled his arms above his head, snapping it into two. His eyes glitched over as he screamed and struggled in the restraints. The touch was horrid enough, but the slick, cold, wet feeling of his tendrils . . .

Nightmare scoffed. Haphephobia is one of the easiest fears to exploit.

“Would you like to know a fact about me?” Nightmare dragged Error towards him. He cried out and more glitches appeared above his head, kicking and thrashing to escape. Nightmare forced his chin up to look at him. “I never take no for an answer. I never have, never will. And you said it yourself, I thought you were a trusted friend. Why can’t you help me with this one little thing? If you don’t, well . . . " He ran a hand down his skull as if he were nothing more than an adrenaline-filled puppy. Error whimpered at the touch. “We’ll be here a while, and I’m sure neither of us want that.”

Tears welled and dripped down Error’s face; his eye sockets filled with ERROR signs, hiding the red. Nightmare was careful to make sure he wouldn’t go into a crash. He would have to wait at least twenty minutes for him to start up and they would have to start all over again. Error’s voice was near impossible to understand with all the glitching. “I-fine! I’ll tell you everything you want! Whatever! I’ll help! Stop touching me!”

The Lord of Negativity had to admit, his begging was adorable. Oh, he couldn’t wait until Ink was begging at his feet. “Ah, ah, ah, what’s the magic word?”

“Please! Please stop touching me!”

“Now that wasn’t so hard,” Nightmare said. Error panted and massaged his wrists, humiliated. Nightmare tapped his heel on the white floor. “Go on, speak.”

He wiped away his remaining tears, standing up and regaining his composure. He scowled at Nightmare. “Fine, you’re right about the pink vial being love. Ink doesn’t use it because he thinks it’s pointless. The only time I’ve seen him use it was for a dare, and I saw it by accident. I was ready to destroy an AU when He drank it when the other Star Shits asked him about it. That idiot can’t resist a challenge, so he did. Then he couldn’t take his eyes off your brother. I walked in on him pinning on Dream and hitting on him with terrible flirts. Ink wouldn’t back off until Dream knocked him unconscious. Blue told me he hit on him too.”

Nightmare tried to imagine this, holding back a chuckle. He could believe Ink was a poor flirt. Of course, Dream’s emotions was the highlight, but the rest was amusing too. He was sure he could break that out of him.

Error continued. “And Blue told me some other things about the vial. Ink falls in love with whoever is close by and tries to make them fall for him. He’s dangerous. But if you want him to focus on no one but you, slip some red paint in there. It would make him angry but also crazy obsessed. I only know that because I’ve seen him drink the red vial alone and . . . you know what, forget it. The point is he might even kill if you ask him to.” Error’s white eye light glitched. “Taking advantage of his love is the easy part. He will see you as his whole world and get pissed if anyone else has you. There are like twenty things that can go wrong with that, but the big one is getting the vial dosage right. I don’t even know if that’s going to work. I’m just going off what Blue said and what I know.”

Nightmare smiled. “In case you forgot, I am the boss of three murderers with their own struggles and eternal bloodlust. A little clinginess will not bother me.”

Error’s laugh was as dry as the void. “Alright then, let’s see how long before you can’t stand him. I’ll be generous and give you a month. If you get sick of him in a month, you owe me a chocolate bar. And it has to be milk chocolate this time, none of the bitter dark stuff. I don’t get how you like it.”

Nightmare huffed at the destroyer’s childish request. He supposed it was fitting in a way, if he was going to break Ink like a chocolate bar. “Very well. Thank you for your advice, Error. I will be on my way.”

Error watched him leave through the same portal he came through, black, blue, and with a rotten apple aura. He looked to his side at one of his puppets that floated down to his shoulder. The one of Underfell Sans. Its black button eyes matched its fluffy coat as it stared into the distance, past Error. The puppet moved its arms thanks to the blue strings holding it up, speaking without saying a word.

Error rested his face on his hand as he listened. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing with you, anomaly thirteen, but there is no way this can end well.”

When the moon rose at midnight, Nightmare formed a portal into the Omega Timeline. being careful to keep his aura to a minimum. He’s broken into the Star Sanses base on several occasions, but Dream’s positivity shield still stung him. His golden twin was unaware of his ‘visits’, given that he hadn’t confronted him about them. No matter. Nightmare wasn’t here for Dream anyway.

Why didn’t he kill his brother here and now? Several reasons. One, Dream was the source of the shield’s energy. His aura increased the closer he was to him, and being that close would feel like hundreds of bee stings. Two, if the first step happened, Dream would wake up and alert the others. Three, it’s far more entertaining. What’s the fun of murdering your sworn enemy if they’re unconscious and unable to scream?

Nightmare turned into a puddle and crawled up the wall of the Star Sanses’ clubhouse. He slipped through the crack of Ink’s window. Immediately, the stinging reduced to a mild annoyance. Nightmare glanced over at the artist’s sleeping form. He thrashed, wailed, and repeated, “What do you mean? What are you talking about? Come back! Don’t leave me alone!”

Of course, he was in the middle of another nightmare, not aware of Nightmare’s presence. Ink’s negative dreams were the only thing that allowed him to enter, but the most he’s done is gasp and snore. If he kept this wretched act up, he’d wake, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

He set a glowing palm on the artist’s foreskull, muttering under his breath. “Shh, don’t wake up. It’s just a bad dream. Sleep.”

Ink went quiet and still as the magic settled in; an aura of blue magic glowed and faded around his skull. The only signs he suffered were his scrunched eye sockets and waves of negative energy. He looked better like this. Nightmare lay his paint-stained blankets back over him with two of his tendrils. Now that Ink was out of the way, he could finish the job.

Nightmare looked around the bedroom. The room was done in shades of brown, dark brown walls with the west one being lighter. His wardrobe at the end of the bed might have once been white, but paint covered so much of it that it was difficult to tell. A white shelf opposing the bed overflowed with art supplies. Paints, pencils, brushes, and assorted fabrics. The west wall of his paint-stained door was covered with photographs and hooks. Around half of them held items.

The dark king picked up one of the photos, a group shot. Dream waved on the left, Blue flashed a peace sign on the right, and Ink held the camera in the middle. They all wore ridiculous smiles; Blue had his tongue stuck out. Nightmare scoffed at the picture, but it wasn’t what caught his attention, it was the hook under it. It held Ink’s sash of paints. Nightmare picked it up and held it with both hands. The vials lay in rainbow order with pencils strapped to the top of it.

Following Error’s advice, Nightmare took out the red and pink vials and a bottle with a cork from his pocket. He started with pink, pouring enough to fill around three-quarters of the bottle. He filled the last fourth of it with red. Swirling it around with his finger, the drink created an aroma of acrylic paint, roses, and apples. Nightmare prepared himself to go, but then he stared at the rest of the vials. Hm, if he was going to force Ink to hand them over tomorrow . . . why not do it now? He took the sash off the hook and placed it over his waistcoat.

He closed the bottle and exchanged it for a black envelope he had written as soon as he left Error. He tucked it beside Ink’s lamp next to a yellow paint splatter. How much paint could one person stain their furniture with? No matter. Just for fun, Nightmare’s malice churned until a gorgeous rose appeared in his hand. A dark black flower with a blue outline, the same color as around Ink’s skull, and thorns sharp enough to draw blood. He laid it next to the letter.

Due to his magic, Ink looked more relaxed; he even had a half-smile. It was Nightmare’s cue to leave, he had claimed what he came for. With a final glance at his unconscious victim, the Lord of Negativity melted into the shadows.

Chapter Text

As the Protector of the Doodlesphere and the Guardian of Creativity, Ink has seen some very, very weird things. So it was no surprise that said things would give him weird dreams. But this one? It was at least in the top ten.

It started with Ink floating in the middle of the Doodlesphere. It was in the same condition as he remembered it being earlier that day with him and Fresh. But something was still . . . off. The yellow void looked more purple than usual, or at least darker. He looked around the place and his AU-senses tingled. A lot of them were missing. A lot of positive AUs. They were either destroyed or corrupted by a Code Purple, the latter was the majority.

Ink wasn’t sure what else drew him to the Omega Timeline, but he had the urge to go there. It might’ve had something to do with the cold come tingling feeling the light gave him. Something told him the people needed him there the most. He opened the portal with his hand, like tearing open a paper bag, and leaped in.

The first thing that jumped out to him was the air. Sure, the Omega Timeline was a void with decorations and there wasn’t a natural sun/moon cycle. But that didn’t explain why it was so dark and cloudy; it was never like this without a reason. Ink could tell it was daytime, but there was almost no light. Even the buildings, which were usually somewhat bright and friendly were all dark. Gray banners dangled from the streetlamps with a teal apple in the middle of them. And then there was the biggest question on his mind. Where was everyone? The streets were empty with almost no lit lights. It looked like a ghost town. Ink shuddered. He never liked being alone, he always preferred the big busy AUs.

Ink looked around the town in confusion until a massive statue in the town square caught his eye. He knew the Omega Timeline pretty well since he lived there for centuries, but he’d never seen this before. He also never saw vandalism, at least not in this part of the Omega. And it didn’t even look good. It was a giant rock with two people on it, two skeletons. They were both in fighting positions. The one in the front held a bow the one on the right held a giant hammer. It was hard to tell their expressions because of all the spray paint and dirt covering them. Ink walked around the statue. He didn’t understand why there were three clear spaces, but only two statues.

Why was he missing?

And why did Dream and Blue look like they were in pain?

Ink walked up to the sculpture’s memorial plate and squinted. He read the words out loud. They were easier to read than usual, probably because this was a dream. There was no way he could read the little handwriting with vandalism on it. “‘A long time ago, there were three skeleton monsters named the Star Sanses. The leader of the group was Dream Joku, the former Guardian of Positivity. The other member was a boy named Blue Pop-Prince. Nobody knows the name of’- huh?” Ink’s mouth hung open, unable to believe what he was reading. “Oh come on, you remember Blue but forget me? Why am I the forgotten one?”

“It’s tragic, isn’t it?” Ink turned around to the voice on his left. He was familiar, but he couldn’t place his finger on him. He was a skeleton covering almost his entire body in a fancy silver cloak with a fur hood. Underneath that, he wore a circlet of black thorns and had an eyepatch. It wasn’t one of the kinds with a strap, but it fit on his eye socket. His yellow eye light was dull and tired, like sleep was a foreign concept. He had a weird crescent moon mark on his cheek too.

“Why would you do- wait a minute.” The accent finally registered in Ink’s head. “Dream? Geez, you look like you’re going through your emo phase. What’s with all the darkness?”

Dream scowled, which was not an expression Ink was used to seeing on him. He dropped the frown and sighed. “You already know, Living Dollface. This was all your fault anyway.”

Ink was less offended and more weirded out and confused. He didn’t know what he was talking about. “Living Dollface? That wasn’t even clever. So, now you’re emo and a jerk-”

Dream grabbed his shoulder, digging his nails deep into his bones. He forced him to look at his reflection in the water trench surrounding the statue. Ink didn’t notice until now, but he wore a pink and white lacey dress, ballet slippers, and a pink bow stuck to his skull. His face also felt strange, like he had something on it. Makeup, not much, but enough to make him look cutesy.

“What the . . .” Ink touched his cheekbone with a white lace glove. “What the heck? Did you do this? Did you do something to Blue too?”

“I didn’t do anything, you did.” Dream rolled his eye lights and scowled. “And if you want to know where Blue is, he’s gone. Not dead, but somewhere else. I don’t care and I don’t want anything to do with him anymore.”

Ink gave Dream a concerned look, more baffled than ever. “But . . . you two are best friends! You like each other even more than you two like me. Why do you hate us so much?”

“Because if it wasn’t for you and your stupidity, none of this would’ve happened!” There was a bite of sadness behind his angry words. You should have talked to me. You should have tried harder to escape. You should have cared about your friends for once in your soulless life. Everyone would still be okay, I would be okay if you did. Stars damn it, why did you have to be so selfish? You’re not even the real Ink! You’re a cheap, broken, helpless copy of him.”

Before Ink could ask for clarity, Dream grabbed his shoulders and shoved him to the ground. Ink couldn’t move. His nightmare finally decided he use up his moving privileges. Dream stared him down and Ink thought he spotted blue swirls in his eye lights. but he blinked and they were gone. Dream held one of their hands out and summoned one of their arrows, but it was steel blue instead of cyan.

Ink gasped and found his voice. “Okay, okay, put the arrow down and I can explain. I don’t know what you’re on about, but I am Ink. Come on, you out of all people know me-”

Dream covered his mouth with his glove. “I used to know you, but I don’t anymore. I don’t care what Nightmare does to me, you deserve this. I want you to know how it felt when you turned your back and took away everything good in our lives!”

Dream gritted his teeth and Ink’s eye sockets widened. He couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. Ink couldn’t speak through the glove as Dream raised an arrow above his head. “And just so you know, it’s your own fault no one remembers your name!” He stabbed the arrow through his skull and everything went dark.

Ink’s eye sockets shot open, for real this time. He was still in his rainbow polka-dot pajamas, thank the stars. He felt pretty well rested despite his weird nightmares. He should’ve felt afraid since a guardian’s dreams can be visions of the future, but Ink doubted that was the case. He’s had plenty of strange dreams and only four have been future visions. The morning sunlight and brisk air burned through the window and onto his face. He forgot to close the window and curtains again. Fun. The only reason he had them in the first place was because Blue insisted.

Ink yawned and stretched, reaching for his nightstand for his water glass. But instead of the drink he expected, he touched something sharp, leaving a tiny scratch on his finger. That was enough to wake him up. He blinked at a black rose and an envelope on his nightstand. Was he still dreaming? He rubbed his eye sockets to check if they were some messed-up hallucination. Nope, still there.

The artist picked up the letter first. Someone scrawled his name in cursive, semi-reflective teal letters. It looked like Dream’s handwriting, but even . . . older. Without caring about the actual seal, he tore the middle open and read:

Dear Ink,

Apologies for breaking in, I’m afraid I had no other way to deliver this without Dream’s interference. I’ve been watching you for a very, very long time now, and I’m done hiding in the shadows. Take it as a compliment, few monsters interest me as you do. So I want us to spend some time alone. I made reservations at that little restaurant on the outskirts of Outertale for 7:00 p.m. I know you know the one. I’ll be expecting you.

Oh, as a favor for both of us, don’t say a word about this to the others, especially not Dream. It’d be a shame if something were to happen to them. But of course, that would never happen . . .

Sincerely yours, Nightmare A. Joku.

Ink read the letter two times, three times, and an attempted fourth. Half because the letters kept swimming on the page and half because he couldn’t believe what he was reading. Stupid dyslexia and stupid curvy handwriting! But when he thought about it, it could have been trying to protect him this time. Ink vomited a puddle of paint on the floor. He didn’t know where to start unpacking the letter. What did Nightmare want from him? Wouldn’t he be after Dream? How did he break in? Was he asking him for a date? The artist snorted at the last one. Okay, that was a stupid idea.

Two knocks hit his door and got his attention. “Ink, are you awake?”

Ink panicked and dropped the gifts. The rose’s thorns slit his hands in several places and he had to bite his tongue so he didn’t curse. He quickly shoved the gifts under his bed, not caring that the rose glowed. As he pulled his blankets over the paint puddle and popped back up, his door clicked open.

Dream peeked inside with concerned eye lights. He saw him and his tension left his bones with a sigh. “Phew, you are. Sorry for worrying, you slept in longer than usual and it feels very negative in here.” The guardian nodded towards the right corner of his room. “Especially right there. Do you feel okay? Sick? Did you have a nightmare?” He touched Ink’s forehead, searching for a fever.

Ink chuckled as Dream patted his face. “Dream, Dream, Dreamboat, I’m fine. All it was a weird nightmare where you were acting like your brother.” He prayed to the Creators Dream wouldn’t sense his nervousness and forced smile. He kept glancing between him and the rose under his bed. He hid his bleeding hands behind his back.

“That’s . . . a very interesting dream, it could explain the negativity. I’m sorry if dream-me hurt you.” Dream removed their hand from Ink’s face and smiled at him. “Well, you don’t have a fever, that’s good. Do you still want to come with us to the ice rink? I hope you and Cross will get along well.” Dream blushed and smiled at the thought of his boyfriend. Now that Ink thought about it, they haven’t been able to see each other for a while. Dream with the Code Purples and Cross with his guard training. He was trying to apply for the Omega Guard.

Ink snorted. “Well, duh! It’s all I’ve been thinking about since yesterday and a weird night isn’t going to stop that. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Dream smiled. “Okay! If Blue is on track, we can leave in an hour. See you then!” He turned around and shut the door.

Ink sighed in relief and didn’t waste any time getting dressed. He put on a white turtleneck and black sweatpants. Then a brown jacket with his trademark brown scarf. He also wore black gloves in case anyone asked about his hands. He didn’t have bandages in his room and he had way too much pride to ask for any or risk getting caught. Dream might’ve not interrogated him now, but if he saw blood and sudden bandages he would have questions. Ink didn’t want him to worry, get the wrong impression, or find out about everything going on with Nightmare. He didn’t want him to get hurt.

When he went to put his sash on, he couldn’t find it. It wasn’t on the hook where he left it. Ink looked all over his room, checking his closets and the other hooks. He never misplaced his sash, at least not more than four times a month, so where was it? Maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal if he didn’t take them for one day. He drank a lot of paint yesterday, and it would last for about a week, so he would be fine.

Ink shrugged and took a deep breath, laughing to himself. He’d worry about it later. It wouldn’t affect him later. “Alright, ice rink here I come!”

Ink drew a note-sketch on his scarf to paint the frozen lake later. It would’ve made a great painting.

The lake glittered a beautiful shade of blue with white steaks jagged through it. Snow-covered pine trees surrounded the arena. Some snow still fell from the trees in white clumps. In the back was a wood cabin with smoke coming from a red brick chimney. Ink could smell the hot chocolate from here, although that was all in his head.

Cross, Epic, and Fresh raced around the edge of the frozen water. Fresh’s lime green scarf blew in the wind and contrasted with his purple pom-pom hat and colorful jacket. He was in the lead. That is, until Epic decided to play dirty and shoved him into one of the bordering snow piles. Fresh spun out and fell on his back.

Fresh coughed the icy powder out of his mouth. “Unrad yo! Ya breaking da rules! And we only had one!”

“Nope! Every man for himself, bruh!” Epic taunted, skating backward. His purple jacket was half-covered in snow.

Dream covered his mouth with his hands to suppress his laughter. Ink didn’t hold back at all.

Cross skated over to the Star Sanses. He wore a cropped white jacket, a black turtleneck, and a black scarf. His red lightning bolt scar stood out against all the white and cool colors. He held Dream’s hand and smiled at him, caressing his blushing cheekbone with the other. “Hey, Dream! Glad you could bring Blue! . . . and Ink.”

The royal guard’s expression hardened when he said his name. Ink shrugged. He was shocked Cross was still mad at him, even two years later. Sure, he only befriended him to watch him for X-Gaster then ditched him when he needed him most. But that was a long time ago! He wondered why he was still bitter.

“Glad to see you too . . .” Ink said, matching Cross’s glare. He wasn’t going to let Cross feel better than him.

Dream looked between the two and cleared their throat, adjusting their yellow mittens. “Well . . . let’s have a good time, okay? Blue, are you ready?”

The three of them turned to Blue sitting on the bench, tying the laces on his skates. He snapped the last one on and stood up, his blue scarf flowing behind him. He gave them a thumbs-up and winked. Cross half-smiled at Blue and he offered his hand to Dream. “Yeah, let’s have a good time. Come on, flower.”

The Star Sanses slid onto the rink with the others. Blue slipped his skates on and almost immediately fell, but he bounced up as quickly. After that incident, he got the hang of it and matched Fresh’s level. Dream and Cross skated together, holding each other’s hand and talking as they did. Ink would be lying to say he wasn’t tempted to skid his blades and splatter them with snow, but he held back from doing it. It was cuter to watch one of them lose their balance and get steadied by the other.

Meanwhile, Ink wanted to show off and did the most complicated tricks he could think of. The Quadruple Jump, The Third Axel, and other spinning and jumping stunts. He even came up with some of his own. As the Guardian of Creativity, was a pro in anything imagination. Except for writing since he had problems with spelling and reading. Everyone rolled their eyelids at him at least once, but Ink didn’t care. He was having a blast.

He almost forgot about the letter and the monster expecting him tonight.

Chapter Text

Nightmare adjusted his shirt collar in the master bathroom's mirror. He wore a gray dress shirt with bishop sleeves, a black suit jacket on his shoulders, and a black cravat. He usually only dressed up this much for business meetings or the few times he’s been to masquerade balls. A date couldn’t have been that different.

Yes, he was five hundred and seven years old and had never been on a date. He’s never had a reason to. Romance was never a focus in his life, not now and likely not ever. He was more focused on taking over the multiverse and spreading negativity. Killer was relentless with the jokes when he found out. Nightmare was inches away from wrapping him in his tendrils and throwing him out the window.

As he was about to grab his pocket watch, he touched a woven bookmark. It was made of dark black fabric with a white X near the top. The string’s knot and two beads kept it from falling, one teal and one purple. A birthday gift from Cross. Along with his childhood crown, Nightmare didn’t know why he kept the damn thing. Nostagila most likely, even if he didn't want to admit it.

If there was one person he hated worse than Dream, it was Cross. He betrayed him not once, but twice. The first was treason, and the second was falling for the enemy. In a way, he did them both on the same day, three years ago.

Nightmare took the guard in after he murdered his entire AU. He only found out due to Cross venting to him about it. It was an accident, he didn't mean to kill everyone he loved, people betrayed him over and over. He became stuck in the Anti-void, helpless and afraid of losing himself further. He was a fascinating soul, filled with regret and hatred. Cross needed to find a new purpose and Nightmare fancied a new team member. So he offered him a deal. If Cross joined his team, Nightmare would allow him meaning and help with his trauma.

And he was a good member. Resourceful, charismatic, a hard worker, and close friends with the rest of the team. Nightmare enjoyed having him as a subordinate.

But one day, without clear reason, he couldn’t take the killing anymore. He told Nightmare he wanted to quit. He told him he was sorry and grateful for everything he’s done, but he wanted to leave. Nightmare said no. A deal was a deal. They argued for an hour before Cross backed down. He didn’t say anything for a while after that. Less shine in his eye lights, but otherwise he worked as usual. He did become concerned for his mental health though. Was he too harsh? Cross had a habit of hiding both his physical and mental injuries. Especially if someone asked him if he was okay.

The next time they went on a mission, Cross ran away with nothing but an apology note—a weak one at that.

Nightmare canceled the mission and sent the entire team to find the traitor. He couldn't have gone far. They were reluctant but did as their boss asked. As he searched through the minor AU. He caught a strange conversation in the wind.

“Please, I want to help you! I know you’re not evil, and I’m not leaving you to die with a broken leg!”

“Stay away from me! And whatever you’re doing to make me happy, stop it! Happiness is the last thing I want to feel right now.”

“I can’t! It’s my aura! I can’t control it! You feel happy because you’re close to me! I'll leave you alone, but please let me heal your leg.”

The dark king followed the sound until he reached a clearing. Dream kneeled in front of a scuffling Cross, hand hovering with gold magic over his wound. Dream appeared to glow in the dark forest. It was back when he wore teal instead of yellow and a full cape instead of ripped shreds. Cross wore his over-complicated outfit too. A white jacket over a turtleneck and an X-sash. Cross’s right leg was a disaster of chipped bone, purple blood, and torn fabric.

Cross waited until Dream finished to adjust his leg. He seemed shocked over how well it worked. "Thanks, now leave me alone."

Dream’s sighed. “I- okay. Even if you don’t trust me, I want you to have this.”

The guardian reached to his belt and pulled out a gray orb, no larger than a golf ball. It had a small gold star in the center.

Cross scoffed and took the ball. “What is this? Some kind of miniature bomb? Nice try, but it won’t work on me.” He threw it into the forest. Dream gasped and reached out for it, but it was too late.

The orb broke into pieces and blasted a wave of wind and positivity. Nightmare cringed in pain and stifled a scream. It felt like he was burning inside out. The two other skeletons shielded their eye lights from the bright light.

When Nightmare lowered his hand, his eye socket widened. From the orb spouted beams of gold light and a hundred stars. Each star held a positive memory of Cross’s. Nightmare had never seen nor met any of them, but he could tell they were the other monsters from his world. Xtale Papyrus, Undyne, Mettaton, Muffet, he had a sickly sweet love and care for his friends and brother. Yet despite the happiness, sorrow and guilt tainted the memories.

Dream took one of the stars and held it in his hands. He waved his hand over it and smiled, his eye lights turning into stars. “I knew it! You have so many hopes and dreams and happy memories. You loved your friends. You used to be so positive, what ha- Cross?”

Cross failed to hold back his tears. His smile shook as much as his breathing; he struggled to keep quiet to stay strong. He wiped his tears away with one of his dirty sleeves. One of the stars floated by his face and he swatted it away. Then a second, and then a third. He crossed his arms and scowled. His aura was consumed in the guilt and sorrow he repressed for years. "Get rid of them."

“I can't, they will only leave on their own. It takes time. All healing and good things take time.” Dream moved closer, now curious. “Is that the problem? You're scared of what they'll think of you, so you're running away from your past?"

"I'm not running away from it. I tried to save them. I . . . forget it." He closed himself off. "It was a stupid idea in the first place. I should've known I couldn't rip apart other worlds and still expect everything to be normal."

Cross didn’t elaborate and continued to retreat into himself. Dream rubbed the back of his head, opening his mouth and closing it again. He did the one thing he knew to do best. He held him in a protective hug, rubbing his skull and letting him cry on his shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay. You deserve to be happy. If you want . . . I could help you to be happy again. But only if you want me to!"

Nightmare couldn’t hear his response as Cross muttered it, but his aura gained a twinge of comfort. And that’s when the Lord of Negativity decided to make his presence known.

“Well, well, well, I hate to ruin your little bonding moment, but your positivity is sickening.” Nightmare shot a tendril at Dream and tied him up. His brother gasped and struggled. The negativity was too much for him. He lay limp in his tendrils, breathing ragged.

Nightmare turned to Cross, smiling like a proud father. “Cross, you realize that by distracting my brother, you have earned yourself back in my favor. And because of that, I will let you do the honor of killing him.” He lowered Dream and held him spread-eagle style. “Go on, cut into his chest, and take out his soul.”

Cross looked hesitant. Nightmare decided he had to sweeten the deal. He raised his brother in the air behind him. Dream was running out of air. “You will become my first lieutenant and leader of the new army. You will have power you could only dream of.” He laughed at his unintentional pun. “I also won’t punish you for treason as I planned. Do you know how many monsters would take that deal? Many. You’re lucky you-”

A knife blade came down on the base of Dream’s tendril. Nightmare howled in agony. Losing a tendril was worse than a little positivity. He could regrow it within time, but his tendrils contained most of his magic. It would stay weakened until it regrows. But he still had three others.

Dream screamed as he fell. Cross teleported and caught him in midair. He shielded the smaller one with his body as they rolled on the ground. Purple covered his brother's face as he couldn't breathe. His skull lolled back on Cross's shoulder, blinking to refocus.

Nightmare’s eye twitched. “Are you betraying me for him?”

Cross didn’t answer.

Nightmare scowled. “Idiot, don't you see? Dream is messing with your head. He’s making you weak by tricking you into a false sense of empathy. And that’s why I must annihilate him, so no one can feel these emotions again. You still need me. I’m giving you a purpose. Would you rather be alone? Suffering in the guilt you caused yourself?"

Cross stood back up with a firm grip on his magic, claymore-sized knife. “You misunderstand me. I was created to protect people. And Dream . . . people like him are worth protecting. I made a mistake by working for you. I won’t make it again-”

Nightmare stabbed Cross through the chest and arms, yawning.

His tendrils splattered with purple blood as he slow-clapped. “That was beautifully . . . stupid, you should’ve considered being a poet. But I am very disappointed. You had so much potential, only to throw it away for the ‘greater good’. Oh well.” Nightmare thickened his tendrils to snap Cross’s bones. His clothing strained and began to tear. Cross screamed in pain. Snaps broke out. It would’ve gone faster if he had the fourth tendril, but this would do.

“Brother, stop!” Dream stood back up, bow in hand. “L-leave him alone! It’s me you want!”

Nightmare cackled. This was almost too perfect. “Let’s see, should I kill a traitor? Or kill my brother? Oh, decisions, decisions . . .”

He didn’t hear the Gaster Blaster behind him. Cross summoned it with the last of his magic strength. Nightmare barely had time to turn into a puddle, having to drop him in the process. Cross fell with a groan.

He turned to Dream and wiped some of the blood off his face. “Look, sunshine, just get out of here. Leave me, I’ll be fine. I can fight-”

“NO! You have a chance for a happy life! I’m giving you a second chance and there is nothing you can say or do about it!” Dream fixed his sun cape and steadied his breathing. He held up his bow.

Nightmare’s body distorted. He thinned his tendrils out into whips and fired them at Dream and Cross. Dream threw up a shield and defended them. The tendrils stabbed and bounced off the barrier, clanking like hail on a window.

Cross eyed the cracking and breakage. “I got a plan. We need to take cover behind that boulder and then-”

“Oh, Crossy!”

Killer shot a knife from the woods. Cross used his weak state and weight to tackle Dream to the ground. The knife tore off Cross’s already-ruined jacket sleeve.

Cross scowled and grumbled, “Oh, fuck me.”

“If you insist,” Killer taunted. He charged at the two. Dream summoned a wave of positivity and fired it at him. Nightmare’s right hand dashed and teleported, reappearing beside Dream. He slashed a long line down his skull. Dream winced, but focused on keeping Cross out of danger, even with his blood dripping into his eye socket.

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Cross commanded. “I’ll lend you some happiness for your powers or whatever, but we can’t stay here!”

Dream gave a curt nod before twirling his staff into a portal. “Let’s heal you- um, do you prefer to go by Cross or San-”

“Cross. Never call me Sans.”

Dream tucked his staff into his belt holster. He struggled to carry Cross’s weight. Nightmare’s tendrils flew on their own and tore up Dream’s cape—his most treasured possession. The scraps of fabric fell at his feet.

Dream slowed down looked down, holding the ruined ends. “No! My-my cape!”

“Leave it! We don’t have time!” Cross grabbed the guardian’s arm, wincing at his own injuries. Dream snapped back to his senses. Still crying like a baby, he supported Cross and helped him through the portal. They both fell on the other side and sealed it.

Killer teleported to Nightmare’s side as he reformed properly. “Boss, should I go after them? Give me three hours and I will bring back their skulls.”

Nightmare watched the portal close. “A tempting offer, but no. We’re returning to the castle and reporting the news to the others. From there, I will decide what to do next. Cross is no longer a member of the VSS and that should be clear. He is a target that should suffer as much as the Star Sanses if not more."

“Gotcha.”

Nightmare banished Cross but didn’t send an immediate search mission. He expected the Star Sanses to take him as a new member. To his shock, Cross stayed neutral. But there was something else, something far worse than that. Error was the one who broke the news to him.

Cross and Dream fell in love.

Love, what a worthless feeling. Well, perhaps worthless wasn’t the right word. It could be exploited, used, and taken advantage of. Pathetic was better. Isn’t that where this idea came from? To make Ink fall in love with him so he could turn him into a living weapon?

These days, Nightmare took the sympathy he had for Cross and burned them until all there was only hate. If he surrendered there and then, Nightmare would have made his death painless. Now, he didn’t care. He wanted to see him severed and hanging.

Nightmare slammed his hands on the marble sink. His fingers clenched, but he managed to take a deep breath. As long as he didn’t think about Cross and/or Dream, he could keep his temper managed. Besides, he couldn’t intimidate Ink on the first date. What was the adage about a frog? If you drop a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will immediately jump out. Drop a frog into a pot of lukewarm water and raise the heat, it will stay until it dies.

It’s a failing metaphor because the frog jumps out no matter how hot the pot is. You would need to lobotomize it first. He snapped a pair of black silk gloves on.

Nightmare finished readying himself and left the bathroom. He had one more stop to make before he could go to the date.

He walked down his finely decorated hallways. Long purple rugs lined the stone floor. Every decoration had a place in his gothic black and purple theme. The left wall held tall windows with moon designs, shining the sunset through them. The right were old oil paintings. Nightmare had an appreciation for old art, especially those depicting misery and pain. The more suffering the better.

One might ask how he landed such exquisite decor. The answer was centuries worth of exchange and thievery. Nightmare never had a problem with stealing. His moral compass was as nonexistent as his skin.

Nightmare walked inside his office and pushed a stack of papers aside with a tendril. He lay Ink’s sash flat, removing each vial and laying them in a straight line. He touched each of the vials’ rainbow, heart-shaped tops. He could sense the emotions radiating from each color. Not as powerful as natural feelings, not even close. It was like holding artificial flavoring. It does the job, but it’s farce compared to the real thing.

Once he removed the yellow one, his smile distorted so it pointed by his eye sockets. The sturdy glass kept it from burning him, but he still felt happiness and positivity inside. Nightmare opened one of his windows and breathed in the cool night air. He looked down into the blue lake and smiled.

He threw the vial into the water below.

The vial flew, yellow against black until it crashed and sunk into the lake below. The darkness sucked it down. Ink wouldn’t be able to weaken him with happiness now. As long as he stayed here, he would be miserable. The pink paint's love would trick him into thinking he feels positive. Love wasn’t a positive or negative emotion, it was neutral as it could work both ways. Love could be selfless or selfish depending on the person. Most of the time, it was the latter.

He touched the breast pocket of his suit. He nestled the bottle of pink and red paint inside. It glowed softly. You couldn’t notice the light unless you were searching for it.

Nightmare ceased touching the vials when a lumbering sound outside caught his attention. He learned how to tell which member of the trio was who based on the sound of their footsteps. "Come in, Horror."

Horror opened the door and peered inside. His red eye was the only thing lighting up his face. Otherwise, he was backlit by the dark gold light of the hall.

Nightmare turned toward the oldest member of the Murder Time Trio. Horror was a few inches taller than he was and more muscular, but Nightmare didn’t mind.

“When Ink gets ’ere . . . can we torture him?”

Nightmare thought about it. “In time. I need to break him in first. Then you, Killer, and Dust can have a field day. I don’t care what you do to him, just keep him functional. Break a few fingers or use him as a test dummy for all I care,” he said. “Remember, he won’t be an equal to us. He’s far less, so don’t feel bad about making him hurt.”

Horror nodded. “So he’s . . . a torture toy with . . . a special excuse?”

“Mm, close enough. You’re in charge while I’m gone; I trust you the most. But if I come back to any pranks, destruction, or Ouija board incidents, you are all cleaning the dungeon. Including the blades and chains. We need to make a good impression on our new member, don't we?”

“Yes, boss.”

With a final nod, Nightmare stepped through the portal to Outertale. It was one of the AUs he was fond of, and the only one he liked that wasn’t negative-centric. The sky was forever dark and covered with stars. The residents were low energy and had little animosity towards anyone. Nightmare stayed in the shadows and out of sight as much as possible. As kind as Outertale was, he still had a reputation and a price on his head. Thank you, Dream.

Nightmare followed the roads until he made it to the restaurant. Tucked between two shops, it was fancier than either of them, looking like it belonged to a different AU. It was made with white pillars and had an old style, like the buildings in ancient mythology books he read as a child.

Nightmare pushed the doors open. The lively atmosphere almost immediately quieted down. It was like a blanket of uncertainty and fear. He couldn’t sense Ink’s artificial aura so that guaranteed he was late.

“Reservations for Nightmare Joku.” He set his hands on the counter, holding a confident cool smile. The worker seemed unnerved, but they gave him a polite smile in return. It turned strained once they looked into his glowing eye light.

“Joku . . . give me one sec.” They flipped through the massive book and scanned through a page. “Ah, found you.”

They set the book down and mumbled to themself. “Mother of the stars, why can’t I ever get the normal customers . . .” They stood up and walked, gesturing for Nightmare to follow. He did. He looked straight ahead but noticed nervous looks and whispers from the other monsters.

The attendant lead him to a spare room saved for events. Nightmare needed the privacy, not just for the view, though that was a bonus. The window showed the white Milky Way against a deep purple sky. He wanted to keep the affair between him and Ink, and them alone.

The attendant looked nervous, messing with their clipboard. “Um . . . would you like any drinks to begin with?”

Nightmare nodded. “I’ll have a pinot noir and my date will have a rosé champagne. He should be here within the next . . . five to ten minutes, roughly. If you see him, please tell him I’m waiting. Oh, and one last request, please. Could you leave me and him alone for, let’s say, twenty minutes? No, make it fifteen. That should be enough time.”

They rubbed their clipboard more, tapping the chained pen against it. The outside suddenly looked very interesting to them. “Apologies, sir. It’s policy to not leave customers alone for too long. It's considered rude.".

Nightmare nonchalantly passed the waiter one hundred gold pieces from his pocket. The waiter stared with eyes as wide as saucers. They also seemed desperate to get out of there. “Well . . . I suppose an exception can be made.”

As soon as he slipped out, Nightmare shook his head. Mortals could be convinced with the simplest bribe. They came back with the glasses of wine and water not long after. Once he left, he activated his plan.

The dark king removed the bottle of love potion from his pocket and poured half of the pink liquid into the wine. He decided it would be safe if he saved some in case the effects failed to work. He wasn’t too concerned though. The main reason he chose Ink as his target was how easily he could be manipulated. Physically, Ink was the strongest member of the Star Sanses. Mentally, he’s the weakest. If only he was as intelligent as he was arrogant.

Nightmare drank his red wine. He was incapable of getting drunk, likely due to his body lacking a solid form. The power from his black apple soul was the only thing keeping it together. Along with the fact he was using a six-year-old skeleton as a, well, skeleton.

The stars entranced and distracted him. He focused his attention on what appeared to be a flaming asteroid. Then he caught a bitter aura. Nightmare couldn’t read minds, but if he could, he could imagine the host thinking vulgar language.

The fire monster at the reception desk peeked in through the curtains. “Your Highness? Your date is here.”

Chapter Text

Ink had been in here for less than five minutes and he already wanted to leave.

He was having such a fun time with the others before he remembered about this stupid date. He was winning Never Have I Ever, Cross was losing, and he a cup of amazing hot chocolate he almost finished. At least he had a rubber chicken battle with Epic to look forward to, that was going to be fun, way more fun than this.

Classical music streamed through the air along with the sound of chattering couples. Burning candles lit the room from a few black chandeliers. About three feet between each navy wall stood a curved white pillar. Almost all the velvet booths were full. Ink searched for Nightmare, but he couldn’t see the octopus anywhere.

The attendant he followed, a monster named Grillby, didn’t speak to him once as he led him through the restaurant. If you only saw his black and white suit vest, you would think he was human. His head and hands of blue fire wrecked the image. Even though his only feature was a pair of square glasses, Grillby looked remorseful. Like he was taking Ink to his funeral. He probably was.

Ink tried to make small talk with his guide. “So, how’s business been?”

Silence.

“Fascinating, I’ll need to keep that in mind.”

Grillby stopped in front of a round silver archway. A matching gray curtain with tiny star designs covered it, hiding whatever was inside. The fire monster peered in, said something, and then turned back to Ink. He drew the curtain open.

The first thing that jumped out to the artist was the massive window at the back of the room. Outertale’s tourist-worthy galaxy glittered with stars and planets, glowing purple against black. The other thing was that it was the type of room reserved for parties or gatherings, not like the rest of the place. Besides the size, the room had the same decorations as the previous one, except only one table was being used.

Nightmare sat alone, swirling a glass of red wine and absentmindedly watching the sky. His fancy outfit made Ink feel way underdressed. No, why was he thinking these things? The octopus was the last person he was going to look pretty for. It had to be his aura of hatred and misery making him think this way. While Dream’s aura lit up the room with hope and happiness, Nightmare’s was the dark mirror. He sensed the artist’s bitterness and gave him a smile, which would be welcoming if it was from anyone else. Well . . . yeah no, anyone would be better.

Ink looked over to Grillby for reassurance, but the fire monster disappeared. So much for that. At least he had Broomie. Worst comes to worst, he would need to fight him and make an escape portal. Holding tight to the brush’s handle, he walked over to the octopus.

Nightmare looked him over and greeted, “Hello, Ink. You look lovely tonight. How has your day been?”

The artist rolled his eye lights. “What do you want? Twenty gold says it’s not friendship.” Ink sat in the light gray chair. A glass of pink liquid shimmered in front of him.

“Straight to the point, are we?” Nightmare drank some of his wine. His tendrils curled and shifted behind him. “No, I’m not interested in friendship. I want something more.”

Ink raised his guard. He leaned a bit closer to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No need to get so defensive. If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble.” He gestured around the room. “I invited you here because I have an offer for you. But before I elaborate, you look so tense. How about you try to enjoy yourself?”

The artist followed his gaze to the pink wine glass. Keeping his eye lights on Nightmare, he took a cautious sip. Sweet, fruity, and cool, exactly how he liked it. It did taste a bit funny, but he had bigger problems at hand. Ink clicked his tongue. “This isn’t half bad- wait. How did you know I like rosé?”

Nightmare’s expression was unreadable. “Well, as I explained in the letter, I know many things about you.”

Ink gulped, not knowing how much or what he was talking about. “Like what?”

“Your favorite animal is a pomeranian, your favorite tool is acrylic paint, and you enjoy pop music. You don’t when your birthday is so you assigned it to April 15th, which is coincidentally World Art Day. Your usual coffee order is a large iced java chip cappuccino with dairy milk and an extra drizzle of mocha. If you run out of color and don’t drink your paints for over two weeks, you will fall into a comatose-like state. You are doomed never to die. Am I correct?”

Ink froze in place, one hand still while the other squeezed his wine glass. If he gripped it any harder, it would’ve shattered. The only reason he didn’t is because he didn’t want to deal with cleaning wine stains. Or glass shards making his hands and gloves rip and bleed more. “Uh . . . no, you’re spot on. How . . . how did you know all that?”

Nightmare smiled. “I’m glad you asked. You see, you’ve been my . . . passion project for the past four months-”

“MONTHS?”

He raised his right hand. “Keep your voice down, would you? It may be difficult for anyone to hear us, but I still don’t want them to get the wrong impression. Yes, months. I’ve been watching over you because have a plan for you. You’re special; those other Stars are nothing compared to you. The reason I brought you here is that I’m requesting you join my side. You would be powerful and feared by millions, the entire Doodlesphere could fall to your feet. I can teach you to use your powers to their full potential. And you would live a luxurious life in my castle. But your skills aren’t the only reason I fancy you.” Nightmare held Ink’s hand and rubbed his cold thumb over his palm. He wore a smug, but slightly awkward smile.

“I care about you, Ink. When I say I want you by my side, I don’t mean only as a lackey. I want you to be my partner, my . . . lover. It pains me to watch your potential used and wasted in my brother’s friendship club. Dream doesn’t deserve you. The multiverse doesn’t deserve you. Agree to be mine and you will rule beside me.”

Ink’s cheekbones erupted in rainbow blush and freckles, warm and fuzzy. So he was right, this was a date! Nightmare had a crush on him!

. . . Nightmare has a crush on him.

Stars, why did he think that was cute? This was Nightmare we’re talking about, king of darkness and his second worst enemy after Error! And he admitted he was a stalker! This had to be some kind of trap. Ink picked up his unfinished wine glass, swishing the bottom. It’s only one drink, not even a full one, why was he so tipsy? To be fair, he didn’t drink that often, but still. He felt weird . . .

Ink yanked his hand from Nightmare’s grasp, shaking his head to get rid of the blush. To his shock, there was no frostbite. Maybe he didn’t hold it there long enough. “Hold up, rewind to the part where you said you’ve been watching me.” He thought back to that weird feeling he had at the ice rink. A sick thought formed in his mind. “Have you watched me sleep?”

“Hardly ever, no more than ten times. I visit whenever you have nightmares. The negative energy helps me fight Dream’s pesky positivity shield so I can stay longer. Last night was one of those visits.” He paused and snickered. “I do enjoy watching you sleep. You sound like a kitten when you snore.”

The artist fought against the urge to vomit a paint puddle. The alcohol wasn’t helping. Now that he knew that little secret, he wasn’t going to sleep for a long time. He told himself to learn to sleep with one eye open, like a dolphin. Ink took another sip of his wine to calm down. He slammed it down and glared at him. “First of all, I don’t sound like a kitten! I know I snore, but I don’t sound like one! And second of all . . .” He got distracted by Nightmare’s eye light again. He never noticed how mesmerizing it was. Ink shook his head and snapped out of it. “Second of all, I don’t care how many pretty words you throw at me, I’m not working for you and I’m not going to be some . . . . some . . . trophy! Trophy boyfriend? Is that a thing? Whatever. I have standards, damn it!”

Nightmare pinched his nasal bridge and muttered something under his breath. The only words Ink caught were ‘kick in’. They were still enough for his bones to go cold and tingle. Another sick idea formed as his eye lights trailed back to his drink. To test his theory, he took a long drink of the rosé. That weird undertaste was still there. Except this time, he recognized the flavor.

Paint. His paint.

He set the glass down with a groan. Everything started to make sense, but it didn’t at the same time. “Wait, are you the one who - did you - you son of a - ugh!” Ink couldn’t collect his thoughts.

“Ink dear, please speak in full sentences. You’re embarrassing yourself.” His voice made it sound like he was talking to a confused child. Ink wanted to punch that smug smile off his face, but his head hurt too much.

The artist’s skull pounded as it fought the paint poison trying to give him emotions. Ironic, the one thing that made him feel alive was going to get him killed or worse. He had no idea what the octopus was going to do to him, but he knew it was something bad. He had to get out of this joint before the paint turned him into a simping mess. If his previous times were anything to go by . . . he threw up a small pool of ink in his hand. There was no way he was going to fall in love with him. Dream, he was the only person who could numb the paint and get him back to normal. Ink had to get to him. Wiping the paint on his jacket, he laughed with a voice crack.

“Look, this has been fun,” Ink started reaching for Broomie, “but I really have to get going. Nothing personal, I have a . . . painting I want to get done! Yeah, that’s it. Bu-but hey! We can do this another time-”

A black tendril banded his wrist to the paintbrush. Ink strained against it as two more tendrils wrapped around him. One strapped down his legs and the other encircled his neck, slipping beneath his scarf. The latter pushed his chin up to look Nightmare in the eye. They felt like icicles biting into his bones. Nightmare scowled, thinking something over. Ink pulled at his arms. “Hey, let me go! What are you-”

Without warning, Nightmare leaned in and kissed him, forceful yet slow. Ink’s eye sockets widened and he broke into a thrashing kicking frenzy. He struggled as hard as he could to get away, but the tendrils held him tight to the chair. Something cold and wet pressed against his teeth, trying to get in. What- oh, ew, ew, EW-

“Op it! Op it! Urk erff! ELP!” Ink tried to scream, but he could barely make a noise, much less call for help. He looked away as much as possible with the tendrils fighting his effort. Squeezing his hand into a fist, he imagined himself somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t here. Ink kept kicking and punching. Nightmare hummed in disapproval and cupped his freezing hand against Ink’s cheekbone. He pushed even harder. The artist gagged and gritted his teeth together. No way was he going to let him in. The empty party room finally made sense.

Nobody heard him. Nobody was going to help him.

Ink’s eye sockets burned.

Nightmare stroked his face gentler than he would have liked. For some reason, Ink wanted to lean into the touch. He wanted to return the kiss. He wanted to stop fighting. Maybe he was overthinking this. Nightmare wasn’t hurting him, his hand was too soft to be violent. The artist thought back to some of the romance movies he’d watched before, the ones with Dream and Blue. Weren’t surprise kisses a thing? How was this any different?

Because he’s your enemy and he tricked you into this! Ink’s thoughts yelled at him. Don’t fall for his mind games! It’s the paint talking, not you!

The Lord of Negativity opened his eye and gazed into Ink’s. It gleamed with . . . charm. That was the first word that came to his head. Ink’s nonexistent heart skipped a beat. Staring into his teal eye light, a giddy fuzzy feeling shook through his bones. Stars, Nightmare was hot, and he was an idiot for not realizing it earlier.

Ink gave in; he relaxed and stopped resisting. He had never kissed someone before, much less with tongues. If he made a bet on who would be his first, he would’ve never chosen Nightmare. He was pretty good at it too, which made Ink wonder how many times he’s kissed someone. Wait, who else would he date? Nevermind. Nightmare tasted like a bitter apple cider, tangy with a hint of sweetness. The pounding in his skull stopped.

Eventually, Nightmare pulled away. His tendrils finally let Ink go, but the feeling of the cold stayed. Ink sunk a bit in disappointment. He wouldn’t have minded if the kiss went on a little longer, even if he was getting dizzy. Weird, a few minutes ago, he wanted to break his skull. Now? He wanted Nightmare to wrap him in his arms and hold him there forever. Would that be warm or cold . . . ?

Nightmare dabbed Ink’s eye sockets with a napkin. “I knew you would like it.” He set the candle back in place. The orange light glowed below his skull, making him look more villainous than usual. “Now, I’m going to ask again. Do you agree to belong to me?”

Ink caught his reflection in his glass. Instead of his usual green circle and yellow star, he had pink hearts. An annoying voice in the back of the artist’s mind told him it was a trap. He should run away before something worse happens. Ink ignored it. It’s probably because he’s never been in a relationship before. This was all new to him. “Agreed. I’m all yours on only one condition.”

Nightmare raised a browbone, holding his fingers together. “And that is?”

“I don’t want you to be ordering me around all the time. I’m fine with the battle training, but I don’t just want to be some weapon or arm candy. I want to still get love and cuddles and boxes of chocolate, or whatever couples do. I don’t know. I want people to know we’re together and I want to help you be evil!” Ink nestled Nightmare’s hand into his cheekbone. The cold didn’t bother him as much.

Nightmare considered his offer. He stayed quiet for a long moment, his only movement being his eye jumping around the room. His smile twitched on the last bit about wanting to help him. “Excellent. I can’t make any promises, but . . . very well, I will figure something out. But you are not to tell a single person about us.” He adjusted his cravat. “Now, how about we enjoy a nice steak dinner and take the time to get to know each other? It will be so much easier now that you see me as an ally.”

Ink shook with excitement. In one night, he was going to join the VSS, and have the most perfect boyfriend in the multiverse. The pink in his eye lights glowed brighter. He stared at Nightmare for the rest of the night, imagining his new future.

Chapter Text

Moonlight washed over Dream, Cross, and Blue as they talked, laughed, and walked through the Omega Timeline. Epic and Fresh left one way and Dream, Cross, and Blue went the other. The void lacked a natural sky, so the moon and darkness existed because of magic. Weather also existed only by region, not as a whole. Currently, it was a cold breeze, whistling and whispering past them. The skeletons decided on one of the town paths lined with road on one side and buildings on the other.

“Oh! A chickadee!” Dream held his arm out for the black and white bird to perch on. The little animal bounced across his yellow sleeve, pecking between the stitches. Dream smiled. The bird’s talons and beak were too small to hurt. Rather, it tickled. Their body was warm from hot chocolate and their heart was warm with pride and love. Dream’s eye lights drew to the badge on Cross’s jacket, a shield with the letter O reflecting light. It was the entire reason he invited them tonight.

Cross watched them and shook his head. “I still don’t understand your bird-whispering powers. You can handle a hawk on your head and owls are where you cross the line.”

Dream mock glared at his boyfriend. Though to be fair, he didn't understand his gift either. It's been there ever since he was a child and he discovered it by pure accident. It was only birds too. “Have you ever seen their eyes? All they do is stare at you, for hours! And they turn their heads all the way around. Tell me that’s natural! It isn’t!”

“No, owls are tame. Geese are the evil ones.” Blue chimed in. “They're bigger, they're more aggressive, and their beaks and wings hurt! If you put them in a fight, the geese would win immediately."

"Hm, I don't know." Dream pet the chickadee. "They're not so aggressive when you're nice to them. I've never fought one, or pet one, but they're nice. And owls are smart, so they could outsmart the goose . . ."

"So it's brain vs brawl . . . the goose would still win. Cross, help me out, who would win?"

Cross seemed to be trying to distance himself from the conversation until now. He sighed. "I- fine. Dude, if you want to know so bad, here." Cross took a piece of gold out of his pocket, leftover change from the hot chocolate. He flipped it in the air and slapped it on his arm. He lifted his hand. "Owl wins, argument over."

They turned a corner and the Star Sanses base came into view. They may have called it their base, but it appeared more like a clubhouse with rainbow paint on the walls. None of the lights of the two-story building were on. Something was haunting yet beautiful about the way the moon lit up the left side of it. The chickadee ended her song and flew away from him. A tingle went through Dream’s body, though he wasn’t sure why. It was only some light. Perhaps he was still suspicious of Ink leaving them on short notice. He seemed to be in a rush, but Dream didn't believe the lie he wasn't feeling well. It wouldn't be the first time Ink left like that, so he was sure he had nothing to worry about.

It was almost like Blue read his mind. “Shouldn’t Ink be here by now?”

Cross squeezed Dream's hand and hummed, looking up at the building. “He said he was going to be. But knowing him, he probably took a detour to terrorize some AU. Or he fell asleep and shut the light off. I wouldn’t worry about him.”

“I guess you’re right.” Dream stepped up on the light gray steps and knocked on the door. No response. He rang the doorbell. No response. He tugged at the doorknob. Locked. At least it answered one of his questions. Ink almost always forgets to lock the door, so he wasn’t home.

Cross watched Dream pull a key out of his pocket and unlock the door. He looked back at the house. “Do you want me to stay a while, flower? I don't have anything else going on and I have a bad feeling about this."

Dream laughed, used to Cross's paranoia. He increased his positive aura to calm him down. “Weren’t you the one who said not to worry? No, but thank you. The important thing is you making it home safe.” Dream stood on his tiptoes to peck Cross’s foreskull. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you, my royal guard." He smiled at the last bit, looking down at Cross's badge, the mark of an official Omega Guard.

Cross looked reluctant, but he squeezed Dream’s hand and let go. “I will. See you tomorrow.”

After Cross teleported away, Blue pulled a key out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the door. The wood creaked into the dark interior. Dream flipped the light on. Everything was the same as they left it. He hung his jacket in a closet, eyeing the staircase. It was still dark. Maybe sleep would help his anxieties. It was a long day.

“Blue? I’m going to bed early, see you in the morning," Dream said.

Blue took off his hat and gloves and looked up at the guardian, who was halfway up the steps already. "Alright. Night, Dream!"

Smiling, Dream walked up to the second floor. He made it to the top and flipped the light on, illuminating the hallway. They stretched and yawned, ready to shut out for the night. He grabbed his door knob, but Ink's door caught his attention. It was half-open. Dream still sensed that strange negative aura he felt this morning.

Dream peered into the paint-splattered bedroom and searched harder for that negativity. Ink could've been struggling with something, and he wanted to help if he was. Unlike the morning, the strongest negativity source was not the corner. It was Ink's bed. He held out his hand to find an exact source, but his powers seemed to fail him. They sighed and were about to leave, but a faint teal light caught their eye.

With curiosity, he crouched down beside Ink’s bed. Something was under it; the negativity energy burned brighter than ever. Dream wrapped his fingers around the thorned stem of a glowing rose and the blue paper attached to it. Two of the bloody points stabbed through the paper, cutting off a few words.

Dream turned the lamp on and unfolded the note, keeping it as close to the light as he could. They recognized the quill-inked handwriting in seconds. He scanned the rest of the letter and gasped, his bones went cold. His hands tingled, paralyzed. They looked back at the rose and called out, “Blue . . . BLUE! BLUE, COME QUICK!”

Dream listened to the frantic footsteps as Blue ran to him. He had to brace himself against the door frame. His left hand carried a kitchen knife. “What is it? What happened?”

“Read this.” Dream handed him the letter. His breathing was shaking as much as his hands now. “It’s Ink, Nightmare kidnapped Ink.”

Blue took it with a confused look. His eye sockets widened as he scanned the paper. “Oh, that . . . that explains things.”

Dream clenched his humerus and paced in a small circle. “I knew something was wrong with him! He’s been acting strange all day, but I thought I was being paranoid! If I hadn’t been such a sugarskull this morning and forced him to talk, Ink would still be-”

“Hey!” Blue set his hands on his shoulders. “Don’t blame yourself! We were all with him today and none of us noticed either. Besides, he was being blackmailed and I believe in him. If he did get kidnapped, he’s cracking bad jokes and making Nightmare’s gang regret ever messing with him.”

Dream imagined Blue's words and let out the breath they held. “I- yes, you’re right. He’s going to be fine, he's fine!” Dream hoped if he said it enough times, he could convince himself it was true. It had to be. He looked over the letter again, smiling with new determination. “It says they went to Outertale. I’ll prepare to go and ask around in case anyone has seen them

The knight’s eye lights turned into stars, “Mweh, heh! That’s the spirit! But I’m going to help too. I’ll go with you and we’ll save him together. In the morning though, we won’t be very helpful in the middle of the night."

He’s going to be fine. Ink is going to be fine. He’s strong. Stop worrying, everything is fine.

Dream tossed and turned that night. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep. Visions formed every time he closed his eye sockets. He imagined Ink alone in Nightmare’s murky dungeon, shivering alone in a corner. Then he envisioned him gagged and tied up as Killer, Horror, and Dust used him as target practice. Nightmare laughed in the background, mocking. Cross told him stories of what happened to Nightmare’s prisoners. The torture, the violence, the personalized torment. None of them made it out alive. The guardian shuddered and channeled his thoughts to kittens and flowers. It helped a little. The torture was only an image, not a prophecy. Guardians could have prophecy dreams, but so far, he was lucky. He still couldn’t sleep.

He didn’t want to jinx it.

It wasn’t even the kidnapping alone that frightened him, it was the fact that Nightmare had done it. Nightmare was stronger than Ink, but luckily not by much if he played his cards right.

Dream sighed and sat up, turning their lamp on and picking their book off the nightstand. He flipped to his bookmark and read, hoping to get his mind on something better. He set his teddy bear in his lap. He knew it was childish for a guardian to sleep with a stuffed animal, but he found it comforting. He pet the plush’s white, almond-scented fur while he read. He used to love that smell when he was young and lived under the Tree of Feelings with his brother. His real brother.

While in the middle of his story, Dream's mind wandered to the one thing he was trying to avoid. How could he sleep like this when Ink is in danger? How could they rest while the entire Doodlesphere was at risk without its protector? Ink had never been kidnapped before, he was smart enough to escape. Or was he overreacting as it has only been a few hours? He was, he knew. But the last time Dream was too late to save someone from the dark’s call . . .

Please don’t forget who I used to be.

No, he wouldn’t let anyone go through that pain again. He promised.

Dream closed the book, set his bear in a sitting position, and slipped out of bed. He picked up his bow and quiver, choosing regular and a few poisoned arrows instead of his magic ones. The magic would draw too much attention, and Dream wanted to try the new herbal concoction he made. They made sure to step carefully so the wood planks stayed silent. Blue kept his door shut, he didn't even snore. They made it to the bottom of the steps and took their coat out of the closet. They had everything they needed now. So with a portal-

Dream gasped at a tug at his soul. His body was encased in a ball of blue light as someone turned him around. Blue held his hands on his hips. His eye sockets were bleary, half-open and sleepy.

“Dream! What did we talk about,” Blue yawned, “a few hours ago?”

Dream looked at his tired friend, ashamed. “I know, I’m sorry. I just have a feeling something terrible is going to happen if we don’t find him as soon as possible. I can do it on my own, please don't worry."

Blue thought for a moment. “Here, how about you sleep in my room tonight? Even if you don't, I’m watching you like a hawk and locking the doors. The last thing anyone needs right now is another one of us getting kidnapped.”

Sighing, the guardian knew he was right. "Okay."

Blue released his magic. Wrapping one arm around his shoulder, Blue led him away from the door and back up the stairs. Dream’s cheekbones glowed as yellow as buttercups.

Blue opened the door to his room. He had a blue rocketship bed in the corner of the room. Action figures covered a set of white shelves on dark blue walls. He also had a bookshelf and closet on the back wall. Painted across the ceiling were stars and constellations. It something they all worked together on.

Sleeping in each other’s rooms was not an unusual concept for the Stars. When the trio had slumber parties, they watched a movie with popcorn and sweets in their pajamas. Then they would all cuddle and fall asleep on the couch together. Dream also invited his friends to his room if they had nightmares or troubles in their minds. His aura and kind words could calm anyone down. He always let others vent to him. It was funny to him it was the other way around.

Blue wrapped an arm around Dream and flicked the lamp off. Having someone to sleep beside him relaxed Dream's thoughts. Ink would be fine.

As soon as the sun rose into the sky, Dream and Blue set out for Outertale.

The AU was always an endless ocean of night. Colorful stars of white, yellow, and blue, twinkled in the sky. The residents were the only ones who could tell the hour. But that wasn’t a bad thing. Somewhat, Dream could get lost in the stars and forget his problems for a while.

Blue carried the note while Dream held a clipboard. The clipboard had a list with the most likely AUs Nightmare could have hidden Ink. Creating it was the first thing they did this morning, so they missed some AUs. Dream also found pictures of the two. Despite the hope, the most likely answer was Nightmare took the artist to his castle. The castle was a pocket AU no one but he could enter.

His yellow boots were soon covered in moon dust. He followed the most potent source of negative energy he could detect. It was in the direction of the restaurant, so maybe Nightmare left some negative residue. Then Dream could try and use the energy to track him.

They made it to the front two doors of the restaurant, tucked between two other stores. The building was pretty: Ivory white with smooth walls, classy. The place seemed empty.

Dream and Blue walked toward the door. Blue tugged at the handle but it didn’t budge. He tried again. “We’re too early. It doesn’t open until . . . .” He looked closer at the door's sign. “Four pm. How about we ask around? Someone would have to have seen them, Ink isn’t exactly low-key. Neither is your brother.”

Dream hummed and nodded, chuckling at the comment about Nightmare. They thought searching around was the next best thing to do. He wondered what Ink was doing at this moment, pushing the morbid thoughts aside. “Of course. Where should we ask first? Someone could be working around, or Nightmare took him somewhere else after dinner?” He looked into the distance. Outertale was known for its tourism, so it made sense Nightmare would take him somewhere else.

Blue looked around. "I'll take the left side and you take the right! We'll meet back here in an hour. Got it?"

"Got it." Dream waved and set off to the right. Dream sensed the auras of the surrounding citizens. He searched for someone with a specific set of emotions. Perhaps paranoia, guilt, or at least uncertainty. It must be a lingering past feeling. Unfortunately, no one seemed to match that description.

The one that did hit him sent a small shock through his body, just because he wasn’t expecting it. Dream looked to the left and spotted a cat-like monster hiding their face under a hood. The guardian cleared his throat and walked over to them. He had a good feeling in his soul.

“Hi!” Dream waved over. The cat monster turned their attention to him. Dream smiled to look less threatening, more friendly.

"Can I help you?" The monster looked everywhere except at Dream.

"Yes!" Dream cleared his throat. “I'm looking for my friend who was kidnapped around here. It would’ve been around . . . I think seven o'clock? His name is Ink Comyet, he’s a skeleton, a little taller than me, carries around a four-foot-tall paintbrush. He wore a brown jacket last night. His eye lights change color when he blinks and he has a splotch of paint on his right cheekbone. “His kidnapper is named Nightmare Joku. He’s also a skeleton but with four tendrils spiking from his back. He’s also covered in black liquid and has only one teal eye. Usually, he wears a black waistcoat and a chained black cape, though I don’t know what he was wearing. Have you seen them?"

The monster thought about it. They nodded, aura anxious and uncomfortable. “I think I know who you’re talking about. I work at that place over there and . . . they were one of my customers. He didn’t cause any issues. They left and Joku took him through a portal. Ink looked happy enough, he was smiling and bouncing."

Dream messed with his thumb. "Did you see what was inside? Did it look like a castle? Or a dungeon?"

"I didn't see it, it was too dark." The monster looked uncomfortable and turned away from him. "Sorry I couldn't help you, I hope you two find your friend." As they walked off, Dream was left with more questions than answers.

Taking a moment to pause, Dream had to readjust the image in his head. He assumed Nightmare cast a spell on Ink and knocked him out in an alleyway with his magic. But Ink was happy? Someone would have to have noticed Nightmare cast the spell. Does that mean . . . no, he knows Ink, he’s one of his best friends. Ink would never betray him on purpose. Nothing Nightmare could offer could change his mind.

Nothing, they were best friends until the end.

A week passed; they still couldn’t find a solid trail to Ink. Each time they were close, Nightmare’s aura would fade. Dream proceeded to get more and more frustrated. The nightmares grew more graphic. The image of Ink lying on the floor, hoping for rescue was engraved into the back of his eyelids. He lost hours of sleep imagining it and refused to take any long breaks. They searched for at least three hours a day and did their job the rest.

Another week passed, and no luck.

Dream decided to try a plan that had been brewing in the back of their mind for days now. His negative memories kept him from doing more than considering it a possibility. But now, they were growing desperate. And it was so perfect, so obvious.

He cleared his throat as he approached Blue, who was sketching out a battle strategy in a notebook. Dream held his hands together. “Blue, I’m going to be gone for a few hours.”

Blue looked up from his notepad. “Okay. Just be careful and don’t be gone too long!”

“I won’t be, I’ll be back by sundown.” Dream waved his scepter and stepped into a portal he swore never to return to.

They stepped into a wasteland. Overgrown dull grass grew up to his knees. It looked more like a savannah than a green land. He still could picture the field of bright colorful flowers that grew where he stood. The nearby town was gray and long abandoned. There was nothing but bones and tattered clothes to symbolize people lived there at all. Dream sighed, the memories being too painful to bear. He set his sights on a large hill at the end of the village. Shifting their cape, they walked toward it.

Dream walked up the hill to his childhood home, a place he hadn’t been since breaking free of stone. The stump of his mother lay the same after five hundred years. The oak was worn from time, but still larger than any tree in the multiverse. The trunk was two feet tall and ten times as wide. It used to be twenty feet tall with large foliage, filled with tender gold and black apples. None reminded. Nightmare ate them all when he was corrupted. How did he eat nine hundred ninety-nine apples in such a short time? Dream didn’t know.

He swung one leg over the top of the trunk and pulled himself on top of it. A sense of nostalgia hit him. When he was about eight, he used to run as fast as he could to get back to the tree, challenging himself to jump up the branches. It was hard on some days because he was so tired from working. The villagers always wanted him to help, and Dream was willing to help. Too willing.

It messed him up, leading him to believe his only worth was as a living positive battery. That was why he was so grateful for Cross. While Dream taught him how to feel again and stop living in the past, Cross taught him he was so much more than this magic. Stars he loved him.

He never told Nightmare because he didn’t want to worry him. He was already so nervous and paranoid . . . and Dream was too late when he found out why.

Dream brushed the tree trunk, trying to refuel the connection with it. There should be a warm tingling feeling in his chest, but there wasn’t.

They sighed. “Mom, can you help me? It’s been a long time, I know, but one of my best friends is in danger. Nightmare took him away and I’m afraid he’s going to hurt him or try to turn him evil. I don’t want history to repeat itself. Can you give me a sign everything is going to be okay?”

Dream waited a few moments, staring into the swirling trunk. Nothing happened. The guardian sighed. What was he expecting? An arrow made of flowers pointing in the right direction? A bird to float out of the sky and give him a message? Nim to appear as a spirit and offer him guidance? She’s never answered him before, even when was still 'alive'. Dream didn't believe Nim was dead, she was essentially a goddess. Gods and guardians couldn't die, right? He couldn't die, Ink couldn't die, Error and Nightmare couldn't either.

Nightmare used to joke about how Nim only created them to save herself. She had no love for her sons, and Dream was starting to wonder if he was right. What mother would let this happen to her kids?

Dream curled into his knees and stared out to the broken village. “Ink, what did you get yourself into this time?”

Chapter Text

“-and then he dared to blame me for it. Can you believe him?” Ink rambled, closing the restaurant’s door behind him. He no longer wanted to fight; Broomie rested on his back. Nightmare laughed to humor him, though it was flat and dry. He knew the artist was talkative, but he hadn’t stopped since Nightmare gave him the pink paint and kiss. It was rather excessive if you asked him, and he was already sick of it. The first thing he’d train him to do was to stay silent unless spoken to.

The two stepped through the portal Nightmare summoned. He stepped inside and offered a tendril to help Ink cross. Ink took it, grinning. His eye lights turned to stars. “I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not always spreading misery. I can be rather polite.” Nightmare looked around his main hall. Black and purple tiles shimmered on the floor. A black chandelier hung from a high ceiling, glinting light all over the room. Tall stained glass windows covered the back wall, designed with stars. Two staircases rounded on either side to an elevated point. A shiny railing surrounded it. The wall had an open gap the size of a train tunnel to continue walking through the castle.

Ink’s jaw dropped, speechless. His eye lights glowed. Nightmare crossed his arms. His tendril squeezed the artist’s hand as he looked over the hall. “Do you like it? This is my hall. I’ve never used it for its true purpose, I never have a reason to, but it does please me.”

“Are you kidding me? This is AMAZING! I’ve heard of your castle but I didn’t think it was this pretty! I thought that was a myth because no one could ever find you!” Ink vomited a puddle of paint on the floor. Nightmare stepped a foot away. At least it was of similar consistency to his tendrils, so he could clean it. Ink’s positivity shot a spike through Nightmare’s skull. He set a hand on his head to numb the pain, but it did little to help. Ink caught on and his voice lowered to normal. “You okay?”

Nightmare sighed. “Yes, yes, merely a headache. Don’t scream like that again. And keep your emotions in check.”

“Oops, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Inkblot. We’ve all done it at least once. As long as it’s not during one of boss’s caffeine highs, you’ll be a-okay!”

The last voice echoed and laughed from the top of the staircase. Killer sat on the railing, kicking his dusty white slippers with a cocky grin. Nightmare lost count of all the times he’s told the emotionless skeleton to stay off there. He didn’t bother scolding him as he slid down the barrier and landed with a showman’s bow. Ink smiled and snickered.

“How did the date go, boss?” Killer said as he stood back up. He looked between the two, hovering his finger at Ink. “And . . . do you have a title, or should I call you Ink?”

“You can address him as either ‘co-boss’ or ‘your highness.’” Nightmare said, holding Ink’s waist with a tendril. Ink shivered at the touch. “Regarding the date, it went excellent. But I assume you can already see that.”

“Co-boss? I can get used to the title.” The artist’s voice trailed off, either from awe or confusion. He stood in front of Killer on his tiptoes and held his hands behind his back, similar to Nightmare’s own posture. “That means I’m above you.”

Nightmare rolled his eye light. His tone was soft yet mocking. “Not yet, Inky. You need to prove you’re capable as a leader before you start ordering others around.”

“That’s going to be so weird.” Killer shook his head with a small smirk. “‘Cause you know, you are- were an enemy.”

“I know. That does sound weird . . .” Ink zoned out as he thought about it, cocking his skull.

Nightmare rubbed Ink’s shoulder and looked at Killer. “Well . . . let’s get Ink settled into his room, shall we? And by we, I mean me.”

Killer winked at Nightmare before looking back at Ink. “Right . . . well, have fun you two. I won’t get in your way.” He snickered before teleporting away. Ink smiled as Nightmare tightened his grip on his shoulder and turned him to the left.

The two walked down the corridor, Ink still clinging to Nightmare’s arm. He rambled on about ideas for their relationship. Nightmare attempted to shake the artist off, but he only squeezed tighter. He sighed. He supposed he did want obession, but not like this. He was thinking more . . . doing anything he wanted out of love and pleasure. He could hear Error’s condescending ‘I told you so’ as he handed him the chocolate bar of defeat. He shook the thought from his mind.

Ink examined the surrounding decorations. “Damn, you have nice taste in decor. I like all the purples, it’s pretty. How did you hide this place? I’m the guardian of the AUs and not even I could find it!”

Nightmare laughed. “Thank you. I found this place when I was starting to explore the Doodlesphere. There used to be other monsters in this AU, but they were . . . disposed of. This castle was destroyed and ruined and it took centuries to redesign.” He said with pride in his voice. “I happen to find interior design quite relaxing. Outdoors too, but not to the same extent. While we’re at it, I also enjoy violin, reading, and writing poetry on occasion.”

Ink’s eye lights turned into question marks. “Wait, you have hobbies? I mean, it all makes sense, but . . . . you? Not torturing and killing people?”

Nightmare nodded and hummed. “Yes, I have other hobbies besides torture and murder. What do you think I do when I’m not spreading negativity? Sit on a throne and give evil monologues while stroking a black cat?”

“Uh . . . yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you did.”

“Well, before I started looking into you, I thought you, Dream, and the other one made friendship bracelets and gave kindness seminars. Was that correct?”

Ink gagged. “No! What kind of altruist do you take me for? Dream does those kinds of things, but you wouldn’t catch me dead! Well, I like making bracelets and jewelry, but I hate giving speeches.”

Nightmare laughed, a genuine one this time. He appreciated Ink having a sense of humor. It would make it even more fun to shatter his spirit.

Ink let Nightmare go and skipped down the rest of the hall with the same smile and bouncing hands and feet. He looked around at the other rooms. Killer, Horror, and Dust all had a symbol on their door with their name under it in Nightmare’s old language. Killer’s door was a target with crossed knives. Horror’s was a skull with the flesh melting off. Dust was a scarf with two oval eyes above it. Nightmare’s, of course, was a moon and Ink’s was a paint pallet. Ink’s attention settled on a door and he walked up to it, tapping the silver plate. “So . . . is this . . . who’s room is this?”

“That would be Killer’s.” Nightmare opened the door and let him and Ink peek inside. Inside, the dark room was nothing special. A messy twin-sized bed, a closet, and a few shelves with trinkets and weapons. Rock and anime posters covered the walls, except one which held a collection of knives. The shortest was the size of a palm and the longest was the width of a school desk.

“Woah, this is awesome!” Ink exclaimed. He almost touched one of the knives until Nightmare’s tendrils stopped his hand. Ink didn’t seem to care and turned back to Nightmare with a smile. “What’s yours like? And what’s mine?”

Nightmare looked over into his shining eye lights. He looked forward to making them go glassy. “It’s . . . . well, how about I let you discover it for yourself? There’s no fun in me simply telling you.”

The dark king stopped in front of the newest room, right next to his. Before he could move, Ink ran up and threw open the door. It was plain with gray walls and a black floor, like Killer’s. The only furniture was a bed, closet, side table, and a dresser. However, Nightmare did set some of Ink’s canvases and painting supplies in the corner. Nightmare doubted it would be long before the furnutire was more rainbow than white. The colors in general were far duller than anything in his old room. Ink looked around, seeming disappointed yet excited. His eye sockets widened when he spotted his missing art supplies.

Nightmare leaned against the doorframe. “I decided it would be best for you to start from scratch. You will be creating a new reputation for yourself, so why not a new room? You may decorate as you like, but I expect it to be clean. Spotless if you can. This way, you won’t miss your old life.”

And you won’t miss your friends.

Ink laid back and bounced on the bed, stretching and yawning. He lay on his chest and looked at Nightmare. “Hey, speaking of new reputations, why do you hate us so much? Sibling rivalry? Jealousy? Come on, I love a good tragic backstory! The more messed up the better!” He leaned in close with a strange grin on his face. “Please? For me?”

Nightmare pursed his nonexistent lip. He supposed the story would spill sooner or later. He saw a chance for this. He sat on the bed beside Ink and cleared his throat. “Very well, I’ll tell you.” He held two of his tendrils out and shifted their malice to match the words he said. The first part was a tree and two skeleton figures beneath it. “Once upon a time, five centuries ago, there were two guardians, Dream and me. We were born from a tree nymph named Nim, who only created us so the Tree of Feelings would be safe. The Tree of Feelings was an apple tree that contained gold and black apples. The gold apples contained positivity, the black negativity. Nim guarded them but then she died from a human murdering her. She fused into the tree and created us with her last breath, leaving us orphans. I never knew Nim and I don’t consider her my mother.”

“Even so, Dream and I grew up together. We were . . . happy, believe it or not. We did everything together from picking berries to playing tag to sleeping in the tree. I used to read to him every night before he fell asleep on my shoulder.”

“But then the villagers came.” Nightmare scowled at the thought alone. “They knew of the power of the apples we guarded and wanted the gold ones all to themselves. They gave Dream all the love and attention and treated me as scum. I was beaten and insulted, thrown in the mud and called a monster. Dream was never around to help me. He chose the villagers over his brother. and was always too exhausted to say more than ‘hello.’” That part wasn’t a complete lie. Dream was never around when the villagers bullied him. He was always too busy doing work and favors for others. Nightmare didn’t understand why. He asked about Nightmare’s bruises and stolen bandages, but it wasn’t enough.

Nightmare took a deep breath and continued. “One day, one of the monsters decided to take the bullying further than usual. I was reading in the tree, minding my own business when I saw a group of them coming up to the tree. Dream was playing with his friends. They demanded I hand over the golden apples, but I said no. Then they started to beat me, same as usual, when one of them . . .” he touched his covered eye socket, “stabbed a gardening hoe through my eye socket. I was in so much pain. I curled up and cried as they kicked me. And they were going to kill me this time. Now, I didn’t want to die. I had so many dreams at the time. I wanted to see the ocean, go on adventures, and do the things I’ve only read about in my books. And who would take care of Dream if I wasn’t there?”

“As I was being beaten, I noticed one of the golden apples fell beside me. Dream and I had one rule: never touch the other’s apples. I didn’t listen. I wanted all this pain to stop and something told me I would have the power to stop them if I ate it. But the second I touched the golden apple, it corrupted and turned black. The rest of the golden apples followed.” Nightmare chuckled. “It was not a good move for me. Their negativity grew stronger with all but one positive apple turned black. The rest of the village grabbed their pitchforks and swarmed to the tree. Dream was still nowhere to be found.”

Ink’s jaw dropped. Shocking, he didn’t say much during the story.“Holy stars! That’s dark! And you were still a kid?”

Nightmare forced his tendril into Ink’s mouth to keep him quiet. He gagged on the bitter apple taste. “Yes, I was going to turn eleven in two months. As I was panicking under the tree, a voice whispered to me. It wasn’t Nim’s, it was a human man’s. I have a theory it was the same man who killed her. It’s not important. The important is he told me to eat the apple so I could gain more power. I decided to take a bite.” He lay a hand on his chest, grinning. “The corruption spread through my body and it was addicting. My heart filled with hate and resentment toward everyone, even Dream. In a way, it set me free. I was no longer the shy kid who took everyone’s violence. I realized had more power than all the monsters combined and I fought every single villager. I killed the entire village in a matter of minutes.”

“Finally, Dream arrived. He tried to stop me by eating the golden apple he planned to bring to the sick mayor. I told him a hundred times the villagers were using him to take the apples, but he told me I was being paranoid. I had the last laugh. Dream didn’t know how to use his new powers and I slammed him against the ground. Then I put a curse on him so he turned to stone. I couldn’t kill him because I needed the apple he ate, it’s the only way to ensure positivity will be gone for good. And to this day, I am still trying to take that last golden apple.”

Nightmare hovered his soul out of his chest. A melting black apple surrounded with a teal glow. It looked to be rotten and had a bitter cider aroma. He remembered how terrified he was as a child watching his heart be turned black and wicked. The pain that followed was unbearable. It felt as he was being ripped apart and having freezing oil poured on him. It no longer hurts and hasn’t hurt in over five hundred years.

Ink stared at him, then at his soul. “Wow that . . . that’s a sucky tragic backstory. Dream has always been kinda sketchy about bringing up his past, but now I get why. Are you doing alright now?”

“Now that I have you at my side, yes.” Nightmare cupped his cheek and kissed his head. Secretly, he waved his fingers to increase his guilt and shame. Ink’s eye lights changed into green swirls. Nightmare leaned back. “You know . . . since I shared my story with you, it would be fair if you told me yours. How were you created and how did you meet my brother?”

Ink’s backstory was the one bit of information Nightmare couldn’t figure out. Ink didn’t have a journal he wrote in, drawings that seemed to represent it, and he never heard him speak of it. But it could explain why Ink was the way he was, along with any deeper secrets he missed. Ink looked surprised at the question and rubbed the back of his neck. “You want to hear it? It’s cool, but compared to yours it’s not even close.”

Nightmare hummed, curious to learn and take in as much information as he could.

Ink took a deep breath. He talked so speedy, Nightmare struggled to keep up. “So, my very first memory was waking up in an empty white void. I was all alone. I didn’t have any memories, any clothes, any energy, or any emotions. I figured out I was a skeleton pretty quick and I had these tattoos all over my body and this mark on my cheekbone. I still don’t know if they mean anything. I spent all day every day either walking around or sleeping. It was . . . miserable.” His voice slowed, but it soon sped up again. “But one day, that all changed. I was walking around like usual when this giant blob of orange paint fell on my head. It was cold and I never felt something wet before, but that’s when I felt my first emotion. It was . . . courage? Yeah, I felt brave and it was the best thing I ever felt.”

Nightmare nodded along to the story, taking every detail in. “But then the paint ran out and I was back to being emotionless. A few days- or maybe weeks? Some point later, this red paint fell on my head. That one made me angry,” he blinked and his eye lights turned red, “so angry that I shot some paint out of my fingers! I figured out I could create things if I had enough power. But then the paint faded again, so I didn’t create much. Then I spent everyday waiting for the paint to fall so I could feel emotions again. I felt every single emotion with the paint, but it would always leave, so I found a solution! I used my new creation abilities to make vials and collected the paint in each one. And that’s how I got those!” Ink touched his chest, where his vials would be. He looked nervous. “Wait, what did you do with those?”

“They’re in my office, fear not.” Nightmare replayed Ink’s story in his head. It gave him an idea. Just in case Ink messed up. He stroked Ink’s head with his tendril as he thought, a subconscious action; they tended to find something to do. Ink grinned at Nightmare’s touch, leaning in it. Nightmare chuckled, proud his observations were correct. “You enjoy physical affection, don’t you?”

“Hey, blame Dream and Blue’s hugs and getting trapped alone in the void for who knows how long.” Ink trailed off, looking up at Nightmare. “Oh, right, you wanted to know how Dream and I met. So I found out how to make portals with my paint and found the Doodlesphere. I felt like I was supposed to protect it. Anyway, I was fighting Error one day and he destroyed one of my favorite AUs. I don’t remember what it was but . . . I cried because of it and Dream found me from my emotions. I thought he was some normal Sans kid who got lost, he didn’t look like the most scary guy. We argued a bit and Dream showed me those positive memory orbs he has, and then I felt better. I realized he wasn’t some kid and we helped each other. Dream helped me protect AUs and I taught him confidence and adventure! Then we became best friends and formed the Star Sanses.”

Nightmare kept petting Ink’s head. He was more distracted during the second part due to a torture idea coming to his mind. But he did follow along. “Interesting. I’m sure they don’t mind you’re no longer part of their team.” His touch turned colder. “But, I assure you you will thrive here. As long as you follow my rules, of course.”

The artist’s eyes turned to question marks. “What kind of rules are we talking about here?”

“Well, there’s only three.” Nightmare stretched and rested his hand on his knee. “Number one, you are not to leave the castle grounds without me or one of the MTT joining you. You can go outside, but you are forbidden from traveling AUs alone. Number two, you must follow all orders received, especially when we launch attacks. If you step out of line, it could ruin the entire plan. This also applies to your chores. Number three, you no longer have control of your paints. I know how much you need to take each day, so don’t worry.”

Ink furrowed his brow. “Wait, what about my job? I still need to protect the AUs from Error. If I can’t AU jump, then I can’t do my job. And if I’m not doing my job, no one will feel creative. And if no one is feeling creative, then the balance gets thrown off and everyone suffers!”

“You sound like Error, you’re both so worried about the balance. The multiverse will be fine. It won’t be an issue if you’re gone for a few months, we’ve all been alive for centuries. And you work for me now. If it’s important enough, Dream and Blue will handle the protection.”

Ink thought about it and smiled again. His eye lights turned into hearts. “Yeah, they’ll be able to handle it. It’s not the hardest job in the world, plus I get to spend more time with you. " He hugged him from the side. “There’s so much I want to do with you! I want to fight alongside you, I want to go on dates with you, I can’t wait until I get my throne so I can be close . . .”

“Ink, Ink, be quiet. Listen to me.” Nightmare snapped his fingers. Ink turned to him. He decided it would be a great time to teach Ink his first hand signal, his first bit of training. He put on a more positive tone, a challenge for him. “Here, let’s play a little game. When I raise my hand like this,” Nightmare held up his right hand, “I want you to go silent. No finishing your sentence, don’t continue speaking, be nice and quiet. Do you understand?”

Ink paused. Then he nodded, though there was a confused look in his eye lights. “Yeah. What do you want me to do? Talk until you hold your hand up?”

Nightmare nodded. “Precisely, talk about whatever comes to your mind.”

“Alright then . . ..” The artist cleared his throat. “The first AU ever made was Underfell! At least I think it was, that’s what the code said. It wasn’t made long after Undertale-”

Nightmare held his hand up. Ink noticed and closed his mouth. Nightmare pat his head. “There you go, try it again.”

Nightmare pratcied four more times until Ink had the concept down. Then he nodded, pleased. “Well, that’s progress. I will need to train you harder in the future, but for now, would you like to take your gloves off?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Ink’s words were shaky as he hid his hands behind his head, leaning against the wall and disguising it as a casual move. His eye lights dashed around the room.

Less than a day in and he was already lying to his face. It wasn’t even a good lie, his team members had said better. Nightmare’s tendrils caught his wrists and, against Ink’s protests, stole the gloves away. Dried black blood caked both of them, but Nightmare spotted the cuts underneath.

Ink sighed in defeat, sarcasm in his tone. “Okay, okay, I cut my hands on that rose you gave me. Dream walked in and I panicked so I dropped it. But it was a pretty rose!”

Nightmare ran his hand down his face, sighing. “You . . . absolute idiot. Stay still.”

Healing magic was not his strongest magic, but Nightmare had to learn it after corruption. He injured himself often, both before and after his corruption. Crouching down, he grabbed Ink’s hands and focused. A green aura fizzled at his fingertips, darker than what healing magic should have been.

Ink hissed as the healing magic sealed over his wounds. By some miracle, he didn’t cut his fingers, at least not the tops. Nightmare wrapped both of Ink’s hands in bandages made from his malice. It hardened over, becoming a light cover; they would break in a few days. He didn’t say a word as he made sure they were secure on both of Ink’s hands. “Be careful next time. You’ll have plenty of time to bruise and cut yourself. I need you in good condition.”

“Yeah, I knew. I’lI- wait what?” Ink looked at his bandaged hands. “What is that weird tone supposed to be? Do you want me to be hurt?”

Nightmare chuckled. “Well, if you are anything like the Murder Time Trio, you’re going to injure yourself regularly.” He snipped the end of the bandages off and crossed his arms, looking down at Ink.

Ink looked at the black goop bandages around his hands then looked at Nightmare with a smile. “So . . . what do you want to do now? What do couples do? I’ve never done this before . . .”

“Sleep.” Nightmare didn’t want to bother, he had too many notes to catch up on. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow you will learn your new routine.”

“Already? I’m not even tired!” Ink huffed. He grabbed one of Nightmare’s tendrils. “At least take me with you!”

Nightmare shook him off. He stared at him and thought about an alternative. “Well, how about you spend time with the others? I’m sure Killer and Horror would adore talking to someone as . . . colorful as you.”

Nightmare gave Ink a long, wordless look before shutting his door. He was tempted to lock the door, but decided he couldn’t put on that much control yet. He left Ink alone and walked down to his office. Something seemed off about Ink’s aura that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Reaching his office, Nightmare unlocked his drawer and removed the journal. He flipped to the next open page. He dipped his quill pen in ink and wrote down an entry.

October 13, 20xx

Plan PV was a success. Ink took the vial and now he’s in the castle with me. The blackmail worked. I had to force myself on him to make the potion work faster, but it was worth it. I hope his silencing training goes well, I’m tired of him talking already. Ink doesn’t seem to be as obsessive as I hoped, but I assume that will come with time. No matter what happens, I will not give up my plan. I will have the perfect weapon for Dream, even if I need to ruin the entire Doodlesphere to do it.

While writing the entry, Nightmare’s tendrils stroked each vial. He felt the emotions in them. They tingled as if sentient, alarmed like a warning signal. As if they knew. Something must have gone wrong when he used it at the restaurant. Nightmare had the feeling of Ink’s artificial emotions branded in the back of his hand. Metaphorically. Could it . . . no, Ink could not know what was going on. How come his aura was so dull then?

It hit him. Of course, he diluted the paint in alcohol. The effect would be weaker. The next few doses would be stronger, at least he trusted him now. Nightmare sighed, relieved he wouldn’t need to adjust his plans so early.

He had days to months to work with him. They were both immortal, they had all the time in the multiverse.

Chapter Text

The first month of the relationship felt like a fairytale and Ink was having the time of his life.

Nightmare knew how to be romantic. He took Ink out on dates to his favorite places in the Doodlesphere. Ink thought he saw everything, but Nightmare revealed secret places he liked to spend time in. His favorite was a minor AU called Silenceswap. As the name suggested, it was, well, silent. Too silent for the artist's taste. His favorite AUs were the ones with a lot of action and activity, or at least something to do. Silenceswap bored Ink quickly, but he stayed for Nightmare’s sake and to listen to him talk. He couldn’t believe he didn’t realize how attractive Nightmare’s voice was before. It was smooth like acrylic paint and as colorful as a rainbow. Ink could listen to him talk for hours. He loved the sweet time with Nightmare.

Even hanging around the castle was fun. It took Ink two weeks to explore the four stories and every little tower. The highest one was his favorite since he could see everything in the AU he didn't know existed. The dark green forests, the high mountains, the giant lake in front of Nightmare's window. This AU was amazing.

The castle never seemed to get any sunlight. The best weather Ink had seen was light gray clouds, the worst were violent thunderstorms. He didn’t understand how any of the plants grew. Magic?

“I don’t like sunlight,” Nightmare said when he asked. “It’s bright, obnoxious, and makes everything overheat.”

Ink stared at him blankly. No wonder he was so miserable all the time. He remembered hearing something about how sunshine could improve mood. He didn't bring it up though.

Ink even got to know the other members of the gang. Killer was a blast to hang around. They had a similar sense of humor and he liked watching anime with him. He made commentary during the episodes, even if some of it was uncomfortable for his taste. Horror creeped him out and was on the quiet side, but still nice enough. The one person he didn’t like was Dust, who enjoyed making him miserable and kept him on edge. He stared at him from the shadows with a both sick and pitying expression. He never talked to him directly, but he caught him muttering things to himself. "I can't wait for him to wake up from his fantasies, don't you Pap?"

Ink had no clue what he meant.

Even he guessed there was a downside to everything. Nightmare didn’t like him to talk too much and used the hand signal a lot. Ink would get excited about something and start to ramble, only for Nightmare to shut him down.

“You’re prettier when you’re silent, Ink, and your voice is obnoxious, too many cracks and scratches."

Ink’s smile fell. Was his voice that bad? Nah, Nightmare had to be teasing him. It was like when said Ink loved him and Nightmare wouldn’t say it back. He was playing hard to get. Which confused him more because he was the one to ask to date and let him live in his castle . . .

His head would explode if he thought too hard about this.

The other downside was Nightmare focused on his battle training above anything else. It felt like Ink got less cuddles and kisses and more tendrils strangling him. He understood why the training was so difficult. Nightmare wanted him to be better, but this was miserable. And when they weren’t battle training, Nightmare almost always had some other project or work he had to do.

“Nightmare! Come on, you’ve been doing work for hours. Can’t we . . . I don’t know, do something fun?” Ink wrapped his arms around Nightmare’s neck, watching him fill out the files below. He didn’t get what any of them were for. His associates? Did Nightmare have associates?

Nightmare sighed, grabbing Ink with his tendril and dropping him to the floor beside him. "I'm busy."

"You're always busy. Either in here, or whatever you do in the basement dungeon." He leaned his arms on his desk, still trying to get his attention. "Can you at least tell me what you're doing? What's so important about these papers?"

"What's so important is that I have alliances, people I work with. I have connections for supplies and information. These are the letters I exchange to keep in touch."

"Oh," Ink said, still only half-understanding. "Can I at least watch?"

"No, I . . ." Nightmare shoved his hands off the desk with his tendrils. He folded them in front of his face and took a deep breath. "Listen, if you stay silent and don't bother me, I will keep you on my lap while I work, then we can do something fun. Does that sound fair?"

Ink grinned and nodded. "That sounds great!" He jumped on Nightmare's lap and leaned against him, snuggling.

Then he wasn't working or hanging out with him . . .

“Can,” Ink panted, holding his knees, “can I take a break? We’ve been at this for hours.”

The dark king, somehow, didn’t even break a sweat. He flicked his tendrils and lay them by his sides. “So you’re admitting you’re too weak to continue. How unfortunate, I assumed you were stronger than this. Here’s a deal: If you can last five more minutes, I’ll allow you to take the rest of the afternoon off.”

“I’m not weak! I’m . . . fine, just for you.” Ink got back up with Broomie. He muttered, “Five minutes, I can handle five minutes.”

Spoiler alert, no he couldn’t. Nightmare pinned him to the ground within the first two, taking advantage of Ink needing a breath. Ink didn’t even have the energy to push him off or make a witty joke. He tried to get up and fell right back down.

Nightmare clicked his tongue, disappointment in his tone. “Oh well, you gave it your best attempt. Get up, we’re trying this again.”

“Do I have to?”

Nightmare picked Ink up with his tendrils gently, then he threw him against the wall. Ink’s head spun as he groaned.

“You could’ve said yes, didn't have to throw me . . .” Ink grumbled. He grabbed Broomie and swung it down.

Ink had an hour of free time before Nightmare needed him again, so he decided to paint. He didn’t get much time for it these days. Nightmare wanted him to train and fight so often he was too tired to do much else. He usually took a nap with his free time. He appreciated Nightmare's care, but it made him miss Dream and Blue. Yeah, he trained with those two, but every weekday for an hour or two. Not every day for three to six hours.

Ink squeezed a tube of blue paint onto his pallet and only a dribble. He sighed and tossed it over to a small pile he created. He was running low. Most of his paint was still in his old room. Nightmare couldn’t steal them all. He had a little rule for himself that he couldn’t go out and get more paint unless he used up at least four bottles. Otherwise, he got too excited and got too much.

Ink paused and realized the issue. The second rule. He wasn't supposed to leave the castle without Nightmare or one of the team members coming with him. He hadn’t left the castle at all since he came. He missed running around AUs and making new ones and- oh crap, there had to be a lot of AUs to make!

Ink tapped his paintbrush against the canvas. He didn't want to disobey and betray Nightmare and his trust, but . . . it wouldn't be more than two hours. And Nightmare would understand.

Ink peeked outside his bedroom and looked around. He didn't see anyone or feel Nightmare's aura, so he was free. Grabbing Broomie off the wall, he spun it to make a portal. Not to any specific AU, but somewhere he could get what he needed. He grabbed the navy shoulder bag Nightmare stole from his old room and jumped in.

He landed in Flufftale for some reason, but he didn’t mind. It was one of the coziest AUs. Soft muted browns and whites covered the whole place. Minus the trees and grass, but even those were a pastel green; the sky was a sweet blue. The whole place rang “safe” in Ink’s head. Plus, Ccino was nice to talk to and he made killer lattes. Huh, a latte didn’t sound bad right now, it’s been a while since he had coffee. Ink still didn’t understand the whole “no sugar in coffee” belief Nightmare had. That stuff was too bitter without it.

Ink readjusted his bag and started to walk down the sidewalk. The sun was so bright he had to block it with his hand, but it was also a nice change from the constant miserable weather. He stopped at an art supplies store and then Ccino’s shop, sipping a large java chip cappuccino. Ink took the chance to info dump about the last month and how great his new boyfriend was.

“You and . . . Nightmare? That is something I never expected,” Ccino said, wiping off the counter beside Ink. He wore a cream sweater with a dark brown sweater wrapped around his waist and pink cat slippers. Some of the cats in the cafe pawed at them.

Ink sipped his drink, digging out some spare gold to pay for it. He flicked the coins at Ccino. “Yeah, me and Nightmare are a thing now. He’s an amazing boyfriend, believe it or not. I never would’ve guessed. He has a soft spot for me.”

Ccino gave him a look-over with some concern. “That sounds nice, I'm glad you're happy.” The coffee shop owner put his hand on his face and sighed. “Ink, that man is dangerous. You out of everyone in the multiverse should know he could hurt you.”

Ink laughed. “Nightmare would never hurt me! I’m his . . . what did he call me again? Oh yeah, his trophy prince.” One of the cats brushed up against his coffee cup and Ink pat its head, listening to the purring. Ink licked the whipped cream and chocolate sauce off his nonexistent lip.

Looking out the window, Ccino tapped his fingers on the wood counter. His other hand thumbed the gold coins Ink gave him. “He didn't . . . come with you at all, did he?”

“Nah, he stayed at the cast . . . le . . .” Ink trailed off. How long had he been gone? He looked over at the clock on the wall and gulped. He’d been gone for at least three hours. Maybe four, he wasn't good with time. Either way, the sun was starting to set and Nightmare had to notice he was missing by now. Oh stars, Nightmare had to wonder where he was, he had to be worried. Ink still felt a bit of dread in the center of his ribs. He didn't want to make him upset.

Ink stopped petting that cat and stood up, drinking the rest of the coffee down quickly. Ccino looked at the cup then up at Ink. “Do you want a receipt?”

“Nope! I’m good! I gotta go! Thanks, Ccino! I’ll give you a good review!” Ink threw the coffee cup in the trash, tossed his art supply bag over his shoulder, and ran out the door.

Ink looked around for a place to make a portal. Usually, he didn’t care where he made his portals, but now he was stressed—he couldn't focus as well when he was stressed. He needed to clear his head. He grabbed Broomie and swung it so hard, he lost his footing, slipping against the grass.

“Woah, WOAH!” Ink slipped and skitted as he toppled off the side of the walkway, which was by a cliff. He fell head over heel down the peak until he face-planted into a field of green grass. His art supplies slipped out of the bag and spilled all over the dirt.

Ink groaned and sat up, checking himself over for injuries. He didn’t have any, at least none from the fall. He stood back up and gathered his paints and brushes, the sun almost touched the horizon. Has he been gone that long?

Nightmare is not going to be happy about this.

Ink grabbed Broomie off his back and spun it, taking a calming breath and creating a portal. He gripped tight to his art supply bag and leaped through.

When he opened the door to the castle, it was eerily empty. It wasn’t much brighter inside than it was outside, making every tiny movement look and sound bigger than it was. Ink dropped his bag of art supplies in his room and searched the dark hallways. “Heyo? Nightmare? Killer? Horror? Dust?” No one answered. Was this some type of prank?

The first light came from an open door. Nightmare’s office with two flickering candles and light coming from his windows. His hands were folded between his nasal bone and his teeth; narrowing his eye light at Ink. And he did not look happy. He flicked his finger and gestured for Ink to come over.

“Sit down. We need to talk,” the Lord of Negativity said in a stern voice. A hot tingle shivered through Ink but did as he asked. He never felt this around Nightmare before, not before falling in love and moving in with him.

“You left, without my permission. Without my knowledge.”

Ink rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, my bad. I forgot to tell you.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say.

Nightmare growled like a rabid animal. His sludge distorted and dripped. “My bad? MY BAD? Is that all you have to say? Where the fuck have you been? For all I’ve known, you could've been kidnapped, or dusted, or worse, ran away to rejoin the Stars. How could you do this to me, Ink? You were behaving so well!”

“Calm down! You’re overreacting!” Ink pushed himself as far back as the chair allowed him to go. Part of him felt bad for betraying Nightmare, the other questioned his safety. “You’re freaking me out!”

“I don’t care, you deserve to be! If you’re not going to say anything useful, how about I stitch your mouth shut and silence you? I could loan a drill from Killer’s workshop and thread from this drawer. It would make your presence far more tolerable. You would shut up for once in your damn life.”

“No, wait, don’t!” Ink panicked. What was going on with Nightmare? “Look I’m sorry, okay! It’s not that big of a deal. I took a walk around Flufftale, bought some art supplies, and got coffee. Nothing bad happened—okay, I fell down a hill—but I didn’t talk to anyone! Wait, I talked to Ccino for a while.”

"So you defied my specific order to stay put and left the castle without my permission." Nightmare lay his head in his hands and took a long heavy exhale. He glared back up at Ink. "Oh, did you sneak your paints away while I wasn’t looking too? Please, make it a three for three. Disappoint me the whole way.”

“I didn't-“ His right eye light turned red. “Hey, I did nothing wrong! You’re the one being a controlling psycho here!”

Nightmare placed his hands on the desk and stood up so he was towering over Ink. He wasn’t shouting anymore; his voice was deathly calm. “Might I remind you, you are still below me in power? You may be a second lieutenant, but you still obey me and have no place to call me a controlling psycho.” He spat the words like they were poison. “You have no place to voice any opinion. You are my property, Ink, not the other way around. You should be grateful. If anyone else ticked me off as you have, I would be forcing them to relive their worst memories. Over, and over, and over until they want to stop living their miserable lives. But no, I still need you around. Unlike those Star Shits, who already forgot about you. Tell me little pumpkin, did anyone besides Ccino recognize you or ask if you were okay?”

“Well, no. But I didn’t-”

“That’s because no one is looking for you. You don’t think anyone cares if you’re missing, do you? I did them a favor by taking you off their hands. Dream is nice to everyone, Blue has a good soul, you’re not special to them. You’re not special to anyone.”

“That’s not true! My friends care about me!” Did they? He hasn’t seen them in a long time. He also didn’t want to think about the possibility he was that forgettable. Ink huffed, pissed off with his boyfriend. He slammed his fists down as he stood and met Nightmare’s eye. “Even if they didn’t care about me, which they do, that doesn’t give you the right to own me and order me around like some dog! That was our deal! And if you think you can, well you can suck my-”

SLAP!

Ink’s skull jerked to the side as Nightmare struck his face. He hardened his goop so it felt like a piece of metal. Ink touched his stinging cheekbone and he slid back into his chair. Blood dripped from his mouth. A fresh bruise was already forming at the same pace his shock settled in. His heart ached and pounded.

“You hit me,” Ink whispered. “You’ve never hi-hit me before.”

“And I will do it again if you keep speaking to me with disrespect.” Nightmare shook his hand, not looking sorry at all. He raised his browbones as if expecting something. “Well? No quip? No joke? Nothing?”

For the first time in his immortal life, Ink found himself tongue-tied and paralyzed. The only thing he could do was stare and hope he wouldn’t hit him again. Or do something worse.

“Hm, that’s one way to keep you quiet.” Nightmare laughed under his breath. “Oh, that pitiful look. You don’t think I love you, do you? My stars Ink, you’re so gullible. This is why I chose you to be my weapon—you’re an easy puppet. All it takes is a few pretty words and a bottle of paint to control you. Even if I did love you, that doesn’t mean you can do whatever your selfish empty heart desires. Perhaps some stricter rules would do you well. They could fix that oversized ego of yours . . .” He seemed to think something over.

“You’re insane.” The words were out before Ink could stop them. He couldn’t tell if the dark king felt amused or enraged.

“Oh, first I’m controlling, now you’re calling me insane? Little pumpkin, would you like to see insane?” Nightmare snarled, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Ink shrank and braced himself. “I’ll show you insane. Hand over your paintbrush.”

Not wanting to get hurt anymore, Ink gave him Broomie. Nightmare eyed it before wrapping a tendril around the handle. He slammed it against the stone floor over and over again with sickening cracks. Ink screamed and cried as Broomie shattered into pieces. Nightmare tied a tendril around his arms and forced him to watch his most prized possession get destroyed.

“NO! NIGHTMARE, STOP! STOP IT!" Ink's voice broke as he sobbed harder. How could this be happening? Everything was perfect yesterday! Why was he being so cruel?

Broomie was gone. All that was left of it was scraps and slivers of wood, way worse than the occasional crack down the middle. The bristles spread all over the floor; the silver piece that connected them was too far gone for repair.

Nightmare slammed his foot down one more time on the wood, splintering it with the heel of his boot. He looked at Ink from the corner of his eye, still scowling. "Don't cry over your own mistakes. If you simply listened to me, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You lost your privilege to your paintbrush after you used it against me. You are banned from making portals. I swear that if you break that rule, I will put you through so much pain it will make Dream's death look tame. Do you understand me? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Ink felt his heart shattered at those words. Every one of them. He had a million questions, but his mind was so muddled and confused that he couldn't think of any of them. He couldn't tell which were his free-thinking thoughts and which were his denial. "I- I understand." He held back a scowl and a flinch, instead looking at Nightmare with blue teardrop eye lights. “Why are you doing this? I hate you! I want to go home!”

Nightmare's hand hovered in front of his neck as if he were trying to decide whether to choke him or not. He ended up gripping the bottom of his chin, forcing it up. Ink hated how much he liked the touch. “But this is your home, you pathetic excuse of a weapon. You should’ve said something earlier. Now, time for you to face the real consequences of your actions."

He tightened his tendril around Ink’s arms and legs and dragged him out of the room. Nightmare walked without a single word to Ink. He didn’t care about his comfort. The artist told himself he only acted like this because anger blinded him. He didn’t mean to say he didn’t love him, it just came out. It had to have. It’ll subside and everything will be normal again. Yeah, give him a few hours, he’ll say sorry, and everything will calm down . . . he loved him inside . . .

Stars, Ink wanted Dream and Blue.

The dark king turned down the circling stairs into the dungeon. Ink gulped. What did he have in mind?

“Nightmare, what are you doing?” Ink shouted as he got his wits back. He fought in his tendrils. The more he tried, the tighter and colder they got. “Answer me!”

Nightmare continued to give him the silent treatment. He finally stopped at a dirty brick wall at the end of the corridor, flicking a lever. A section shifted and opened. Maybe it was the angle Ink was looking at, but the room was plain white, with no decorations or any color. Ink hyperventilated. It couldn’t be what he was thinking, that was crazy. Nightmare wouldn’t take advantage of his worst fear on purpose. Right?

Nightmare tensed u[ the tendrils. “You are to stay in this room until you understand the cost of disobedience. I hoped this space would go unused, but you gave me no choice. Also, you chose the perfect outfit, except for a few details . . .” He ripped off his scarf and jacket so all he had was his white sweater and white jeans. Ink reached out for them, but Nightmare flung him into the room and shut the door. “Ta ta.”

“No!” Ink stood up and pounded on the smooth white wall, which made no sound. He sunk to the ground, falling on his hands and knees. He kept punching the wall. “Nightmare, let me out! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!”

His boyfriend didn’t appear.

The artist didn’t have Broomie and there was no liquid nearby. Nightmare had his vials. No escape.

He stood up and felt around the room, hoping for another door. There wasn’t. He guessed the square space was about the size of an average bedroom. He screamed.

Ink trembled in the too-small too-quiet space. Neon beams on the ceiling stopped any shadows from forming. All he could hear were the voices screaming and panicking in his head. The chamber had everything he feared like it was designed for him. Whiteness, emptiness, tightness, isolation, and silence.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?” His voice cracked. He clutched his skull, kicking and fidgeting as his eye sockets teared up. “Nightmare, come back! I don’t want to be in here!”

Chapter Text

“Any sign of him?” Blue sat beside Dream on a stone bench.

“No,” the guardian sighed, looking up at Outertale’s night sky. His voice was worn, tired, and scratchy.

One month. They’ve been searching almost nonstop for over one month. They traveled to all the negative AUs they could, anywhere Nightmare could be hiding Ink. The problem with the Doodlesphere was there were millions of AUs and timelines. If they went through every single AU, not only the negative ones, it would take years. Centuries even, and they assumed he didn’t have that much time. Dream couldn’t sense Ink’s aura in any of them. He couldn’t find the other members either. The more time passed, the more he worried.

Dream was on a constant search for their brother’s hideout, but now the stakes raised. They knew Nightmare constructed a private AU for him and his subordinates. He had never been to a pocket AU, but he knew of them from Ink. Closed-off, highly secure AUs only monsters who knew the coordinates could enter. Like a house key given to close friends.

Unfortunately, Dream didn’t have that key. No Doodlesphere door leads to it. Only Nightmare, Error, Ink, Core, Fresh, himself, and a few other outcodes could make portals. Out of those, only Nightmare and Error could access the pocket AU.

Dream looked over to the skeleton sitting on his left. He worried over Blue. As a mortal, he didn’t match the stamina or powers he or Ink had. Yet his determination kept him going, sometimes even more than Dream. And the guardian couldn’t be more grateful. He almost had more energy than he did.

Dream ran his fingers down his clipboard, covered in red ink Xs. They traveled to every AU on the list with no results. Nightmare would never keep Ink in a positive AU, it was contradictory to his goal. Dream couldn’t hide it anymore, Nightmare was in a pocket AU, and that made it almost fell hopeless.

“Blue . . .” Dream asked, turning their attention toward their friend. They had an idea. “How close are you to Error?”

Blue blinked in surprise and thought about it. “Well . . . I think we’re friends. At least in a ‘if you tell me there’s someone you like, I’ll spare their life’ way. Why do you ask?”

“Do you think he could help us find Ink?” Despite everything, there was hope in his voice. “He has to be involved with Nightmare’s plan somehow. At the very least, he has to know where his castle is!”

“Hm . . . I don’t know. Since it’s Ink, I don’t think he even wants to save him, but I can try. And you need-”

“Trying is all I need.” Dream smiled, hoping to avoid what Blue would say next. He still had hope everything would be okay, despite the worrying in the pit of his ribs. The sooner they found Ink, the sooner they could put this behind them. The sooner they could bring Ink home. Dream stood up and the ground spun under his feet. He didn’t say anything about it though, both because he didn’t want to worry Blue and he was used to it at this point.

Dream spun his staff and created a portal, stepping aside to let Blue walk in first. The Anti-void, while desolate and unnerving, was easy to enter. But his hands did feel numb.

“Error!” Blue called, his voice echoing in the Anti-void. His voice was the only one that answered him. Dream couldn’t sense Error’s aura anywhere, but he did hear something. A strange buzzing.

As the sound great more distinct, Dream turned around. An oval portal glitched, showing an AU on the inside. Strange, why didn’t Error shut it? Did he always keep his portals open? That didn’t seem like him.

“There.” Dream spoke the obvious and pointed at the portal.

Blue strings dangled all over the AU. Some monsters struggled to get out of them while others ran in a panic. Dream summoned his bow and fired two arrows to free the trapped monsters. Blue used his telekinesis magic to levitate them gently to the ground.

Dream sighed. Not because the negativity was giving him a headache, but because he knew the calm period couldn’t last. Error and Nightmare haven’t attacked since Ink’s kidnapping, both a good and bad thing.

While Blue helped pull the monsters down, Dream ran and searched for Error. It turned out to be easier than he expected as he sensed his aura. He looked up and Error held two monsters in his string, playing with them like toys. He glitched more than usual, a laugh hidden under his words. Dream ran up, but he lost his footing. He wasn’t paying attention and missed the traps Error set out. He fell into one. The strings snapped and shot up, trapping him in a ball of strings. Dream gasped and kicked in a frantic escape attempt. It was harder than it should have been.We

Error yanked the strings of a mouse monster, using a falsetto voice. “Oh, Antoinette! I don’t have a choice! I must kill you or the great destroyer will bring me down! Please forgive me!”

He pulled the second mouse’s strings. “No, there has to be another way! I won’t let him take you!”

“It’s too late! Goodbye forever!”

By the time they broke free of the strings, Error forced the monster to stab the other and burst out laughing. Then he snapped the first’s neck. Dream felt a piece of his soul crack. Error’s laugh turned into a cough, then into a violent twitch. He groaned and held his head, glaring around at some invisible threat. “What do you want from me? I killed it, geez . . .”

Dream threw the blue strings down and fired a positivity arrow. Despite it only being one arrow, it made his arms feel heavy. The arrow shot down one of Error’s strings. ErrorDream slipped, teleporting to avoid falling from the platform he created.

Error looked at Dream with a mix of anger and disappointment. “Oh great, you just had to ruin my fun, didn’t you.”

Dream scoffed. “Murder isn’t a game! You can’t manipulate the lives of others because you are bored, it’s cruel, it’s wrong.” They took a deep breath. “Speaking of, where is Ink? I know you know something about him!”

The destroyer rolled his eye lights. “Nightmare has him, I thought you would figure that out by now.”

Blue teleported over, hammer in hand. “We know Nightmare took him, we just want to know where! Error, come on! Ink is in danger! Nightmare is going to kill him!”

“So? He’s my enemy. I don’t care if Nightmare beats him up a bit, less work and stress for me.” Error shrugged. He looked at the ground. While it wasn’t a direct lie, Dream could sense he was hiding something. He held his hand out to make his power stronger, but nothing happened. Well, no magic was summoned, but he lost almost all feeling in his legs. Dream stumbled.

“This is serious! You heartless little . . .” Blue muttered through gritted teeth. He sighed, disappointment in his tone. “Dream, if I take on- Dream? Are you okay?”

Only catching words of the conversation, Dream kept stumbling. He struggled to catch his breath. He fainted, feeling like he was going to vomit. His arms trembled. What was happening to him? He was fine.

“Dream!” Blue ran over to his side and held him. He hovered his soul out of his chest. His golden apple was dim, more gray than gold. Dream breathed slowly. "Dream, you need to stop using your magic! You're hurting yourself, I got your back."

“No, I-” Dream sat up and fell over again. His head pounded. Even Error lowered his arms, looking surprised. Dream heaved. His eyelids felt heavy and he couldn’t keep them open. They coughed, leaning on Blue for support until his body couldn’t take it; he blacked out.

Dream woke up in his room, bundled under the blankets of his bed. Two pills rested by his coaster, white and red stripped. They weren't going to risk taking them. Dream took the water and pills and drank them down, noticing the bandages on his arms. His crown lay on the nightstand, his cape on a chair. His memory was a bit blurry, but he remembered Error, Blue, Core, and how he passed out trying to save the citizens.

Dream’s room was the best kept of the Star Senses. Every trinket, figurine, book, and flower had its place and he dusted every week. He always had a sweet-scented candle burning, changing the scent every week. But now, there was a new item that didn’t fit the room’s theme. A corkboard covered in a mess of sticky notes, strings, stickers, and papers. Red Xs crossed out the AUs they’d searched and monsters they had suspected to be allies to Nightmare. It was bigger and more easy to see than the clipboard. The book in front of it was titled ‘A Not-So-Simple Guide to the Doodlesphere’.

A vanilla spice candle burned as Dream attempted to stand up. His head immediately pounded and spun and he lay back down. Dream held his head. He felt better in his room than on the battlefield, but he felt it was because of more than the fight. Was he sick? He was seldom sick, especially not like this. The last time they felt so nauseous was when they caught the flu after first being freed from stone. That's also when they discovered modern medicine for the first time, not herbs or tea. It was the quite the shock.

Someone knocked on the door, two gentle taps. Dream looked up and whispered, "Come in."

Cross opened the door with a stoic look, but it turned into a smile once he saw he was awake. His left hand carried a glass of iced water. "Thank the stars you're alright. Blue told me about your magic burnout and it scared the hell out of me. Here, take these." He took the pills off the nightstand and gave them to Dream.

"Is that what happened? Thank you." Dream took the water and drank down the pills. It felt like heaven on his dry throat.

Cross sat on the stool in from of Dream's desk and watched him. Well, partially. "Cookie dough, are you okay?"

Cross looked back at him. “I'm just thinking. You're out of magic in the first place because you've been spending so much time searching for Ink. And I'm wondering if that's worth it. Have you ever considered . . . Ink wanted to be with Nightmare?”

Dream looked at him and raised a brow bone. “No. Ink would never do it by his own free will. He’s not the most moral person, yes. But he would never abandon us like this, especially not for Nightmare.”

“Ink would abandon you, it wouldn't be the first time he left his 'friends'.” Cross sighed. “I know what he’s like and I know what Nightmare’s gang is like. It’s chaotic, lawless, and he doesn’t need to worry about morals. It’s perfect for him. You said he was smiling with Nightmare, what if magic wasn't involved? Nightmare is charming and persuasive when he wants to be.” He stared off into the distance, his voice turned dark. “That’s how he got his hands on me.”

Dream looked up at Cross. He could imagine what it was like, to lose everything and everyone because of a single mistake. Then being near helpless as someone takes advantage of that. He knew Cross had a point, even if he refused to admit it. Yes, Ink would love and potentially thrive in a lawless environment. But not at the cost of his friends, right? Dream clutched his arms. Cross reached out and held his hands. His hands were bigger than Dream’s, rougher and scarred. “None of this is your fault, flower. But you can’t keep sacrificing your health to help Ink. Everyone is worried about you, I’m not the only one. You’re not even sleeping.”

Dream sighed. “Why does everyone keep asking me about how much I sleep? First Blue, then Core, now you.”

Cross pointed at the window and Dream stood up, walking through. He was a disheveled disaster. His eye lights were dim, darkened by the sullen bags underneath. And even by skeleton standards, he was pale. “Oh.”

“Exactly.” Cross picked up the picture frame with the three Star Sanses in it. “You’re stressing yourself out for someone who doesn’t need or deserve it. If you were the one kidnapped by Nightmare, would Ink spend this much effort trying to find you?”

Dream paused. That question never came to him either. “I . . . no. But I couldn’t live with myself if I stopped searching now. Especially if . . . if Ink dies because I can’t find him.”

Cross smiled and then frowned again. “That’s why I love you, you always value kindness. But you don’t have to give everyone your kindness and help. Some people don’t deserve it, and I think Ink is one of them.” He held Dream’s cheek and kissed him.

“Now get some rest. Those pills are going to make you tired and you need to heal.” Cross lay Dream back in bed, gently pushing him back down when he tried to touch his cheek. Dream’s laugh turned into a cough, Cross had a point. He felt awful, along with feeling the tiredness of the pills. Cross’s smile was the last thing he saw before falling drifting off.

For the second time that day, Dream woke up with a yawn. He still felt Cross’s phantom arms holding his hand, but now he wasn’t here. There wasn’t as much sunlight as when he fell asleep.

The pills seemed to work as while the heavy feeling was still there, he felt less empty. He could sit up without his head spinning. Cross left. Dream managed to climb out of bed and go downstairs. In the living room, Core stood with their eyes wide open, reflecting beams and stars.

"It's okay, you can do it! I believe in you!" Blue smiled, holding his fists in front of him. Core steadied their breathing. They adjusted their stance and gasped, jumping back. They mumbled something. Dream couldn't hear, but it made Blue frown.

"What are you guys doing?" Dream asked.

“Trying to locate Nightmare with my powers." Core rubbed their head. “That's . . . odd. They keep malfunctioning. Everything is blurry. Wait, let me try something.”

Core’s eyes changed into galaxies again and they hummed, speaking to themself through sounds. Dream bounced his foot on the ground as they did, only worrying more. Blue crossed his arms. Core blinked. “Okay, so my magic is working fine. It’s something on Nightmare’s side. He’s blocking me from seeing anything.”

“His shield . . .” Dream murmured to himself. He knew it was the same shield keeping him from sensing the team’s auras. The same one keeping his AU hidden, keeping him from Ink knowing if he was safe or even alive. He sighed in frustration, countering it with a deeper calming breath. “Can you track it?”

“I can’t. It’s too strong. Your brother is the second-strongest guardian after Error.”

Dream furrowed his browbones and thought for a moment. “Then I’ll find Error and get him to talk. I know how-”

“NO!” Blue and Core both said it at the same time. Blue stared at him, hands shaking. “Dream, we just fought Error yesterday! And look what he did to you! You passed out on the battlefield with a burning fever! Did you listen to a single word Cross said? I care about Ink too and I’m worried about him, but you need REST. We can’t lose you too!”

Dream’s eye sockets went wide. He never heard an outburst like that from Blue. He looked at Core for their thoughts, but they only nodded. “Blue is right. You need to be more careful. You’re running out of energy and magic."

The Guardian of Positivity looked between the two and sighed. "I suppose you're right. But I'll only rest until I recover. I don't want to stop searching for long."

"Three days," Blue said. "At least three days before you go back out, okay? We'll let you know if anything big happens!"

Dream nodded. "Okay."

Waiting for those next three days to end was painful. If it wasn’t for the pills, Dream doubted he would be able to sleep at all. He ate little and spent most of his time reading, anything to get his mind off Ink. He felt as if something horrible happened, but he also remembered Cross’s thoughts.

But those days eventually passed and Dream set off for the Anti-void. His bow was prepared and pre-loaded, carrying a full quiver of positivity arrows. He kept his bow on him in case something with wrong. They hoped they wouldn’t need to fight anyway, they still weren’t at full health.

Dream found the destroyer in his hammock, covering his head with a blue pillow. The pillow itself wasn’t blue, but it had a crocheted pillowcase over it. Error mumbled under his breath. “Shut up. You don’t know anything . . . sick of you stupid voices . . ."

Dream cleared their throat. “Error? Error! Down here!”

He ignored him, still mumbling to himself and trying to sleep on his hammock. He covered his head with the pillow.

The guardian humphed. Since his magic was too weak for him to teleport up there, he looked for another way to get his attention. His attention drew to blue strings. They looked close enough to hoops, however, they were too high for him to reach. Spare electric blue strings hung nearby. Dream looked at his bow and came up with a plan. He glanced between Error and the strings and the hoops, then he took a run for it.

Dream grabbed their bow off their back and grabbed the loose strings. Tying it around an arrow, he aimed and shot it through the loop of one of the hoops. It wrapped around and Dream leaped off the ground. He clung to the string like a lifeline and swung high until he reached the hoop. His hands barely grabbed on as Dream hung there. He told himself not to look down as pulled himself on the strings. His gloves helped him keep his grip. His boots not so much. Dream clung to the ropes tightly to hope not to fall. He was tempted to shoot Error with an arrow to get his attention.

“Error, here!”

Error looked shocked, finally noticing him past his chocolate bar. “How did you-”

“I climbed trees and vines all the time as a child.” Dream said, his legs trembling on the thin string. He stood on two to steady himself, pretending they were circus hoops, despite never using them. “How do you use these?”

Error blinked. “Not gonna lie, I’m impressed. But what the hell do you want? I’ve already dealt with one of you annoying apple twins.”

“Nightmare?”

“No, Lust.” He rolled his eye lights. “Obviously it’s Nightmare. We made a deal and I’m not telling you anything because I don’t want him to be pissed. Get out.”

“I came this far, I’m not turning back without a good reason.” Dream crossed his arms and waited for more from Error, but he didn't say anything. Likewise, Dream didn't speak back. It stayed silent until Dream took a look at his chocolate. It wasn’t the red Underfell chocolate Error usually had. It was purple with streaks of silver. “Where did you find that?”

“Your brother. I made a bet with him and he lost.” Error bit into the chocolate again. “So he changed his plan and now . . . I don’t actually know what he’s doing now. I don’t want to know either, it’s something with dresses.”

Dream narrowed his eye sockets. “Which AU?”

“Stitchtale.”

“Stitchtale, Stitchtale . . .” Dream muttered the word to themself over and over. Ink would know the AU in a heartbeat. They didn’t. “Can you take me there?”

Without looking at him, Error snapped his fingers and a portal appeared. Dream peered inside. It was an AU made of fabric, cotton, and soft materials, reminding him of a video game he played with Epic and Cross. Even matching the cuteness of the game. He ended up more confused than angry. This AU was positive . . .

Error shut the portal. He lay back in his hammock, staring at Dream. “Usually, I’d say go find the security footage or receipt from the shop. But A, I don’t give enough of a shit, and B, I don’t know where he got those. The only thing I know is that Ink wasn’t in there or in the AU.”

“Sweet monarch," Dream cursed under his breath. He hoped Stitchtale would be where Ink was kept.

Error shrugged, glaring at him. “You need to figure out how to swear like a normal person one of these days. It's almost as annoying as these voices . . ." He looked around the Anti-void with the same scowl.

Dream opened his mouth to offer advice, but then he closed it again. "Well . . . I'll take your advice and um, I hope you get better." Dream turned around and walked away, only one question on his mind.

What was Nightmare doing in Stitchtale?

Chapter Text

Nightmare was in the mood to destroy something, but he took a deep breath to keep his temper in check. He was more mature and collected than that. Instead, he read a book in his library. But it failed to stop his thoughts.

He didn’t keep track of how long ago he locked Ink in the white room, but it was at least over two weeks. He didn’t care. He was sick of that arrogant, over-excited artist. Nightmare expected Ink to question him by this point. Even after months of careful stalking and planning, he was more lovesick than he imagined. He distracted himself with planning, spending almost the entire day in his office.

Yet despite the lack of suspicion, the skeleton still wouldn’t break. He thought he would at least. Nightmare knew he needed to destroy Ink’s pride to make him obey, but his methods weren’t working. Pressuring him into admitting secrets, overworking him in battle, degrading him, it wasn’t working.

The love potion was working well up until he reduced the amount. Ink was so well-behaved until then, at least by staying and listening. Of course it was the one day he decided to reduce the amount of paint, of course it was. His attitude and behaviors were annoying. Nightmare had a few ideas for new plans. An amnesia spell, memory replacements, or mind control.

But, as did the love potion, all these had problems. With Ink’s forgetfulness, amnesia might take away his basic functions. Nightmare didn’t want to bother teaching him how to learn those again, as beneficial as it could be in theory. He's seen it happen. The more complicated spells to adjust memories required power not even he possessed. He wasn’t strong enough. And there was no fun in plain mind control. It was like putting a bandage on an infected wound. It was tempting to kill him at this point.

If Ink wouldn’t do what he wanted out of love, he’d do it out of fear. Pain was an excellent motivator. Ink seemed to react more to physical pain than emotional, taking from when he hit him. Nightmare needed to try something else . . .

Nightmare flipped the page of the book he was reading. He sat in a large crimson armchair, sipping on a cup of coffee and trying to get his mind off the weapon in the dungeon. The old pages and cover hanging by only a few threads, fair given it was almost two hundred years old. His angry thoughts were stronger. Perhaps . . . it wouldn’t hurt to destroy one thing of Ink’s, a drawing, a photograph. Nightmare sighed and bookmarked his place, standing up.

The white room had been silent for days. Ink must have run out of paint. Good, he was getting annoying. The screaming and crying were so loud it could serve as its own form of torture. He could almost hear it from the second floor. Despite knowing of Ink’s leukophobia, he didn’t expect it to be this severe. His fear of the color white was as severe if not worse than Error’s fear of touch.

Ink hadn’t even eaten since he went silent. The only reason he was provided with food at all was that Horror insisted. He said starvation was too far. Nightmare still only gave Ink the barest minimum so he wouldn’t die on him. Hm, starvation. That could work as another way to convince him to listen . . . the starving could be useful. Not having enough food and energy in his body would mess up his thinking. That was his plan and theory.

Nightmare opened Ink’s door with one tendril. A cold gust blew through, dark on the inside. Nightmare turned one the light. No one dared to enter Ink’s room since he was locked away. He looked around for something to try and destroy. His gaze eventually settled on Ink’s scarf lying on his bed.

His eye widened a bit and he took it. His fingers ran down the fabric, tracing over the writing on it. He picked it up and held it with his tendrils. Most of the scarf was brown, but the ends faded into a lighter cream color. It was covered in drawings and notes. Nightmare cocked his head and took a notepad and pen out of one of Ink’s drawers.

He copied down any notes he found of value, which were only a few. New AUs, battle plans, and characters Ink wanted to convince the Creators to make. The other ones were stray thoughts Ink had. He scoffed when he saw the one about their first date, hidden in the folds so Ink forgot to erase it. The words ‘Meet octopus tonite at 7:00 pm’ were written in a childish scribble. Under the scrawl was a crudely drawn picture of him with a cartoon octopus head. Given the other high-quality drawings, this was done on purpose. Nightmare frowned.

The scarf was one of Ink’s most prized possessions. Nightmare’s never seen him without it. Sometimes, he hid in it when nervous. It helped him remember things he forgot, helped him remember who he is.

He had no use for this anymore.

Nightmare held the tips of the scarf with his tendrils and tore it down the middle with a satisfying rip. He slashed and destroyed it until it was nothing but insignificant scraps at his feet. He took the pieces and discarded them into the trash bin. Smirking and sighing in satisfaction, he f-

“Boss, wait!”

The Lord of Negativity turned around to Killer at the doorway, leaning his arm against it. He pointed at the scarf remains. “Can I keep those?”

“How come?”

Killer held back a snicker and walked to Nightmare’s side. He whispered his plan into Nightmare’s nonexistent ear. He nodded along to his henchman’s plan. A malicious grin spread on his face; his tendrils swished behind him. They picked up the trash bin and dropped it in Killer’s hands. “Very sadistic. I don’t want you doing it now, but you have my permission.”

“Sweet! I already got everything else—a bucket of black paint and the dust from some rando’ monster I killed on the street.” Killer reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag of dust. Nightmare could tell from the faint aura it once belonged to a Froggit, but he couldn’t tell which AU.

“I see.” Nightmare imagined the negativity that would spawn from this little scheme. A smile grew on his face. “I’m looking forward to this. But is it the only reason you came to find me?”

Killer paused and thought for a moment. “Hm? No, that wasn’t even why I came in here in the first place. Horror rented a horror movie called ‘Missy’ and we wondered if you wanted to watch it with us. It’s about a guy who moves into this town and he’s got a thing for marionettes. He sells Missy to some kid, the doll comes to life, and she grants the kid’s wish of killing his enemies!”

Nightmare blinked. “So it’s every horror movie ever made.”

“Well . . . yeah pretty much. But it might still be fun. It’s R-rated for the gore.”

Nightmare sighed. He supposed a little break wouldn’t kill him, he’s been working on planning almost nonstop. “Fine, I’ll clean up and join you, but only for a few minutes.”

“Horror, don’t take all the popcorn!” Killer snatched the bucket from him. Dust groaned, rolling his eye lights. He sat on the floor, leaning against the cushions.

Nightmare sat at the edge of the sofa, a novel in his lap. It was difficult to read since the living room was dark, only the light from the TV glowed. Though he was vaguely aware of dialogue and screams, he didn’t pay much attention to the movie. Films never interested him. He preferred books.

At around twenty minutes in, the two main leads a farewell kiss. Nightmare rolled his eye light at the positivity. Killer snickered inappropriately. Dust smacked him on the back of the skull with a bone.

It wasn’t until later did Nightmare found himself fascinated with the film. Not the plot or gore, but Missy herself. How she managed to trick her opponents by acting soft and mindless before taking them out. They never expected it because she looked so weak. The third kill was what caught his eye. The title character painted a warning with her victim’s blood. Cliche and cheap, but for only a second, he saw . . . Ink. A future for Ink.

Ideas flooded his mind, making him grin. He would need to purchase supplies to make them work. Of course he could steal, but he reserved that for his team. He had a mental image of the artist tied to the wall, gagged with a ribbon, and wearing a frilly pink dress. The same dress Missy had. Ink’s humiliation would taste divine. A killer doll would be far more entertaining than a mindless weapon. And how would the Stars react to their former friend? It would also fix giving Ink a new identity, something else Nightmare has been debating. Nightmare shook with something close to giddiness.

“Look, the action is cool, but this fake blood is so bad.” Dust complained. “It’s not that shiny and red in real life. Why can’t human movies ever get the shade right?”

“Cowards . . .” Horror mumbled.

Killer turned to Nightmare. “How would you- boss, what are you planning?”

Nightmare snapped out of his Ink fantasies, upset since he was invested in one. “Why do you believe I’m planning something?”

“I’ve worked for you for over six years, I know that look you get. Your eye narrows and you get this thousand-yard stare.” The emotionless skeleton copied what he meant and then leaned in close. “So whatcha plotting?”

There was no reason to hide it, so Nightmare answered. “There’s been a change of plans involving the weapon in the dungeon. He will no longer become a hollow soldier, but rather a . . . pretty killer doll.” His eye darted between the TV and the MTT as he waited for their reactions.

They stared at him with expressions ranging from shock to confusion to eagerness. Dust was the first to verbally respond, tilting his head as if listening to someone. He turned around and hit the ghost of his brother.

“You’re seriously goin’ to try and turn Ink into Missy?” He asked.

“Mm-hm. A cute little toy who can switch between sweet and murderous at the drop of a hat. Dream and Blue would never see it coming." He was confident in his tone.

“Ergh . . .” Dust and Horror looked at each other. Dust sighed. ”Look, if you think-”

“That sounds hilarious. Do it, boss. Do it!” Killer grinned with an evil glint in his eye sockets. But then he paused, grin shaking. “Wait, but does that mean, if you want a doll . . . we don’t get to use him as a punching bag?”

Nightmare didn't even consider that. “I’m afraid not.”

“Not a single stab? One little cut? Brush him with a bit of poison ivy?”

“. . . no." Nightmare sighed. "I will make up for it in time, but no torturing Ink. Perhaps . . . I could find someone else to take his place.” The king wasn’t certain who he would choose, but he would make it up. Someone important.

Nightmare stood up. The movie played another murder scene. The light from the TV reflected onto his face, lighting the left side of his face white and red. But not for long as he turned around and away from his team. He decided to do it now while his adrenaline and ideas were still high. "Pardon me."

He left the room and grabbed his jacket off the hook. Nightmare wore a jacket over his shoulders as he created the portal to an AU. He wasn’t certain which one in particular, but he needed an AU that would have the supplies he needed. A positive one, a cute one, a doll-like one. Stitchtale is perfect.

Nightmare sliced open a portal and walked inside, trying to keep himself from smiling. He looked around the disgustingly positive AU. It had nowhere as much negativity as he would’ve liked, but it was . . . tolerable. The AU creator made it out of fabric, yarn, and fluff, every surface felt soft. The monsters had stitched smiles and button eyes. If the place was ripped straight out of a child's playroom, it wouldn't surprise him.

Nightmare kept his aura low and raised his hood. He searched the town for what he needed. Luckily, he didn't need to waste too much time as he spotted a shop with a pink bow over the name. The front windows displayed mannequins of dresses with pastel and white petticoats. The left one was almost an exact copy of the one Missy wore in the film. And that's how Nightmare knew it was perfect.

A jingling bell rang as he walked into the store. It had a sickening sweet smell of cotton candy and vanilla. The lighting was the same obnoxious white light as the average department store. But the important part was that it had exactly what he needed.

Nightmare took his time to browse. Some of it was so cutesy it made him sick, but that was almost a good thing. He chose the cutest dresses he could find. The ones in bright pastel colors. He’d destroy Ink’s current wardrobe and replace it. Who knows. If this went well, he could even decorate his room in pink, like a living dollhouse.

He picked out a few dresses to start with, sticking to pastel colors of pink, white, blue, and brown. He picked some accessories to match, and a few extra items. Ink was going to hate it, and that's what made it fun. It was almost fun shopping.

Nightmare was about to pay for the clothes when a voice muttered at the back of his head. He sighed and took a bar of milk chocolate and added it to his bag.

The dark king paid for his purchases and walked out of the shop. The bags dangled in his tendrils. He stepped two feet out and turned, hearing a scoff and feeling an inconsistent aura. He stared into the half-lit alleyway. "I know you're standing there, Error. I can sense you. Were you stalking me?"

Error stepped out of the ally, a smug smile on his face. "Nah, I was browsing AUs and I felt your stupid negative aura. I wanted to know why." Error looked at the pastel pink bags and the shop brand. "What the hell were you doing? Besides getting me my prize."

"Shopping. And . . . yes, you won the bet, there." Nightmare moved his hand through the bag until he pulled out the chocolate bar and gave it to Error.

The destroyer wore a shit-eating grin as he took it. He licked his teeth with his five tongues before slipping the bar into his pocket. “Thanks. What’s in the rest of the bags? Why were you shopping at . . ." He looked closer at the labels and raised a browbone. "Wait what?"

“I decided to take a page out of your playbook and try doll-making.” Nightmare reached into his left bag and pulled out a set of pastel head bows.

Error peered into the other bags. “Geez, these are girly for your taste. What the fuck are you up to? Wait . . .” Error paused and looked up at Nightmare. “Nightmare, are you going to make Ink wear these?"

"Yes, I am."

Error stepped back like he would get sick just from being around Nightmare. "Why? Do you want him to be pretty for you? What, do you want to enjoy the view while you laugh at him? Do you like him more than that?"

Nightmare scrunched his nasal bone. “I don’t love him, nor will I ever love him. What is there for me to love in the first place? Ink will still be terminated once I finish with him, don’t worry. But I'm taking a new approach, both with the torture and how I behave around him."

Error's expression slacked, but his eye lights were still judgemental. The chocolate was his main priority at the moment, not the life and well-being of his sworn enemy. "Fine. Don't bother me until you do . . . but tell me about it when you break him. It's going to be hilarious."

"I will, oh I will. Trust me." Nightmare winked at Error. How could he wink with one eye? A mix of tone and body language. Nightmare melted through a portal.

Secretly switching the clothes in Ink's closest, He took out his uniform and lingered on it for a moment. He had a new one now, this no longer meant anything. Nightmare took a long look at it, considering the plan Killer had. He ripped the brown sleeve off Ink's jacket. Hm, the amount of dust would be small, but Killer wouldn't be against murdering another monster. It was in his name.

He stepped back to admire his work. Everything was hung up and Ink had two gift presents in the corner. One was his new uniform in a box, the other was a weapon to replace Broomie. He couldn't have a living weapon without something to fight with. Nightmare stuck Ink's old clothes in a large garbage bag while his uniform was in his hand. He walked across the room and set it in front of his door. His right-hand man would get the message.

Trailing down the steps of the dungeon, Nightmare knew what he would say and do. In a way, he realized Ink was right. He hasn't been very loving now, has he? He needed more care, more love. And Nightmare would provide that. In a sense.

At last, Nightmare tossed the garbage bag in the corner of the dungeon and stood in front of the blank wall. He pressed his skull against the wall and listened for any sound. Nothing. He pulled his head back and put on a smile. He chuckled to himself. His entire life was about to change forever and he couldn't wait. He pulled down the lever, opening the door.

Chapter Text

Ink stared at the wall as still as a rock, not even blinking. That way, he could daydream about colors and scenery, keeping him out of the white space. Also because he couldn’t move. Yep, he ran out of emotions for too long and lay as a paralyzed husk.

At first, after he screamed and cried, he killed time by pacing and drawing invisible designs on the floor. He punched the wall once in a while, which might have not even been the one he came in. They all looked the same and all it did was hurt his knuckles. Even though he never saw them, he knew someone was checking in on him. Someone was feeding him water and unseasoned white rice. On a white plate of course. It cost too much in the budget to give him color. It gave him energy, but the amount was always too small to satisfy his hunger.

Ink was so sick of white. He was sick of the silence and the loneliness. He wanted someone to hug him or hold his hand. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone, or at least give his bored mind something to do. You could only talk to yourself in so many different voices before you run out of conversation ideas. Then he remembered the mud from the fall, still stuck to his bones. Brown!

Unfortunately, the dirt and grime from his fall were so caked on that he couldn’t scrape it off. The artist’s desperation for any other color drove him to scratch his arms until they bled. It hurt but also felt good in a weird way. The black blood was a relieving change. Ink used it as paint to make pictures. He drew a messy version of the Doodlesphere’s islands. Damn, he missed it. It was so colorful, unlike his stupid cell. Once he ran out of pigment and didn’t want to destroy his arms anymore, he started daydreaming. Since getting paralyzed, he was stuck right next to a puddle of his sticky black blood. He couldn’t even teleport through the liquid. His escape was so close, but he couldn't move a nonexistent muscle.

How long has it been? Hours? Days? Months? It wasn’t like he had a calendar or a clock. Nope, don’t think too hard about that. He used up his panic and only felt numb.

Ugh. None of this would be happening if he just did as he was told! It would have been so easy too. It was his fault he was in here. At least, that’s what Nightmare said. His words kept replaying in his head.

You don’t think anyone cares if you’re missing, do you?

Even if I did love you, that doesn’t mean you can do whatever your selfish empty heart desires.

You’re an easy puppet.

They were all he could think about. He might never see the sun again because of his stupidity. Worthlessness. Pride. Immaturity.

He deserved this, didn’t he?

The artist knew people didn’t like him. Error, Cross, Fell, and the countless other souls he’s pissed off over the years. Even the original Sans didn’t like him. He always brushed them aside as being jealous. Usually, he would rant to one of his friends and get their opinion, but they weren’t around. Not like they cared, he doubted it.

He should’ve been angry. Nightmare was the guy who threw him in here after all, but he wasn’t. Ink was mad at himself, or he would be if he could feel anything. He was lucky to be with Nightmare and he screwed it up.

Like you screw up everything else?

Shut up!

Ink groaned. Great. He was hollow, hungry, bored, and hating himself. No one has checked on him since he lost his emotions. Maybe he wasn’t useful anymore and was left to starve to death. Was it even possible for him to starve to death? Who cares. He just wanted to get out of and stay out of this room. He’d trade anything for it. Even if he had to sell his nonexistent soul to be a servant or something. Unknown to him, he did.

“Do you understand my reason for doing this?”

Ink cringed at the voice. It was soft-spoken but sounded like a megaphone when he was used to never-ending silence. Nightmare leaned on the left wall, arms crossed and tendrils swaying. He looked sympathetic and regretful, but Ink doubted it was sincere. Something was off about him, but he couldn't put his finger on it . . .

Ink stared straight ahead, but would’ve rolled his emotionless white eye lights if he could. Because you’re a dick?

The dark king propped him up into a sitting position like a toy doll. His tendrils prodded at and caressed his cheekbone. “It’s because when I took you in, I didn’t take wet clay. I bought a pot. Finished, but so cracked and chipped that it didn’t even resemble proper pottery, more like a child’s art project. However, you were salvageable. I just needed to break you first, then the dust could be rebuilt into something beautiful.” He raised a browbone at Ink’s dazed eyes. “And it seems I’ve started the first step quite well. Better than expected.”

Nightmare reached into his pocket and pulled out a colorful vial, swishing it around. If Ink wasn’t paralyzed, he would’ve squealed in joy. Nightmare pried open his mouth. Ink gagged at the feeling of his fingers as he poured the bottle down his throat. His left arm shuddered, then he regained control of his body with a gasp. Licking the last specks of pink and green paint from his face, he looked up at Nightmare with a new mix of emotions. Fear, guilt, regret, anger, relief, but stronger than any of those, love. Ink shot into his arms, clinging to his suit jacket and forcing his head into his chest. Bitter apples never smelt so good after smelling nothing for who knows how long.

Nightmare stiffened in shock. Cautiously, he caressed the back of Ink’s skull, which he melted into. Affection. Sweet, sweet affection. He’d never take gentle touch for granted ever again. The dark king chuckled. “Well, who knew all it took was some alone time to make you so sweet.”

Ink kept hugging him. He was so relieved to finally have someone next to him that he worried this was a dream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“Quiet down, I forgive you.” Nightmare cuddled Ink close, rubbed circles on his back, and kissed his foreskull. Something in Ink felt wrong, but he dismissed it as touch starvation. The kiss and cuddle satisfied it. “I was thinking a lot while you were in here and I realized . . . you were right. I was a little too harsh on you. I didn’t mean what I said about you being worthless. I’ve been neglecting you and your needs for too long, that’s my fault. I’ll take part in some more one-on-one time so I can . . .” He removed Ink’s arms from his sides and held them up, eyeing the mess of frantic claw marks. It wasn’t until now that he noticed the dried puddle of blood on the ground and Ink. “. . . you’re bloody. Again.”

Ink hung his head. “Look, I couldn’t take it anymore. The whiteness was driving me crazy; I needed some color.”

Nightmare nodded in thought. His eye twitched a bit. “Understandable, but nothing of mine is going to be kept in such poor condition. If you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll start you a warm bath and I'll give you a second chance, okay?”

Oh, that sounded great right now. Ink didn’t take baths that often (he didn’t see the point), but he was so worn out and messy that he would welcome it. “I learned my lesson. I’ll never leave your side again, I got it! Don't ever lock me in here ever again!”

“As long as you play nice, I won’t need to. And believe me, I don’t wish to use this room again.” He took Ink’s hand and brought them standing. “I hope you understand why I did this. You learn best from punishment. And you needed to learn not to disobey. Do you forgive me?”

Ink paused. Did he? He was starved, abandoned, and he triggered his worst trauma. Ink looked back up at Nightmare's face and his soft smile, and he knew immediately what to say.

“I . . . yeah. I forgive you!”

Nightmare beamed. “Excellent.” He led him out of the room.

Ink’s senses exploded at the change of scenery. He was aware of every loud plunk of water or blood, whatever it was. The smell of rot and death made him gag. The dungeon was a dark aquaish-green, but the color change was still too hard on his eye sockets. Not that he wasn’t happy being free, he just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

Nightmare noticed his problem. “Here, close your eyes. I’ll guide you. You can trust me."

The artist hesitated before a fuzzy surge of love filled his chest. He squeezed Nightmare’s hand, putting all his trust in him. He made a hum of contentment and led him out of the dungeon. His tendrils nudged him in the right direction whenever he was about to hit something.

Weird, it was like their fight didn’t happen. Nightmare was almost the same way he was in that first month. It didn’t even feel real. Like all that was a bad dream. And Ink would have believed it to be if he wasn’t so shaken up. But they were starting over, everything would be okay now.

Ink almost crashed into him when Nightmare stopped. “You can open your eyes now. We're at your room . . . my dear."

Ink peeked out one first and soon opened the other. His room was dark and quiet enough to not overstimulate him. He stepped inside and buried himself in his blankets. He missed his bed.

“Wait here and I’ll arrange that bath for you.” Nightmare pecked him on the cheek. The artist smiled, but then he looked around. Something was missing . . .

“Where’s my scarf?”

Nightmare’s expression changed to that sympathetic guilt again. “Ah, your scarf . . . it was disposed of. You won’t need it anymore. It was hideous anyways.”

“Oh.” The corners of his mouth turned down. Ink loved his scarf. He didn’t say it out loud, but it hurt losing it. And worse, Nightmare didn’t give him a heads-up. He wished he did.

“I’ll be back.” Nightmare left the room. Ink lay back on his bed. His eye lights wandered to nothing in particular, but something caught his attention. The parasol wasn’t in his room before. Huh?

He walked over to it and ran his hand down the black pole. Ignoring the superstition about never opening an umbrella indoors, Ink opened it. It was all white with a pink border. The middle had stitched roses, hearts, and bows. It was soft too.

Ink picked it up. It was lighter than he expected, even though it was as tall as he was. He practiced swinging it around. Despite the cutesy look, the top was freakishly sharp, and Ink had to be careful so he didn’t knock anything over. Or hurt himself. It was in a diamond shape and all the sides were sharp as a knife.

“I see you found your new weapon.”

Ink jumped and nearly hit Nightmare in the face. He laughed in the entryway, tracing his finger on the soft part under the point. “I couldn’t have you go weaponless now, could I? I was considering giving you a knife, but that was too cliche. This was much cuter and it will fit your new role, you'll enjoy this."

“Thanks!" Ink grinned. "Quick question, why is it pink? I'm not complaining, but I don't get why you gave me a pink parasol of all weapons?”

Nightmare kept touching the designs, looking Ink over. “Because that’s your favorite color. You love pastel colors. White, blue, and purple, but pink is your favorite. Don’t you remember?”

Ink’s fight or flight senses tingled. Something about his tone sounded unnerving, predatory almost. But despite that, he couldn’t stop himself from talking. “I don’t have a favorite color because I like them all. But if I had to choose, I’d pick brown because it’s all the colors mixed toge-”

Nightmare shook his head. “No. Are you going to argue with me further or are we going to clean you up?”

The artist held his mouth slightly open for a minute before laying the parasol down. He sighed. “Alright, you clean me up.”

Nightmare wrapped a tendril around Ink’s hand and pulled him over to him, tripping him. Ink looked up at him. Why did he look so excited? Why was he cute when he looked excited?

He took him down the hall without a single word. Ink tried to remember where this was. The hallways all blended together in his head. Eventually, he stopped at a large brown door, close to his bedroom. “I hope you like bubbles.”

Nightmare opened the door to the master bath. The room was a decent size with a cream-tiled floor and peanut-brown brick walls. The left side of the room held a fancy dark wood sink with a white counter. Something wrapped in brown paper and beige string sat at the edge of it. A circular bathtub was built on the floor and surrounded by brown curtains with yellow cords. A silver showerhead was on the wall, the kind where you can remove the handle. Bottles of soap and scrub brushes lined the corner of the barrier. Lavender bubbles and steam covered the top of the water.

Ink was immediately wracked with guilt. “Nightmare, it’s amazing, but . . . you didn’t need to do all this.”

“Pampering you is my choice. So what if you don’t deserve it? We’ll discuss how you will." Nightmare gestured to the bathtub. "Now, take those filthy clothes off and get in.”

Ink was a little uncomfortable, but he did as he asked and stripped down. Once he removed his shirt, he noticed the weird look on Nightmare’s face. He was staring, fascinated by his swirling black tattoos. “Uhm, what?”

“You’ve never told me you hid so much beauty. I believed you only had those markings on your arms and legs. Where did you get them?”

Ink blushed with rainbow freckles, flustered. “Funny story. I was born with them, so I guessed it was a normal skeleton thing. I asked Blue if I could see his and he was so confused. Dream didn't know either. Error said it was code from when I was stuck in the void."

Nightmare nodded along and hummed, but he wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the box on the sink. "Interesting . . ."

Once Ink was undressed, he lowered himself into the bathtub. The burning water shocked his system; he squeaked. Nightmare laughed and pushed him the rest of the way in. He took the brush and showerhead and used the latter to rinse water over his skull. Hot! Hot! Hot!

“Relax, I’ll take care of you,” Nightmare said as Ink shifted around. His cold hands were the opposite of the water. He probably didn’t mean to make the water so hot. It was an accident. “You only need to move when I tell you to. Like now, raise your right arm.”

Ink did as he asked and Nightmare cleaned his cuts. He made the disinfecting slow and gentle, pouring water over them to flush out the wounds. It didn’t take long before black blood stained the tub. The artist winced whenever he would rest his fingers on one of them, or worse, they got soap in them. Thankfully, Nightmare would notice and move. He did the same thing washing out the other arm.

“So,” Nightmare started as he pumped soap into his hand. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about your . . . poor decision-making and how I could help you improve. Then it hit me. Your problem is arrogance and too much freedom. You believe your actions are consequence-free and you don’t care about anyone who isn’t yourself. And if something does go wrong, all you have to do is hop into another AU and forget about it. It would be unfortunate if you couldn’t rely on your protector, wouldn’t it?”

Tilting his skull so he could wash the dirt and blood off his neck, Ink’s face burned in shame. He already knew he was an asshole now and then, but hearing it in Nightmare’s smooth voice hurt. "Yeah, I guess that would suck. And I kinda let everyone down . . . what is this leading to?"

Chuckling, Nightmare rubbed the lavender-scented soap into his collarbones. “As I said two weeks ago, I'm going to lay down stricter rules. I have a plan set up for you to take etiquette lessons. You also have some paperwork to sign. You have a brand new role you need to fulfill for me, and I'll teach you how. Don’t worry, once you catch on, they’ll be easy. Your lessons will be alongside your battle training. Also, I will choose what you wear from now on. It’s quite the change, but you’ll get used to it.”

Ink swallowed. He wasn’t a fan of the idea, but he’d do it if it made Nightmare happy. He didn’t want to face his anger again. “What happens if I mess up and break the rules?”

“Simple. Depending on the severity, we would either talk about your mistake or I would punish you. I’d prefer not to physically harm you, I’d like to keep your appearance nice, but it could happen. So instead, you would either spend some time in the white room-”

“NO!” Ink twitched so hard that water splashed up on Nightmare. He smirked in amusement as he flicked the bubbles off his face. “Not again. Don’t leave me alone in there again. Please.”

“Shh.” Nightmare stroked his cheekbone with his thumb, leaving a trail of light purple suds. “Aw, you poor thing. If you don’t want punishment, then I assume you want to be compliant, don’t you?”

To be honest, Ink wasn’t sure what he wanted. He didn’t want to be on his own, that was for sure. But he didn’t like thinking about losing that much freedom either. He could’ve tried running away . . . but he wanted to stay with Nightmare. Even if he tried to run, Nightmare would track him down and throw him back into the white room. Ink wanted things to go back to the way they were. He tried to keep everything on his mind, but it came out as stammering nonsense.

Nightmare massaged soap into his ribs. Ink stopped worrying and relaxed; it felt so good. “I understand if you’re confused, it’s how anyone would feel. That’s how you. will earn and deserve rewards like this. You won’t even need to think, I will do all that for you. You just need to act cute and obedient.” He booped his nasal bone. Ink sneezed. “And it seems you almost have the first part mastered. All this won’t start for at least another week. I figured you need some time to prepare. and understand what you're getting into."

“Prepare? I . . . nevermind. I don’t want to know.” Ink had a sick feeling in his nonexistent stomach. The last time he felt this uncomfortable was when he got back from Flufftale. Even though he was nervous about the answer, he asked, “Hey, Night?”

“Hm?”

“How long was I in that room?”

Nightmare didn’t answer for a long time. “A while.”

They didn’t say anything for the rest of the bath. Nightmare was gentle and his scrubbing never hurt, even when he had to go rougher on some of the stickier muck. Ink started to doze off. Nightmare kissed his foreskull. What did he say before about second chances? Was this it? If so, maybe this new role would be alright, whatever it was.

Nightmare finished cleaning him. He helped him out and Ink took a towel to dry himself off with, tying it around his lower bones when he was done.

“Sit there with your arms held out.” Nightmare said, pointing to the bathtub rim with a tendril. Ink followed the order. “There we go. Now stay still so I can fix your arms."

His tendril reached on top of a cabinet and a roll of beige bandages. He traced his magic glowing fingers down his arms before binding them up. “I would use my malice again, but the bandages will look much cleaner with your outfit. Don’t scratch your bandages no matter how itchy they may become. It could loosen them or cause a worse infection. That includes when they’re off. No more harming yourself, promise Ink? I expect your body to be in the best possible condition.” He paused. “How come you’re staring at me like that?”

Nodding and half-listening, Ink’s mind argued with itself. He should’ve hated him. He was supposed to hate him. He was always told Nightmare was evil and sadistic and violent twenty-four-seven. And he was a victim of that violence. But he’s been so gentle, concerned, and caring. Even after he messed up, he was giving him another chance. He couldn’t- no, he wasn’t all bad. That fight had to be a one-time thing. Maybe Nightmare was confused about how to show love. They were both brand new at this. Or was he the confused one? Oh! He could help Nightmare learn to love!

“Ink?” Nightmare snapped his fingers and the artist jumped, snapping out of his thoughts. “Are you listening?”

“What?”

Nightmare sighed in exasperation. “I was saying I have your clothes in that box.” He nodded at the package on the counter. “You may get dressed behind that screen. And for future reference, I hate repeating myself, so don’t make me do it again. Listen to me next time.”

“Got it!” Ink said quickly. He didn't understand why Nightmare wouldn't let him undress behind there earlier. Oh well. Ink stood up and took the package off the sink. It was both heavier and lighter than he expected. He shook it up to his skull. Something rang in there. A bell? A jingle bell?

The artist slipped behind the changing screen with the box. The back wall was a giant mirror. He set the package on a small stool, untied the perfect bow, and ripped the paper off in a swift motion. Inside was a plain black box. Ink took off the lid and peered into it.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Ink pulled out the biggest thing first. It was a cutesy dress meant for a little girl. Pastel pink with white lace trim and sleeves that puffed at the top before tightening at the wrist. The skirt had a lot of ruffles, lace, and layers, switching between pink and white. A pink bow wrapped around the waist and held it all together. Ink held it against his body and guessed it was about knee length. Under that was a painful and confusing-looking corset and shiny black Mary Janes. The last things he pulled out were a pink and white beret and white knee-high stockings with- did Nightmare have a thing for lace?

Ink wasn’t sure what to think of the outfit. It seemed too cutesy and pastel to be something Nightmare would be into. Like . . . that was the opposite of what he was into. But Ink put it on because he didn’t want to look ungrateful. He didn't hate it either, he was extremely confused.

The corset took the longest to put on because he had no idea how to wear it. The dress was easier and more comfortable than he was expecting, it had a soft lining inside. Ink put the beret on as he fumbled with the shoes. He preferred going barefoot as he felt freer but supposed these were alright. A little tight at the toes at most. Besides that, the clothes were his exact size. He guessed Nightmare looked at the labels of his clothes because he didn't want to know otherwise. As Ink stood up, he caught his reflection in the mirror. His face went hot.

Sure, he looked adorable and charming, but he also didn't look or feel anything like a fighter. The corset hurt and constricted his ribs. Even though they weren’t too revealing, they were some of the most embarrassing clothes he ever wore. The black tattoos on his legs stood out, looking like a sore thumb against the pinks and whites. Would Nightmare be okay with it? Would he like it? Well if he picked it out, he has to. Ink stared deeper into the mirror, studying himself. He had so many quest-

“Oh, Inky?” Nightmare asked in a sing-song tone. “Is everything okay in there?”

The artist’s eye lights turned into a purple exclamation point and circle. “Yeah, I’m done!”

“Show me.”

Taking a deep breath, Ink’s shoes clacked across the tiled floor as he stepped from behind the screen. His self-consciousness eased as soon as Nightmare smiled at him. It was worth everything. Ink messed with his sleeves and bounced on his heels. "So, what do you think?"

Nightmare walked around the artist, taking in every part of him. One of his tendrils felt around his eye socket, then it traced down his cheek to his mouth. He cocked his head with a satisfied smile. “Beautiful, bow and skirts suit you much better than that old uniform. But there’s still one more thing you need.”

“One more thing? What's that?” Ink couldn’t think of what he meant. Then he felt stupid.

Gesturing toward the stool, Nightmare grabbed a container Ink hadn’t noticed before. It was the same pastel pink as the dress he wore. Ink couldn't tell if it was intentional or not. It was about the size of a clutch and looked like one too. It had glittering silver accents and a handle at the top, along with two latches. He cupped his chin with one hand and held a makeup brush in the other.

Nightmare clicked it open. “This is going to be yours soon, but for now, I need you to hold still.”

Ink glimpsed inside the container. Many cosmetics, makeup brushes, and other beauty supplies. Before he could ask for details, Nightmare tied his hands and legs together with his tendrils. He took a small book and opened it, looking between him and Ink. It was a how-to guide. Nightmare dipped the brush in a container of powder and covered his face. Ink scrunched his nasal bone. Nightmare tapped the side of his skull as a silent warning to stop. He switched the powder out and painted eyeshadow on his eye sockets. Ink couldn’t stop himself from sneezing and snickering. The latter because the brushes tickled.

“Nightmare, I- pew! I think I’m allergic to the makeup.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Nightmare said, looking back at the book. He traced something that felt like a pen on the edges of his eye sockets. Ink tried readjusting himself again and Nightmare slapped his hands. “Stop moving around, you're making this much harder than it has to be. I know you have it in you to be good. You're just not putting in enough effort. Yes, you may have not signed any contracts yet, but you don’t need one for basic politeness.”

Ink held back another sneeze. “I can’t sit still- wait, what was that about a contract?”

Nightmare didn’t answer. After a few more touch-ups, he finished. Ink’s face felt weird. The makeup wasn’t heavy, but it still tingled. He’s done face paint and eyeliner before, but nothing like this. He looked in the mirror. Whatever the powder was, it made his features look softer. His cheekbones were done up with rosy pink circles like a cartoon. The eyeshadow was light and glittery. The corners of his eye sockets were a very faint red.

Nightmare ran his hand down his skull before tilting his chin to look at him. He hummed. “Not perfect, but it will do. This is how you’re expected to do your makeup unless I say otherwise.”

Ink was double confused. "Alright . . ."

"I'm glad you understand." Nightmare offered his hand for Ink to take it. He did, pulling himself up. Nightmare looked him over again. "Does everything fit okay? Is anything too tight?"

Ink shook his head. “Good," Nightmare said, "because this dress will become your new uniform. The same way I wear my suit vest and the team wear their navy jackets.”

Ink glanced down and couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He laughed so hard his eye sockets teared up and he had to brace himself with the wall. “You’re joking, right? Me? Going out in battle and spreading negativity dressed like this? That’s ridiculous! Oh, this whole thing makes sense now! You want to pull a prank to confuse me because you’re still bitter over our fight! I could give you some tips on pran . . .” He finally noticed Nightmare’s flat expression. He didn’t have any humor in his eye light. Ink’s laughter died down. “You’re not kidding, are you.”

“I don’t kid, Ink. You know this.” Nightmare waved his fingers and Ink’s entire body tingled. It was a less extreme feeling than when he took control of his emotions in Birdtale. Wow, that felt like a year ago, even if it couldn’t have been more than two months. Nightmare hummed at his aura. “Does the change make you uncomfortable? Be honest with me, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Ink rubbed his arm. He was hoping he wouldn’t ask. “Well yeah. I’ve never worn any like this. Come on, it’s so embarrassing! You had your fun, now can I have my normal clothes back?”

Nightmare set his hands on his shoulders and massaged them. “I see you don't understand. I got rid of your old clothes. This is who you are now, Ink. I know it's going to be . . . difficult, but that's why I'm here. Now, smile for me."

Reluctantly, Ink did as he asked.

“See? It’s easy to listen and obey, and you’re doing such a good job.” Even though Ink didn’t want to admit it, the praise felt good. So did the shoulder rub. He rested his head on Nightmare’s chest, making one of the king's hands move up to pet his head instead. He was still touch-starved from the white room. It was almost worse than the years he spent in that void. He didn't know what touch was, now he did. He had something to crave and miss. “You’re going to love your new life, my little doll.” He pressed his nonexistent lips together to keep from snickering.

“Little doll? Weird name, but I kinda like it . . .” Ink mumbled to himself. Nightmare didn’t answer, but he could tell he heard it from his smile. Then the moment was ruined when a wave of dizziness took over Ink. "Night, can I have something to eat? I've had anything in like, a week."

Nightmare stopped petting him. "Hm, sure. I don't see why not. How does some pasta sound?"

Ink beamed again. Finally. He would get something that wasn't plain rice. He could never eat that stuff ever again. Or he would have to use food coloring.

Nightmare offered his hand to him and Ink took it. They walked into the hallway. Ink spun around as he walked so he could watch the skirt spin. But despite as fun as that was, he kept wincing and stopping in pain. Right, the corset. It was like he had a massive rubber band tightening around his ribs. What if he put the corset on incorrectly?

Nightmare heard his groans. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, this corset is killing me. Do I need to wear it all the time?” Ink tugged on it again.

His tendril absentmindedly stroked his waist. “No, not during battles or at night. Don’t even think about taking it off, you need it. If it hurts, that means you laced it tight enough. The pain won’t last forever; I doubt you will even notice it after a week. In time, it will improve your posture and make you look better.”

“Could I at least loosen it?”

“No.”

Ink didn’t bother arguing. Maybe when Nightmare wasn’t looking, he could take it off. How was he supposed to wear this thing every day without ruining his ribs?"

Nightmare walked into the kitchen and Ink still couldn't believe how massive it was. Sure, it was a castle, but still. The tiny white room made everything look giant in comparison. It was pitch black like the rest of the castle and the appliances were light gray. And the dining table was huge, almost as long as the room.

Nightmare told Ink to sit down while he made the pasta. Ink did. The chairs were the same dark wood as the table and engraved with swirled patterns and trees on the back.

Ink fiddled with his beret some more and made himself comfortable. It kept sliding over to cover his eye sockets. He took it off to see if it was adjustable. It wouldn't make sense if Nightmare got his clothes right but the beret was too big. Speaking of Nightmare, he kept stealing glances at him while he was cooking.

Ink smiled and cleared his throat. After a long time of thinking, he was going to ask the question that was itching the back of his mind. "Nightmare, why won’t-”

Nightmare shushed him without turning around. “I should've mentioned this before, my apologies. One of your new rules is you are to only speak when spoken to or with verbal consent. If you want to talk, say, ‘Permission to speak’. I will either grant or deny it.”

Ink sighed. “Fine. Permission to speak?”

“Permission granted.”

“Why won’t you let me leave the castle?”

Nightmare heaved a dramatic huff, stirring the sauce. “It’s for your protection. The Doodlesphere believes you to be a traitor. If they find out about our relationship, if they find you’re alive, it won’t end well. Few are brave enough to challenge me, but they would harm you. Think about it. You could protest and they wouldn’t care. After all, the evidence is obvious. You are in a relationship with me, you haven't shown your face in months, and you are part of my cause. I chose the white room punishment as a warning. That’s where they will leave you, in the same white void you were trapped in. I wouldn’t be able to rescue you.”

Everyone thought he was a traitor? Ink didn’t know that. “But . . . I’m the Protector of the Doodlesphere and a member of the Star Sanses! Everyone loves me! Well, most people love me. Why would you think anyone would change their mind?”

“One, you were. And two, it’s because it already happened once, to Dust. He went on a solo mission to a Fellswap timeline. He’s capable of protecting himself, so I wasn’t worried after he was gone for two days. But those days turned into four with no sign of him. Then it turned into a week. I started a search mission with Horror, Killer, and at the time, Cross. After hours of tracking, I found his scarf hanging on a branch. His footsteps were half-buried in snow and I felt a strong force of negativity. Pain, fear, distress, I knew he was close. It led me to a rundown shack in the mountains. There was a gang of monsters . . . torturing him. Dust was crying. His hoodie was missing. I killed all of them on the spot. Slowly.”

His voice turned sadder. “He was a mess. Broken ribs, bruises all over, fever, damaged legs, but the worst damage was to his mind. I haven’t seen him so trapped in his hallucinations since I first hired him. He couldn’t hear me, but he was calling for his late brother and his team. Horror, Killer, Cross, and I were up all night and into the morning working to return him to reality. Once his injuries healed and he could function again, he refused to talk about it. To this day, no one knows the extent of what they did, but I know the motivation. They were tormenting him because he was one of mine.”

“Dust is a henchman, but he’s also like a son to me. They all are. Don’t tell them I said that. Meanwhile, you are my light, my little doll. You would be worth so much more if you were captured. The outside world is too dangerous for you to be on your own. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you.” He took Ink’s hand and held it against his chest. “Ink, promise you’ll allow me to protect you, no more running away, no more misbehavior. Promise you’ll allow me to make you your strongest self so I’ll never need to worry about your safety.”

If he didn’t feel bad enough, the story made Ink regret every choice he made in Flufftale. It probably wasn’t easy for him to open up like that. Nightmare knew what was best for him. He was smarter and more experienced than Ink. He should stop trying to argue and let him take over-

What? No! What the hell was he thinking? He was a guardian and fighter, not a helpless maiden! Even if he was dressed like one! He watched Nightmare set the plate of finished pasta in front of him. His nonexistent soul ached and his paints swarmed, but Ink reached out and took his hand. “I promise, Nightmare. I’ll let you protect me.”

Nightmare stopped and turned to Ink with a smug smile. He hugged the artist from behind, kissing him where his ear would be. He chuckled. “We’re going to fix you, Ink. I'm going to make you perfect. I swear it.”

Chapter Text

“Dream, we got a letter!” Blue shouted.

Dream looked up from his book on the couch. He lay low so he could heal, as much as he didn’t like it. But his friends all insisted, and he was still feeling ill, so he stayed in the Star Sans clubhouse. This was the most exciting thing that’s happened since, but then he noticed something off. Blue usually sounded so much happier at receiving mail. But now he sounded like he had his death warrant.

Dream set their book aside and walked up to Blue, trying to look at the note in his hand. The letter was black with shiny red ink. It lacked the formality of Nightmare’s handwriting and was instead scratchy and rough. It was the same font as one of a horror movie.

Blue took his glove off so he could stick his finger in and ripped the seal open. He threw the envelope down and picked up the small paper in it, red with a black border. He scanned through it and his eye lights disappeared; his determination slacked. “It’s from Killer. Should I read it aloud? It’s not very long.”

Dream nodded and Blue cleared his throat, reigniting his eye lights and reading the note out loud:

Hey Star Shits,

Meet up with me tomorrow at 5 at the remains of Horrortale. I got some information and a present you’re gonna want. It’s about Ink. Trust me, if you care about your friend, you’ll want to know. See you there!

~ Killer Rahafwabas, on behalf of Lord Nightmare Joku.

(P.S: Dream, your brother says hi and to throw yourself off a cliff)

Dream wasn’t even offended by the last part of the note. The only bit that interested him was the part about Ink. What did he mean by a present? Given that the note was written by Killer, the vagueness was worrying. It could’ve been anything from saying Ink was alive and well, to being on the brink of death, to being . . . no, no, he wouldn’t think that word. Whatever his brother did, it could and would be fixed.

“I know it might not be safe, but I’m going with,” Dream said. He flicked his thumb against his balled fist.

Blue furrowed his browbones, looking at Dream with nervousness. He opened his mouth to argue, but he changed his mind before saying a word. "Alright. We need to be careful and have our weapons ready. Ink needs us!"

Dream and Blue looked around the AU. Dream never liked Horrortale. It wasn’t the monsters that scared him, or the constant danger lurking, or even the violence. No, it was because he pitied it. If it wasn’t for the code and script, he would’ve saved these monsters a long time ago. Most of them were gone, crippled, and lost to starvation. Horror’s brother was one of them. He heard he was eaten alive by a pack of hungry dogs.

Both Dream and Blue wore comfortable jackets to handle the below-zero cold. Even for skeletons, the wind bit at their cheeks and froze their hands. Snowdin didn’t have many monsters still living in it, but the ones who did were bloodthirsty, feral. Dangerous. Like a certain skeleton they waited to meet.

Blue leaned against one of the tree trunks, blowing on his gloved hands to heat them. Dream wrapped part of their cape around him to keep him warmer. Blue smiled, but it slid as soon as a voice caught the Stars’ attention.

“Sunshine and Blueberry! I am so glad you two got my letter and were able to join me. It would’ve been embarrassing if I came here for nothing.” Killer said, teleporting from nowhere.

Dream loaded his bow and Blue summoned his hammer and floating bones. Killer spun the tip of his knife over his pointer finger, by miracle not cutting himself. Unlike the two of them, Killer didn’t bother dressing for the weather. He wore his usual dark blue jacket, black turtleneck, and black shorts. The liquid hate stayed still on his cheekbones, likely frozen solid. Killer looked over at their weapons and sauntered closer. His red target soul glowed and twitched in excitement.

Dream’s fingers tensed on his positivity arrow. The point may have not been to Killer’s neck, but he made it clear that could change. He kept his voice as steady as he could. “What did you do to Ink? Where is he?”

Killer flicked the nearest floating bone aside. His fingers bled from the sharp edge, but he didn’t even wince. “Hey, can’t a guy talk? Maybe if you put the weapons down, I can explain.”

“Ironic coming from the guy named Killer,” Blue said, holding up his hammer. The Gaster Blaster on it glowed blue.

“Yeah, yeah, tell me about it. But seriously, if you don’t put your little attacks down, you will never find out what happened to your little Inky.”

Dream looked at Blue, then at Killer. He didn’t like his tone of voice. Dream cleared their throat, not looking away from Killer. “Blue . . . drop your bones.”

Blue looked at him with suspicion and concern. “Are you sure? He could attack him!”

“I know, I don't trust him either, but we have to hear him out.”

Blue still didn’t look sure about this, but he lowered his bones from the murderer’s neck. He glared at Killer. “Fine, we’re going to give you one more chance. Where is Ink and what did you do to him?”

Killer grinned like a child who had too much sugar. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I can give you a two-for-one answer. He’s behind that rock.” He pointed at a massive boulder to their left.

Dream and Blue both didn’t know how to answer that. They thought he was making another joke. Dream couldn’t sense any aura and he knew Ink would make at least a little noise. Barely holding back his laughter, Killer walked over to the boulder and picked up a box. He tossed it over to the Stars and Blue caught it in his magic. He looked the crudely wrapped package over and opened the lid. Dream peered over and caught his breath. He reached inside and pulled out the sleeve of a ripped shirt. They reached their hand back in and pulled out more scraps of brown fabric. It was stained with dust and blood. The shade was the same color as . . .

Dream glanced up at the murderer with horror in his eye lights. “Is this-”

“Yep,” Killer smirked, “poor little Inky fought hard. No matter what we did, he didn’t break and kept making jokes swearing to kill us and escape. So we worsened his torture. Whipping, cutting him up, breaking bones, chopping fingers, I even cut his tongue out! Oh damn it, I forgot to bring it. It’s on my shelf in a glass container, right next to a violet eye Horror grabbed in Swapfell.” Dream’s mouth hurt.

“But yesterday, he finally got overwhelmed and had a mental breakdown. He begged us for death, or at least as much as you can when you can’t talk. And don’t get me wrong, I would’ve totally done it, but it was the boss’s call. The two talked for a while before we strapped him up spread-eagle style in the dungeon and had a blast.” Killer covered his mouth, struggling to keep his expression straight. “We cut off his hands first and got rid of all his leftover fingers. Then we tore apart his ribcage. Horror did most of that, giant axe and all. Then he severed his lower spine. But want to know what killed him?” He bit his lower jaw. “Dust took his pistol . . . and shot him threw the skull! Ka-BOOM!” Killer laughed and Dream could see his tongue piercing. Killer wiped away a tear and sighed. “It was a mess to clean up, but he was so fun to watch cry!”

Dream and Blue stared. Blue lowered his hammer, no longer finding the strength to wield it. Dream, on the other hand, felt his eye sockets burn up. His mouth hung open as he stared at Killer. They tried to read his emotions, or at least his expression, in any hope he was lying. But it wasn’t easy to tell. The murderer was unable to feel emotion, which is why his soul is a target rather than a heart. His magic failed to work on him. His charismatic nature was only a persona. One word slipped through Dream’s teeth because he would cry if he said any more. “Why?”

Killer smiled in amusement. “Why what? Why did we kidnap and torture him? We used him as bait and hoped you would rescue him. But you guys were too late or maybe didn’t care enough. I can’t blame you if it’s the latter. He was sooo annoying. I could go into more detail if you want-”

“DON’T!” Blue stopped him cold. He raised his hammer again and yelled a battle cry before bringing it down over Killer’s skull. He dodged to the left. He spun around and grabbed the handle with the same smirk, staring into Blue’s eye lights.

“Go on, hit me again,” Killer said. Blue brought his hammer down. Any bit of strength in his eye lights faded. The murderer laughed. “Smart choice. Now I gotta go or boss is going to wonder where I am. Oh, one more thing. Tell Cross that my schedule is always open if he ever wants to . . . hang out? Thanks.” Killer snapped his fingers and teleported away, snickering as he did.

Dream didn’t move. His eye sockets flooded with tears as he stared at the box of fabric. He screamed, tears streaming down his face in droves. Blue teared up too, but he was emotionally stronger. He crouched down to Dream and hugged him, letting the guardian cry on his shoulder. He could barely process anything that happened. His best friend . . . all his efforts . . . it was all for nothing.

Dream put his bow away; the arrow vanished. He hugged Blue for a long moment, then he spoke. “Blue . . . come on. Let’s go.” Their voice was quieter than usual, almost like there was no soul in it at all. A robot. “We should tell the others to stop the search.”

Blue stood up and nodded with a sigh. His aura stirred, negativity growing. He gave Dream his hand. “I agree. There’s no point in continuing if the person we’re looking for . . . isn’t here.”

Dream took Blue’s hand and summoned a portal for them to walk through. It was a pale yellow portal, lower energy and paler than his regular ones. It was common for monsters to have emotions affect their powers. Especially when their powers came from relied on feelings like Dream.

The two skeletons trudged through the portal. Dream held the box. It had no warmth. Yes, they were skeletons, but they had a little body heat and warmth from their souls. And yes, Ink had no soul but . . . well, it was difficult to explain. Ink was special. No one would never feel that specialness ever again. Dream would never hear him laugh again, or listen to him ramble about whatever excited him. He slammed his fist against his eye socket, gritting his teeth.

Dream looked around the Omega Timeline. A group of little monsters ran around. Dream recognized an Asriel he rescued from a Code Purple, finally smiling again. Oh, what he would give to be an innocent child again. He looked at Blue and took a deep breath. He couldn't be wistful now, they had a job to finish.

The Star Sans duo found Core Frisk giving directions to a group of monsters. They smiled and nodded, walking away. Blue cleared his throat to get Core’s attention.

The child turned around and the calm smile they wore faded. Their body tensed, likely from feeling Dream’s aura. “Something happened.” They said it as a statement, not a question.

Dream nodded his head. “Ink . . .” His voice broke on the simple word. He looked out into the surrounding crowd. Their expressions varied from curiosity to fear. Dream closed his eye sockets in hopes of stopping the never-ending tears. His hands clenched around the box. They didn’t deserve to hear this. Blue noticed and spoke for him.

“We found Ink and . . . he's dead." Blue looked around at the monsters. "The Protector of the Doodlesphere is dead."

Dream traced his finger down the dark wood of a paintbrush, feeling the carvings under his touch. He took it out of Ink’s room before he left. He kept it in the pocket of his black turtleneck. Now he waited on the couch of Cross’s apartment, waiting for him to finish in the shower so they could go to his funeral. He had a nice apartment. Simple, monochrome, yet welcoming. His perfectionist nature showed.

He wasn’t the only one in the room. Epic sat across from him, wearing a black suit. Cross was the one who told him of Ink’s death. But it was more of a reaction than Cross, who was in plain shock. Almost no sadness at all. Epic hummed to himself, occasionally looking up at Dream. Dream smiled back.

It seemed impossible, but he had to stay positive. If he was suffering from too much negativity, it could affect everyone’s positivity. His magic worked as a balancing effect. If his emotions were too negative, his magic was too negative. If his power was suffering from a lack of negativity, he was prone to depression and illness. Dream slammed his head into his hands. Their eye lights have dimmed to almost being gray, their positive aura dulled to a fraction of what it was.

After a while of waiting, the bathroom door opened and Cross stepped out in a pitch-black sweater. Dream stuck the paintbrush in his pocket, next to a handkerchief, and went to his side.

“So . . . ready to go, bruh?” Epic asked. It was strange seeing him not wear purple.

Cross nodded. “Yeah, let's get this over with."

They left his apartment and made it to the graveyard. Monster funerals didn't work the same as human funerals. Since their bodies turned into dust when they died, their dust was placed on their favorite thing. Then it was either kept by the family or buried underground. Dream chose to have Ink buried. He was old-fashioned in that way.

It was cold outside. The funeral took place atop a hill, a large spot open and off-limits. The only people were two hooded humans and Core giving them orders. An Asgore stood next to them, the funeral director. The surrounding area was filled with gravestones and a thin layer of light gray fog tainted the air. Several dozen monsters gathered around and whispered.

Fresh and Blue were already there, talking amongst themselves among the other monsters. Dream listened to the whispers and wonders of the other attendees. He knew they were whispering about him and Blue. Cross glared at them and he tightened an arm around them. It must have been his royal guard instincts.

Dream walked over to Blue and was about to say something, but then a hush swept over the crowd. The Asgore stood at the podium and cleared his throat, reading from a script. “We meet here today to honor the life of Ink Comyet. We look upon his ashes as we give thanks for his life and wish him well now that their time in this multiverse has come to an end. For Ink, the journey is now beginning. But for us, there is loss, grief, and pain. Every one of us here has been affected. Perhaps in small ways, perhaps in life-changing ones, but his life mattered to us all.”

Dream fiddled with his thumbs, barely acknowledging the funeral director’s words. He only half-listened. More of his mind focused on the future and holding Cross's hand. There was so much to do now. He had to clean out Ink's room, get revenge on Nightmare, put extra protection on the multiverse, and get over his own grief.

The other distraction was . . . Ink's death reminded him so much of Nightmare’s corruption. Both were misguided, both could've been saved with a bit of talking. And both were on a time limit; one that ran out because of his nativity. If he pressured Ink to talk, then they could’ve worked the situation out as a team. If he would’ve paid attention to Nightmare . . . he would be at his side today. Happy, safe, and healthy. He’d almost call it poetic as the brother he failed killed the person he called his friend. Dream groaned.

Something else came to mind he hadn’t thought of before. If Ink was dead, who would be the Guardian of Creativity? To their understanding, a guardian would pass down their power to their offspring. But obviously, Ink had no children. Someone had to set the balance in his place. The question was who . . . ?

Asgore kept speaking. “It is important to acknowledge and accept the Doodlesphere has changed with his passing. We are all grieving. Life as we know it will not be the same, nor should it be."

The funeral kept going on. Dream zoned out after a while, staring at nothing. He turned his head and tried to focus on something else. Why couldn't he pay attention? He was usually excellent at this. But now it seemed impossible. The weight on his chest, in a constant fight to coexist with his positivity magic. The crowd around him cried and their auras made it seem impossible to win.

“-he will never be lost. Unfortunately, he passed alone, but his legacy won't be forgotten. The last guardian died five hundred years ago, so this will be special." Asgore set the box of clothing pieces and blood in the hole. Two monsters with shovels covered it up. Core stepped back, watching them. Once the box was in the ground, a swirl of gold magic with specks flew up into the air. It swirled higher until it grew solid. The air faded and a massive silver statue of Ink standing in a confident pose with Broomie in hand. A plate on the base was written with his name and title. Dream smiled. It looked just like him, smile in all.

The funeral concluded and murmurs came from the crowd. Some of them came to Dream, asking for his thoughts, asking why he didn't give a word, and why he didn't find Ink. Dream stepped back, trying to answer everyone at once but failing. The looks, voices, and auras were too much. Every voice and negative emotion. And the voices only grew louder. They looked over at Core, who gave them a sympathetic look and pointed down a pathway. It was open and an easy exit out. Dream nodded and smiled in thanks. Fresh was the first to make it to the end and waved the others over.

Cross, Fresh, Blue, Epic, and Dream left the graveyard and walked through the town. Dream's head began to clear, even if he was still fighting inside. He felt better with only his friend around. The strongest negative aura came from, surprisingly, Fresh. He was still smiling, but there was no emotion behind it. He disappeared not long after Ink went missing and Dream still didn't know where he went. The funeral was the first time Dream saw him wear something that wasn’t neon. The only part still the same was his sunglasses. But of course he was upset, Ink was his best friend.

“Are da Star Sanses sticking as a duo or are ya getting some new dawgs?” Fresh asked.

Dream exhaled. He hoped to hold the question off as long as possible. He couldn’t stand to think about replacing Ink. It felt disrespectful; it wouldn’t be the same. No, it wouldn’t be replacing, it would just be a new team member. They needed a new Guardian of Creativity.

Blue answered, “Hm, maybe. We already had Core in mind as an honorary member, but . . . nothing official." Dream nodded along. Blue watched him with a sorrowful look. "Dream, are you okay with that? . . . are you okay in general?”

Dream looked up and smiled. “Mmm? Oh, I’m just tired. The last two months have been busy and I haven’t had much rest.” He laughed.

Cross looked at him with worry and skepticism. “And you’ve said that exact excuse for the past two months.” He kept his hand around his. “Ink is gone now, we got that case closed. You don’t have to keep fighting and worrying. The only person who that's helping is no one.”

Dream sighed, knowing he was right. He barely gave himself any breaks or rest time. Now he could take a nap. “I know. But Nightmare is still out there. I need to stop him before he hurts anyone else and get revenge-”

“Dream . . .” Blue had a warning tone.

“But the Code-”

“Dream!” Blue held their arm, firm yet gentle. “If something comes up, we can take it! But you have to stop overworking yourself or you'll burn out again! You’re still sick! What if you get kidnapped next because Nightmare leads you into a trap?”

Dream looked between the concerned gazes of Blue, Cross, and Fresh. Their eye lights bored into him, through him. Guilt entered his mind. They had a point. He was so focused on keeping the others safe from kidnapping, he never considered himself. And he was the most obvious target. He sighed. “I’m sorry. . .”

“Flower, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Cross squeezed his hand. “All we're saying is that we don't want you to overwork yourself or get hurt. Again. Now you don’t have an excuse to burn yourself out.”

Dream nodded. “I understand.” The feeling of guilt, both for making them worry and letting Ink down lingered there. But their reassurance and worried smiles helped him feel better. Dream decided to do something nice, both for their sake and his own. "Well . . . I'm going to get a tea to calm my nerves. Would anyone like to come with me?"

"That sounds like a great idea." Blue smiled. He still looked worried about Dream, but his aura was stronger. Fresh and Cross were also interested, but Epic shook his head and rubbed his neck.

"Sorry, bruh. I got to go back to my AU. Core said they were going to drop me off. Bring me back a hot chocolate!" He said, teleporting in an aura of purple magic.

Fresh's glasses changed to GOT IT. Epic left and Dream made a portal for everyone.

Dream sipped a hot chamomile tea, leaning on Cross as he did. They didn’t speak much, no one knew what to talk about. But the drinks and pastries were delicious. There was only one person here, so the silence was palpable.

Ccino walked over and filled out a note on his clipboard, then he sat down with the others at the table. “Why is it so quiet over here?”

The four looked at Ccino. Blue took a long sip of his coffee, not caring it was piping hot. "Because Ink died. Wait, didn't you hear about that?"

Ccino paused, hand half-frozen on his cup of coffee. His eye sockets were wide in shock. “No . . . Ink is dead? What happened? When? How?”

Cross nodded. “He was killed by Nightmare and his gang, tortured and eventually executed. I’m not surprised. We had his funeral this morning. He’s been dead for a week at them least.”

“Nightmare killed . . . that doesn’t make any sense.” Ccino stared straight ahead but didn’t look any of them in the eye. Dream sensed an emotion he didn’t expect him to feel. Sorrow, yes. Anger, yes. But the one thing he didn't expect was guilt.

“Ccino . . .” Dream started, “is something wrong? You look tense. Did something . . . happen between you and Ink?”

The barista sighed, holding his face in his hands. “I should’ve said something. A month ago, Ink came here for a coffee. He didn’t look like he was tortured, he was smiling and making jokes. The only thing that was off about him was that he was going on and on about Nightmare.”

“Like he was sufferin’?” Fresh interrupted with uncharacteristic anger in his voice. Dream’s mind went a million miles per hour.

To everyone’s surprise, Ccino shook his head. “No, he was talking about how amazing Nightmare was. He said he was the best boyfriend ever. Then he left on a panic. I didn’t say anything because I was scared. I thought Nightmare was going to kill me or worse. But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. I still have Ink’s receipt.” Ccino opened one of the drawers behind the counter and pulled out a small sheet of paper.

Blue looked it over as Ccino bit his nonexistent nails. Dream gently lay his hand over his. He knew it wasn’t Ccino’s fault. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t feel safe. You’re not the one to blame here. The only ones who are to blame are Nightmare, Killer, Horror, and Dust. We’ll have revenge on them.” Dream thought of the strangest thing. “What did you mean he called Nightmare his boyfriend? That doesn’t make sense. If Ink was being tortured, why would he be happy about it? Why would he defend Nightmare and not ask for help?"

Ccino sighed. He messed with his turtleneck. “I know. I was worried about him and told him to be careful, but he didn’t listen. He wouldn't give me any details either. I tried and . . . I should've known." Ccino put his face in his hands. "You can always tell something isn't right with Ink if he stops talking."

The Guardian of Positivity tried not to think because he gagged. He imagined Ink sitting on Nightmare’s lap while Nightmare pet him like a cat. Then Nightmare betrayed that trust, throwing him away and leaving him to rot. It was even worse than Dream’s most disturbing thoughts. He looked at Cross who squeezed his hand. His eyes spoke the words he didn’t say.

I’ll never hurt you like that, don’t worry.

Dream hugged him. They said the same thing back.

“The pink vial . . . It has to be the pink vial.” Cross muttered, the pieces clicking together. “That’s how Nightmare got Ink. He drugged him and kept him captive until he didn’t need him anymore.”

“How are you making this even more funked up?” A burst of rainbow gas came out of Blue’s mouth at the word funked. Fresh wagged his finger half-heartedly at him before resting his head on his hand. His glasses turned into FRIEND and he frowned. Dream felt his grieving aura and sighed.

They stared into their tea. The effects kicked in and his feelings started to calm down. The others talked around him, but he barely heard. His best friend was the only thing in his mind. Another tear ran down his face, but he managed to smile, just a bit. Ink wasn’t suffering anymore. That was good. Dream’s only wish, besides saving him, was that he could say goodbye.

Dream hoped that wherever Ink’s spirit was now, he was happy and free.

Chapter Text

Happy and free were the last things Ink would be.

Nightmare renovated one of the empty rooms to become Ink’s training space. It was in one of the castle towers, the one with the largest glass window looking into the forest. His vials were sealed away in a glass case. They lay in a straight line and his sash lay below it. In the back of the room was a large desk, similar to the one he had in his office.

But it also had torture equipment resting on the shelves. Restraints, gags, poisons, sedatives, a massive bucket of water, and a shock collar. He collected them from the torture room in the dungeon, and he couldn’t wait to use them. He hoped Ink was smart enough that he wouldn’t need to use it, as fun as a water-electricity combination would be. He made sure to have nothing that could leave a physical mark. At least a noticeable one. The items currently hung on the wall as decorations, but they were easy to remove.

Nightmare stepped back and admired his work. Perfect. It was all perfect. He took the pocket watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. He was a minute ahead of schedule. Ink would be in here any second. He couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

It only took a few moments. Ink walked in and his eye lights went to the torture tools. He gulped and looked straight ahead at Nightmare.

Nightmare sat at the large desk and waved Ink over. He gestured at the chair with his tendril. “Greetings, my little doll. Sit down. Are you prepared for your first set of lessons?”

“Sure,” Ink said. Nightmare could sense the nervousness in his aura. “I guess so. What are we doing exactly? You said you would make me ‘perfect’, so . . . are you going to teach me how to be a sophisticated aristocrat or something?”

“Mm, close. Let me give you a run down.” Nightmare opened a drawer and removed his list. “We’ll start simple and work our way up to complete subordination. I know it will be challenging, so I’ll do my best to be gentle and help you along the way. The first thing you will learn is how to fix your posture, walk, kneel-”

“Kneel?” Ink interrupted. “Why do I have to kneel?”

Nightmare sighed, irritated that he talked out of turn. The only reason he didn’t hit him at that moment was that he wasn’t in the mood. Well, now that he considered it, only his face couldn’t be bruised. Along with anything sleeves, gloves, and stockings failed to hide. It would throw his plan off. Nightmare cleared his throat. “We need to talk about how rude it is to interrupt someone. Nevertheless, while this is happening, I will teach you to obey hand signals. I hope you are starting to learn that if I raise my right hand, I expect you to fall silent. So when I make this signal,” he tapped his middle finger, pointer finger, and thumb together, “you will kneel. Immediately. You will allow me to do whatever I want with you without an ounce of resistance. I don’t even want you to think. It will help you learn to rely on me for everything.”

Ink scrunched his eye sockets and tried to protest, only for Nightmare to raise his hand. Hesitantly, he closed his mouth.

“You do know! Excellent work. Now, let’s return to what I was saying earlier. Once your stance is proper, we’ll fix your speech pattern. No more slang, swears, jokes, or sarcasm. It’s immature. You’ll replace those traits with polite mannerisms. You’ll learn a new fighting style with your parasol. Your personality is also unappealing. We are going to change it so you become more . . . gentle and sweet. But only to me. When you’re in battle, you’ll become a ruthless monster. And, I’m uncertain if it’s possible, but perhaps we could do something about your face. I’ve heard cosmetic skeleton surgery is possible but I’ve never seen it in person . . .” Ironic, now Nightmare was the one rambling. He had so many plans to make him the perfect weapon.

He refocused. “By the time I’m done with you, you will be a polite, sweet, and well-behaved little doll. Any questions?”

Ink hung his mouth open, his eye lights zoning out. Nightmare pushed his jaw back up with a tendril. “Yeah. Is there anything you do like about me?” Ink asked. He tried to look haughty, but his aura told the truth. “Because from the sound of it, you want to change everything. I’m not even allowed to make jokes anymore? That’s like my defining trait!”

Nightmare considered if he likedd anything about him. It would be easier to make a list of traits he didn’t like. He left Ink unanswered for over a minute.

“I’d argue your defining trait is vanity,” he finally said. “As for good traits, you’re powerful, a fast learner, and . . . well, there isn’t much. Aw, don’t give me that look.” Nightmare tilted the artist’s chin up. He showed his true feelings, misery, and doubt. “Oh, I’m just teasing you. But you want to be good, don’t you?”

Ink paused and nodded with little energy.

“Good. Then turn your mind off and let me fix you. If you don’t follow the rules, then I have to discipline you. And you remember what happened the last time you decided to break the rules.” Ink shuddered. “It may even be fun if you cooperate. Do you understand?”

Ink stared into his eye for a long time as Nightmare stroked his chin. Ink nodded. “I think so . . .”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The dark king opened his desk drawer and set a contract and quill in front of him. “Now, I need you to sign here, here, and here.”

Ink took the paper and read it over. He squinted. “What does it say? I can’t read it. The letters are swimming around and- did you have to write this in such a small and curvy font?”

Nightmare folded his hands under his nasal bone to hide a smile. When he was stalking him, he figured out Ink had a learning disability. He planned to use that to his advantage. “Well, in simple terms, you will be giving me permission to train you. I will become your teacher, and you follow all of my instructions. You will belong to me and obey my every command without any arguing or defiance, that’s in the fourth clause. Failure to follow the terms will result in whatever punishment I deem fit. And yes, that includes the white room, but it would only happen under extreme circumstances.” Nightmare added that for Ink’s reaction alone. And . . . that’s all. If you have any questions about the contract, now is the time to ask.”

He didn’t lie. He only left out certain details. It involved way more than Ink being obedient. It would take away his rights and humanity and give Nightmare full control. Or how he can have him modified however and whenever he wishes. Or how he didn’t even need a reason to torture and punish him and he could do it whenever he wanted. He could even change his legal name. Ink was no better than property to him, he never was. No one ever read the fine print in these situations anyway.

Ink squinted at the writing on the contract, flipping to the next page. “Wait, is this a legit contract? Like it’s not a roleplay or a game?”

“Correct, it’s legally binding.”

Ink set the contract down. “Nightmare, look, I can’t do this. You know me! I’m not good at following rules and I’m really bad at listening to people. You said you want ‘complete subordination’ or whatever it was and I’m sorry, but I can’t give you that. If I went through with this and became your little toy or whatever, I’d be miserable! And even when you make me wear these weird pastel dresses and bows, I’m still a person. I think it’s cute when you call me it as a pet name, but I’m not actually a doll-”

Nightmare covered Ink’s mouth with his tendril, staring at Ink. “See, that’s the thing. You are. It won’t be that terrible. I won’t hurt you unless I have to, remember? Unless . . . you’re too weak and sensitive to handle it. I’d assume you as a four-hundred-year-old guardian could handle more than I could as a child. But . . . I suppose I was wrong.” Nightmare winked and held out a quill.

He removed the tendril from his mouth. Ink stared at him for a long moment until he huffed. “Here, give me that stupid quill.”

Nightmare chuckled. Too easy. Ink took the quill pen from his hand and signed the contract, in all three places. Nightmare kept a poker face when he took it from him, but would’ve grinned at the messy signatures. He slid the paper into his pocket, right beside the leather notebook with his partner’s name branded on it.

“Well, let us begin.” Nightmare stood up and picked the shock collar off his shelf. He bit back a smile as he clicked it around Ink’s neck. Nightmare squeezed the remote in his hand, finger hovering over the button. “We’ll start simple. You’ll follow my orders, and if you fail, you get a small shock. Easy enough?”

“Wait, what?” Ink tried to pull it off, but Nightmare clicked a button to keep it on. It was amusing to watch Ink try to pull the thing off, but Nightmare eventually gave him a small shock. Ink cried out and he jumped back. He took his hands off the band.

“Ah, ah, don’t pull on it.” He took his finger off the button and grabbed a list instead. “First, kneel.” Nightmare tapped his pointer finger, thumb, and middle finger together. “Now.”

Ink looked uncomfortable, only standing and blinking at him. “I don’t- OW!”

Nightmare shocked him once he stood too long, upping the voltage from the last time. The pressure pushed him to the ground and conveniently on his knees.

“Hands on your lap,” Nightmare ordered. Ink put his hands on his lap and Nightmare pet his head as a reward. Ink scoffed, but Nightmare chose to ignore that. “Excellent. Stand up and do it faster this time.”

The artist stood up and sighed. He waited for Nightmare to give the signal and he kneeled down. Nightmare nodded. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t fast or graceful enough either, but he decided to move on. “Stand up again.

Nightmare’s tendrils drummed against each limb so it looked just as he envisioned. He pushed his arms and legs closer together and straight. He took his hands in his own and clasped them together, tilting his chin up.

“Almost . . . hold that position.” Nightmare stepped away. “It’s somewhat calm, but you look too tense. Relax your arms and shoulders.”

Ink tried to follow Nightmare’s request. But he unclasped his hands, so Nightmare sent another volt of electricity through him. Ink tensed up more and Nightmare chuckled. “Stop shocking me!”

Another shock, higher voltage this time. “Your entire new persona is centered on grace and an effortless performance. That’s the point of the doll, Ink. It’s not just about you looking cute, it’s about having that uncanny feel as if you fit in, but you don’t at the same time.” He sighed, seeing Ink still wasn’t understanding and giving him a blank look. “Fine. Let me try something else to make you understand. You are to be expected to curtsy whenever you greet someone. Do you know what that is?”

Ink’s left eye light turned into a purple question mark. “Uh, nope. Well, I’ve heard of it, I just don’t how to do it . . .”

Nightmare hummed and stood from his desk. “Like so.” He took the ends of his collared shirt, bowed his head, and lowered his left leg in proper style. He regained composure and gestured Ink to follow.

The artist copied his movements, gritting his teeth to avoid falling over. He managed to stay standing, but Nightmare held off on electrocuting him. It would be counter-productive and he could tell from his face he tried to avoid it.

“Hm, you need to work on your grace. You’re wobbling too much and it looks forced. Curtsying is something done without thought. Do it again.”

It was going to be a long day of electric shocking. Hopefully, his burns weren’t too bad by the end of the day.

"I don't get it, what's the point of this?" Ink said as he struggled with Nightmare's tendrils around his waist.

Nightmare tied Ink’s hands above his head with a rope. He hung him up like a pinata. The artist struggled. Nightmare browsed through the poisons, trying to decide which would be the best to use on him. Hallucinations could be fun. Or he could send him into painful and stressful contortions. He wanted something that would turn Ink's aura more negative . . . something that would easily keep him on edge in the future.

Ink tried biting the restraints off. “Seriously, what did I do?” he shouted with confusion in his voice. “Why are you punishing me?"

“Nothing, I just want to see how much you can handle in the future." Nightmare took a soft black blindfold and tied it around Ink’s skull. The sudden deprivation only made him fidget more. Nightmare picked up a bottle of poison, one of his favorite ones. He poured some of it onto a silver spoon like a bottle of medicine.

He held the spoon under his nasal bone. “What do you think this is?”

“Um,” Ink took a deep breath, “Cinnamon? Or something with cinnamon? It- ouch that stings. Is it spicy-”

Before he could finish, Nightmare forced the liquid down his throat. Ink gagged, but Nightmare tilted his head back so he had no choice but to swallow.

“That didn’t taste so bad,” the artist said. "It kind of reminds me of that one tea Dream made me try back-"

He twitched. Sweat poured down his skull. Ink shook and his breathing hastened. “NIGHTMARE! IT BURNS! MAKE IT STOP! I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!”

Nightmare leaned against the wall and tuned out his screams. He read the label out loud. “Actually, according to the warnings, you can take it for up to forty-eight hours. After that, then you get nerve damage and possible paralysis. Oh, that’s not good.”

“WHAT? ARE YOU CRAZY? I DON’T WANT TO BE PARALYZED!”

“I know, I know. I don’t want you to be paralyzed either. You would be useless to me.” Nightmare watched Ink writhe, scream, and sob, a grin slowly forming. “Describe the pain to me. I’m curious.”

Ink panted. “I feel like everything is lava! My legs burn and the blindfold burns and- take it off! THIS ISN’T FAIR! LET ME-"

Nightmare tied a gag around his mouth to keep him quiet. Ink paused and bit down on it. His voice was muffled, but he had something to distract him from the pain now."

Nightmare watched with a “I’ll come back and check on you in a few hours. You should have learned your lesson by then. Sound fair?”

All he got as a response was more screaming and muffled cries. Nightmare took a deep breath. The negativity was incredible and the poison was working well. He added that to the list of torture methods that went well on Ink.

Nightmare took the pair of noise-canceling headphones and slipped it over his head. Ink paused once he realized he couldn't hear and began to kick again. Nightmare stared at his hand. His negativity was only growing stronger. Nightmare considered putting preppy music on, but he decided that would be counter-productive.

For the next hour, Nightmare studied Ink and his emotions, namely where his anger was set. It would be eaiser if he wasn't gagged, but then he could mumble something he didn't After half of the time was up, he decided to add another entry to his journal.

December 4th, 20xx

I'm attempting something new. I've been trying every torture method I've mastered to see what is most effective on Ink. So far, the most effective methods are sensory deprivation and the white room. The latter is still stronger, but this is working well. I've tried using a blindfold before and he didn't like that, but now he's fully tied and defenseless. Oh, and poisoned, but that's not important. And as I write this, he's still whimpering and crying out.

. . . he's more interesting like this if I'm to be honest.

Nightmare sketched a little drawing of Ink at the bottom of the page. The artist gave him drawing lessons and Nightmare couldn't help but chuckle at that.

The hour was up, there was no more noise from Ink. Ink’s blindfold was soaked with tears. He slumped in his restraints. His legs still spazzed, but the rest of him was motionless.

Nightmare took his cheekbones and rubbed them. Yelping and realizing, Ink sprung back to life. He tried to lean into Nightmare's affection. The poor thing had no idea how much time had passed. he could tell.

Nightmare removed the headphones and Ink winced at the subtle sounds of the room. “Would you like the antidote now?

“Please.”

Nightmare took another bottle off the shelf. This one was a sliver liquid. He poured some into another spoon and slipped it into his mouth. Ink’s legs slowed down before stopping completely. He untied his blindfold. Ink cringed at the sudden light, but he spoke “Water. Please give me water.”

His tendril took a bottle off the shelf and gave it to the artist. He drank half of the bottle in a single gulp, gasping when he finished.

Setting his hands free, Nightmare pulled him down and set him on the floor. Ink curled up on his side. His bones were still hot from poison. He may have a fever. “Now how do you feel?"

Ink got up and panted. "I can't feel my arms, thanks . . . thanks a lot. Did you get what you wanted?"

Nightmare glanced at the journal on his desk. "Yes, I got exactly what I need. And you did a great job."

Ink looked him over and Nightmare offered a tendril to help him stand. Ink wobbled as he stood, heavily leaning on Nightmare for support. He smiled a bit at the compliment, but then he sighed and looked away from him. "Thanks . . . can I lay down a bit? I'm going to pass out in like two steps if I don't."

Nightmare thought about it and shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"Thanks, Nighty." Ink's eye socket twitched and he trudged away, the burning still in his system and crawling up his throat. He ended up vomiting a storm that night.

Ink curled up by his side. He didn’t even peek as Nightmare slowly ran his tendrils down his cheekbones. Purring emitted from his nonexistent throat, precisely as he was told.

Nightmare couldn’t help but grin at his subordination. His four weeks of conditioning were finally paying off. No speaking, no moving, just allowing him to do what he desires. He hoped there wouldn't be a single thought between those two eye lights, but it didn't seem like it. “That’s it . . . that’s it. Oh, you’re doing so well. This is where you belong. I told you it would be worth it.” Nightmare cooed.

A smile grew on Ink’s face, but his aura didn’t match for whatever reason. Nightmare decided to experiment. He leaned in and kissed the artist. The smile faded as the artist scrunched his eye sockets. He quickly switched from staying still to reciprocating. Cooing to calm him, the dark lord pressed a little harder. Ink tried to pull away, but Nightmare shoved his fingers between his shoulder blades. Ink yipped in pain. Nightmare wondered how long it would take before he started fighting against him, it was a test. Ink took a deep breath and even cupped Nightmare’s cheekbone with his hand in order. Nightmare waited another minute and Ink didn't back off. He passed.

"Excellent job." Nightmare tapped his three fingers together and Ink kneeled on the sofa they sat on. He was getting better at this. He stared at his waist as he petted him on the head like a puppy. He was correct about the corset training. It was working wonderfully. Ink didn't complain about the pain anymore. He didn't even complain about the hunger pains from being on a stricter diet. He was so small that he looked pathetic at his side. With almost instant obedience from him, Nightmare knew he was weeks away from having a doll. Well, a perfect doll.

"Thank you," Ink muttered. He leaned his head closer to Nightmare. Unknown to him, Ink smirked while he wasn’t looking. And he gagged from being kissed like that. He had two more days to keep this act and then he could put his plan into action.

Even if a major part of him really, really didn't want to.

Nightmare woke up to a crash. It sounded like it came from his study. That crossed Dust off the list, he had no interest in his study. Horror sometimes would wander around confused, but not this late at night. It wasn’t Killer’s aura either. He would be pulling a prank or causing mischief. This aura was desperate and scared.

Ink.

Nightmare got out of bed and turned himself into a puddle of darkness. He moved faster in this form. The door to his study was wide open. He turned back to his solid form and peered inside.

Glass covered the floor, along with a baseball bat and an open book. The book was covered in highlighting with a drawing of a portal on one of the pages. The shelf with Ink’s vials was open and empty. A hooded figure jumped up and grabbed each one, trying not to land on the shards of glass.

Once the last vial was off the shelf, the person turned enough so Nightmare could see his face. Ink wore a ragged T-shirt and a brown jacket, likely something he stole from one of the MTT or kept hidden. He was too small and thin for them both. He was so pale he looked purple. But he had a look of determination on his face.

Ink put each vial in his sash and wrapped it around his body. He looked frantically around the room, muttering to himself. “Gotta get out of here, gotta get out here, I can’t do this anymore, I don’t want to die-”

“Ink Myebi Comyet, what do you think you’re doing?” Nightmare called.

Ink froze, turning his head to the sound of the dark king’s voice. His aura spiked with fear, but also anger. He looked to the massive stained glass window and grabbed Nightmare’s globe off his desk. He held it out like a sword. His arm trembled as it was too heavy for his frailness.

“Getting the fuck out of here, that’s what I’m doing! I’m sick and tired of you torturing- oh I’m sorry, training me! Our relationship is done! I thought things were going to get better, but they’re just getting worse! I thought you were going to change! I’m miserable, I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m humiliated, I’m homesick, and I am two hundred and ten percent done! Now goodbye!”

Ink threw the globe at the window and . . . it bounced off, landing on the floor with a thump. His anger and bravery faded as much as his strength. Anger didn’t fuel Nightmare as much as fear did, but Ink’s was an exception. Nightmare sunk into a puddle and moved across the floor, appearing behind Ink. “My windows have a spell on them to prevent breakage and possible break-ins. If you were listening to me before, you would have known that. Idiot.”

Ink’s eye lights turned into pinpricks. He looked up at Nightmare and took a deep breath. He shoved Nightmare aside and ran out of the office.

Nightmare turned around and melted back into a puddle, following after Ink. He could tell he didn’t come prepared for this as he paused for too long, trying to decide which way to go. Nightmare wrapped some of his malice around Ink’s leg and tripped him, flipping him on his back.

Ink panicked and kicked, trying to set his ankle free as Nightmare stared down at him. “Wait, Nightmare, wait-!”

Nightmare was about to choke his tendrils around Ink, but then he realized there was no need to. He stared up with nothing but pure dread in his eye lights and he didn’t move a muscle.

“After everything I’ve done for you, all my training and care, you still choose to run away. You couldn’t even wish me goodbye. How rude.” Nightmare kept his voice gentle, though his words were harsh. He snapped his fingers and got his attention instantly. Ink got into fighting position, but switched to standing in front of him, head bowed.

Ink gulped. “I’m sorry.”

Nightmare stared down at him. He was planning to send him to the white room, but he decided on something else. He flicked his finger toward himself and Ink stood up. He gulped and followed him, taking shaky breaths.

They walked into the living room where the magic fireplace was still alight. It burned on its own and wouldn’t spread, so it was safe to keep the flames.

“Sit.” Nightmare shifted his hand into the shape of a branding iron and held it over the fireplace. He wiped his eye with his free hand. He hated getting his sleep interrupted, to begin with, but threw an argument and a chase on it and he was exhausted. He could stay awake for days at a time, but even he grew weary and needed to rest once in a while.

Ink tapped his feet against the floor and tried to control himself. He was still scared; he had a tear in his eye. The fire was pleasantly warm, not scorching hot as it looked. It was still enough to make his plan work.

Ink watched him walk over and pull down his shirt collar. He broke into rambles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know. That was a stupid idea! Pfft, I don’t know what I was thinking! I was just getting frustrated and I didn’t know what else to do and- and-” His voice and laugh cut off to a blood-curdling scream. The sound woke him up Nightmare pressed his heated hand deeper into Ink’s sternum and he kept screaming.

Nightmare ripped his hand away and Ink’s sternum steamed. Ink stared down. He had a brand new crescent moon mark on his chest. The bone around it was light red with some bits chipped. It would harden and cool over time, he was sure of it. “Now say ‘thank you’ for not sleeping in the white room tonight.”

Ink stared up at him. His eye lights faded from his sockets. His aura dulled with them as he touched his brand. “. . . thank you for not sending me to the white room.”

“You’re welcome, now go to bed and switch back into that nightgown I gave you.” Once Nightmare said the words, Ink stood up and quickly walked away, no arguments, no fights, not even a mumble. Nightmare sighed and held his face in his hand. He moved his fingers aside just enough so his one eye was exposed. He was already awake, and there was no point in going back to bed now, so Nightmare took a turn down the hall. He peeked into Ink’s bedroom to make sure he did as he asked and it turned out he was. Ink curled up on top of the blankets without a single sound. He didn’t switch into the nightgown, but Nightmare didn’t care right now. He locked Ink’s door to prevent further action.

Continuing, Nightmare stopped at Dust’s door and knocked on it. He knew the murderer had a poor sleep schedule and would most likely be awake. The question was whether or not he would answer the door and let him in.

After a few knocks, it opened. Dust’s eye lights glowed more purple than usual. He wiped one of them with his fist. “Boss? The hell you doin’ up this late?”

Nightmare shrugged. “Ink made an escape attempt and I had to punish him. I wish I wasn’t awake either.” Dust blinked in surprise. Nightmare stared at his eyebags. “What about you? How many hours of sleep have you gotten this week?”

Dust hummed and opened the rest of the door to let Nightmare in. His room was both the cleanest and the messiest of the three. It was dark with a bed and nightstand on the left and a table on the right. The shelf above it was covered in books, some his own and some borrowed from Nightmare’s library. The room smelled of faint cigarette smoke, they never could get it out of the walls. Dust used to have drug and smoking issues before he joined the VSS and more than once Nightmare came down on him for it. He took at least twelve needles of heroin out of his bedroom, half were used.

“Seventeen total . . . I know, I know.” Dust looked away. His voice was flat. “So, what did you need my help for?”

Nightmare removed his tendril and flickered it. He looked at the science kit he gave Dust for Gyftmas one year. The beakers and microscope were recently used. He picked up one with green liquid and a corked lid and studied it. “Well, I know you’ve studied up on scientific practices. That includes medical science, right?”

“Right.”

“And you also know magical science, right?”

“Right . . .” Dust’s shifted on his bed, leaning against the wall. “What’s this about?”

“Ink.” Nightmare set the vial down. “I’m losing my patience with him and I want to try something new. He’s making progress, but not fast or efficient enough. I want you to use your skills to stop making him feel like he has a voice, figuratively. I want it to be permanent. Do you have any suggestions?”

Dust thought about it and stood up. He walked over to his bookshelf and picked one up. He flipped through it. Nightmare couldn’t help but chuckle. He looked so much like he did after finding a good library book as a child. Dust held up a page for Nightmare. The Lord of Negativity looked it over and his eye widened. It was perfect, too perfect. “Can you do it?”

Dust took the book back. “I mean, the serum is goin’ to take a while. I have no clue where to get some of this stuff, but I can make the voice pull string box in a week.”

“That’s fine.” Nightmare held his shoulder. “I knew I could rely on you, Dust, and I’ll be looking forward to it.”

It was for a brief moment, but Dust smiled. He sighed and shut the book, putting it back on the shelf. “If that’s all you need, g’night boss.”

“It is. Goodnight, Dust.” Chuckling, Nightmare put his hand back in his pocket and turned around, leaving the room. He was proud of him. If only he would let himself sleep.

Chapter Text

Ink was getting pretty good at fighting in his new style (and in dresses). Plenty of head cocking, giggling, bouncy movements, and creepiness. Nightmare wanted him to dance in battle, but also look robotic. It was a hard balance. The parasol wasn’t so bad to use, but he missed Broomie. He still felt stupid fighting with a pink umbrella meant for decoration. What should he name it anyway? Blossom? Same first letter as Broomie, it felt fitting.

The artist was also slower today, and not just because he wasn’t in the mood. He barely got any sleep. He only got seven hours of shuteye with his new schedule, he used to get fourteen. Nightmare insisted napping was a privilege and prevented him from taking one. until he earned it. Ink tried before and he then got a half hour of shocks with the shock collar. He hated that thing.

And he didn’t like anything else he was doing.

Drained was the best word for how he felt. Ink was so done with Nightmare’s ‘training’ and control, contract be damned. Something in him changed after the failed escape attempt. He drank his vials, but he still felt empty, like he was just going through the motions. His voice became monotone and he couldn’t find the energy to do much anymore, not even laugh. He couldn’t recognize his own reflection anymore. Ink was tired of drinking poison or getting yelled at or getting electrocuted. If he tried to fight back, the punishments got worse and more painful. Nightmare tried not to bruise or scar him, but the long-sleeved high-collared dresses were becoming too common.

Ink tried to tell himself each scar was worth it. There had to be some other reason his mind and body were getting weaker each day. It wasn’t because Nightmare was torturing, starving, and overworking him. It was because . . . he was only trying to help him. At least, that’s what he told himself. Nightmare wouldn’t go through all this effort if he didn’t love him, right? And Ink agreed to his contract, so Night wasn’t completely to blame. Maybe it would’ve been better if he dated before. That way he could compare Nightmare’s actions to that imaginary person. Or what if there were people worse than Nightmare? Ugh, everything was so confusing.

Not everything was terrible. Nightmare gave him little rewards if he listened. Less training sessions, cuddles, kisses, praise, food, and even a teddy bear one time. Ink knew it was to further push the ‘innocent cutesy doll’ role onto him, but it was still nice and fluffy. It made sleeping much easier. He loved Nightmare so much but . . . he was so tired of this shit.

The worst part was that it was getting easier to obey. He memorized and internalized the rules and command signals. And it was so tempting to be good and get the treats instead of torture. He loved it when Nightmare showed his soft side. His favorite thing was when he set him on his lap and pet him with his tendrils, usually while he was doing office work. It would be so much easier to be an airheaded toy . . .

No, stop that!

Ugh, he was so confused. Some days, Nightmare acted like the perfect boyfriend and other days he was a violent monster. Sometimes he switched in the same day without warning. Ink felt like he just kept him around to dress up and beat up.

Ink wanted his friends. He wanted them to rescue him from this paradise turned hell. But he knew they weren’t going to find him, they probably didn’t even care. Hey, if he didn’t hear any worries about them from Nightmare, they weren’t a problem to him. Nightmare . . . well, he came up with some very creative threats if he ever tried to leave on his own again. If he put up with a few more weeks, maybe he’d have the courage to stand up and make some demands. He wanted his freedom back.

Nightmare wouldn’t break him. He wouldn’t. No matter what happened, he would never be a groveling lapdog.

Horror’s axe made him refocus. Ink blocked it with his parasol. He whipped it back and twirled on his left foot. Ink shot a curved arc of paint over his skull. He lost his footing and gasped as a wave of lightheadedness took him over. He clutched his hungry nonexistent stomach. When’s the last time he’s had a full meal? A week ago? A month ago?

Ink was paying more attention to his lightheadedness than the fight. Horror hit him with the blunt end of his axe and he was slammed into the wall. Ink groaned and rubbed his head, ringing in his nonexistent ears. Ink fell onto the ground with his face flat on the floor.

From the corner of his eye socket, Ink caught Nightmare staring at him. He moved his pointer finger and middle finger back and forth. That was the sign he was taught as ‘come to me’. And that was one of the commands he had no choice but to follow.

Ink waved to Horror and walked over to his . . . boyfriend. He forced a half-smile in case Nightmare was expecting it. Ink fought against the urge to flinch when Nightmare rubbed his cheekbone. Flinching would mean he’s scared of him. And that soft hand would turn violent very quick.

“How are you feeling today, my little doll?” Nightmare asked. “Do you still hate me for your last punishment?” He took the collar of his dress and lowered it enough to reveal the deep crescent moon brand. Ink shivered, still feeling the hot iron there.

The artist squeezed his eye sockets shut and reopened them, forcing eye contact. Even after everything, Nightmare’s eye was still pretty to look at. “No, I’m-I’m over it. I’m tired, that’s all. What do you want me for?”

He couldn’t tell if Nightmare was faking his sympathy. “I can see you’re not going to enjoy this. You know how much I despise that squeaky voice of yours?” Ink nodded, trying not to look hurt. He was starting to hate his voice after all the times he nitpicked about it. Nightmare kept talking. “Well, we’re going to have that corrected today. Dust is an expert in medical science. and he agreed to perform voice surgery on you. If all goes to plan, your voice will be much higher pitched and more fitting.”

Nightmare touched his neck as Ink’s eye socket twitched. “You’re going to force me to have surgery and you didn’t tell me? Nightmare!”

Nightmare cleared his throat. Ink stopped protesting. “Correction, I did. It’s in the contract that I can have your body altered whenever and however I wish. Also, I’m not required to tell you in advance. It’s not my fault you chose not to read or ask for the details.”

The artist stood speechless. Damn it! He wanted to rip up that contract. It’s not fair! None of this was fair! He didn’t care if it was childish, he wanted to stomp out of the room and never talk to him again. But fighting about it would only get him slapped. Or poisoned. Or a day without food.

If Ink didn’t know Nightmare didn’t have mind-reading powers, he would’ve thought he read his thoughts. “Don’t think about throwing a fit,” he said, “it’s improper and immature. Now, I have chosen an outfit for you; it’s lying on your bed. Clean up, put it on, do your makeup pretty, and make yourself presentable. We’ll be leaving leaving in an hour. Don’t be late.”

Nightmare turned around and disappeared. Once he left, Ink threw his parasol at the wall. The only reason he picked it up was because he would be punished if he didn’t. He huffed and held his skull, then he stormed off. What did he still see in that guy . . . ? Besides the charm, sexiness

Ink made it back to his room and stared at the outfit Nightmare laid out for him. It was a pastel blue dress. Ink was getting real sick of pastels, he planned to throw out his pastel colored pencil set. The dress was long-sleeved with cuffs at the wrists and a layered skirt just below his knees. Great, it was one of the ones Ink made by hand. Ink looked up and stared at the sewing tools on his desk, another ‘present’ from Nightmare. Nightmare wanted him to get into dress-making for who knows what reason anymore. Ink thought it was stupid, but he grabbed the needle and used his creativity.

But that was the thing, he was good. Too good.

Ink sat down in front of the mirror in his room, applying the makeup the exact way Nightmare wanted it. He had the pattern memorized by now. The bright rosy cheeks, the soft eyeliner, the pinkish-red eyeshadow, all of it. And he wasn’t allowed to experiment or do anything fun! Ink liked eyeliner before this.

Someone opened his door. Ink bit his lower jaw and turned around with a smile. “I’m almost ready Night- oh, hey Horror.”

Horror stood in the doorway holding something under his jacket. He looked out the door and approached Ink, shoving a wrapped object onto his desk. It was in the shape of a cylinder and it didn’t take long to figure out what it was. The crinkle paper and smell gave it away.

Ink’s left eye light turned into an exclamation point and he grabbed the sandwich. His nonexistent stomach growled. “Oh my stars, sweet! Thank you!” He unwrapped it and took a bite. Nightmare rarely let him eat anymore since he wanted him to be little. Dolls were supposed to be grateful and petite and have small appetites (well, they’re not supposed to eat at all). Like dolls, he was petite with a tiny appetite. He wasn’t allowed to eat with the others and only had a quarter of a meal, half if he was lucky. Nightmare praised him for losing a ton of weight. Too much. If the wind was strong enough, he would probably topple over.

Ink ate the rest of the sandwich in seconds, feeling more satisfied than usual. It was salty, savory, and sweet at the same time. He sighed. “Mm, that was great. What was it, pulled pork?”

Horror stared at him with a blank blink. “Human . . . hope ya don’t mind . . . eating a few humans. Boss has his reasons but . . . I don’t like him . . . starving you.”

Ink’s stomach churned when Horror said ‘human’, but part of him also didn’t care. Food was food, and he was so hungry. “Oh yeah, your story . . . oh, you’re the one where the CORE got destroyed and then there was this huge famine, right?”

Horror nodded. He sat beside Ink, putting one hand into his open eye socket. “Yeah, everyone was starving, I said I’d help . . . they betrayed me. Tricked me . . . broke my skull . . . removed my eye . . . damaged my brain . . . I killed the guards, broke . . . Alphys.”

“Wow . . . sorry.” Ink didn’t know what else to say. He did feel bad for him, especially because he was the nicest one in the castle. Killer was second.

“Don’t. Not your fault.” Horror growled though it didn’t sound aggressive. He gave Ink a wary look with his single blood-red eye, red as human blood. “Boss is . . . . looking for you. He wants you. Shouldn’t . . . keep him waiting.”

Ink sighed. “I know, don’t remind me.” He picked up his perfume and sprayed it on in case there was a lingering scent of flesh. He wouldn’t be as suspicious about lavender. He stood up and looked up at Horror. “Thanks again for the sandwich! I’ll see you after this surgery, whatever it is.”

Horror watched him leave the room with a grimace. “Good . . . luck . . .”

The white bow around Ink’s neck choked him. Nightmare insisted it wasn’t tight enough when he tied it again. Guess it was nice he was looking after him, but Ink was still tired of looking cute and pretty all the time. It was humiliating and he liked expressing himself through his clothes. He missed his uniform and had no idea what Nightmare did with them. But he felt like if he asked, he wouldn’t like the answer.

Ink had been cooped up in the castle since his Flufftale adventure, so he was thrilled to get out. Even if he had no clue where they were, which is weird because he should’ve immediately been able to tell. Maybe he was losing his power because he didn’t get out as much. He shook the thought out of his head. Nope, he had plenty of stress already.

Anyways, they walked down a gray road. Everything in this AU was so . . . dull. Hardly any color besides shades of gray. The building they eventually stopped at was the darkest of all, a giant factory from the look of it. Two large smokestacks smoked coughed poisoned air. It was so gray it was almost green. Ink felt like looking at it would give him some deadly virus.

Nightmare gripped his hand tighter than he would’ve liked as they stopped in front of a building. “Now, I’m expecting nothing short of perfection out of you, do you understand? This is going to be a very precise procedure, fighting will only ruin it for yourself.”

Ink looked at him, repressing a glare. “And if I don’t act perfect?”

The dark king’s tendril shape-shifted into a sharp knife. He traced it against Ink’s back. Not enough to bleed or leave a mark, but enough to make his spine shiver.

Ink trembled, smiling and nodding. “Smile, listen, don’t fight. Got it.”

Nightmare threw the door open. The smell was just as bad as he was expecting. A mix of ammonia and that stomach acid smell after vomiting. Ink felt his sandwich rise into his throat. Meanwhile, Nightmare seemed fine. The whole building was dark with flickering lightbulbs. This AU was too dark and cloudy for sunlight. Every thirty seconds, a loud boom sounded as part of the factory started up. It was so dark, Ink could barely see anything besides the stone floor and the dark gray walls.

Nightmare opened another door and Ink sighed in relief. Unfortunately, that was because this room had actual lighting. Was this a mortuary? It looked more like that than a hospital room, or anywhere safe to do surgery. A device he couldn’t tell if it was a torture device or a surgical table sat in the middle of the room. A lamp hovered over it. The cabinets on the sides had bottles of strange glowing liquid, red, purple, and yellow. Ink gulped.

Dust played with a pair of scissors and an empty syringe on a rolling table. Instead of his usual jacket, he wore a white lab coat with his baseball cape, along with white gloves and a face mask. He had to use tape to keep it up. But his eye lights were the same. They flared as they at Ink. Dust set the scissors and syringe down and walked over to the two. Nightmare smirked. “Is everything ready?”

“All ready, boss.” Dust’s voice sounded manic. Ink realized he preferred him when he was brooding in the corner.

Ink looked between the two. He took a deep breath, holding his hands up and half-glaring at Nightmare. Nightmare looked at him. “Is there something you would like to say?”

“Mm-hm. Can someone tell me what’s going on? If you’re going to operate on me against my will, can you at least tell me what you’re doing?”

Dust and Nightmare looked at each other. Dust sighed and pulled out a massive chart of a skeleton from the side of the stand. He pointed at parts of the chart as he talked. “So, here’s how it’s goin’ to go. You’re goin’ to be strapped to that operating table, I’ll inject you with a paralytic. then I’m goin’ to cut your neck open. Then I’ll cut your vocal cords out and replace it with this thin’.” Dust picked up a small white box. The front had a heart-shaped charm with glittery pink gemstones on it. No, not a decoration. It was a pull-string. “I’ll put this in, stitch it back up, then I’m sealin’ your mouth into a permanent smile. It’s goin’ to take about a week to heal before you can start talkin’ again.”

Ink’s hand went to his neck. He felt tingly all over and struggled to breathe. He knew he wouldn’t get any anesthesia, Nightmare loved it when he suffered. Ink hated needles. He caught a dangerous flu one time and the only way he could get the right medicine was through a syringe. Ink still remembered the throbbing that lasted for over a day afterward. And that wasn’t even counting the actual surgery. He didn’t want to talk from a stupid glittery box and string! He didn’t want his mouth sewn shut! He turned to Nightmare. “Are you CRAZY? I don’t want my f-”

Nightmare slapped him across the face. “Temper, Ink. We talked about this, I have no time for your temper tantrums. You will have this surgery, no arguments. The other option is having your vocal cords removed with no control. And I truly don’t hope it comes to that. I don’t think you would like being forever mute with pre-recorded voice lines.”

Ink rubbed his stinging cheekbone. That didn’t help his panic at all. He already wasn’t allowed to talk much, but none at all? Either way, he’d end up unconscious with Dust messing around in his nonexistent throat. Nightmare sighed and held his hand. “Listen, pumpkin. You’re going to be fine. You will be asleep the whole time and won’t feel a thing. Do whatever we tell you to and you’ll be fine. Once it’s over, you’ll feel so much better. So, which will it be? Voice change or voice removal, I will give you this choice.”

Ink glimpsed at Dust, who still looked bored, then back at Nightmare, but slightly past him. The door was right there. He could’ve made a run for it. But he didn’t know how to get out of this crazy lab without getting caught. And Nightmare would be disappointed . . . and hurt him. He didn’t know which was scarier. Why wasn’t there a third option? Ink sunk onto the nearby chair and whispered, “Okay. I’ll have- I’ll do the voice surgery.”

“There’s my little good doll.” Nightmare cupped his cheekbones and kissed his foreskull. Ink still loved it when he did that; it made him all fuzzy. Dust rolled his eye lights. “Now, let’s make this quick.”

Ink looked between the two and sighed. He obeyed and lay back on the operating table, scrunching the crinkly paper between his fingers. The single swinging light above him burned his eyes from being too bright. Dust pulled a lever on the side of the table and metal bands tightened around his head, arms, ankles, and torso. Instinctively, Ink struggled.

“Hey! Why-” Nightmare raised his right hand and Ink went quiet. Dust put on a pair of surgical gloves as Nightmare smiled down at him. He kissed his foreskull again then sat back on the spare chair.

Ink listened to the sound of a drawer opening and Dust came back, this time holding a syringe. He pressed it into Ink’s neck while he hissed. It wasn’t so bad, but he had no idea what was in it. He couldn’t feel his fingers, then his arms, then his legs or feet. He could only move his head. His entire body tingled like it fell asleep. Ink wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Bad most likely.

Dust set the syringe down and switched it out for a scalpel. Setting the blade on his neck, he traced it down and cut. It only felt like a scratch with the stuff in the syringe, but Ink was still uncomfortable. Dust traced the scalpel around into a square and moved it away. He stuck his fingers under the bit of bone and yanked it off, tearing off black blood in the process. Ink bit his tongue to keep from crying out.

“Calm down,” Dust muttered. Ink tried, but having a large part of your neck missing made that hard. He pulled at his restraints and looked around. Nightmare sat on a chair and stared at him, tapping his foot as he watched. He smiled at Ink like he wasn’t being medically tortured.

Ink closed his eyes and tried to nap it off. It didn’t work. Dust reached his hand into his now-open neck and his fingers traced something. Ink tensed up, feeling his air cut off. He struggled to breathe. Dust’s hand was tight around his vocal cords, cutting off Ink’s voice. The cold metal of the scalpel pressed against the magic organ and sawed back and forth. The numbing serum might have stopped it from hurting as much as it should’ve, but that didn’t make it nice. Ink screamed as the burning took him over and the pain kept getting worse. With a final rip, Dust tore out his vocal cords. The limp strands of magic dangled in his hand and dripped with Ink’s black blood. He couldn’t scream or make another sound. And that’s when he learned silence was one of the scariest things he ever experienced. Ink opened his mouth, but nothing came out but air. He did get some tears out though.

“Boss?” Dust asked. Nightmare looked up. “Could you cut a hole in that piece of Ink’s neck I cut off?”

“Of course, of course . . .” Nightmare smiled. Ink glared at him. Making sure Ink was watching him, Nightmare grabbed the scalpel and stabbed it in. Nightmare picked up the small box and lined the charm up with the bone to get the size right. Ink looked away and stared at his vocal cords, which Dust studied and pulled like they were nothing. Oh stars, there was no turning back now.

Dust threw the vocal cords into a silver tray and cleaned out the space using a spray bottle and towel. Then he grabbed the pull-string box that would be Ink’s new voice. Ink glared at the glittery heart charm. It looked like the kind that would be on a cheap necklace for kids. But this was one he couldn’t take off.

Keeping two fingers on the sides to hold him steady, Dust shoved the box into his neck. Ink winced. The metal of the box was cold on his warm neck. He had just enough room to breathe. Dust fiddled around with it to get the adjustment right, then he used telekinesis on his tools. He hovered over a drill with a screw and it took Ink every bit of effort not to fight. He would’ve screamed, but it wasn’t like he had a voice to scream with. Dust drilled the box using the side of his neck, staining the drill and his gloves black.

Ink struggled not to pass out, even though he didn’t want to. Sure the pain would stop, but what if they did something worse while he was out? He wanted to know! And he didn’t want to give these sick freaks the satisfaction either.

.Dust pulled the string. Ink couldn’t explain it, but the box felt lighter and open. He opened his mouth and let out a faint squeak. “Did’ja feel that?”

Ink nodded. He more than felt that. It hurt, but then again, all the pain was blending together now.

“Well that works.” Dust took the bone square back from Nightmare. He did the same thing as the voice box and drilled it with those tiny screws.

Nightmare stood up and stared at Ink’s new voice box. He grinned and stroked his cheekbone. “Almost done, my little doll. You’re so close.”

Ink blinked up. He opened his mouth and coughed up blood. Nightmare took a paper towel and dabbed at his chin to clean the blood. He wiped him off and looked at Dust. "Are you ready to begin part two?"

“Yeah, I'm ready. This is gonna be fast. Don't pass out, Ink.” Dust reached down and pulled Ink's mouth into a smile. Ink fought against him, but it didn’t work. After a bit of adjusting, he stabbed the sharp needle into the corner of his mouth. Since most needles couldn't cut through bone, it was magic-enhanced. And it was double as painful. Ink couldn’t make any noise to tell him to stop. Dust wrapped the needle around and pulled it through. He stabbed hole after hole, making his mouth bleed. Half of his mouth was shut and the other was barely able to open.

Dust ran the needle through one more time and cut the thread. Ink tried to move his mouth. It was stuck like hot glue. He couldn't open his mouth, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Ink stopped trying to move his mouth it began to burn. Not in the usual pain sense, but because of magic tainting them. The string glowed a faint twinkling pink.

Nightmare walked over and looked down at Ink. He smiled down at him, but not out of any kind of empathy or kindness. Ink’s eye sockets were only half open.

Nightmare pat his head and Ink couldn’t help but lean into the touch. He kinda needed it right now. Nightmare reached down and pulled the lever, releasing Ink’s sore body. The spots where the restraints used to be were rubbed raw and red.

Ink sat up and touched his neck, specifically the tiny screws. Then he touched his sewn-up jaw. He gagged and felt like throwing up again. Wait, that wouldn’t be good with the stitches. The thought made him double nauseous.

Since he wasn’t paying attention, Ink didn’t notice Dust grab a tape measure. He took a tape measure and measured each of Ink’s limbs. He muttered to himself and wrote notes on a clipboard. Ink trembled. He never felt so helpless in his life. He knew how to get out of everything! What the hell happened to him these last three months?

Nightmare happened and you know it.

Dust took the rest of his measurements and set the clipboard aside. “There. That's all I need from you. Get off the table."

Ink tried to ask what he was going to do with all the notes, but he couldn’t exactly talk with a sewn mouth. Plus his throat still hurt. He slipped off the table and wobbled. Nightmare caught him and helped keep him steady.

Dust stared at his clipboard and tapped it against himself. “Er, boss, can I talk to you for a moment? In private."

The Lord of Negativity took Ink’s chin and tilted it. He looked at Dust and nodded. Nightmare let Ink go and followed Dust into a separate room. Ink watched with his head cocked and waited against the table, looking around the room. But there wasn't much to keep him entertained. Nothing but boring medical supplies and darkness with that one swinging light. Ink sighed. He walked to where Nightmare and Dust went. It was an empty hall with a shut door. A broken lightbulb failed to light up the door.

Ink knew he shouldn’t, but he pressed himself against the door so he could eavesdrop. Whatever material the door was made of was thick, so he had to try a few times to find a good spot to listen.

“-don't know where to get almost any of that," Dust was in the middle of saying. "It's easier to just make body parts and then cut Ink's off and replace them then try that serum. Sorry boss."

“I see." Nightmare hummed. "Well, as long as it serves the same effects, I won't complain over how it's done. Did I tell you how I wanted him?" A pause, then Nightmare talked again. "I want him shorter and his body type to be changed. Let’s take off . . . three or four inches from his height. Make him curvier and less muscular, but less in a sexy way and more in a cute way. Plushy almost. Oh, and round out his face, that would be lovely.”

Silence.

“'Kay . . . I’ll see what's possible, no promises.”

Something scratched on the other side of the door, Ink could tell it was a pencil. An HB pencil. He covered his mouth. He had the sneaking suspicion Nightmare wasn’t going to even think about telling him this. What serum Dust was talking about? Ink slammed his face against his hand. Stupid, useless, nonexistent brain! Ink eyed the door again. It was his best chance to get out of here.

Battling his emotions, he tiptoed towards the exit. He glanced back once or twice to make sure no one was there. He heard a creak and tensed, but then he looked behind himself again. No one was there. Must have been another factory sound. He made it one foot out and he felt a cold hand clamp his shoulder.

Nightmare solidified and looked down at Ink from behind. “Ink, I know you’re scared and eavesdropped. I can sense your emotions, remember?”

Ink trembled under Nightmare’s cold hand. He turned around and looked at him. He hated how he could turn into a puddle and move without making a sound. Nightmare didn’t look angry, more amused if anything.

Ink closed his eye sockets. Please don’t hit me.

He sighed. “That wasn't a smart move on your part. It’s enough you eavesdropped, and even worse given you tried to escape.” Nightmare’s hand tightened on his shoulder, but then it lightened. “But you’re already in pain from your surgeries, so I will not punish you, just this once. If you do, your body surgeries will be moved up another month in advance. I know you already know about them. Do you understand?"

Ink wasn’t sure if it was safer to nod or shake his head, so he did a mix of both. He hoped it came off as a thank you. The more he thought about it, the more stupid his plan sounded. What was he supposed to do if he got out? Run? Ask for help? Make a portal and escape? Nightmare could stop all three of those easily and he couldn’t even do the third one. This AU might not even have any people in it.

Nightmare smiled and patted his head. “Good doll. Now come on, we have nothing left to do here. For now, that is.”

With a nod to Dust, Nightmare dragged him out of there. Ink reached up and touched the heart charm. The part where the bone was sewn was still warm. He looked behind himself at the room and coughed. Dust said no talking for a week, but he didn't understand why. If the voice box was in, he should be able to talk, right? Ink opened his mouth and the only thing that came out was a high-pitched sound of pain. It felt like razor blades scratching inside his throat. Oh, that's why.

Nightmare heard and covered his mouth. Ink whined at the discomfort. “Ah, ah, ah, remember what the doctor said—no using your voice for at least a few days. You can communicate non-verbally. Perhaps with a notepad.”

Ink struggled not to roll his eye lights. He wanted to so badly, but he then thought it wasn’t worth it. It hurt too much. Ink sighed. One week, one week and he could talk again . . .

Nightmare postponed etiquette training until Ink healed from his surgery. Hearing that almost made him glad he had his neck cut open. Even better, Nightmare acted the same way he did before the argument. Ignoring him most of the time, but he was softer and didn’t get angry as often. Ink tried to stay away from him whenever he could and chose to be with the MTT instead, just to be safe. Except Dust of course.

Ink started taking liquid magic supplements twice a day since his mouth was sewn shut. He wouldn’t need them if Nightmare let him eat, but he wouldn’t. The liquid medicine didn’t taste like anything, it was just bitter. It gave him a bit more strength. He was still starving, but at least he wasn’t borderline passing out.

When it came time to remove the stitches from his mouth, Nightmare was slow and careful. Nightmare took scissors and snipped each one. It was painful, but Nightmare let him squeeze his tendrils. Ink sighed as he could breathe normally again. His mouth still throbbed like the string were still there, but all that was left were bleeding holes. Nightmare hummed, tilting Ink's chin. “Well, I had my doubts but oh, you’re adorable. Would you like to see?”

He gave Ink a hand mirror he brought. The artist took it and gasped, which was a bad idea on his still sore throat. He kept tugging at his mouth, but he couldn’t bring the corners of his mouth down. It was stuck in a calm smile.'

“I’ve noticed you haven’t been smiling much lately, so I decided to have that fixed. Now you will never scowl at me again.” Nightmare’s put his fingers on the edges of his mouth and made his smile widen. Ink turned. “You’re adorable, own it. It’s not like you can change it.” He chuckled to himself.

“Hey, boss? I was lookin’ into that AU for our next mission and-” Killer stopped short as he saw Ink's new face. “Okay, that is super creepy.”

“Ink, come on, it’s safe for you to try your new voice. Go on, we all want to hear it.”

Ink glanced around at the gang with a nervous look on his face. He was pretty excited to try it out and the anticipation was killing him. But he was worried they would make fun of him. Or worse, Nightmare wouldn’t like it and he’d need to go back for a second surgery. Was that even possible? He didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

The artist pulled out his sketchbook and wrote a note for Nightmare. By this point, Nightmare could understand his bad spelling. Ink passed it to the dark king. Nightmare looked it over and hummed. “I see. You don’t want anyone to say anything about your voice, no matter or good or bad.”

Ink nodded. He didn’t want anyone to make a big deal out of it. And of course, the first person to make a big deal out of it was Killer.

Once Ink nodded, Killer sat beside him and clapped him on the back. “Ink, come on man. Even if you sound like a total sissy, you know we’re still here for you. You’re part of the gang!”

“Kills is . . . right.” Horror said. Dust didn’t say anything.

Ink looked between the two, then at Nightmare. Nightmare had the most intense yet hopeful look. Ink grabbed the heart charm. He couldn’t hide this forever, unless he wanted to be mute, which he didn’t. Pulling it, Ink inhaled and said, “How does it sound?”

The artist covered his mouth, but the words were already out. His voice was so high-pitched and soft. It didn’t even sound real. He thought it was going to be a small change, not leaving him with no trace of his old voice. He experimented with quiet la noises and figured out he couldn’t hit a deep pitch. That scared him.

Nightmare stared at him in awe. He moved closer and cupped his cheekbones in his hands. Ink didn’t realize how much he craved that touch and leaned into it. Nightmare's eye gleamed. “Say ‘I love you, Nightmare’.”

“I love you, Nightmare.” Ink cringed at the sound.

He’s never seen that type of grin on the dark king’s face before. It made Ink smile a little too, though dying on the spot still sounded great. Nightmare let out a breathy laugh, turning to Dust. “Well, your surgery was a success. Your voice is even cuter than I expected it to be. That is so much nicer to listen to, don’t you agree?" He turned back to Ink. "Everything is aligning with my plan. You’re almost perfect.”

Ink tried to beam at his words, but his eye sockets brimmed with tears. He tried to repress his sobbing. Even his crying sounded different. Nightmare looked concerned as he absorbed the negativity. Or maybe he was faking it. Ink couldn’t tell and he didn’t care, all he wanted someone to comfort him. Nightmare brushed his tears away with his thumb. “Aw, what’s the matter?”

Ink had to repull his string while still crying. “I-I didn’t think that it would- that I would- it’s not-”

“Ink, take a deep breath and speak in full sentences. We talked about this. You know I hate it when you ramble.”

The artist sniffed. He had to take a few breaths to steady himself. “S-sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. I’m trying to say that I thought it wasn’t going to be good enough for you. I'm never good enough for you. I keep trying to do everything you say, but it’s so hard! I don’t know why I can't do any of this!" He choked on a lump in his nonexistent throat. “I just . . . I want to be perfect! I want you to stop abusing me!”.

Ink covered his mouth again. He didn’t mean to let that last bit slip out. Idiot. Nightmare blinked at the sudden confidence. His eye narrowed and his smile faded. Oh stars, not another mood swing. Ink braced himself.

Nightmare stood up with sharpened tendrils. Ink couldn’t help but flinch, which only made him angrier. “We’re taking this conversation to your bedroom, only us two.”

Horror stepped closer. “Boss, wait-”

“Quiet, Horror." Nightmare snapped. "Ink, stand and follow me. If you choose to stay here, you will be punished and I will make it hurt.”

Ink nodded quickly and stood up. Nightmare grabbed his hand and dragged him through the hall. Ink didn’t make a peep, not even when his grip tightened to the point of hurting. Nightmare’s anger would get worse if he did. Ink’s nonexistent heart pounded in his chest. He was scary when he was angry.

They made it to Ink’s room and sat on his bed. Nightmare crossed his arms and watched him with his 'I’m-pissed-but-I’m-not-going-to-say-it look'. Ink's seen it a million times by now. Ink wanted to read his thoughts. Did he want to torture him? Make him drink poison again? Tie him up and blindfold him? Send him to the white room? Force himself on him? Something worse?

Please don’t get rid of me.

Nightmare stayed quiet, tapping his finger against his arm. The long silence was torture, and Ink felt guiltier by the minute. Idiot! He should’ve been a good doll and kept his thoughts to himself. He should have kept his stupid thoughts in his head but he had to blurt them out. Nightmare was furious and it would be all his fault. Ink braced himself for whatever he had in mind, namely a slap. Maybe he’d let him off easier if he kneeled and begged? Nightmare always liked that . . .

To his relief, Nightmare finally answered. “So, abuse is a strong word, Ink. Do you believe that’s what I’m doing? I want an honest answer.”

“. . . yes.” Ink squeezed his fists together as he tried to summon his old confidence. “I hate it when you beat me force me to call myself worthless and try to make me someone else! I love you and it feels like you only see me as a toy! I want to be loved more! I want less punishment and pain and to be treated like a person! I want to be able to make my own choices, have friends, be able to leave this castle, and have a life outside of you!” He buried his face in his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m just so tired. Both because I haven’t been getting much sleep and I’m tired of being your slave.”

“Slave, interesting word choice.” Nightmare gave him a strange look. It was like he was looking through him. “From the sound of it, you’re blaming me for your bad behavior.”

Ink’s eye lights turned into question marks. “Huh?”

Nightmare wrapped a tendril around Ink and tilted his head up. “I don’t punish you without reason, pumpkin. I do it because I know you can be better than what you show me. You’re just not trying hard enough. That’s why I’m so tough on you. I don’t want to hurt you, but you give me no other choice when you start getting lazy and slip into your old ways. It’s simple psychology. If you associate defiance with pain, you’ll want to avoid it. Or the reverse, earning praise and affection in exchange for good behavior and doing as you’re told. I assume you prefer kind words over hurt. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so.” Ink managed to stop crying. His head pounded. He didn’t know what to think of Nightmare’s teaching logic. He didn’t think he should ever become a schoolteacher. “So you hurt me because you want me to be good?”

“Precisely." Nightmare tightened the tendril. "I’m disappointed though. I assumed getting your chest branded would be enough to make you know to keep your opinions to yourself. I won’t let this slide."

Ink panicked, recognizing the tone he was using. “Wait! Don't punish me tonight! Um, first thing tomorrow morning? You can do something worse, just please don’t hurt me now! I’m not ready!”

A heavy feeling of shame filled Ink’s mind. Why was he trying to fight this? He deserved punishment.

Nightmare decided too quickly. “Fine. One day in the white room, first thing at eight. But I won't hurt you anymore tonight, how does that sound?"

Ink tensed up. He was thinking shock collar bad, not white room bad. The shock collar was the worst punishment after the white room. Still bad, but better. At least it was only one day, it could be worse. And it's one less day without having to hear his embarrassing new voice. “Sounds gre-great. Thank you."

“You’re welcome, Inky.” He pet his head. “Here, let me show you something.”

Holding his shoulder, he guided Ink toward the windows where he could see his reflection. Nightmare pulled a small purple notebook from his pocket. His tendril held a page beside the artist’s face. “Do you know who this is?”

Ink stared at the black and white photo through the glass. The background and sides were blurry like the photographer had to take it quickly. But the main details were clear enough. It was a picture of a laughing skeleton in what would be a brown jacket. Flicking his eye lights between the photo and his reflection, he felt a weird sadness. Nostalgia. “Me?”

“That’s right.” Nightmare’s voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his skull on his shoulder. “I can still remember when you used to fight back and call me childish insults. ut you’re not Ink anymore, not that Ink anyways. You’re so much sweeter. Ink was replaced by someone else, someone better and stronger who wants to serve and be good. If it sounded different before, I don’t regret any of the time I spent working with you. Without me, you would still be annoying and selfish. You would be nothing. I could even give you a new name if you like. Something to match with your new self. I have a few cute ideas. Cinnamon, Willow, Velvet, Ribbon, Lavender, Anise, do you like any of those?”

A new name? Ink liked his name, and he didn’t like how girly and cutesy all of Nightmare’s suggestions were. “Um, they're okay, but I want to think it over.”

“I understand,” Nightmare said. Ink waited for him to try and persuade him further, but he didn’t. He stayed there for a while and nibbled on his neck, not saying anything. Ink laughed from the tickling, but his confusion came back. He didn’t get how Nightmare could go from soft and intimate to angry in a snap. What was his trigger? Disobedience? Worse, Ink didn’t mind always having his body available for his use now. It wasn’t his, after all, it said so in the contract.

Nightmare nuzzled him. “Do you feel better now? Your aura is so muddled I can’t tell.”

Ink nodded, though his mind was running at a million miles an hour. “Night, can I please have some time to myself? Just a few minutes. I know the rest of the team are waiting but I . . . need some time to adjust and think some things through.”

“Very well, you have five minutes.” Nightmare gave him a quick kiss on the head before slipping out and shutting the door.

Ink looked back at his reflection. He could barely recognize it anymore. His sunken eye lights were lifeless and empty. He thought back to the days before he sold his nonexistent soul to Nightmare. Was he happier then or now? It was hard to tell. He loved Nightmare and the good times, but he hated his rules, punishments, and mood swings. He also wished he didn’t get neglected as much. And with the Stars, he had a lot more choices, but they weren’t really his friends. Right? They were manipulating him, that's what Nightmare said and he had to be right to an extent. No one looked for him when he went missing. He slapped himself for thinking about Dream and Blue. Would this count as Stockholm Syndrome?

The artist touched the heart charm on his neck, then the brand on his chest. Something wet dripped onto his knuckles. When did he get so sensitive? It felt like everything made him cry these days! Giving up his voice, appearance, and personality was an equal exchange for Nightmare’s love and affection. Ink slapped himself again for overreacting and being a brat. Or it might have been because he thought it was fair to give up everything to be with Nightmare. It wasn't! Was it? His head pounded harder. It’s like he had two people arguing in his head but their words kept jumbling together. Could the world just stop for a few minutes so he could think? He was tired, completely exhausted. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep with no bad dreams or a ton of pain.

Why did Nightmare love him? He didn’t do anything right. Why did he love Nightmare? And why couldn’t Ink be grateful for that love? Why did he still have that urging voice in the back of his mind to run and rebel? It was easier to sit still, stay silent, look pretty, and do what he was told. All the decisions were made for him. Ink chose this fate. He was the one making things harder by acting out. The punishments and pain came from his actions.

“I’m the problem,” Ink whispered to himself, pulling the string. “He does these things because of me.”

His eye sockets closed and snapped wide open. His right one twitched. Something inside his head snapped like a weak violin string. He thought- no, he knew how to make this right. He knew how to make the pain stop and make Nightmare smile. He giggled to himself, which turned into full hysterical laughter. He trembled so badly he vibrated. Ink didn’t feel like he was in his own body. Everything in his room spun.

His friends all lied to him—brainwashed him! Nightmare was right all along. Everyone was using him! Dream, that golden bitch, made him believe Nightmare was a bad person. That had to be why he thought he was in the wrong! Ink never had any real friends, or anyone who loved him. Not in the way Nightmare did at least. They-they just saw him as a tool. No more.

Nightmare was also right about him. Ink was stupid, worthless, unwanted, unlovable, lesser, pathetic, nothing, a burden, a crybaby, a toy, a doll. Those were all the things Nightmare made him repeat until he internalized them.

Nightmare loved him, and Ink was determined to earn that love. He’d be the most perfect doll. Pretty, submissive, loyal, quiet, sweet, and whatever else Nightmare wanted. He would never argue and let Nightmare use him however he wanted. If he was being good, he wouldn’t have a reason to hurt him! He’ll be wanted and loved. He could finally get some of those words off his list. He would be his sweet yet deadly toy. It was so easy to do! Why had he been so stubborn?

Nightmare knocked before opening the door. “Ink, your minutes are up and . . . your aura is strangely toxic. Is everything alright?”

The doll spun around with his smile brighter than ever. Everything was more than alright! He could see clearly! He bounced over to Nightmare and hugged him tight, nuzzling his head into his chest. “Thank you for fixing me, Nighty! I love you! I love you!”

He couldn’t read Nightmare’s expression, but he didn’t look angry. Confused? That sounded more right. His tendrils returned the hug. “Well, it seems someone has had a change in attitude. Or perhaps I finally broke you. Either way, I’m proud.” He pet his skull. Ink purred. The affection and praise felt amazing and he wanted more. That’s when he thought of something to make Nightmare and him even happier.

“Nighty . . . I made up my mind. I do want you to change my name.” Ink thought through the names Nightmare suggested earlier. He knew which to pick. “I can be your little Ribbon!”

Nightmare stared at him, but a devious smile crept onto his face. He pat him on the head. “Well, Ribbon. I think that’s a wonderful name for you. I don’t understand what happened in here, but I’m pleased it did. Now come along.”

Ink- no, it’s Ribbon now, he couldn’t forget that! Ribbon took his hand. The voice in his head that told him to fight was silent. Good. He didn’t need it. A floaty feeling shivered through him. His head felt less heavy. Everything was okay now and would stay okay. All he had to do was shut his mind off and he would get all his love.

Ribbon told himself he would never disobey Nightmare ever again.

Chapter Text

Since the coffee date, Dream has been feeling much better.

He pinned it on being in the sunshine. He’s been spending so much time in his room, trying to find him, that he didn’t have any time for himself. The open window wasn’t enough. Dream spent most of his childhood outside, so of course his energy would be greater here.

He practiced his archery in the field close to the Star Sanses base. They set up targets to practice, at least a dozen. Dream loved archery, not just in battle. It gave him positivity and excitement, rushes of adrenaline. The wind blew past his frame and tickled his cheeks. The sun was warm and the breeze was cool, the birds sang and chirped in glee. Dream hid the targets amongst the trees and he fired. He missed one, but he made two bullseyes.

Nightmare still hadn’t attacked since then, and that was still so strange to him. Three months and almost no attacks. Something was wrong. He was sure Nightmare would start attacking again once he murdered Ink. Why else could he still be hiding?

His positivity faded the second he thought of Nightmare. His bow lowered in his hand and Dream clutched his head. He took deep breaths to calm himself. Killer’s words came back to haunt him.

We thought you would save him, but I can’t blame you if you didn’t want to.

If Dream worked harder, found Ink a little sooner, forced him to talk that morning . . .

Dream flipped and fired at a target between the branches. It’s been so long since he’s had a full night of sleep. But he couldn’t rest, not until Nightmare and his team were brought to justice.

He wished Cross was here. He was put on double-guard duty with the rising threat of Nightmare and Ink’s death. Dream didn’t blame Cross, or the commander for putting him on the job. It was for the good of the multiverse. And at least Cross loved his guard work, he would be more upset if he was doing a job he hated.

The guardian shot another arrow. The reason he fired arrow after arrow in the first place wasn’t for practice, but for procrastination. They were going to clean out Ink’s room with Blue today, but they didn’t want to. A fragment of his soul hoped Ink would someday come home. If they kept his room the same, Ink would settle right back in and everything would return to normal. Dream imagined it every day and it became his comfort fantasy.

Even if he knew it would never happen. It couldn’t. They saw his dust and clothes. Ink wasn’t suffering anymore.

Wasn’t he?

Dream sensed an aura. He cupped the side of his skull and listened to someone’s boots walk on the gravel path. He looked over and spotted Blue walking through the trees. Dream snapped his fingers and the positivity arrows vanished.

“I got all the boxes from Core! They’re already in Ink’s room so . . . are you ready to do this?” His voice was gentle. Blue knew Dream procrastinated the task since the funeral, he made excuses all the time. But Dream knew he couldn’t put it off forever, it must be done.

“Yes, I’m ready. Thank you for finding me.” Dream put his bow away. He would clean the targets later. They wouldn’t harm any of the animals.

Blue turned the light on. Nobody had entered Ink’s room since the funeral. When he did, Dream felt as if his throat was tightening a rope around itself, trying to choke him. The feeling persisted, but it was less extreme with Blue by his side, even if he still felt sick. As he said, the corner held dark brown boxes. A black marker rested on top of one of them.

Blue removed the blankets from the bed, shook them out, and folded them. “I’ll do the left side of the room, and you do the right, okay?”

Dream looked around the room until he spotted Ink’s wall of paint and photos. He smiled at it. It was of the three of them in Outertale. They all smiled and hugged each other. Dream dropped it into one of the boxes marked ‘Keep’. Dream made sure the photo was face down, trying to push the sad thoughts out of his head. “Okay.”

Dream and Blue worked until nightfall clearing out Ink’s room. Dream cleaned out Ink’s drawers, removed all his art supplies, and took the decorations off the walls. He put them in specially marked boxes. Blue took care of his clothes, furniture, and went through extra boxes. After the sun set, they both lay back on the mattress and looked around the emptier room.

“Well, we got a lot done today!” Dream chose to focus on the positives. And they did complete a lot of work. Only the furniture and a few harder-to-remove decorations remained. Everything else was either packed in a box or thrown away. An eerie emptiness filled the once-colorful room. Even the stench of paint that always filled the room was now gone, left with only a memory.

“Yeah, we did a lot! It’s quiet in here . . .” Blue looked over at Dream. “Who are you and Core choosing to take Ink’s place-”

“No one now, no one yet.” Dream cut him off. “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll- we’ll find a new Guardian of Creativity. But it needs to be the perfect person. Not anyone can replace Ink. It’s for the sake of the Doodlesphere.” He rubbed his thumbs against his fingers. He looked back around the room. They didn’t want to leave Blue alone in here. But Blue did eventually leave to give Dream some alone time. He thought he needed it.

For reasons he didn’t know, the negativity only seemed to grow the longer they stayed. Dream didn’t understand why. It wasn’t coming from Blue, and they had felt the same since they first entered. The feeling was the same as a Code Purple. Dream had the emotions memorized, even though it hadn’t happened in a long while.

Afraid of Blue getting hurt or kidnapped, Dream didn’t tell him about it. Instead, he simply created a portal and stepped into the negative world. It lead him to Candytale, which surprised and concerned him. Candytale always gave him a headache. It’s more negative than positive, but that was due to the monsters having fake happiness. It was made of in- well, candy. All pink and sweet. The trees were lollipops and the the grass was saltwater taffy. Rock candy constructed the tunnels, like the one he was in now. Dream liked sweet things, so smelling all the chocolates and berries made him happy.

Dream walked down the path with the most negativity until he could a horrid stench. It smelled like a caramel apple that had been sitting and the hot sun and rotting. He looked up and gasped at the black goop down his path. The trees blackened from their brown roots. Tendrils of negativity suffocated the trunks.

Dashing through the cookie crumble dirt, they followed the black goop. He ran faster. Nightmare couldn’t have been far. He grabbed his bow off his back, but could only pull his swords. It was much harder for him to summon his bow if there was too much negaitivity. Patches of dust coated the path, this time not made of candy. Dream began to cough. Oh stars, not again . . .

Stop! Stop!

They almost tripped on a massive rock, but the sweet sound of chirping caught their attention. Dream looked to his left and spotted a yellow Peep bird. Dream stepped away from the rock and held his arm out. The small creature flew down to rest on his ulna.

“What’s wrong?” Dream pet the bird. The sticky sugar marshmallow coating tainted his gloves. The bird blinked its black sugar eyes and bounced on his wrist. It chirped and Dream understood clearly. Danger! Danger! Look behind you! Look out!

“Danger? Where-” Dream’s body went cold with magic and negativity. The bird struggled on their arm, chirping in alarm. Dream shushed the poor animal to keep it from hurting itself. They looked around at their casing of blue magic. He couldn’t move anything except his eye lights, which flashed to look at the person holding him. Half of Dust’s face was covered with a baseball cap and a hood, but his luminous eye lights gave him away. They glowed in the shadows.

Dust gave him a blank yet interested look. “The hell are you doin’ here?”

Dream frowned at Dust. “I felt a Code Purple and sensed your destruction. What are you doing here? Where’s Nightmare?”

Dust kept quiet and pulled Dream toward him. The bird chirped in pain again. Dream summoned his magic under his hand in secret. It stung since you weren’t supposed to move in blue magic, but they were desperate. Dust scoffed. “Helpin’ your brother. He’s going to be real happy to see you-”

A blast of magic to the face cut Dust off and he clutched his face in pain. Dream was done taking this. He stomped up to Dust and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. “I’m done playing games. Where. Is. He.”

“He-” Dust stared at Dream in shock for a long time. Then he rolled his eye lights. “You are the last person I’d expect to do this.”

“Stop stalling! WHERE IS HE?” Dream had enough of this. His eye lights glowed a brighter gold.

Dust stood up straighter and turned around, gesturing for Dream to follow. Dream turned around to the bird flapping behind them. Dream cupped the Peep between their hands and rested their forehead against it. “Stay safe, little one. Go hide, I’ll keep this AU safe.”

The bird chirped ‘thank you’ and flew into the trees. Dust didn’t look back and walked toward the west. Dream ran to catch up with him.

The Guardian of Positivity stayed close. He looked down and spotted the dark crevices and liquid across the ground. They exhaled and kept following Dust. One hand was kept wrapped around their bow in case he attacked.

Finally, they made it out of the tunnels and walked into a grassy clearing. The bright blue sky and cotton candy clouds were so pretty. But despite the beauty, this spot had more negativity than the entire tunnel did. Looking up, Dream realized why. He narrowed his eye sockets with a scowl. “Nightmare . . . ”

The Lord of Negativity turned around. His shock turned into a twisted smile. “Ah, hello brother. Come to see the scenery too? It’s a lovely evening.”

Dream walked closer to Nightmare. He had some dark magic swirling on the grass at his feet. “What do you want? Where have you been? What are you doing here? Why did you kill Ink? Stop smirking and answer me!”

Nightmare chuckled. “Now, now, one question at a time. I’ll answer them in order. I want what I’ve always wanted, to eradicate all positive feelings. I’ve been working on a special project. I have a new toy, you’ll meet it soon. But for now, I’m practicing some new magic. I think I finally mastered this technique. Would you like to watch?”

Nightmare kneeled down and swirled his finger above the flower. The licorice plant turned darker in color and the grass around it darkened too. Nightmare snapped his fingers and the black sludge shot itself onto a rock ledge. The rock candy sizzled and burned holes into them. The rocks all turned black.

Dream gasped. He’d never seen the corruption spread in real-time, at least not without a master to command. “You’re the one corrupting those AUs!” he exclaimed.

Nightmare gave him a disappointed look. “Wow, you are slow for a guardian, almost slower than Ink was. Of course I was the one corrupting them. Who else could’ve done it?”

“That was a rhetorical statement!” Dream shouted back. He was so angry about the Ink comment, he ignored the rest. “And don’t you dare call Ink slow. He was smarter than you will ever be.”

Nightmare shrugged. “You have no idea . . .” He stood up and brushed his hand off his pant leg. “It doesn’t matter now. Ink is gone. I doubt he even cares what I’m saying about hi-”

Nightmare stepped out of the way as Dream threw one of his swords at him. They couldn’t remember the last time they were this enraged. They would not stand Nightmare speaking about their best friend like this. Dream dashed to grab his sword back. Dust summoned a Gaster Blaster and leaped on it. Nightmare hadn’t moved. Dream ducked Dust’s blast and rolled on the ground. He grabbed the sword and stood up, deflecting a bullet that Dust shot at him.

“Speaking of that new magic I was trying . . .” Nightmare waved his hand as the two fought. “I need a living subject for this new test. Unfortunately, Dust killed everyone who crossed our path, and I’d prefer not to use him. Now that only leaves . . . you.”

“Leaves me for what-?” Dream couldn’t look at Nightmare because he was clashing with Dust. He didn’t see him gather magic in his hand. Swirling and roaring, the magic in his hand grew a brighter teal than his usual power. Too distracted to react, Nightmare shot the beam of malice in Dream’s direction. It seeped into his eye sockets. The cold sensation bit into Dream’s bones and made him scream.

Dream’s eye sockets burst open with a faint teal glow. He didn’t know where he was. It was all darkness. Dream has never been nyctophobic, but this scared him. He stumbled with his words, searching for signs of movement. He was the only source of light and color.

“Think fast!”

Dream spun around to Dust’s voice and stabbed his chest. Wait, where was Dust’s hoodie? And his blood was . . . purple. Dream’s head slowly rose to the skeleton he impaled. He gasped. It wasn’t Dust.

It was the one he loved the most.

“Dream?” Cross asked, confused and betrayed. Dream dropped his swords and tried to tend to his wounds. Cross shoved him aside, still in shock. “What the hell? Don’t touch me! How could you do this? I thought I could trust you! Let me guess, you wanted to take advantage of me like everyone else?”

Dream shook his head in confusion and panic. “No! I swear I thought you were Dust! I’m so sorry. Here, let me heal-”

Cross’s dagger hovered close to his neck. Not enough to hurt, but enough for a taste of what could be. He scowled. “I can’t believe you. I’m done trusting people, for good this time.”

Shoving him aside, Cross stormed off. Dream tried to run after him, but a rustling sound caught his attention. He turned around and the scenery completely shifted. He now stood in a cold dungeon with stone walls, deep under the surface. He assumed it was Nightmare’s. Dream tried to steady himself. This wasn’t real, none of this was real, it couldn’t be. The sound of chains moving made him jump and he crept down the stone hall. His gaze settled on someone curled up in the corner of a cell. It took him a few moments to realize it was Ink.

Ink wasn’t smiling like usual. His bones faded to gray and were covered in injuries. Several of his fingers were cut or missing. Some of the wounds were deep and littered his bones with cracks and chips. Both eye lights dimmed to whiteish gray. As Killer had said, a massive bullet wound took over his skull, dripping black blood. It sizzled when it touched the ground.

Hey, Dream. Ink didn’t speak, but Dream could hear his voice echoing in his skull. When he opened his mouth, he caught a glimpse of the rainbow stub where his tongue used to be. Ink held his arms out, revealing his rotting bones. His left hand was missing two fingers; the right missing three. Like my new look? I call it, “Tortured to death and left to rot because my friends were too stupid to figure out where I was and rescue me.”

Dream felt faint looking at Ink. The shock and guilt he remembered from when Killer first told him about Ink’s fate returned.

Ink kept talking the way he used to, only more cynical. Oh! And thanks for the funeral, I didn’t think anyone cared. They told me they didn’t. The worst part about this is that I still have the damage and I can’t draw anymore! They took my thumbs! Look at this! I’ve tried using my teeth, but it’s not the same. He waved his stubbed fingers. What? Nothing to sta

“I . . . I didn’t do this. Nightmare did. I’m sorry.” Dream blinked fast.

Technically Dust was the one who killed me, but Nightmare kidnapped me, but it was because of you . . . I’mma blame all of you for this, but mostly you since you kicked it off and never found me. Ink pointed at Dream’s hands, making his eye lights follow. Black blood coated his gloves. Dream shuddered. When he looked up again, Ink disappeared, leaving nothing but his chains. Silence lasted for a few seconds before a scream of pain broke from behind him and Dream. He turned around to darkness, and then something grabbed his chest and forced him to the ground. Dream made a sound of pain as the dungeon faded. His head pounded like his soul.

Dream crawled back until his hand grazed the sandy bank of a pond. He turned around and stared at it. It was himself, but . . . not. It was his face, but his circlet with made of pitch-black thorns. He wore a gray hood and cloak with a matching eye patch. Dream shook his head and the reflection did the same. He didn’t understand what was happening.

The hands of reflection grabbed him and pulled him deep into the water. Dream gasped and tried to fight, but his limbs could have been made of lead. His reflection threw him to the ground and the real Dream looked up. His clone’s aura was so much more negative. Bitter, betrayed, heartless, cold. Dream stood up and stared him in the eye. “Who . . . who are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You.” The reflection pulled up his fur hood up. “I’m you, but I’ve seen the truth and fixed us. I’m the stronger you.”

“You’re not me at all!” Dream exclaimed. He looked over at his reflection again. It had his face, yes, but nothing else. “Wait, what did you mean ‘seen the truth’? What truth?”

He huffed. “Think about it. What has being kind ever done for us? We were nice to the villagers and they turned on us, and then they killed Nightmare. They walked all over us. We were nice in the Omega Timeline and now nobody takes us seriously. And if you were never the sweet and kind Guardian of Positivity, Ink would still be alive today. He would have never been kidnapped in the first place if it wasn’t for you.” The clone scowled deeper and crossed his arms. “We dedicated our entire life to helping others and we’re at rock bottom. Choosing myself was the best thing we- or let’s be honest, I did. You’re too naive and innocent to see that right now, but you will. Trust me. No matter what you do, you’re going to end up like me, admit it. Nothing will change. We can’t make anything better.” He glared at him. “The sooner you give up, the easier this will be for both of us.”

His fear and confusion melted into the anger that had been building up snapped. He stared at his negative clone. Maybe it was because he refused to believe he could ever fall this low, or his patience was wearing thin. Or he was tired of being scared and the negativity kept eating him. But he wouldn’t stand for this. Dream swung a hit at the clone with a shout and he disappeared into darkness. They grabbed the sides of their head and screamed. The real world and the dark bubble fought for attention. Dream reached out for the light pieces, and the illusion shattered.

Dream awoke to a massive field of damage. He slashed and burned several of the candy trees. He was soaked from head to toe in freezing water. Dream spotted a pond nearby and had his answer. He blushed in embarrassment as he realized he made a fool of himself. But on the bright side, nobody could get hurt. He stared at his hands, no blood. He blinked through his tears and found the laughter came from Dust. Nightmare, meanwhile, was silent but grinning with a closed mouth.

“Interesting,” he muttered. “You produced more negativity than normal and I could feel it enter your subconscious. But you snapped out of it too quickly and I couldn’t get onto your head as I thought. The magic was far too weak. Hm . . . I need to work on that.” Nightmare mumbled something else Dream couldn’t hear.

Dust chuckled a little more until his expression turned firm again. “Huh, hearin’ only one side of those conversations was insane.”

Before Dream thought it through, he stomped up to Dust and punched him in the jaw. Then he swept his leg, forcing him onto the ground before stomping on his back. Dust yelped and cursed. Dream swung a hit at Nightmare too, slapping him clean across the face. Even Dream was surprised by his violent outburst. He stared at his hands but then balled them into fists in front of himself.

“The fuck is your problem?” Dust spat. He pulled his hand away from his bleeding nasal bone.

“My problem?” Dream barely kept his voice steady. “My problem is that murderers and criminals like you keep running free! My problem is that you feel no regret for the people you hurt! I am done letting you push me around! Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose the ones you love and you’re helpless to do anything about it? Ink didn’t deserve to be tortured and killed! My brother didn’t deserve to die so you could take over his body! I thought you could still be redeemed, I was hoping you could. My mistake.”

Dream closed his eye sockets and took a deep breath, trying to let the anger leave him. But it was hard. He had to restrain himself from strangling Nightmare, beating him to the ground. His pacifist nature was too strong for that, but he wanted them to suffer for their crimes.

Dust finally answered with a scoff. “For the record, yeah, I do know what it’s like to lose people. And I happen to feel a lot of regret.” He rubbed his jawbone. It dripped with blood.

Dream stared at him for a long moment and turned to Nightmare. His smug grin grew. He grabbed his swords and ran to him. Nightmare bared his teeth as his tendrils flared. He melted into a pile of darkness and took Dust with him. Dream stabbed the ground where they left. His blade cut through the dirt with ease, but there was no sign of either of the killers.

Once the anger was gone, Dream could properly process what he went through. He knew it was all a hallucination, but he couldn’t help but feel shaken. Cross, Ink, that clone of himself . . . it had to mean something, Dream couldn’t think of what.

Dream shook in place. He quickly made a portal and ran into it. The inky darkness outside didn’t help his emotions. He fell onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, then he squeezed his eye sockets shut to repress tears. He held his upper arms and tried to clear the images from his head. They couldn’t breathe and covered their cough. Dream ripped off their cape and boots and lay down. They didn’t take their wet clothes off and instead covered themself with blankets. He was exhausted, but also too paranoid to get any quality sleep. Their hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t have nightmares, so sleep was a safe haven. For now.

Dream ran out of the base right away in the morning. It was five o’clock and the sun had barely awoke over the horizon. Blue was still asleep. Dream didn’t want to worry him as he left, though he knew he already did. Blue wrote him a note that lay ignored on the counter. He walked up the hill toward Ink’s statue. He stared at the engraving on the pedestal and traced his finger over it. He looked up at Ink’s cocky stone grin.

They touched the stone Broomie’s handle. It was too tall to touch Ink’s cheek like he wanted, but having his hand on the statue was enough. It felt like his spirit was by his side.

“What do they know that I don’t . . . ?” Dream asked the statue. Ink didn’t reply. Usually, statues made them uncomfortable, especially hyper-realistic ones like this. But maybe the thought of Ink being in stone instead of in that twisted castle was better. “I’m sorry. I feel like it should be obvious, but something is missing. I can’t explain it . . . I hope you don’t hate me.”

Dream reached as high as he could and lay his hand on Ink’s chest. He could have touched his face if he stood on the pedestal, but he didn’t want to. He had so much he wanted to say, but couldn’t since it wasn’t Ink to hear. He kept it short and sweet. The Guardian of Positivity pressed his head against Broomie. “I’ll avenge you, Ink, I promise. Even if my soul burns up and I take my last breath, Nightmare will be brought to justice.”

Chapter Text

“Today’s a big day for you, my little doll.” Nightmare said as he stroked Ribbon’s skull.

The doll kneeled before his throne with a smile on his face. It was a refreshing change from his constant moping. Nightmare decided to get him a teal pillow so he didn’t hurt his knees and legs. He had been shockingly compliant and affectionate since his surgeries—following every order, doing extra chores, giving him kisses every morning, and telling him how much he loved him. He even smiled and thanked him during all punishments. When Nightmare punished him with the white room, Ribbon didn’t fight back at all. Nightmare was almost concerned because he didn’t hear anything, and it. The day ended and he let Ribbon go. But instead of the shaking, begging, and crying he grew to expect, he was only met with shaking. Shaking and giggling this time. Ribbon snuggled up to him and thanked him over and over. Nightmare pushed him off, then he spent the rest of the day in his office. He wanted nothing to do with him and even he was disturbed with his behavior.

Nightmare assumed it was manipulation. Or Dust worked too close to his nonexistent brain. Ink was a prankster at heart, and if any of his old personality remained in Ribbon, he was pulling a trick. He proved less than a month ago it was a trick. Ribbon was too perfect too quick. So that’s why he came up with a plan for him to test if his loyalty was true.

“We’re going to put your skills to the test. I have the perfect AU for you to prove your worth. It’s an easy one; these monsters put up little fight. All you need to do is spread negativity and harm people. And I can see how lonely you are, you’re a very social person, so it would be healthy for you to see other people again.”

“Okay!” Ribbon said in a chipper tone, pulling the charm on his neck. Nightmare adored the amount of worship in his eye lights, fake or not. However, something was off this time.

“Is there something else you want to say?” Nightmare asked.

Ribbon paused, lowering his head. “Um, yes. I love you more than anything, but you’re right, I’m lonely. Is it okay if I make some new friends?”

Nightmare considered it. He didn’t want anyone weaving themselves into his doll’s head. When he said it’d be healthy, he meant to further prove they are enemies. They could give him silly ideas or make him question their relationship. Or worse, encourage him to escape and disobey him. The dark king knew what he was doing was wrong, but the truth is . . .

He didn’t care.

“No, no. You’ve never had a good choice in who you hang out with.” Ribbon’s smile slid. Nightmare pat his head. “Listen, you don’t need friends. You’re too close to perfection, having others to talk to will only bring you down. Your mind isn’t trained enough to know the difference between good and bad influences. It’s my job as your boyfriend to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

Ribbon stared straight ahead for a few moments, then nodded. “Thank you, you’re-you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Of course. Run along now.” Nightmare leaned back on his throne as Ribbon stood and left. He had mixed feelings about his personality change. On one hand, it was refreshing to have such a troublesome soul finally be obedient and quiet. And to be happy about it. On the other, it disturbed him.

The Lord of Negativity didn’t have the time or interest to think over the moralities of a situation like this. He had an AU to destroy and corrupt. Sighing, Nightmare stood up from his throne and went to make last-minute preparations.

Ribbon flipped his parasol around and shot a black paint bullet in the air. It disappeared into the atmosphere, but Nightmare could sense the created barrier. He smiled. No one gets in, no one gets out. Only Ribbon would be able to break it.

The Villian Sans Squad and Ribbon surveyed the surrounding AU. They hid behind a massive boulder and looked over it. No one seemed to have suspected anything, but there were a few nervous glances at the sky. Nightmare squinted. If you used enough focus, you could see a solid black barricade in the sky.

He glanced over at Ribbon. For the mission, Nightmare deliberately dressed him in extra cute clothes. A soft white blouse, a pale blue skirt with suspenders, and matching fuzzy boots. The doll caught him eyeing his outfit and blushed. He moved a little closer to Nightmare.

“What’s . . . plan?” Horror asked, pushing a pine branch out of his face.

“We kill everyone, duh,” Killer answered.

Nightmare pinched his nasal bridge. “No, you idiots. We’ve been over this a hundred times. You’re not going to kill anyone, just maim them enough so they wish they were dead. Oh, don’t give me the puppy eyes. Fine, one kill for every five people. Then I will drop in the special attack, the corruption. Does everyone remember the sign?”

Dust did an impression of an Eastern Screech owl. He kept it quiet so no one outside the team would hear.

“There we go,” Nightmare said. “Once I give the signal, we gather at the King’s Perch and leave. Killer, you are to plant the banner. Take whatever you want and show no mercy. Are you ready?”

“Ready, boss!” Killer exclaimed. He teleported off and the rest of the Murder Time Trio followed him.

Nightmare was about to follow when he felt something on his cheekbone. He turned to the side. Ribbon pulled away from kissing him. He hid his little face away. He pulled his string. “I’m sorry. I thought you would like it for good luck.”

Nightmare’s mouth twitched. “That was . . . sweet. But don’t do it again. Save any affection until after the mission. Do you understand? You can’t mess this up.”

“Yes, Nighty.”

Nightmare gave him a head pat. “Good doll. Now that we have that settled, go spread some negativity.”

The entire team attacked without remorse. Killer teleported and sliced. He went without a pattern, cutting the throats of random citizens. They were too shallow to cause serious damage. Friends and families watched as their loved ones fell to the ground, writhing in pain. They screamed and ran, but not without several cuts all over their bodies. Killer laughed.

Dust eyed a winged tortoise and shot him through the arm, kicking another monster in the stomach. He shot fields of bones to cripple others, preventing them from using their arms and legs to fight or run. He was more careful than Killer in making sure the monsters were only injured and not killed. A bird monster tried to stab Dust, but he caught the monster’s spear and snapped its wrist with his magic.

Horror’s attacks were by far the goriest. He swung his axe, amputated limbs and body parts, and chopped monsters down the middle. The members of the Royal Guard fought him off, but Horror was practically a tank. A bloodthirsty tank. He tore into the stomach of Dogaressa before ripping out her intestines and using them to strangle Dogamy. He stomped on his back and stabbed his axe into another monster, twisting it to damage every organ. Nightmare had to be sure not to get blood stains on his suit.

Ribbon hid in the shadows. He broke sticks to draw attention and stir paranoia. Then he would jump monsters, pinning them down and freezing them with paint. Ribbon took his parasol, stabbed monsters through their limbs, or knocked them out. He yipped and opened the canopy to shield himself from the blood, dirt, and grime. He left his opponents gasping for air in a dazed yet shocked state. Ribbon kept looking at Nightmare for approval. Nightmare nodded at him and he would go back to fight.

Nightmare did what he did best, spread despair. His tendrils wrapped around souls and strangled them until the positivity drained out. His aura made the panicking monsters feel worse. He walked casually, enjoying the sharp metallic scent of blood and the screams of agony. He chuckled under his breath and held his hands out in front of him. The cruel magic he used to torture his twin not long ago started the size of a gold ball. As Nightmare absorbed more of the negativity, the corruption leaked out of his hands. Spreading onto the ground it began to claim everything, monster-made or natural. What did Dream call this? Ah yes, a Code Purple. But Nightmare’s power had grown since the last one.

Along with terrorizing the monsters, the VSS burned down homes and the land. Horror destroyed the most, having the largest stature and weapon to work with. He smashed wood with his axe. Ribbon focused on destroying smaller things with his paint and parasol. He knocked glass and ceramic objects off and covered everything with black paint.

Killer shot monsters fleeing through the sky with his knives. They all fell either to the ground with serious injuries or into the void below. Screams and crackling filled the air. Nightmare sensed a surge of- well, not positivity, but something close. Hope and determination. He melted himself into a puddle and swept through the ground.

He found the source. It was from two larger monsters. The first was a tall skeleton wearing a battle body, red leg warmers, goggles, and an orange hooded cloak. His white feather wings were almost larger than he was. The second was an effeminate robot with a silver body, talons for feet, and luminant pink wings and tail. Papion and Mettacon, Birdtale Papyrus and Mettaton respectively, stood guard. They protected a group of monsters from corruption.

Nightmare stayed in the shadows, debating his move. He looked around and spotted Horror nearby, focusing on destroying a home. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. Horror turned around and Nightmare pointed at the group with a tendril.

Papion’s head shot in the direction of Nightmare’s whistle and he held a bone in one hand. The bone missed and Horror teleported to dodge. He slashed Papion with his axe but he missed by a few inches. The little monsters behind him screamed and fled the scene.

The taller skeleton stared at him and shouted. “HEY!”

Mettacon held his blaster arm forward and fired a beam of white light at Horror. He blocked it with a Gaster Blaster and a grin.

Papion looked shocked. “WHY DO YOU LOOK SO MUCH LIKE MY BROTHER?”

Horror silenced him with a slash of his ax. Papion’s head flew to the ground and his body crumbled. Nightmare set his sights on Mettacon and attacked from behind. His tendrils wrapped around his arms and legs and pulled. Mettacon squirmed and his peacock tail flared.

Wires ripped and sparks flew in the air. Mettacon's limbs flew across the air and crashed into dents and electricity. While he didn’t die, the lights on his eyes flickered out and he fell. His torso and head lay empty on the ground. He would need someone to power him again, but given Nightmare’s observations, there was no one left for that.

“Boss!” Dust called. “Killer cornered the Sans, Frisk, and Undyne of this AU together. They’re in the pit over there. We’re goin’ to attack all of them at once. You comin’?”

The Lord of Negativity chuckled. “Of course I’m going with.” He looked around. “Where did Ribbon go?”

Dust shrugged. “I saw him somewhere around here. He bashed someone’s head into a wall and ran off.”

Nightmare kept that in mind. The amount of negativity must be throwing off his powers. He would find him before they left the AU. Nightmare followed Dust and they made it to the pit where Killer stood above three monsters.

“Hey now, we can talk this out.” Aviar shrugged, seemingly unfazed at the five murderers approaching them. He, Lark, and Kyne edged together in a circle. Lark clung to his leg; Aviar shielded them with his wings like a brother to a younger sibling. “Someone is going to end up with egrets. And call me foul but I don’t think anyone wants to swallow that.” He chuckled weakly at his own bad puns.

Kyne rolled her eyes. “By order of the Royal Guard, I command you to stop your assault!” She growled, staying on task. Her spear pointed at Nightmare. He rolled his eye. As if an Undyne’s weapon could damage him. It would have the effect of a wood splinter.

Nightmare laughed. “You may be a guard, but I am a king. If you’re wise, then you’ll kneel and surrender. In exchange, I will make your corruptions painless.”

“Never!” Kyne growled. She summoned a second spear to block Aviar and Lark. Lark especially looked terrified, shaking with a terrified aura. They looked on the brink of tears. Aviar kneeled and whispered something in their ear. Lark hugged him, Aviar rubbing their head.

Birdtale’s Sans looked up. He held his left wing up, almost as if it could be a weapon on its own. “Again, listen. We don’t need any violence. You guys have already done enough.”

Killer leaped down from the rocky perch he stood on. “Yeah, and here’s the thing. We want to cause violence. It’s fun, you know?”

Turning their trembling lips into a scowl, Lark spoke in signs. Nightmare understood sign language as he found it fascinating to study; he was fluent. Lark called him a curse he chose not to repeat.

Aviar chuckled at Lark’s vulgar language. “My thoughts exactly, kid.” He looked over at Kyne and ruffled his wings. “We can take on these guys. There’s only four of them, we can each take one and team up at the end.”

“No, there’s a fifth member, I can sense them.” Kyne aimed her spear toward the pine trees. Nightmare couldn’t locate Ribbon. Not his aura or any noise. He- no, he took away his ability to make portals. He must be somewhere else right now. Nightmare considered calling him, but he preferred the element of surprise.

“Damn it.” Aviar looked around at the killers and turned to Lark. He held their shoulders and lowered himself to match their height. “Frisk, you need to RESET. I know, I know, we made a promise, but these guys are bad news. I kinda overestimated us, sorry. If we RESET, they’ll get caught and disappear forever. I think. Eh, it’s our only chance. Birds of a feather stick together, remember?”

The child held their hands up to argue, but they didn’t and took Avair’s hands instead. With their lower lip trembling, they squeezed their eyes shut and focused. A rectangle button appeared in thin air. An orange box surrounded the word RESET in orange letters.

“Nope!” Killer shot a Gaster Blaster at it and the button shattered. He shot a second blaster at Lark. They ducked and dodged, rolling on the ground.

“Run, punk!” Kyne shouted. Lark was frozen in place. Nightmare fed from their negativity, doubt, and anxiety. Kyne soughed and gave the kid a push, firing spears at Dust. He shot his pistols back. Their attacks either missed, collided in the air, or rarely hit their opponent. Lark managed to run and regain their composure and wit.

Nightmare went after Lark. He harnessed their negative emotions and took them to the extreme. They fell to their knees, shaking and crying from stress. A grin forming on his face, Nightmare shot his tendrils out and wrapped around their arms, pulling. Lark struggled and gasped under the pressure.

Kyne continued to stab her spears against Dust and Horror. She blocked Horror’s ax and formed a wall to ward off Dust. Horror brought his weapon down over her head and the two clashed. One of her spears stabbed through Dust’s arms and he hissed. Horror growled at seeing Dust in pain.

The butcher shoved his axe through her lower leg, dragging out a long slash through her flesh. Kyne’s muscles and red tissue were exposed; she lost her balance. Blood spread into the grass beneath her, followed by cries of pain.

“Poor girl, do you need a hand?” Nightmare asked with mockery in his voice. He hovered his tendrils above her body and wrapped them tight. Bone snapping and screaming filled the air. Red blood dripped through his tendrils. Nightmare swung his tendrils and threw her off the edge of Birdtale’s cliffs.

Kyne grabbed the edge of the bluff, but her injured body couldn’t hold her weight. Her fingers slipped and she tumbled off the edge of the cliff. Her body crashed against the rock once before she fell into the abyss. Nightmare watched her fall with a calm half-smile and his hands behind his back. He didn’t even hear her hit the bottom.

Lark gasped and covered their mouth. One of their closest friends was gone. The skeletons turned their attention to them. Dust teleported behind Lark and fired a Gaster Blaster. They ducked out of the way with the tips of their wings charred. They pat them against the ground to kill the purple flames. Then they pulled out their knife, looking around to figure out who to fight. They chose the worst option.

Lark charged at Horror.

They flew around him as their soul glowed an even brighter red. Lark waited for Horror to turn around before throwing the knife down from the sky. It stabbed him in the shoulder.

Horror picked it out as if it were nothing but a splinter. He turned to Lark and growled, baring his teeth. He charged at them with his axe. Lark covered their mouth and flew into the air. Horror grabbed their ankle and dragged them back to the ground.

Lark gasped and fell, ripping their pants and scraping their knees against the ground. They rolled to dodge Horror’s axe strikes while he still held their ankle. Trying to keep their hand from being chopped off, they grabbed their knife from nearby.

Lark attempted to stab Horror again, but he was three times their size and more experienced. He picked the knife out of their hand and tossed it aside. With a whimper, the child tried to escape, but they were too slow and weak. The damaged ankle weakened them further. That’s when Horror sliced his ax clean across their neck.

Their bloody body crumpled to the ground and their head rolled in the opposite direction. Their blood spewed across the grass and tainted it dark red in seconds.

“KID!” Aviar screamed. He flew to Lark’s body and cradled it. Their bright red soul levitated from their chest. He reached out for it, but Horror shattered it with his ax. Aviar extended his wings and grabbed Horror’s turtleneck. He shot into the sky.

He punched him in the face over and over. His face contorted with rage. Horror wrapped his large hand around Aviar's neck and flipped them around. He used his weight to overpower Aviar and force his wings to his bend, making them both go down at high speed. White streaming marks blew around them as they fell fast and crashed into the rocks. Horror leaped off Aviar, using his body as a cushion and a springboard.

The bird monster crawled out of the rocks, coughing and scowling. Scratches covered his face and hands from falling onto the rubble. A long slash on his foreskull drew blood down his face. Aviar panted, standing up on his shaky legs. His right wing was bent at an unnatural angle. Despite everything, he refused to back down. A stick cracked, followed by a giggle.

Nightmare narrowed his eye and searched for the sound. He spotted a glint of pastel blue in the blacked trees and grinned. There he was. He saw a chance and called out to him. “Ribbon, come on out, sweetie. Aviar wants to play.”

“Ribbon?” Aviar’s expression changed from anger to confusion. “Who's Ribbon?”

Seconds after he asked the question, Ribbon jumped into sight. He kicked Aviar in the face and flipped. Aviar clutched his face and looked up, eye sockets growing larger at the black mark on Ribbon’s cheekbone.

“Wait, Ink? You're Ribbon?” Aviar stepped back in horror. “What the hell happened to you? What's going on? What are you wearing?”

Ribbon stopped and stared at him with a strange, confused look in his eye lights. Nightmare narrowed his gaze, monitoring his actions. This was his test. If Ribbon defended Aviar, he’d know he faked his loyalty and obedience again. Nightmare would punish him relentlessly. Sewing buttons into his eye sockets sounded fair.

Instead of what he was expecting, Ribbon broke into a hysteric haunting giggle. He charged at Aviar. The raven flew into the air. Ribbon leaped to one of the rocks and made platforms out of paint to keep up with him. He ran down a long platform and tackled Aviar out of the sky. Aviar's wings and Ribbon's paint softened the blow of the fall. Ribbon landed on top of Aviar.

“Don’t run, play with me!” Ribbon slowly turned his head to the side. “Please? I’m so lonely.”

Aviar went paralyzed under his watch but soon gained his wits. He threw a punch. Ribbon dodged. Aviar rolled over and switched their position, pinning the doll to the ground.

Aviar forced Ribbon to look at him. He didn’t have his joking tone. “Buddy, can you hear me? Are you listening? That guy clearly did something to you, and I don’t know what, but you gotta wake up! I can help you and we’ll get your friends. But you need to stop fighting and calm down.”

Ribbon stared at him and shivered at his words. Aviar touched his cheekbone with his wing and he screamed. “No! No! No! No! Stop! Stop! You're lying! I don't have any friends!" He formed a wall of bones made of black paint and fired them at Aviar, then he hid under his parasol. He shielded himself with his wings, making them bleed and rip when the bones hit. He screamed. Lowering his wings, all the empathy drained from Aviar's expression.

“On second thought, I take back what I said. I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Ink anymore.” Aviar summoned a Gaster Blaster with a heavy breath. His magic supply was almost gone. The stress and battle were too much for him. He stretched out his wings, flapped in place, and attempt to flee. Ribbon shot a puddle of black paint at his feet to hold him in place. Aviar gasped and coughed with tears of delicious defeat in his eyes.

Dust walked toward him, spinning a bone attack in his hand. He grabbed Aviar by the scruff of his neck and traced the brim of his wings. “Sheesh, your wings are a mess. How about I preen them for you, free of charge?”

Before Aviar could protest, Dust took each wing and sliced them repeatedly. Black down fell in messy piles. The raven let out a bloodcurdling scream, music to Nightmare’s nonexistent ears. He kicked him and he fell to the ground. Aviar ran a hand over what was left. His wings were bare, skeletal, and with only a few feathers remaining. Blood pooled around him. Aviar would’ve cried if he wasn’t frozen with shock. Wings to a Birdtale monster were as important as shelter to a hibernating animal. Take those away and they’re helpless.

Aviar flapped the remains but stayed on the ground. He gritted his teeth to repress a whine. He switched to his back and crawled backward, trying for one more chance at mercy. “C’mon, you’re a Sans too, right? You’re me from another world. You had to have friends, or at least a brother. What happened to your Papyrus? Is this what he would’ve-”

Dust howled a battle cry and shot him in the chest over and over. Aviar screamed again. The murderer’s blue jacket was stained red and purple. Dust panted once his gun ran out of bullets and blood splattered the scene.

Nightmare crouched in front of the fallen bird, one arm on his knee. He held the other hand out toward him. Aviar cringed as his white, upside-down soul flew from his chest and into the dark king’s grasp. Nightmare teased him, squeezing and releasing it, making Aviar wince and moan in pain.

“Would you like to know what I’m about to do with this?” Nightmare channeled his magic into the soul. He learned from his mistakes with Dream.

“What?” The raven grunted.

“I’m going to give you a little upgrade, as it were. Don’t worry, this will only hurt a little.” He forced his finger bones into the soul until it cracked. Soul magic dripped onto his fingers.

Aviar twitched and spasmed as if having a seizure. Liquid negativity leaked from his eye sockets, nasal bone, and mouth. Bones shattered, turning black and dark magenta. What remained of his wings flapped uncontrollably. His soul turned black like his friends up above. He couldn’t even scream due to the poison consuming his voice and body. He tried, and black liquid spilled onto the dirt.

Nightmare returned the soul to the corrupted monster’s chest. It shifted onto its knees, its mouth hanging open.

“You . . . monster.” The once Aviar wheezed. It sounded like he was gurgling oil.

Nightmare stood up without a single care. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Everyone in this AU was either dead or a zombie. Not a single positive emotion remained. It was a perfect negative battery, and that meant their job was complete. Pressing two fingers against his mouth, Nightmare made the owl screech. Horror took attention first, his senses were the strongest thanks to his AU. He abandoned Lark’s arm that he was eating and trudged over to his boss. His mouth and ax still dripped with their blood as he wiped it off. Nightmare peered over at the carcass. Lark’s body was barely recognizable. Massive pieces of flesh were torn off, revealing bones, ligaments, and organs. They were missing their sleeves.

Killer teleported to Nightmare. Dust scouted the territory before he joined them. He reshifted his baseball cap so the brim would shadow his face. And last, Ribbon put his parasol away and brushed off his skirt. He cringed at bloodstains, but he didn’t fuss too much before walking to the team. He looked up at Nightmare and smiled, barely able to hide his giggles.

Nightmare hummed and turned around to look at Dust. The murderer teleported up to King's Perch and pulled a banner out of his jacket. He grabbed a stick and stabbed it into the ground before attaching the banner to him. Nightmare walked over and set a tendril on his shoulder. “Dust, I noticed you had a little . . . episode back there. Is everything alright now?”

“M’fine, boss. Don’t worry about me.” He lowered his head and turned away. He walked over to where Killer, Horror, and Ribbon stood.

“I see . . ." Nightmare wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he could always talk to him later. There was another member of the team he was more concerned about right now, his little doll. Nightmare joined Killer, Horror, Dust, and Ribbon. Ribbon looked the most excited, which made Nightmare pleased. He laughed with the others as they shared jokes and exaggerated kills. His injuries or fear didn’t seem to be affecting him. Nightmare wrapped his tendrils around his waist and pulled him away from the others.

“Did you have a good time, little one?” Nightmare asked.

Ribbon nodded quickly and smiled brighter. He pulled his string. His voice was ever higher when he was happy. “Yes! Yes! This was so much fun! Can we do it again soon?”

Nightmare booped his nasal bone, which sent Ribbon into giggles. “You will be on plenty more missions in the future, my doll. Harming people is so much more fun than helping them, don’t you agree?”

Ribbon thought about his answer. “Hm . . . mm-hm! Helping people is boring, I don't know what I was thinking with the Stars! Besides, when you’re happy, I’m happy too, and this makes you really happy.”

Nightmare kissed his forehead. “Good dollie, that’s what I want to hear. You’ve done such a good job and I’m proud. Very proud.” Nightmare cupped his chin and kissed him. Ribbon melted in the touch as his hands covered his. Nightmare was rougher with his kisses than Ribbon was. Nightmare pulled away to speak. “You have done an excellent job on today’s mission and have been remarkably obedient. You have proven yourself loyal and true. I’m proud of you; you’ve made immense progress and are no longer the arrogant prick I took in a few months ago.

“Really? You’re proud of me?” Ribbon’s aura lit up with intense positivity. Nightmare cringed at it but refused to let it show.

“Indeed. You had a chance to betray me and run away, but you refused to take it. Such good behavior and compliance deserve to be rewarded.”

His positivity grew. “With what?”

“Something I believe you will enjoy. I will allow you to sleep with me tonight and you may have all the gentle affection you desire.”

Ribbon stopped breathing, and didn’t realize he did until he fell into a coughing fit. Black paint sputtered into his hand. His eye lights glowed as yellow stars, then they switched back to pink hearts.

Nightmare raised a browbone. He decided to tease Ribbon. “I’m assuming that’s a no?”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean, oh mint-chip biscuits.” Ribbon facepalmed. “Yes, I want to sleep with you. I’m just excited you asked. Thank you! Thank you!” He hugged Nightmare and bounced, saying 'thank you' over and over.

“You’re welcome,” Nightmare said. “I only have one request. You are to wear the outfit I assign to you. Well, two requests. The other is to keep your positivity in check because you’re giving me a migraine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The drop in positivity cleared Nightmare's head. Ribbon didn't mind needing to lower his energy. “I’ll wear whatever you want me to!"

Nightmare nodded, still so proud of his toy as Killer called out to him. “Boss! Are you done sweet-talking Ribbon or are we going to get going? This place reeks.” He kicked the corrupted body of another monster. The hate inside his soul and eyes made him almost immune to the effects.

“Ah, of course. My apologies, I was distracted.” Nightmare chuckled, arm wrapped around Ribbon’s as he opened a portal. The team gathered together and walked through the portal. The Birdtale citizens were left to suffer from corruption, or they were lucky and died. Either way, Nightmare had a new AU to use as a negativity battery.

Tap. Tap.

The dark lord peered up from his book. Ribbon rapped his knuckles on the doorway to attract his attention. He wore the lacey pink nightgown he ordered- encouraged him to. Between his outfit and shy, reclusive stance, he looked innocent and helpless. Docile.

Nightmare smiled, setting his novel and monocle on the nightstand. “Ah, Ribbon. Don’t be afraid, come in.”

Ribbon shuffled inside and looked around the room in awe. Nightmare understood why. His bedroom was almost twice as large as the Murder Time Trio’s and he was the only person allowed in. Ribbon was never allowed inside before. Most of the space belonged to a king-sized bed with high poles and draped black curtains. A bookshelf was tucked by the farthest wall with Nightmare’s favorites. The titles went back hundreds of years and the condition of the books reflected that. A triangle glass door opened to a balcony that looked out onto the mountains and forests outside. The stars weren’t as bright as Outertale’s, but they were enough.

Nightmare opened part of the blankets. Ribbon laid down and nestled into his side; the doll’s body was warm against his. Ribbon eyed the corner of his mouth. Forming a half smile, Nightmare didn’t mind indulging in his desires. He kissed him softly, letting Ribbon melt into it. He went for his neck, pressing kisses and bites on the bone. Despite being hard enough to leave marks, he didn’t draw any blood; he was careful about his fangs on him. Ribbon gasped and giggled when he grazed a sensitive spot. Necks were a vulnerable spot for anyone and allowing him access revealed trust. It was almost humorous. No more than four months ago, Ribbon would never let him this close, especially in such an intimate way. Even one month ago he’d be trying to push him off. But he knew better than to try anything now, he finally learned to be good.

After several minutes of kissing, cuddling, and sweet nothings, Nightmare let him go. Ribbon lay on the pillow, still snuggled against his shoulder and giving him adoring doe eyes. He looked over at the book on Nightmare’s nightstand. “What’s that?”

Nightmare followed his gaze and lowered his tendril to see. “It’s about this group of humans who battle monsters and- well, how about you listen to the story and learn yourself? I have no problem reading to you.”

Ribbon tilted his head and looked curious, but he pulled back. “I would love that! But wouldn’t you have to start over? I don’t want to be annoying.”

Nightmare pet his head with his tendril. “How considerate, but you don’t need to worry. I’ve read this book eleven times and the sequels more. I know every twist and turn, you won’t be bothering me at all. Now, settle in and enjoy yourself, that’s an order.”

Ribbon lay his skull on his shoulder as he followed the pages Nightmare read aloud. One of his tendrils wrapped around Ribbon’s shoulders and he smiled. He was silent for the entirety and, though Nightmare refused to admit it, it was pleasant. The doll made good company when he wasn’t speaking. The pull-string voice box was an excellent idea. By chapter two, Ribbon yawned and closed his eye sockets, dozing off in chapter three.

Nightmare chuckled once he started snoring. His voice surgery made them sound less irritating and more sweet and quiet. His tendrils tucked him in so he was comfortable. Ribbon was completely at his mercy. He kissed his foreskull before bookmarking their place and turning off the lamp. “Oh, Ink. If only your friends could see you now.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t Nightmare’s fault Ribbon suffered from graphic dreams that night. It was his aura and Ribbon’s over-creative imagination.

Ribbon wandered by himself in the castle gardens. The sky was cloudy and stormy, but that didn’t bother him. It was always gloomy in Nightmare’s AUs. The farther he walked, the more the flowers wilted. He wanted to turn back, but something kept pushing him forward. Everything was fine until he closed his eye sockets.

A hand shot out and covered his mouth with a chloroform rag. He struggled and screamed which only made him breathe more of the poison. Ribbon cried out. Whoever grabbed him had a rough grip and a strong smell of butterscotch. The doll couldn’t process it as he passed out.

Again, Ribbon blinked, and the next thing he knew he was in a bedroom. Wait, this place looked familiar . . . The Star Sanses’ Clubhouse, oh. He was in the guest room, which was one of the most boring rooms. The walls didn’t have any color but beige. The only furniture was a queen-sized bed, a nightstand, a mirror, and a lamp. Ribbon stretched and got off the bed. The poison in his lungs made it hard to breathe.

Ribbon walked through the familiar hallways. Something was different, but he couldn’t tell what. His memory of the full clubhouse was fuzzy, it’s been a long time since he was here. It was hard to explain, but despite that, something was off.

“We have no other options but this. What else is there to do? Wipe his memories and retrain him to be a hero? That doesn’t excuse what he’s done. We have to send him away. It’s the only way we’ll be safe. Ink deserves it for his betrayal.”

Ribbon froze when he heard Core Frisk’s voice. He peeked around the corner at them, Blue, and Dream. Dream had his face in his hands. Blue kept his hand close to him, but he looked away from him.

Blue spoke. “They’re right, Dream. We can’t trust Ink anymore. He’s not our friend, he’s a monster, I don’t care what he says. He worked for Nightmare! He murdered people! He left us for him! He abandoned his job! And he’s so dependent on Nightmare that he can’t even take care of himself!”

Dream moved his fingers aside so his left eye light was exposed. “Is that the plan? Leave him alone in the void to die? That would be torture!”

“I know, but we have to! What if Ink is spying for Nightmare? It’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Core put a hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Ink is dead, Dream. The person in the guest room is someone else. Someone evil. Someone who doesn’t deserve a second chance.”

Dream looked up at them. His eye lights flickered from upset to angry. It was too quick for him, or was Dream always like that? Ribbon couldn’t remember well. “Fine, if that’s what’s best for him . . . fine. I’ll tell him tonight and we can take him-”

Ribbon let a whimper slip, though he didn’t remember opening his mouth. The three turned in his direction. They looked angrier than he’s ever seen. Especially Dream, whose sympathetic gaze turned to fury.

“You were eavesdropping, weren’t you?” Dream stood up. “WEREN’T YOU?”

“I-I didn’t mean to . . .” Ribbon’s voice broke as Dream towered over him. He was taller than Ribbon remembered. “I’m sorry. Please don’t punish me.”

Dream raised a hand and Ribbon ducked. He would never even think about running from Nightmare, but Dream was different. At least Nightmare’s punishments were done out of love. Ribbon slipped beneath his arm and ran down the hall.

“Ink! Come back! That’s an order!” Blue shouted.

He didn’t listen and kept running. He made it to the entryway and pulled on the door. It was locked. Ribbon tugged on it until Dream, Blue, and Core showed up. Oh stars, what did he do? Maybe he could smash through a window?

Ribbon tried to break the window only for his left arm to nearly get yanked from its socket. Core and Blue grabbed them and kicked his legs so he kneeled. He fought to break himself free, but they wouldn’t budge. Blue crushed his left foot under his boot with a sickening crack. Ribbon bit his cheekbone to keep from crying. It hurt, it hurt, it HURT-

Dream stomped up to him and punched him in the jaw. Ribbon’s vision blurred as he struggled to stay quiet. His limbs tingled. He wasn’t sure if Dream liked begging the way Nightmare did and didn’t plan to risk it.

“We’re going to lock you away and there’s nothing you can say or do about it. You betrayed the entire Doodlesphere for a crush, my brother of all people!” Dream wiped his eye sockets. “I can’t believe you, Ink! Why would you do this? You were the good guy! And now you’re no better than Nightmare and his team.”

Ribbon cringed away. Don’t yell at me. Please stop yelling at me.

Blue summoned a bone attack and shoved it through his arm. Ribbon yipped and tears ran down his face. Why did he ever think they were his friends? Tsk, who was he kidding? A dumb toy wasn’t worth that kind of kindness.

Core twisted his wrist. The hurt was weird and distant, but he still felt some kind of white-hot pain. Ribbon looked over and nearly screamed. His hand, oh stars where was his hand? On the floor. Of course it was.

Ribbon couldn’t hold it in anymore and cried. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Please give me one more chance! I’ll be a good doll! I’ll do whatever you want! Please let me go! Don’t send me away!”

“You don’t get a second chance, traitor!” Dream cursed. He punched Ribbon in the jaw again. “If you can’t even think of an excuse as to why you turned your back on everyone, then you don’t get . Oh, stop crying! You’re faking it!”

“I’m not! Please stop-stop!”

Another punch. Ribbon’s mouth filled with metallic-tasting blood. He “Dolls don’t say stop. You out of all people should know this,” Dream said.

Blue rolled his eye lights. “Ribbon’s not a person. Ribbon’s a toy. An it.”

“You out of all toys should know this. There. Is that better?”

“Yep!” Blue smiled innocently.

Core tied his wrists together with scratchy rope. Ribbon cried out when they tightened it; he couldn’t feel his remaining hand. He wasn’t a huge fan of Nightmare restraining him, but at least he did it with soft ribbons or his tendrils. “Everyone is going be better off without you. Even Nightmare doesn’t love you, he’s just using you.

“That’s not true! NIGHTMARE! NIGHTMARE HELP!” Ribbon screamed. He wanted his boyfriend so badly. Where was he? Why wasn’t he rescuing him? Were they right? Did he abandon him?

“See? You still choose him over us!” Blue said. He crushed his other foot. Ribbon bit his tongue. He didn’t have the energy to struggle. Everything burned. He couldn’t take this cruelty much longer. This stupid dream wouldn’t let him pass out.

Core stood taller and forced Ribbon to stand on his broken feet. He sobbed. “Okay, we’ve tortured it long enough. Let’s drop it in the void and we can start rewriting history and pretend it never existed! Everyone will forget it in a few years.”

That last sentence stung worse than his broken feet. No one would remember him? No! He didn’t want to be forgotten! Ribbon cried harder.

“Alright, let’s go!” Blue said. He sounded way too cheery for someone about to commit murder.

Ribbon, Core, and the Stars teleported to the Garden of Doors. They were all there at first, but after a blink, they disappeared. Only one door remained, the one that led into the void.

Not wanting to be shattered across time and space, Ribbon couldn’t help but try begging one more time. “W-wait! I can be good! You can train me to obey your orders, give me a new personality, rename me, and I’ll even let you treat me like an animal! Just don’t do this! Spare me! Please!”

They threw him into the void. The last thing he saw was Blue’s glassy, hate-filled eye lights.

“No! Come back! I’m sorry!” Ribbon called as they shut the door. He half-swam half-squirmed to it, but it was gone. All alone in the void. Again.

Ribbon’s hands began to crack as his emotions drained. How did he run out of emotions already? And it never hurt this much before. It felt like he had a vacuum on his chest, sucking out his bones and shattering them in the process. If he could, Ribbon would’ve screamed. Half of his ribcage was gone. His legs were ripped apart by an invisible force and crumbled to dust. His pelvis followed, and then his spine. It felt like he was being burned and frozen at the same time.

The doll screamed. “Someone! Anyone! Help me! I’m scared!”

Ribbon snapped awake, his body sweating. He was still in Nightmare’s bed. He turned to see him, but he wasn’t there. He panicked and shot up, only to realize he had a hand on his face. Nightmare was sitting up and studying him. He had to have heard his crying or felt his kicking. But why didn’t he wake him up?

Nightmare’s thumb stroked his cheekbone. “Are you okay, Ribbon?” he whispered. “It’s two in the morning and your aura is negative enough to give me an adrenaline rush. You were screaming my name and begging for mercy, and you’re still trembling.”

Ribbon hugged him as tight as he could. He wanted to make sure he was there and he wasn’t still dreaming. Nightmare held him, rubbing his skull and making shushing noises. The touch didn’t feel fake in the distance like with the Stars. Ribbon took a deep breath. “It was a really bad dream, but I’m a bit better now, thanks,” he said. The repeated motion was soothing.

“Would you like to tell me what it was about?”

Ribbon shuddered. “. . . I got kidnapped by the Stars. They took me from you, beat me up, told me no one loved or remembered me, and threw me into the void. I lost all my emotions and . . . and . . . I died alone. They hurt me!”

Nightmare didn’t stop petting him. Ribbon leaned into the touches, confused when he did stop and lay his hand over his foreskull. "I see. Your mind might be giving you a warning. Guardians can have dreams that predict the future. And if yours affected you this badly, well . . ."

Ribbon thought about it. He knew about the dreams thing already but . . . He looked at Nightmare's face, which was a weird mix of worry and something else. "They're actually going to hurt me?"

"That's right." He muttered something under his breath and a faint glow came from his hand. Ribbon shuddered as he felt a million cold needles in his skull. A glowing teal light shivered down Nightmare’s arm as he absorbed his emotions. He removed his hand. “There. As a thank you for the negative energy, you won’t have any more dreams for the rest of the night. Sleep well, I need you rested.”

Ribbon shifted and looked Nightmare directly in his pretty eye light. “Nightmare, do you get nightmares?”

“Constantly. But I’m used to them. Now no more speaking, go to sleep.” He brought them both down on the bed. Nightmare wrapped his tendrils around his body like an apple-scented cocoon. Ribbon buried his face in his chest, listening to the soft sound of his breathing. He felt a lot safer. Even though Nightmare sometimes hurt him, he would rather cuddle with him than be all alone.

Like Nightmare said, he didn’t get any more dreams, which relieved him. But Ribbon couldn’t stop thinking about the one he had. In his head, it made perfect sense. Dream, Blue, and Core were all peace protectors. Ribbon worked with the biggest evil team in the multiverse. Maybe they’d been wanting to beat and banish him all along, but it was easier now that he was softer.

No wonder Nightmare wouldn’t let him leave the castle without him. The world outside was so scary, how did he never see it before?

But that was all a week ago, he was fine now. Ribbon stayed inside, busying himself with chores as he was told. He dusted off the fireplace and living room. When he was with the Star Sanses, he hated chores. He used to do them as fast as he could and called it a day. But this was soothing. Maybe that came along with embracing this new lifestyle.

He wished he could do more for Nightmare. He wanted to make up for his kindness. He was so good to him, much better than he should’ve been to a dumb little doll. Well, he did have another training session today, he could do a great job at that. Ribbon looked at the grandfather clock in the room. He had ten minutes to finish his chores since Nightmare wanted him in there at exactly one o’clock. Sharp. He wouldn't like it if he wasn't there.

And before he knew it, the time flew by and Ribbon was back in that training room. Nightmare held a thin flashlight up to his eyes lights, like a cat laser. They were working on his stillness again. Specifically on mastering a permanent slow blink and his head tilts. Etiquette lessons could actually be fun when he wasn’t messing up and needing punishment.

“Slower, slower, too slow. Try to put two seconds between opening and closing. That’s it. Good . . .” Nightmare said as flickered the laser between his eye lights.

An itch inside Ribbon’s head didn’t like this. He wanted to kick his feet or mess with his hands but he knew better. Good dolls didn't do either, they didn't even think about doing either! He had to fix that about himself. Ribbon kept his breathing slow the way Nightmare liked. The blinking was tricky, his eye sockets didn't want to comply and blinked on their own, but he got the hang of it.

“You have been doing so much better, my little lamb. I’ve been taking notes of your progress and your last month's record is so much worse than now. You used to never be able to sit still. In fact, you’re being so good, you're ready for a little test I had planned.”

Ribbon tilted his head and looked up at Nightmare. “A little test?”

Nightmare nodded. “Yes, you've proven you won't run away from me, so the next logical step is to see what you can do without my guidance."

"You're going to leave me?” Ribbon breathing caught as panic built up in his chest. What did he do wrong? He must have done something wrong! But he couldn't think of anything he did wrong. He squeezed his upper arms. “Why- why aren't you going with me? I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave me on my own, I won't last without-”

“Shh, did I say anything about this being permanent? No.” Nightmare tilted his chin up, covering up his neck charm so Ribbon wouldn't pull it again. “You're overreacting, it will be for no longer than a few hours. I have an assignment set up for Killer, Horror, and Dust and you will be going with them. You’re getting supplies because we're running low on medicine, then you're coming back home to me.”

Ribbon took a deep breath. Nightmare rubbed his cheek with his tendril and Ribbon leaned into it. He loved how cold it was, it was like one of those cooling packs wrapped in a soft blanket.

Once Nightmare saw he wasn't freaking out anymore, he continued to explain. “Three nights from now, you’re going to help them in a supply run. I have work to do, so I unfortunately can’t go along. It’s a simple enough task for you. You shouldn’t need to commit any violence unless someone attacks you first. But you must still bring your parasol. There won’t be an issue, will there?”

Ribbon shook his head. “No, there won’t be an issue at all. I’ll be good and listen to them, I promise.”

“There’s my good little doll. Oh, you still have your paints to take, don't you?” Nightmare pat his head. Ribbon nuzzled his head into his hand. Nightmare stood up and walked over to his vials. He took a glass and mixed all the colors together. He even added extra yellow as a treat. Nightmare came back and pushed the glass up to Ribbon’s mouth. “Open up.”

Ribbon waited on the castle step for the other three to take him. He adjusted his pink beret and drew pictures with Blossom on the ground, he decided that as the name of his parasol. He didn’t want to leave without Nightmare. All the other times, except the once when he was disobedient, Nightmare was with him. He never left on his own since then. He liked the MTT, but it wasn't the same as-

A loud boom snapped him out of his thoughts and he screamed. Ribbon ducked and hid his face in his parasol, peeking from the side. Killer held a red popped balloon in one hand and his knife in his other.

Killer stared at him in surprise, blinking his wide eye sockets. "Holy shit, he wasn't kidding. You are really easy to scare now." His shock turned into a weird laugh. Ribbon smiled and pulled his string to giggle with him. It had to be a little funny if Killer thought so. He was still shaken up, but he pushed the thoughts away.

Dust and Horror teleported behind him. Horror stared at the balloon in Killer’s hand and ripped it out. “Boss isn’t . . . going to like that . . . you did that.”

Killer mumbled something under his breath that Ribbon couldn't hear. Dust sighed at whatever it was he said and walked away.

Dust held something in his hand. It was a bottle with black liquid inside. Oh, Nightmare’s magic! Of course! He didn’t know he could do that, but Nightmare was really powerful. Ribbon wondered what else he didn’t know about his boyfriend.

“Boss gave us just enough of his magic to get us to Fellswap and back. We can’t waste anything.” Dust half-muttered half-told the group. Ribbon nodded, even if he didn’t like the idea of Dust being the one with the portals. He didn’t want to be anywhere he was when he was holding scary things. The vial looked too much like a syringe for his liking. Hopefully, Horror and Killer would keep him far away from him.

Dust measured out the vial with his finger and poured half of it onto the ground. The liquid churned until a darker swirling gap appeared inside the liquid. Ribbon looked back at the castle as Killer leaped in first. Horror was next. Ribbon looked into the portal and gulped. He hesitated. His team was safe, his team was good, nothing-

“Get in.” Dust said with a firm expression. Ribbon jumped in. He landed in Fellswap’s Snowdin. The cold snow soaked through his shoes and socks. Ew . . . .Ribbon jumped onto a rock to keep himself dry.

Killer and Horror brushed themselves off. Horror passed Killer an envelope. The murderer snatched it and opened it up to a list. Ribbon peeked over at it, but he couldn't read anything on it. A lot of the stuff looked fancy and specific too. Killer cocked his head.

“That’s how . . . Boss gave it to me. Don’t know, he’s fancy like . . . that.” Ribbon nodded in agreement to Horror’s words. But it did make him miss Nightmare already, even if they just left. He stared at the portal.

Dust jumped through the void and landed on the edge. He kicked snow and dirt over the portal until it faded away. He stared at it for a long time until he sighed and looked at the team.

“Come on, let’s make this quick.” Dust said. Killer summoned one of his red knives as defense and Ribbon messed with Blossom. The four began to walk through Fellswap's Snowdin. It looked almost exactly like Undertale, but in shades of gold and red. There weren't many citizens in the town-- most of them didn't like each other --but the ones that were there made Ribbon scared. They all wore leather jackets, spiked collars, and chains. Some of them glared and growled at the team, while others whispered and ran.

Horror held the blade of his axe on Ribbon’s side and nudged him away from the monsters. He was wandering too far off. That included Killer and Dust.

The shop was tucked behind most of the other ones. It was a run-down black building with almost no decorations, nothing but a scary sign with the word SHOP on it. He wouldn't be surprised if sharp claws scraped out the sign, or a rusty knife.

Ribbon pulled his string to talk, and his first sound was a small cry. "Is- is this the right place? It doesn't look right . . ."

Killer nodded. "Yep. Relax, it's not as bad on the inside! You're going to be fine."

It smelt like cigarette smoke on the inside. Ribbon stood out with his bright pink colors in the musty gold and black shop. Food and healing items covered an entire wall. Bottles of liquid lined the walls and weapons scattered across the ground and on hooks. Ribbon moved not to step on a spear tip. The entire building only had two lightbulbs and no windows. He wanted Nightmare more than ever. A single monster worked in the shop. Their entire body was covered by a cloak with only a scorpion tail and claws for hands. Ribbon stepped back.

"Different guy than normal . . . eh, it's fine." Killer walked straight up to the counter and slapped the list down. The clerk turned around and tensed up. Killer didn't budge and unfolded the paper. "Hello. I got a little order from Lord Nightmare Joku, ASAP."

Dust held his gun up to the store clerk’s head as he hesitated. “And don’t even think about screamin’ for anyone to intervene. The only reason we’re payin' instead of robbin' is because Boss insisted us to.”

The clerk went pale and he took the list from Killer’s hand. He looked over it and skitted around the store, gathering things.

Dust turned from the clerk to Ribbon. He lowered the gun because he was getting what he wanted. He pointed toward the door. “Ribbon, go watch over the spot we came in through the portal so no one touches it. The magic works better when we're close to the original summonin' spot, it's sorcery memory."

Ribbon lit up at the order and nodded, anything to get out of this creepy place. He ran out the door and back to the spot. He made it there without trouble, and luckily without running into anyone. But that was probably because he spent the time sneaking through the shadows and alleys. He sat down on the same large rock as before, waiting for the MTT to finish the supply run.

As he sat, Ribbon spotted a movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked down. It was a stray piece of magic left over from the first portal. It must've escaped Dust, poor little guy. Ribbon crouched down and poked at it. It was the closest thing to Nightmare and the closest thing back home, so it made him happy.

His fingertips went cold with magic. Against his will, paint shot from out of his fingers and mixed with the goop on the ground. The two powers mixed until a small portal formed, which grew bigger until it was the perfect size for Ribbon. He jumped back and stared at his hand in confusion. Did he . . . influence the portal magic? How? And where? Ribbon had so many questions, but the biggest one was where the portal went.

Ribbon gently reached for the doorway and touched it. The colors got clearer and opened to a strange AU. The doll hesitated, but he stepped outside; his curiosity was too strong. He crawled through and looked around. Unlike Fellswap, this AU had a lot of colors, rainbow splatters covered the walls. The entire floor drowned in a layer of paper packets. Ribbon's eye lights immediately went to the shiny glowing ball in the center of the room. It was so pretty, but he could've sworn he heard whispering. It must have been the wind.

“What . . . what is this place? Why . . . no, it’s okay, it’s okay, it's alright. I’m okay. Someone will come for me.” Ribbon looked around. He was sure he could figure this out. It kept tugging at a spot in his memory, but he couldn't think of what. It was so close too . . .

He walked around the rainbow place. It was small, too small, and too colorful. The messy rainbows hurt his eye lights. Whoever lived here had terrible taste in colors. Wait, that was too judgemental. Ribbon didn't know who was here before. He touched the beanbag with his gloved fingertips.

Then there was the pile of papers for AUs, even though he wasn't sure how he figured it out that quickly. It overflowed and spilled onto the ground. Ribbon picked one of them up and flipped through the pages of drawings. Characters, designs, worlds they were pretty, but how was he supposed to bring them to life? He knew he needed Broomie, but Broomie was gone. Some even had notes scrawled on them such as 'Where are you? It's been 3 weeks and you haven't made a single new universe!'

That's when he remembered. This place was his doodle AU he made new AUs in! He used to spend so much time in here. He hadn't done this job for so long that he forgot how to do it. It was back when . . . oh. No, bad thoughts.

He kept searching the room until he stumbled across a massive pile of pictures. He picked up the top one off. It was of a skeleton who looked exactly like him. Ink flashed a peace sign in front of Horror, who was beaten up on the ground. Ribbon pressed his teeth together. He would never do that. Why was Ink so rude? Ribbon pushed past more pictures until he gasped at one. It was a drawing, a battle plan, and it was a plan to take advantage of Nightmare's sludge and freeze him alive. And Nightmare was . . . hurting. That had to be it.

This wasn't him. Ribbon had some of the memories, but they weren't his own. He wasn't part of the Star Sanses. He was on Nightmare's team! He was Nightmare's lover! Why was Nightmare the bad guy in all of these? Was he- no, no. It was a lie, a trap. The kidnapping was out of love, the pain was out of love. Nightmare made a terrible mistake by thinking he could be on his own. Ribbon couldn't, he couldn't, he

Ribbon shook, panicked, and tore the picture up, throwing the shreds on the floor. He grabbed another one of the AUs and ripped it too. It felt like the only way he could calm down and make it stop. He destroyed another, another, and another. The nasty feeling in his chest only got worse.

He wasn't Ink.

He was not INK!

Ribbon's attention went toward the magic glowing sphere in the center of the room. He could feel the power from here and it was calling out to him, wanting him to become a protector again. He couldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't be bad. It was all a trap. He was in trouble-

Ribbon screamed and stabbed the magic sphere with his parasol. “Come on, die, die, die! Stop it! Stop telling me what to do! Stop making AUs! I can’t help, just stop!”

With a loud crack, the sphere shook. Then it shattered into shiny translucent pieces across the floor. A shudder ran through Ribbon’s spine. The lights in the place began to flicker. He looked around. It was over. Ribbon shivered and closed his parasol up. Before he could process what he did (and the ramifications of it), the doll ran back through the portal. he landed back in Fellswap's snow. And right in front of the MTT. Dust was working on resummoning the portal and Horror held a massive sack bag. They all looked nervous.

Killer was the only one with his hands open so he grabbed Ribbon by the shoulders. “Ribbon! Where the hell have you been? We leave you alone for two minutes and you go missing! I thought boss was going to have our heads!”

Ribbon looked up at Killer and hid back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Something happened and . . . " He looked behind himself. Something kept him from telling the truth. "I'm really sorry, but I'm okay. Can we go home . . . pretty please?"

Later that evening, as Ribbon took off his beret by one of the castle balconies, then he paused. A sudden wave of weakness took him over. It wasn't sleepiness, no. It reminded him of his nightmare when he had that vacuum feeling, sucking his magic dry. His chest ached and he leaned against the wall. He saw two different archways swirling around.

Ribbon took a heavy breath of air. He tried to pull his string to ask for help, but he couldn’t. His nonexistent ears rang and he raised his shoulders to cover them.

"Ribbon, is- Ribbon!' Nightmare sensed the negativity and caught him before he collapsed. He had been walking down the hall before seeing him fall over. Ribbon shivered and clung to his suit. He coughed and shivered, having no energy to stand up. He was freezing cold too. Did he get sick? Poisoned? Cursed? How? Could he fix it? He had to know something.

"What's the matter with you?" Nightmare set his hand on his head and felt around. “You don't have a fever." He adjusted Ribbon and held him in a comfy bridal carry. Ribbon held onto Nightmare tightly. Nightmare didn’t even look down at him as he sighed.

Ribbon closed his eye sockets as Nightmare carried him. Having him around was enough to make him feel better. He tried to sit up and got dizzy again. Nightmare’s tendril nudged him back down. The doll didn’t fight.

Nightmare opened the door to Ribbon’s room Ribbon caught his reflection in his vanity mirror. He wasn’t as pretty as he was supposed to be. His pink eyes lights were dim, his breathing was labored, and his face was pale. The blush on his cheek bones stood out more.

Nightmare lay hum in his soft bed. He covered him up and Ribbon clung to the teddy bear Nightmare gave him. It was white and little with big black eyes. Ribbon coughed. It sounded too scratchy and raspy for a doll. He wasn’t even coughing right!

Nightmare looked around Ribbon’s walls as he put him in bed. His tendril touched the baby pink walls and the blue, purple, and yellow flowers Ribbon painted on. He wasn’t all done, but he had his entire front wall covered in flowers. All the side walls had were sketches, sketches of fuzzy animals, and more flowers. Ribbon still couldn’t decide what he wanted the back wall to be yet. But it already felt better than the boring and dark walls the room used to have.

“Do- do you like it? Is it pretty?”

Nightmare looked closer at the walls before focusing his attention on Ribbon. He traced his fingers along his chest and lay his palm down. “It is pretty. I enjoy this new side of you. Keep drawing like this. Now be quiet so I can find out what happened to you.”

Ribbon went silent. He even muffled his coughs. Nightmare summoned a bit of teal magic and held it in on his chest, close to where his soul would be. After a while, he hummed. Nightmare set his hand on his forehead, then on his cheek. “Oh, oh well that’s fascinating . . .”

"What is?" Ribbon took deep breaths and tried to stop his spinning head. “Am- am I going to be okay? What’s wrong with me?

“Your magic . . . it’s fading,” Nightmare said. His calm expression began to twitch. “Well, let me correct myself, your guardianship is fading. Your symptoms are similar to a normal monster's magic loss, but I never thought it could happen to you. I don't even understand why it happened now. Your team replaced you, Ribbon.”

Ribbon gulped, which turned into a cough. He groaned and leaned into his pillow. He hadn't seen the multiverse since the mission, was it really that bad? He hasn't told Nightmare about what happened in Ink's doodle AU, he was too scared to. "Am . . . am I going to be okay?"

“Oh, don’t fuss too much. It’s just like losing blood. If you lose too much, you’ll get sick and need rest. Most of your magic came from being the Guardian of Creativity. Without that . . . you may only be half as strong as you once were.” Nightmare looked away from him at that.

Ribbon’s eyes widened and he bit his lower jaw. He squeezed his bear tighter. “How . . . how bad is that? Can it be fixed? Am I broken?”

“Your guardianship? No, only if whoever they gave your powers away perishes or gives them back. I doubt either will happen. I once tried to do it with Dream, but I’ve never seen this happen before.” He looked down at Ribbon and sighed. “Yes, it can be fixed. I will give you a small transfer until you start healing yourself.”

Nightmare took a deep breath, held his hand to his chest, and rested it on top of Ribbon. Ribbon felt the tingling almost immediately, and it was good! Even better than good! His breathing steadied and he leaned into Nightmare’s hand. He rubbed his face in it, adoring his kindness.

With a sigh, Nightmare pulled his hand back. Ribbon could breathe easier thanks to the transfer. His head felt less cottony. He looked up at Nightmare. His eye darkened and he took heavy breaths to recover.

Nightmare saw him staring and sighed. “Rest. I’ll bring you water. You must stay hydrated, I can’t have you lose any more magic.” Nightmare covered him up with his blankets to make sure he wasn’t cold. “Don’t stand up, keep your movement to a minimum, and sleep. That's non-negotiable. ”

After giving him a little kiss on the head, Nightmare left the room. Ribbon lay back in his bed. He didn’t even try to stand up, instead cuddling with his teddy bear. He had his doubts, but Ribbon knew he made the right choice. Nightmare had been so much kinder since he had no reason to punish his dollie anymore. And Ribbon didn’t want to change a thing.

Chapter Text

Catching him off guard, Dream felt a shudder down to his bones. He was simply walking through the Omega Timeline, on a calm quiet day, before it struck. Another Code Purple happened somewhere in the multiverse and it needed his help. He sighed, holding his hand to his face for a moment before creating a portal and dashing through. They didn’t bother telling Core because they didn’t believe there was time. Something inside him knew this one was more serious than the ones prior, more dangerous. Something changed from the period Nightmare didn’t attack at all.

Dream arrived in the Doodlesphere faster than the feeling spawned in his chest. He jumped from island to island until he spotted the signature signs of corruption. Dark clouds, purple and black liquid on the ground, cracking, and a strong negative feeling. The original portal had four sets of wings, four on each side, and they dripped with malice.

“Birdtale . . . oh, Aviar! Aviar, no!” Dream would’ve gone closer, but he couldn’t. The smog was so thick it blocked the entrance like a wall. His hand wouldn’t even phase through it. None of the AUs, none of the twenty-one AUs infected by this curse, forbid his entry. Dream shot a positive arrow at the door, but it did nothing.

The pollution entered his nonexistent lungs and he choked, but he wasn’t going to give up. Dream pressed his nails into his palm as he tried to think of a new plan. He wasn’t going to let them die. He could sense the sheer terror emitting from the inside.

“Havin’ some issues, brah?”

Dream screamed and turned around with his bow. He lowered it once he saw who it was, Fresh. He was almost twice as tall as they were, excluding the heelies and propeller. His jaw worked on a piece of bubblegum.

“Yes. No. I don’t know anymore.” Dream sighed, pointing at the portal. He could hear the screaming of innocents in the back of his mind. His bones chilled him. “I can’t go in. Innocents are dying and I have to help! Can you help me break it down?”

“I could give it a shot. Move outta da way.” Fresh swung his baseball bat at the entryway and it barely cracked. He tried again. Still nothing. He snapped his fingers and formed a Gaster Blaster, firing it to break the black.

Dream watched the corruption spread from where the blast hit. He summoned a bit of his positivity magic on it. Sparks exploded like a firecracker, but the negative shield didn’t budge. Fresh stepped back and snapped his fingers to rid the Gaster Blaster.

“What? What is going on here . . . ?” Dream narrowed his eye sockets, staring at his hand. They looked back up at the corrupted arch. Part of the entrance was still open, a blue swirling portal darkening more by the second. He had a chance. Dream readied his dual swords and made a run for it.

“Broski! What d~a heck are ya doin’? Duck!” Fresh caught Dream’s arm and pulled him away from the portal.

“Fresh? What was that for-!” Dream gasped and dropped to the ground. A bolt of teal magic shot at him. If Dream had continued his path, the lightning would have incinerated him on the spot.

From the bolt, it started another phase of corruption. Liquid malice seeped from the bottom of the door. It crept up the stone archway, turning the gray stones black. The blast of negativity sucked the air from Dream’s nonexistent lungs and he crumpled to the ground. Well, almost. It felt as so. Fresh jumped back as a tendril of negativity tried to grab him by the leg.

“Oh . . . thank you then. I’m sorry.” Dream took a breath, looking at Fresh.

The parasite blinked at the destruction and kept an arm around Dream so he wouldn't try running again. "Listen . . . I know ya not gonna be chill with dis, but ya not gonna help anyone by tryin' and failin'. You're trippin' if you think ya gonna try and go there. So come on and let's bounce."

Dream looked between Fresh and the archway. He wanted to run back in. His instincts urged him to save them, but he knew Fresh had a point. Blue's words about the danger of risking himself came back to his head. Dream's body slacked in Fresh's grip. He knew the regret would hit him later. The smartest thing to do was wait until tomorrow when the malice left.

Birdtale would still be there, he knew it would be.

When Dream told his boyfriend about his plan with Fresh, he wanted to join. Cross insisted on acting as their bodyguard in case something went wrong. And he wanted to see what Nightmare’s plan was. The extra support took a weight off Dream’s shoulders and he accepted.

Dream teleported the three to Birdtale’s portal in the Doodlesphere. It was still dark and corrupted, but it was calm and silent now. The malice lay still and the arch was dark. One of the side wings fell off and crumbled on the ground.

Cross looked at the two and readied his daggers. “Are you dudes, ready?”

“Ready, brah.” Fresh said. Dream nodded as his response and squeezed Cross’s hand. They all walked through the portal.

Dream opened his eye sockets and stared at the AU. He gasped in horror. Fresh’s determination slightly slid off his face.

Cross’s stance tensed and he prepared himself for any possible battle. “What happened here?”

Birdtale’s beautiful scenery turned into something from a nightmare. Black clouds covered a muddy orange sky streaked with crimson and purple. The once bountiful plants withered until trees lost their leaves. The flowers lost their colors and drooped to the ground. Polluted water corrupted the streams and waterfalls, leaving chunks in the liquid. The sticky air was humid, hot and cold at the same time. And with the horrid stench of blood and rotten apples, it was a miracle they stayed conscious.

The easy-going monsters . . . changed. Their bodies were covered in black malice with eyes piercing red or violet. Their wings, if they even still had them, were torn and matted and dust-stained. Two winged monsters scratched at each other in the sky. The one on the left tore the right’s wing off. The victim screeched and sunk their teeth into the other’s neck, causing them both to fall into the abyss below. Dream took a shaky breath.

If it wasn’t for his friends’ positivity at his side, Dream would have passed out, possibly with a seizure. So much hatred . . .

Fresh touched one of the grayed trees. His glasses shifted to OUCH. The leaf crumbled to the ground. Dead, gone.

“My brother happened,” Dream said, answering Cross’s question. His voice was quiet. He’s seen several Code Purples, but none of them . . . none of them were this tragic, or destructive. And they could usually stop them before they reached this level, what could’ve made them unable to enter this AU?

Dream stood back up and closed his eye sockets. He took a deep breath and his body tingled with golden light. It was difficult to explain how his positivity-sensing powers worked. The closest comparison he could make was to heat vision. Souls with positive auras would have a yellow glow and the negative ones would glow purple. He couldn’t sense a single positive aura that wasn’t corrupted.

“This may not be the best idea but . . . I think we should split up. If anyone finds something strange or helpful, take it. I need to know what the difference is between Birdtale and the other Code Purples.” Dream stated, unsure of himself.

Cross narrowed his eye sockets. He looked around and unsheathed his daggers. He spoke in his commander voice. “I don’t trust this, but fine. I’ll take the right wing. Fresh, take the left. Dream, go directly into the town. Be careful and we’ll meet back in an hour.”

They split up. Cross dashed right and Fresh started to the left. Dream prepared himself and went down the middle, exploring the main town and mountain.

It didn’t feel like too long ago when the Star Sanses fought here and ate nice cream with Aviar and Lark. Dream looked to the sky where the flight platform lay. It was snapped down the middle. Boards hung loose and malice covered them, crawling with black, purple, red, and teal. The rest of the town didn’t fare better. Dream couldn’t tell which were fallen buildings and which were fallen monsters. Their colors and shapes all blended into one. Or some could have been monsters who had the fate of fusing with the buildings. Only their muffled wails and incoherent words were any sign they were there. Shadows shuffled behind him, along with moaning. Dream looked to his side and spotted Birdtale Toriel, dragging herself along. Her body was a mutilated mess with a disfigured melted mouth, black melted eyes, and a body torn with malice.

Dream’s soul beat faster in his chest. He regretted the decision to split up. He wanted Cross at his side, Fresh, Blue, someone. The voices in the walls surrounded him, taking over his mind.

Save us. Free us. It hurts. Let us die.

They felt like a terrible person for running, but they did. Dream ran through the village. He couldn’t take the negativity and he knew that despite all his power, there was nothing he could do. He jumped over piles of corruption, destruction, and bodies. Dream felt if he lingered too long there, he would go mad. The more distinct the voices grew, the worse he felt. He made out Papion’s distinct voice, the brother of Aviar. Where was he? He hoped he had the relief of death and was not turned into . . . one of these creatures.

Dream dashed down the left until he found a cleared space. The only malice was in pockets across the ground, the rest was dead grass. Dream looked into the sky, catching his breath. He hoped to find Cross and Fresh, he hoped they were safe. The field where he stood was the remains of a battlefield. A body lay bleeding, a head and an arm missing. The blood has long dried and developed an unpleasant odor. Dream crouched down and grabbed a stick to flip it over with. He gasped and covered his mouth at the sight. It was Lark. Their severed arm and left waist appeared as if something or someone was eating at it. Their other hand loosely held a knife. Dream recognized it as Horror’s damage.

The body was covered in less malice than the rest of the monsters, so Dream could touch it. He picked the body up, looked around, and lay it in a burnt hole. He wasn’t sure where their head was, it could have been under some rubble. He pushed nearby dirt over it with his hand. The poor child didn’t deserve this.

Dream looked over the body and listened to the bitter whistle of the wind. No, wait. That wasn’t a whistle. It sounded too alive to be the wind. Dream turned around.

The monster that crawled on the ground was a grotesque mess. Its wings stood straight up with no feathers, bones creaking and reaching into the sky. The left side of its mouth was caved in; a massive slash lay across his forehead. His goggles were cracked and lopsided, barely hanging on. Yet despite the scars, Dream saw the person underneath. And according to the response, the monster did the same.

“Help . . . me,” Aviar moaned. “It hurts . . .”

“Aviar!” Dream hurried towards his friend. He kneeled in front of him, coaxing his soul from his corrupted chest. It was pitch black, burning with so much negativity he couldn’t hold it. Dream let it go and gave it back to him. “What happened here?”

The hate-filled monster coughed up malice. “He did . . . stop, pain . . .”

Dream eye sockets pricked with tears. More than anything he wanted to heal his pain, this fate worse than death, but he didn’t know how. “I don’t understand. Who’s ‘he’? Nightmare?”

“Yes. Nightmare . . did this. He, Horror, Dust, Killer, and . . .” Aviar groaned again.

“And who? Aviar, who?”

The raven opened his mouth, but instead of words, a fountain of black sludge spewed. Dream jumped back. Aviar arched his back and growled at the back of his throat. He crawled closer, clawing at the ground. Dream kneeled back down, slow, steady, and cautious. He moved as close as he could without touching the malice. He waited, hoping to get an answer out of Aviar if he was motionless and patient.

Yet, Dream didn’t. Aviar looked like his body and mind were hanging on by the thinnest of threads. He looked at the guardian with hunger. “Too . . . too much positivity. Need it.”

Confused and concerned by his tone, Dream grabbed his sword out of instinct. “What are you talking about? What-”

Aviar lunged. Dream summoned a positivity shield as his defense senses kicked. The bird monster bounced back with a hiss. But then he started to claw at it. The screaming and wailing made it obvious it hurt, but Aviar needed the positivity. His current aura didn’t have a drop of it. Dream felt less fear and more pity. No one deserved to be put in a state like this. The most merciful thing to do was . . .

He didn’t want to, but Dream readied and aimed his short sword. It was the best option. He closed his eye sockets and stabbed the weapon through his torso. He swung Aviar around and stabbed him into the ground. Aviar screeched in a high-pitched decrescendo and his body melted into the ground. Then silence.

“Rest well, Aviar, and may you go to a better place,” Dream said, sighing as he pulled out his sword. He rested his forehead on his hand, curling his fingers until they hurt. They could’ve saved him. They could’ve saved all of them. If only he arrived a little sooner. He was always too late. He failed, he was supposed to save people and he didn't.

Dream listened as confetti popped behind him and Fresh appeared. He seemed fine, albeit with a few minor scratches. Fresh looked down at the shaken guardian. “You good, brah?”

Dream smiled to not worry him and stood up. “I’m fine.” He glanced down at the one thing left of Aviar. His pair of cracked goggles. Dream picked them up, shook off the sludge, and held them against his chest. He would find a way to avenge him. They stood up and brushed the remaining malice off their clothes. “Come on, let’s go. I . . . there’s nothing left to save. Everyone is gone.” Dream spoke with defeat in his voice, the exact opposite of what he wanted going into this.

Despite Fresh's glasses flashing to LIAR for a brief moment, they walked back. It was far more pleasant than the walk through the town, less violence, fear, and blood. Dream flipped Aviar’s goggles in his hands. He put them around his neck.

They made it to the starting point. Cross arrived first, holding a dark banner. Dream couldn’t see the design from where he stood, but Cross furrowed his brow at it. He looked up at them and rolled the banner into a cylinder. He walked, being careful not to step in the malice. “Did you guys find anything?”

Dream thought about his answer and held up Aviar’s goggles. “We did.” Their head tilted at the banner in his hand. “What is that?”

Cross held up a banner to them. It was teal with a gold outline. A crescent moon lay in the center, surrounded by four other images. A red target, ripped red fabric, a silver ax, and a pink bow. “Nightmare sometimes marked AUs with these banners if he was proud of what he's done. He usually did it with the AUs he got more power from. It's the same as I remember, but he changed part of the design. I used to have an X right here, but I don’t know why there's a bow. It means Nightmare got a new member on his team, but why a pink bow out of all things?"

“Wait.” Dream put the pieces together in his mind. “Aviar said Nightmare had a new member on his team. That must be who the bow represents. Do you have any ideas on who it might be?” He wracked his mind, but thought of no Sans that was known for a pink bow. If it was only symbolic, that would make things much harder. Dream had to prepare for whoever this new Villian Sans Squad member was. Maybe he could even convince them to leave and join his side, the same way with Cross . . .

Cross took the banner again and narrowed his eyes at it. “I don’t know. I’ll try to figure it out. I can’t remember everything and every AU Nightmare has taken interest in, but I know a few. I still have my journal from when I worked for them.”

“We’re gonna need dat,” Fresh said.

Dream was about to comment, but the sound of desperate groaning made him turn around. Three of the malice-corrupted monsters, each in varying stages of damage. They all wanted one thing, positivity. Their red, black, and purple eyes tore into Dream. The guardian held out his swords and guarded his friends, holding back his fear.

"Shed." Fresh's magic censored Cross's swear. Cross pulled his dagger. “Everyone listen, I would suggest fighting, but these are practically zombies. We're easier to attack as a group! We have to leave, now!" Cross slashed one of the ones nearby, melting off their arm. He summoned a wall of bones to block them off.

“I know. Hold on, I'll teleport us out!” Dream snapped his swords together to summon a portal. But unlike so many times prior, nothing happened. Dream snapped again. Nothing, fruitless. Dream kept snapping and he started to panic.

“Fresh! You have to make a portal. I’m sorry, my magic isn’t working!” Dream wasn’t paying attention. From the piles of malice by his feet, one of them split from the pile. It squirmed across the ground until it stopped on a rock. But luckily or not, someone else saw it first.

“Flower- FLOWER! LOOK OUT!” The air flew out of Dream as Cross pushed him to the ground. Dream fell face-first into the dirt and turned around. He stood up and ran to his boyfriend. Cross screamed as the black malice went into his eye sockets.

Cross stumbled, looking around like he was blind. His body slacked, and his eye lights turned into purple swirls. He blinked and they disappeared. They could still be seen at certain angles. He stared straight ahead, body twitching. He clutched the sides of his skull in agony as the negativity broke two sharp horns out of his skull. He looked up and around, settling on Dream. He scowled at him. Dream covered his mouth. He didn't understand why it was affecting Cross so severely compared to the others.

Dream stepped back a few steps as Cross's aura grew angry. Dream off. “Cross, it’s me, Dream-”

“Get AWAY FROM ME!” Cross cut a line down Dream's hand. Blood spilled from the spot and Dream's eye sockets were wide with shock. Cross stormed ahead, body twitching. He glared at Fresh instead. "And you, parasite-"

“Fresh,” he corrected.

“I don't care.” Cross’s voice was deeper than it should have been. He grabbed his head and screamed. He removed his dagger and stared at Fresh.

Dream held his short sword and raised it, but Fresh blocked him with his baseball. “Nah, brah. I want dis one. You lay low.” Fresh spun his baseball bat. Dream was too exhausted to argue, though his heart was pounding in worry for his boyfriend. The negativity was going to kill him.

Cross charged at him with his daggers. Fresh pushed his glasses up and disappeared in a puff of confetti. Cross looked around. A baseball bat appeared behind him and swung, he barely dodged.

Fuzzy objects surrounded Cross, Furbies. Cross looked around in confusion before the toys exploded in balls of rainbow gas and force. The force from the explosion blew Cross to the ground and covered him in colors across the rainbow. Fresh teleported in front of Cross, but the corrupted one was faster and stabbed bones into his arms. Fresh fell to the ground withs blood soaking his jacket as he pulled each one out.

The move snapped Dream out of his trance and he grabbed his swords, running to help. Cross summoned his bone attacks and shot them at Dream. His swings and slashes were slow; his nonexistent ears rang. The negative energy kept building and eating at his strength, but he had to save his love.

Cross stopped attacking and focused all of his attention on Dream. His body lurched and cracked. He was still fighting it. Dream took his chance and ran at Cross while he was distracted. He tackled him to the ground. Cross fought and screamed to push him off, but Dream didn't move. He held Cross in a hug, squeezing his eye sockets shut. His nonexistent ears rang with the stress and the screams.

Dream pressed their foreskulls together as golden magic seeped from his fingertips. “Shh, shh. It’s us. You’re in a hallucination, cookie dough. I don’t know where you are, but you’re not there. Come back to us, Cross. Come back to me. Don't let Nightmare win!

The purple in Cross's eye sockets faded. He blinked up at Dream, his look of anger turning into guilt over the blood dripping down his cheekbone. The guardian gave him a small smile as he swayed and passed out in his arms.

Dream blinked awake to the smell of herbal tea. He lay on the couch of the Star Sanses' living room, covered with a checkered blanket. He rubbed his eye sockets as he sat up, still groggy and numb. It took a long time to recall what happened.

Birdtale . . . Nightmare’s magic corrupted Cross . . . he attacked him . . . then everything went dark. Oh stars . . .

His crown, cape, boots, and gloves were neatly folded on the nearby coffee table. Dream snapped his fingers to summon light, but nothing formed.

“Dream, you’re okay!” Blue exclaimed as he came over with a tea tray. He set it on the table and wrapped Dream in a tight hug. Dream hugged him back, even though it made his arms ache. “You were asleep for over three days! I had to force Cross to leave because he wouldn’t stop worrying about you! I know it wasn't your fault, but don't scare us like that ever again!"

"I won't," Dream promised. Blue poured himself and Dream cups of tea, blowing on it before drinking. “How did you know I was awake?” Dream asked.

“You were fidgeting and talking in your sleep. Like-” Blue’s look softened. His aura turned sad and he looked into his glass. “Like you-know-who used to.”

“What was I saying?” Dream asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“‘My fault, my fault, it’s all my fault’.” Blue said. “It’s not your fault, whatever you were referring to. You did your best, I know you did.”

Dream blushed in embarrassment and looked away. They couldn't remember what they dreamed about, but it must have been serious. At least it was only a dream and no one was hurt. “Think you. It was nothing important. What is important is how did I get here? All I remember is overusing my magic to save Cross and I passed out.”

Blue took a sip of his tea. “Cross and Fresh broke open the door and they both looked beat up. Cross was carrying you and we've all been healing you and hoping you would get better. They explained what happened in Birdtale and . . . stars, I’m so sorry about Aviar. I'm sorry about all of Birdtale.”

Dream hummed. “There’s something you should know. Nightmare has a new member on his team. I don’t know their name or even what monster they are, but they were represented with a pink bow. More like a hair ribbon really.”

“That’s a question for Core. I can’t name every alternate me out there, I don't even know most of them.” Blue looked concerned. “Something else happened when you were out. It was so weird. The creative AUs? They lost their colors. They're still there, but I think it’s because of Ink being gone, it's finally causing problems.”

"Wait, what? When did that happen . . . nevermind." Dream sighed. “We need a new Guardian of Creativity. We can’t- I can’t keep putting it off. Someone has to be able to live up to Ink’s name.” Dream tapped his fingers against his palm. They didn’t want to rush it, but they couldn’t put it off much longer. They had to do what was best for the multiverse. He looked out the window. It was an obvious choice.

Dream felt a new surge of energy and power in his chest. It must have been Sea Tea, it would explain how it healed his magic. “Do you know where Core is? I have to talk to them."

Blue blinked in confusion. “Properly in their tower in Omega Central. But you are not going anywhere until-"

Before Blue could finish his sentence, Dream had teleported off. His tea still steamed. Blue huffed. He was getting tired of Dream running off to work and helping people twenty-four-seven. It was noble and all, but he couldn't help but feel neglected and a little angry. He wasn't as strong as the others, but he was a hero too! It barely felt like they were a team anymore. It made him wonder how much longer the Star Sanses would stand without Ink.

Dream collapsed from his power usage, but he got up. He felt bad for leaving Blue, but he had to do this. He was sure he would understand. He ran down the shiny wood hallway until they sensed Core's aura and walked into the room. Three windows lined the back, shining daylight onto a massive wood-long table. The walls had marble details and burgundy backings, along with the cool smell of polish.

As expected, Core sat at the very end of it. They studied the banner Cross found in Birdtale, thinking in silence. A list lay beside them. As soon as Dream walked in, they looked up and waved him over. "Hello, Dream. Cross told me everything and I've spent the last hour trying to figure out who's working for Nightmare. I'm about to try Lust now, one second."

Core closed their eyes and reopened them to galaxies. They didn’t blink, didn’t speak, didn’t even move for a full minute. Dream stared at the design again until the finished. He felt as if he did know who the bow was, but he couldn't place a name. When the stars faded away, Core shook their head and crossed the name on the list. “It’s not Lust. He doesn’t know anything about this. For now, let’s call this person ‘Bow’. That's what I've been calling them."

“Sure.” Dream sighed. "Core, we need to talk about the Guardian of Creativity. I know who we should choose and we can't keep putting it off.

The child looked up and blinked their empty eyes. It reminded Dream too much of Aviar's and he held back a shudder. "I know, I've been thinking the same thing. I even came up with a little plan to transfer the magic over. Let me explain." Core gave them a mischievous grin and gestured for Dream to come closer. They whispered it into the side of their skull and Dream smiled.

“Whatcha need me for again, broskis?”

Fresh leaned against the wall as Core and Dream stared at him. This was something Core Frisk came up with a while ago according to them. Passing guardianship has never been done before. Yet they were one of the wisest souls in the multiverse, despite being a child, so Dream trusted their plan.

Core walked over to Fresh with their hands behind their back. "Dream and I have chosen you to take Ink's former role as Guardian of Creativity."

Fresh stopped leaning against the wall and stood straight up. "Really? Ya want me to do it for ya?"

"Mm hm." Core cleared their throat and spoke. “Fresh, do you accept the role? Do you swear to dedicate your life to encouraging the Creators, protect the AUs as is, and defend the Creative-Destruction balance?”

Fresh's expression was still of shock, but he nodded. “I swear to all dat and take dah role of Guardian of Creativity.”

Core looked at Dream and held out their hand. Dream took it and summoned a ball of swirling gold magic. Core followed, creating similar energy out of galaxy magic. Fresh looked between the glowing spears in confusion. This was Core’s idea. If two guardians harnessed their magic and energy, they could grant guardianship. Their magic drifted from out of their hands and merged into a stream of color.

Rainbow magic flowed from Dream and Core’s fingers. Fresh stepped back as it began to swirl around him. Dream had a tug in the pit of his soul. Core’s surprise frown told him he wasn’t alone in the feeling. He couldn’t place his finger on it, it felt like it was telling him to stop, but that didn’t make sense. Fresh was the best person to pass the torch to. Ink would choose him, Dream knew he would.

Then why did they feel so horrible?

The magic faded into sparkles, then into nothing. Core held out their hand to Fresh. “Congratulations, Fresh. You are the new Guardian of Creativity. Remember your oath, it’s your life now. The Doodlesphere needs you.”

“Sweet!” Fresh shook their hand and his glasses flashed the same word. Dream smiled and walked over. He hugged Fresh close to him. Despite the odd feeling, it felt good to have a new Guardian of Creativity. The multiverse was a little safer now. Once he shook off the surprise, Fresh hugged him back. Dream wasn’t sure if he would be interested in joining the Star Sanses, but he wouldn’t deny it. The disquieting feeling in his chest was still there.

Core stared at their hand for a moment. They waved their fingers. Dream sensed their apprehension, confusion, and concern. Without letting go of Fresh, Dream looked at Core. “Is everything okay? Did something go wrong?”

The child hummed and nodded. “The spell worked, but something doesn’t feel right. The Guardian of Creativity should have had stronger magic. I think it's because it's so weak and a new holder will return the power but . . . Fresh, speak with me if something weird happens with your new powers or you feel sick."

"Hold up." Fresh let go of Dream. "Ya mean these powers could kill me?"

"No, not quite. But not even I have ever seen something like this, so I can't be sure." Core stared into nothing, as if they were doubting themselves. Their aura confirmed it.

Dream's tone was of pure confidence, though he was more cautious inside. "Both of you, it's okay, things can only get better from here. We'll find out what's happening to the multiverse, find out who Bow is, and stop Nightmare. We will, we'll fix all of this. Believe me."

Leave it to me.

Chapter Text

“-and they only had three days before time ran out,” Nightmare read aloud. He shut the book and watched Ribbon sleep as he cuddled his blankets.

Ribbon spent the night in his room more often. Part of it was because he deserved the privilege after being good. The other part was because Nightmare enjoyed sleeping with him. His yawns and snores were so cute. They were a few chapters away from finishing the book. It was part of a series, so they could continue their ritual once it was over. Ribbon even drew fanart of the main characters, which Nightmare had to admit was very well done.

Nightmare hasn’t used punishment in over a month; there was no need to. Ribbon’s mind was exactly the way he wanted it. Sweet as a lamb, obedient without an ounce of defiance, silent unless spoken to. The rebellious spark in his eye lights has been absent for a long time. Now the next step to making him the perfect p̶r̶i̶n̶c̶e̶s̶s̶ weapon was fixing his body. Sure he was tiny after corset training and dieting, but Nightmare planned to go even further. He hasn’t told Ribbon yet.

It would be his birthday present.

He’s been at his side that long. It felt both longer and shorter than that. He brushed his knuckles against Ribbon’s cheekbone, making him nestle into the sheets. Nightmare kept touching him, smiling slightly. Something about this little doll made him feel . . . positive, happy. No, that was ludicrous. It couldn’t have been . . . of course not. Ribbon was still his prisoner.

Nightmare sat up, processing his thoughts. He sighed, giving up as he didn’t care, and lay down to cuddle Ribbon. He fell asleep by his side. In the corner of the bedroom was a glittering pink envelope with the word ‘Ribbon’ in quill ink. It lay unopened until morning.

“Happy birthday, my sweet little doll.”

Nightmare dangled the envelope between his fingers and set it in Ribbon’s hands. The doll blinked and looked up at Nightmare. He peered at the other members of the MTT with confusion. Did he even remember it was his birthday? Ribbon tapped his heart pull-string in his way of asking to speak.

“You have permission to speak.” Nightmare took his charm and pulled it. He couldn’t wait to see his reaction. “Open your card and read it aloud.”

With delicacy, Ribbon opened the envelope. He took out a card with glittering pink and white balloons on the front. The words Happy Birthday~ were in cursive with silver glitter. Ribbon squinted at the note on the inside. “Nightmare, I-I don’t mean to be ungrateful . . . but I can’t read your writing.”

“Oh, my apologies. Here, I’ll do it for you.” Nightmare cleared his throat and read from the card. He didn’t use his eighteenth-century cursive on purpose, of course.

“Happy birthday, Ribbon. If you remember from your voice surgery, you eavesdropped on me and Dust. We discussed another surgery for you and now, all the pieces are here and you’re ready.”

“You’re going to go through a procedure that will replace your bones with porcelain. You won’t be a skeleton anymore, but a lovely doll, a real one. It will be risky, but you will look gorgeous when you’re done. You will look prettier and cuter than any monster in the Doodlesphere. You need to trust me. Sincerely yours, Nightmare A. Joku.” He put the letter back in the envelope and closed it up. He crossed his arms. “Well, what do you think?”

Ribbon took the card back and stared at it with shock, “You’re . . . you’re going to replace all my bones with porcelain?”

“A special type of porcelain. You will have more durability than a real doll, but you will have the same look. as one” Dust had shown him the rough sketches a week ago and he imagined how they would look on Ribbon. He would be so enchanting.

Dust walked up to Ribbon. The doll tensed up as he approached. Dust kept his hands in his pockets to show he wasn’t going to hurt him. “You’re goin’ to be fine. It’s goin’ to hurt, but we’re doin’ this because . . . Boss is doin’ this because he loves you. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong, this time.”

Nightmare grinned at Dust as he could see the gears in Ribbon’s head turning. Ribbon looked up. “Do you promise?”

“Yeah, promise. I have no reason to lie to you.”

Ribbon zoned out for a moment, and then he bounced and squeed. He hugged Nightmare with a bright smile as if he wasn’t panicking a few seconds ago. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I can’t wait! I’m sorry I thought it was bad!”

Killer watched from the side. Horror’s face scrunched from a mix of disgust and concern, for both parties involved. “Huh, he turned around quick . . .” Killer muttered to himself.

Nightmare lowered Ribbon after the hug. He rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re welcome. And one more thing. I haven’t allowed you to have sweets in a while, so I’ll make you a deal. Once you’re done with your surgery, I’ll take you to a bakery in Sugartale and you can pick out any cake you want. It’s a tradition I have with them.” He gestured toward the Murder Time Trio. “Since you’re part of the team, it only seems fair.”

If he wasn’t overexcited enough, Ribbon squeed and bounced. The fear in his aura was nonexistent. “That sounds great! Can I have a Funfetti one?”

“Of course you can.” Nightmare said. He scratched under his chin, making him burst into giggles.

Ribbon looked up at him with both eyelights as pink hearts. “When are you doing the surgery? I’m ready for it!”

“Tomorrow at one. That should be enough time to mentally prepare yourself. Now calm down, calm down, too much positivity. I promise you’ll feel so much better in your body when you’re done.” Nightmare chuckled, leaning close to his doll with a sadistic smile.

“Happy birthday, Ribbon.”

“So we’re finally doing this . . .” Dust mumbled as Nightmare and Ribbon made it to the laboratory. It was the same one where Ribbon had his surgery in. It was as dank and empty as before. The only changes were the circumstance and the victim being Ribbon instead of Ink.

Nightmare tugged at Ribbon’s hand as he lingered in the doorway to the surgical room. Fear overpowered his aura. Apparently he still wasn’t over his first visit to the doctor. Nightmare pulled harder and Ribbon stumbled through the entrance. He looked up at Nightmare and mouthed a sorry.

Choosing not to respond, Nightmare brought him deeper into the room. The sound of pipes running water and the occasional whistle rang. Ribbon smiled again once he spotted the operating table. Next to it was a large table covered in a white cloth, about the size of a Sans’ body. A shipping box lay on the side of it, recently opened and emptied if the packing peanuts were to go by. The lumps under the cloth looked suspiciously human-like. A massive vat in the corner of the room was marked with a toxic chemical symbol. Nightmare smiled and his tendrils wagged. He knew what was in it.

Dust watched them come in and he put a hand on Ribbon’s chin. He tilted his head to see him at another angle. The doll didn’t flinch at all, despite his aura wanting to scream and hide behind Nightmare. He made a low rumble and blinked up at Dust with those shy doe eyes Nightmare cherished. The dark king was a little ticked he was giving them to someone else. He shook the thought away. Dust’s eye lights turned brighter for a brief moment. Thinking. He rubbed Ribbon’s cheekbone. “I think I’m goin’ to start with cleanin’ you off. Just a quick shower with disinfectin’ liquid and water so you don’t get sick.” Dust looked up at Nightmare. “Is that alright boss?”

Nightmare nodded. “Of course, do whatever you need to do.”

“Alright.” Dust walked around Ribbon and took his beret off. He tossed it aside and spoke. “Ribbon, you’re goin’ to need to take your clothes off. All of them.”

The doll did as he asked and removed his dress and undergarments. Nightmare stared at his ribcage. He’s seen Ribbon shirtless numerous times, but he never paid close attention. He may have gotten carried away in corset training. His ribcage was crushed together and beginning to crack. However, RIbbon didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong and blinked at Nightmare. “Night . . . are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, don’t worry.” Nightmare decided not to worry Ribbon more, it would only cause unnecessary problems. After all, it wasn’t like he was keeping those ribs for much longer. He took Ribbon’s clothes and set them aside. Once he did, Dust gestured for the two of them to follow. Nightmare kept Ribbon close, wrapping one tendril around him. He stopped once Ribbon’s teeth started chattering from the cold of his sludge.

Dust stopped at a small room, only around the size of a bathroom stall, and turned the light on. The place was sterile white with a thick piece of plastic working as a shower curtain. A silver shower hose hung at the top of the stall. Ribbon stepped inside the shower and looked around. He smiled at Nightmare, though it went to the forced one as Dust turned on the water. Ribbon whimpered while Dust sprayed him off. He wasn’t gentle about it, both the spraying and the scrubbing with the brush. He cleaned Ribbon the same way they cleaned their chains after they killed a prisoner. Nightmare huffed. He wasn’t certain why this upset him so much, but it did.

The dark king walked up to his henchman and grabbed the wrist with the hose. “Dust, let me do it. Ribbon will enjoy it much more, won’t you?”

Ribbon nodded and reached out for Nightmare. Dust sighed and pinched his nasal bridge. “Boss, I got-” He stared into his teal eye light and sighed, passing it over. “Fine. He’s your toy.”

“Thank you.” Nightmare took the hose and gently scrubbed Ribbon with the brush. He leaned into his touch. The water wasn't clear, but rather a light gray. Ribbon stayed quiet and The corner of Nightmare's mouth turned up.

Nightmare finished cleaning him and dried him off with a scratchy towel. Ribbon didn't seem to mind and only lay into it, letting out soft purrs. Nightmare had told him before to only purr when his head was pet, but he ignored it. He wrapped Ribbon in the towel to keep him warm.

Nightmare, Ribbon, and Dust walked back into the main room where the surgical table lay. A fresh sterile drape lay on top of it. Nightmare and Dust each grabbed one of Ribbon's arms and pushed him onto the table. Dust flicked the lever and the restraints tightened around Ribbon. They were even looser than they were the last time he was here.

Dust reached into a box and pulled out a large brown board, about the size of a checkboard. “Before we start this, you need to choose what color you want his threads to be." He flipped the board around and showed the spools of colorful thread nailed on. “You can pick more than one if you want, boss. Different colors for different parts of his body.”

“Hm . . . the teal and silver,” Nightmare said before Ribbon could choose. “I want the silver for his legs and torso and the teal for his arms, hands, and neck.” Dust removed the thick thread from the board and set the rest aside. Ribbon recoiled when he took a long needle, long as his middle finger, and looped the teal thread through it. He set it aside next to the body parts.

“I’ve never tried breakin' someone like this, no one has done anything like this before. But if this works, well, it could be a breakthrough and .” Nightmare raised a browbone at the if. "It will work, boss."

Ribbon’s fingers tapped against the table, slow as he prepared himself for the pain about to occur. He glanced up and tried to reach for his heart charm, but couldn't due to the restraints. Nightmare pulled it for him. “Nightlight, I’m sorry for being weak, but I’m scared. Really scared. Can you please hold my hand?”

Nightmare took his cheekbone in one hand and held hands with the other. “It’s going to be alright, sweetie. I wouldn’t put you through something I know would kill you. You will still be my Ribbon, only more durable and beautiful. Will it hurt? Yes. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s quite painful.” Ribbon shuddered and his aura spiked with fear. Nightmare sighed. “Ah, I see how that can be scary. I promise you'll be fine. Do it for me if you won't do it for yourself, okay my little lamb?"

Nightmare stood back up. He sensed Dust's aura now. Was it . . . mocking? He turned around and glared at him. "Whatever is on your mind, tell me."

"Just thinkin'." Dust shrugged as he equipped himself with surgical gloves and a mask around his face. "I noticed you like touchin' Ribbon a lot. Are you sure you see him as your weapon?"

"Of course I do." The dark king scoffed. He hadn't romantic love in five hundred years and it wasn't going to start with his prisoner. No, love was foolishness and he had a plan to follow. It was nothing more than mild interest. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Weren't you the one who called him my toy only minutes ago? That's what he is, no more, no less."

"Whatever." Dust didn't elaborate and grabbed a small bottle of light purple liquid off a shelf. He held it in front of Ribbon. “Here, drink this. It’s an anesthetic that will numb your nerves and make you drowsy so you won’t affect the surgery. It'll even help a little with the pain, but don't expect not to feel it. I can’t use a syringe because I'm goin' to drain your blood out. I also can’t use a mask because I might need to access your mouth again. It tastes like berries if you're wondering.”

Scrunching his eye sockets, Ribbon held the glass and took a cautious sip. He drank the rest in seconds. He gulped and slowly closed his eyes. Dust chuckled. “You’ll like being a real doll, Ribbon. There are pros and cons. It’s goin' to be a lot harder for you to feel pain, but it will also be harder to feel any touch. Your new body won’t break easily or get fractured. You're losin' a lot of organic matter, so certain types of healing magic won’t work on you. But you’ll only need to heal injuries; you won't get sick. Oh, and you can’t swim anymore so be careful around water. Keep your umbrella around. Blossom or whatever the fuck you named it.”

Nightmare had the urge to pet Ribbon's head again, but he held back to avoid more comments from Dust. “If he isn't able to be around water, how would I clean him if he became dirty? I don't want my doll to be covered in filth."

“I got a container of chemicals that doll makers use to clean their models. It looks like yellow paste and all you have to do is dip a rag in and clean off the stains. It got good reviews."

Dust shoved a gag into Ribbon's mouth, making sure it was tight and secured. It made him shift out of his drug-induced trance, but he otherwise remained calm. The mad scientist looked up at Nightmare. "Alright, we're ready. Pass me the bone saw."

Nightmare picked up the long and sharp device with his tendrils, setting it in Dust's hands. He took it in his hands and ripped the sheet off the other table with his telekinesis. Nightmare shook with giddiness. Ribbon's new body was even prettier than the sketches showed. The torso was more human-like than skeleton-like, but he didn't care. His limbs were all ball-jointed and smaller than his current ones, thin and still powerful. Dust even included his tattoos, only instead of swirls, they were now flowers. Tulips and buds with leaves to be exact. The face plates were loose, but Nightmare had a rough idea of how they would look once they were attached to him.

Finally, the procedure started. Dust sawed back and forth on Ribbon's right leg. He set a towel underneath beforehand, but it was already soaked more than it could handle. Ribbon scrunched his eyes and bit down hard on the gag. He was able to make quieter noises like purrs without the string being pulled, but he couldn't scream. The leg finally broke off, clattering against the operating table. He repeated the process with the second leg. Nightmare stroked Ribbon's head with a tendril to calm him, blue magic glowing from the tips. He took another towel and dried up the blood on his now legless body.

Dust exchanged the saw for a sander, then he worked on rounding out the bones. He set that down and levitated the left leg over to the work table. The enchanted needle broke through the leh's material with ease and attached it to the bone. Realistically, it was impossible to remove every piece of bone without killing Ribbon. It was close enough for Nightmare's taste, the bone would be hidden. His new legs were thin and graceful while his foot was tiny with pink felt soles. Dust sewed the second leg on, flexing it to make sure the movements were correct.

As Dust worked on his legs, Nightmare started with his arms. Sawing the limb off, he kept a close eye on Ribbon's face. The medicine seemed to be doing its job, keeping him still. He was as easy to break as stained glass. Something was charming about Ribbon laying limbless in front of him. He looked so helpless right now. The blood didn't bother Nightmare as it simply mixed with the malice on his body. It was embarrassing to admit, but it took him longer than Dust to figure out how the sander worked. Nightmare found the trick and rounded out his bones, listening to Ribbon's quiet moans.

Dust finished up on his legs and grabbed a small saw and hammer. He hacked away at Ribbon's pelvis and ribs. Nightmare stared at his new legs. The limbs had an interesting detail added to them. They tightened at the knee joints and ankles, giving the illusion he was stuffed and stitched.

His arms had the same details as his legs, both the tattoos, size, and stitching details. They lost their ‘muscle’ and grew soft and adorable. However, they were off-proportion with the rest of his body, so Nightmare adjusted. He followed Dust and cracked his shoulders to make them less broad. Ribbon’s sobbing grew a little louder as blood trickled down his body. A pool on the floor, dripping blood from the table. He must’ve lost at least a gallon by this point.

Dust finally chiseled Ribbon's pelvis into the shape he needed. He switched his hammer out for the regular saw and worked on his ribs. He sawed each one off and tossed each of them in a bucket on the floor. The loud scratching filled the room. The dripping of blood, cracks of bone, and cries of Nightmare's toy followed. It was perfect. Nightmare found a sort of sick pleasure amongst the grotesque mess.

Ignoring the pity in the back of his mind.

All his ribs were detached. The bucket overflowed. Nightmare sped up the process of drying the blood by laying his tendrils on the mess and soaking it up. Ribbon's black blood mixed better than he expected with his malice. Dust looked up in surprise. "Ergh . . . thanks, boss."

“You're welcome." Nightmare responded. "Tearing apart the body of an innocent is fine for you, yet you are disgusted by me using my magic?"

“No, that was just weird. It makes some sense that your powers mix with ink blood, but still . . . I can't believe he's cryin' this much." Dust took a deep breath. He levitated the torso over. This part was especially interesting to Nightmare. The damage of Ribbon's ribs and his lack of soul was too much for his body to take. So instead of magic consumption, he had new clockwork 'organs'.

"Boss, lift him up for me." Dust spoke as he held the back part of Ribbon's new torso. Nightmare lifted Ribbon as much as he could with the restraints holding him down and Dust slid the piece in. The only thing separating his body was a ball joint at his waist, between his chest and hips. The new open space made it easy to place the new organs inside. Each was made out of a light metal. He had a stomach, lungs, a magic compartment, a heart, and other necessary organs. They functioned off the magic compartment. It would work as both a battery and to fuel Ribbon's powers. Gears filled the space connecting the organs.

It was the process that took the longest, roughly forty-five minutes to complete and get right. To make up for the loss of blood, Nightmare and Dust stuffed Ribbon with thick wads of cotton. His arms and legs were filled, and so were bits in his torso. But eventually, it was done. No one would ever know about the damage to his ribs. Would Ribbon even need the corset anymore? He didn't believe so.

Dust levitated the top of the torso over along with the massive needle. He stabbed the needle through Ribbon and sewed the top and bottom shut. He went all the way around, stopping at his shoulder. Ribbon's breathing shook and his face was wet with tears. Nightmare didn't notice until now, but at least six inches were taken off his height. He was so little now . . .

"His face . . . I'm not lookin' forward to this. Let's start with the eyes." Dust picked up a pair of mechanical eyes from the table. They were both round with functioning lids. They still looked like eye lights, but they were much stronger. The gradients and sparkles in them were prettier. "Sorry, Ribbon. Say goodbye to your color-changing pupils. You're stuck with lilac glitter now."

This time, Dust grabbed his knife. He walked up to Ribbon. The doll stared at him with dazed pupils, a look of fear and confusion in them. Dust blinked without emotion or empathy. He stabbed his knife right through Ribbon's left eye light. Blood splattered across his face and he made a weak cry. If it weren't for the string box, it would have been a scream.

For a brief moment, Nightmare had the urge to push Dust aside and hold Ribbon until it was over. He wanted to give him comfort. He buried the thought in his mind and destroyed it. He wasn’t going to go soft over a mindless toy, no matter how much pain it was in. Nightmare turned his back on Ribbon’s pleas and whines.

His crying died down and Nightmare turned around. Dust meticulously hooked the wires up so his eyes would work. They blinked at random and looked around in flashes. Nightmare leaned forward, curious. He pried one of them open for a closer look. Yes, they would no longer change color, but they didn’t need to. They were immaculate, though the movement was odd. They turned with the stiffness of a robot. Also unlike his previous eye lights, these had white rings in the center. He lost more of Ink and embraced more of Ribbon every moment. Nightmare couldn't be happier.

"Done. Great, the rest of his face . . . I'm goin' to need help here, boss." Dust wiped his face with his bloody hand.

Nightmare leaned over the table and nodded. "Of course. Tell me what you need me for." Ribbon bled from his shoulder still, but this time, no blood came out. Instead, it was fluffy pieces of wool. Nightmare took a piece between his fingers and squished it.

Dust held out one of the plastic as his face contorted and turned into plastic. Ribbon had Ink's somewhat angular features, but not anymore.

The two worked for another hour. Nightmare chiseled Ribbon's nasal bone down into a petite button. He added the plates where they were due. Dust carved away the bone above his eye sockets to make them larger. Then the plates helped round them with a slight downturn, almost like eyelashes. The sharper points faded away. Nightmare filed chin and jaw down, rounding out his skull. He placed plates and stuffing into his cheekbones to make them rounder and softer. The top of his head was sawed off by Dust. At this point, Ribbon didn't have much blood to bleed, so it was easy to fill his head with cotton. Nightmare chuckled, he's used that metaphor with Ribbon before. Correction, Ribbon used it as a term to describe himself after Nightmare told him. Oh well. He could no longer adjust his eye shape. Between his larger eyes and smile, it all fit into a permanent look of cheerfulness and innocence.

After a few more adjustments and sewing, the room went dead silent. Not a single crack or scream sounded. The blood spectacle was over. The remaining blood dried and the room went as silent as a graveyard in the night.

Ribbon didn’t make a sound.

Dust flipped the lever to release the restraints and touched his limp body. He searched for a pulse on his neck, then checked his chest. He paused, moving his hand farther up before letting out a sigh. “He’s alive, just passed out from the surgery. Boss, listen to this.”

Nightmare lay his head on Ribbon’s chest. A faint rhythmic beating and the sound of clockwork came from within. He had a mechanical heart among other parts.

“Listen, we only have one part left. We need to seal the transformation for good." Dust removed his gloves and used telekinesis on the toxic vat. Nightmare examined Ribbon as he did. He was built to be on a shelf, to be nothing more than the art piece he was. His frame was so weak now and his face already shined, though have been from tears. His tattoos were completely symmetrical. He thought back to what Dust said earlier, about Ribbon struggling with touch. That . . . excited him. He would be so sensitive, he would need him to give him warmth and comfort . . .

Ribbon really was beautiful.

Dust picked Ribbon up with his magic and walked over to the vat. He had to climb on a ladder to be able to look into it. Nightmare followed, keeping a close eye on the two of them. The liquid smelt revolting. It reminded him of sour milk. He knew it well as no one in the sixteen hundreds had a competent way of storing milk. It even looked as such. Dust hovered Ribbon's limp, comatose body over the vat. He cast extra magic by Ribbon's mouth and nose so he wouldn't lose his airways.

Dust looked at Nightmare. "Are you ready, boss? There's no comin' back from this."

Nightmare stared at Ribbon for a long moment and nodded. "You have my permission.

Dust shoved Ribbon into the vat of porcelain. Bubbles emitted from the top of the liquid. So he was breathing. Dust stared intensely into the vat, muttering the seconds to himself. Nightmare checked his pocket watch for the time. It was too long. Nightmare used his tendrils as a boost to make himself taller and look inside the vat. Dust, release him out of there. That is an order. NOW!"

With a quick pull of magic, Ribbon flew back up to the surface. His body dripped with liquid porcelain, thought parts of it were already beginning to dry onto him. He shined like a treasured vase. He looked like something expensive to own. Nightmare's breathing caught in his throat.

Nightmare used his magic to create a drying rack out of malice. Dust lowered him onto it and sighed, taking his mask off.

Nightmare approached Ribbon as he lay on the rack, being sure not to step on the blood or porcelain. He was lighter than before and far more attractive, a balance of practical and pretty. His hands were folded over his chest like a maiden in a fairytale.

“When is he ready to be returned to the castle?" Nightmare finally asked. He had a strange undertone to his voice that not even he could identify.

Dust shrugged his lab coat off and stared at Ribbon's body. "Um . . . tomorrow probably. He's like any art project, he had to dry. And I have to clean up this mess, who knows when we'll need it again. I need to make sure Ribbon won’t dust or begin to fall down and melt. We can return soon, but I doubt he will be ready for battle. He won't even be able to walk yet. It’s going to take another few weeks before he’s back to normal."

"Oh . . . well, any work I have tomorrow can wait. I'll come with you here." Nightmare brushed Ribbon’s cheekbone one more time before walking out with Dust. He left his doll to spend the night alone. But at least he wouldn't wake up until late tomorrow so he never knew.

“Thank you for the cake, moon bun! Are you sure you don’t want any?”

“No, no, it’s your birthday treat. Enjoy."

Nightmare and Ribbon sat on a blanket in Silenceswap. They went to the bakery as planned and ordered a Funfetti cake with buttercream frosting. It was a tiny cake, but that meant it was perfect for Ribbon. Afterwards, Nightmare took him to his private spot. He set Ribbon in his lap, his skull resting on his chest as he ate his cake. The candle lay burnt. Nightmare wondered what he wished for.

Ribbon was so soft to cuddle with his new doll body, like a living stuffed animal. He had a breakdown once he woke up and realized the surgery wasn’t a bad dream. He immediately apologized afterward, saying he loved his body. He struggled in pain for the next three days as he relearned how to use his limbs. Ribbon could maneuver it now, but with difficulty.

“Do you like your new body?” Nightmare touched the plates on Ribbon's face that made up his new cute look. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the cake crumbs off his face. Nightmare made him wear the white blouse and baby blue suspender dress for a reason. It showed more of his body and he couldn’t get over how cute he was in it.

Ribbon smiled and giggled as he cleaned his face off, nestling into him. It was a real smile, not the one where he had no choice. “Well, if you’re happy with it, so am I!”

“I’m very happy.” His hand ran down his slender plastic thigh. “How did I end up so lucky to have you? You’re such a sweetie . . .” Nightmare overwhelmed him with affection. Soft kisses, gentle touch, and sweet nothings. He told him how well he took the pain, how pretty he looks now, and how lucky and proud he was to have him. Ribbon took in all the affection, kissing him back and purring when Nightmare rubbed his head. It was the only place his nerves weren’t numbed and he could feel the full effect.

Nightmare’s fingers ended up touching the clear stitches holding his skull together. They’d fade away in time, around a month or two, but they were still fresh and noticeable. Ribbon cried out in pain.

“Sorry, it still hurts there. And here. And here. And here too.” Ribbon pointed at certain spots on his body, all were the stitched points.

Nightmare kissed his temple as an apology. His body was still so sensitive, especially his torso. The change from ribs to a defined form with mechanic organs was unnatural and his body wasn’t used to it. He made his movements more gentle and soft. The repeated soothing motion calmed Ribbon down.

The dark king stared up at the stars. Everything was exactly as he planned. His weapon was ready, now he needed Dream. He would send Ribbon to attack him and he had confidence he would kill him. Then Nightmare would destroy Ribbon and keep him in his room as a trophy as he ruled over the Doodlesphere.

He thought back to what Dust implied, about him seeing Ribbon as more than a tool in a plan. Nightmare scoffed. Dust was a senseless mortal. He wasn't dating either, where did he have the right to judge his boss? Yes, Nightmare was affectionate with Ribbon, but it was all to keep the act up. His feelings were the same as they had been when they had started. Ribbon was precious and adorable, but Nightmare felt no love.

He would never go soft and weak, no matter how sweet, beautiful, submissive, or perfect he was.

Noot: I think I may have taken this a tiny bit too far-

The entire multiverse: WELL NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.

Chapter Text

Ribbon still wasn’t used to having plastic and porcelain instead of bones. The stuff in his head and his clockwork organs were the parts that felt weird. But not in a bad way. No, it made everything feel right. It was hard to explain, but he felt like he wasn’t . . . alive.

It was scary at first, waking up and feeling nothing but numbness. At least, he thought it was numbness. He couldn’t feel his body, but it was also as painful as a pounding headache. Then multiplied by twenty. His eye sockets had dry ice shoved in them and his mouth and throat were as dry as Dust’s sense of humor. And why was everything so bright?

He woke up in the same lab but in a different room. Instead of the surgical equipment, he lay on a wire rack, like the ones he used to put paintings on. It took a few blinks to adjust to the lights and sounds. Bandages wrapped around his entire body, but most of them were on his face. Probably because it needed the most with the implants Dust put in, he only had enough space to breathe and see. He wasn’t wearing any clothes, but he couldn’t feel the cold air like before. Ribbon buried himself deeper in the blanket he found himself in, which he also couldn’t feel. He flexed his fingers, which were longer and smoother than he remembered. They looked like pretty gems. Porcelain, that’s what it was! He remembered!

His first thought was that he died in the chamber and didn’t get to say goodbye to Nightmare. What were the chances of him surviving a crazy surgery to make him a doll? Nada. Zilch. Zero. He didn’t want to be dead, not without Nightmare! He needed him!

But an hour later, Nightmare walked in, kissed him, and told him that everything went according to plan. The thumping in his chest was a mechanical heart and clockwork organs. And the brightness was his new eyes adjusting. It made him upset knowing his color-changing eye lights were gone, they were a huge part of his identity. But Nightmare said his lilac ones looked much prettier. Hearing that relaxed Ribbon because thought he was bordering on uncanny valley. His facial features were all off in little ways. He had massive eyes, his cheeks were round and puffy, and the new white pupils were . . . interesting. He was more machine than skeleton, around ninety to ten percent. Wait, person was the wrong word. Ribbon wasn’t a person.

Not anymore.

Any argument that he was a person was gone. He had the body to prove he was a pretty toy and no more. He got a better look at it later. His athletic and slightly muscular physique was completely gone. Instead, he was delicate, thin, petite, and pretty. According to Dust’s tests, his DNA was altered to fit the new traits. He reminded him of the new weaknesses that came from his new body. No more teleporting through paint it seemed.

Ribbon couldn’t tell if he loved or hated the changes. No, it wasn’t even a contest. Loved. He loved all the changes. He was a doll, his skeleton body was all wrong! This was the way he was supposed to look all along!

Now, he sat in his bedroom, stitching away at a dress as Nightmare filled him with his paints. Ribbon’s new back had a compartment to open and pour his paint into, which Nightmare did. He filled them one by one and Ribbon shivered with each emotion. He sat on his knees in front of Nightmare so it was easier to access. His teeth chattered since the back of his dress was open and exposed. He was so cold all the time, but at least Nighty was there to warm him back up.

“I wish I could make you a soul, my sweet lamb.” Nightmare said as he corked a vial. "It would be much easier to tend to you with. But there are some things even my magic can't accomplish."

Ribbon pulled his string. "That's okay, Nighty. You did more than enough!"

“True, you're immaculate down to your voice,” Nightmare said. "It was only one time, but your singing is so beautiful, it fits your face. Don't you agree?"

The doll tilted his head in confusion, looking backward at Nightmare. “Mm hm, agree. But why are you bringing up my singing?”

Nightmare took the tiny screwdriver and sealed Ribbon’s back. He buttoned his dress to close it. “Well, since your body is finally perfect, I believe it’s time for more people to see you. I want to . . . show you off as it were. I’ve always had a fondness for musical theatre. This won’t be exactly that, but close.” His hand caressed Ribbon’s cheek. Ribbon purred. His cold skeletal hand felt weird against the already cold porcelain, but not bad.

Nightmare snapped his fingers and a sheet of paper appeared by Ribbon's side. The doll set his sewing project aside and picked it up. Phew, it wasn't written in Nightmare's cursive. The letters were dark and clear. He didn't recognize the song, but it must have been good if Nightmare wanted him to sing it in public. Would there be a lot of people?

"I did this surgery just for you, so could you do this for me? Learn this and sing for me, please?" Nightmare's voice was silky and smooth as he caressed his cheek.

Any touch from Nightmare melted Ribbon's will to resist, and he was really touchy these past few weeks. Ribbon folded the sheet up and purred. "I'll learn, I promise."

A week later, they left, and Ribbon couldn't tell what AU they were in. The sixth sense in the back of his mind was gone for good. Was it because of that sphere he destroyed? Ribbon gulped, looking up at Nightmare as he held his hand. He still didn't tell him about that. Should he? But he would get angry, he's been so nice recently and Ribbon didn't want that to change. Nightmare didn't deserve to be upset.

"Don't be anxious, I can assure you will be fine." Nightmare whispered to him. They stood in the dressing room of some fancy nightclub. They went in through the backdoor, so Ribbon didn't know what the main place looked like. The walls were black with blue details. A blue rug lay on the floor and a vanity was set up with lit light bulbs.

"Ooh . . . pretty." Ribbon looked around the room in awe. He heard the sound of music and talking muffled through the walls.

Ribbon took off his coat and got dressed quickly. Nightmare wanted him to wear something more revealing so he could see his plastic body. He chose a baby blue dress with a ruffly skirt, separated sleeves, and stockings with platforms. His collarbones and shoulders, along with most of his ball-jointed legs. A matching blue bow was pinned to his skull. His tying wasn’t as good as Nightmare’s, but it was hard to notice.

But Nightmare noticed and he fixed it. After, he crouched down and took a plain brown box off the lowest shelf. He gave it to him. Ribbon opened the box and set the lid aside, his limbs tingled as he took the item out of the styrofoam case. It was a brand-new silver microphone in a glittery pink band. Ribbon tightened his grip on the cold handle; it was cordless. It had a little heart engraving and the letter R in cursive. It shined like the porcelain on his body. It was one “Thank you, but Nighty . . . you didn’t have to spoil me. This looks really expensive . . ."

Nightmare chuckled. “Money isn’t a problem, I'm a multi-millionaire. Besides, I want you to perform often. I think you and your demeanor will excel at it."

Ribbon stared at the microphone for a long moment, then he set it down with a smile. "Well, if it's not a big deal . . . thank you." Ribbon picked up a brush and covered his cheeks with pink blush. Ribbon tugged at his neck, messing with the heart charm. His throat locked up again. “Are you sure nothing will go wrong?"

“I'm more than certain. No one is going to recognize you, my little doll. You don’t look, sound, or act like the guardian they remember. The only thing they could identify you by is your mark. Dust and I both decided it would be nice to let you keep it.” Nightmare tapped at the paint splotch on his cheek. “But that can be fixed. Hold still for me.”

Nightmare shook a spray bottle of concealer and poured it on a makeup brush. He took it when the black bristles were white. He held Ribbon’s chin. Ribbon couldn’t help but giggle as the brush tickled his cheek. It took a few strokes to cover it completely. When Nightmare stepped back, Ribbon looked at his reflection in the mirror. If you weren’t looking for it, you would’ve never known he had that mark. He also realized that was his last defining feature. He didn’t have his color-changing eye lights, his rainbow tongue, or even his ability to vomit paint anymore. For a brief moment, Ribbon wanted to bolt out of the room, and he didn’t know why.

Nightmare set the paint aside and looked over his work. He reached a hand out to pet him, but pulled back. "There, that’s better. The paint is washable, so you can have your precious tattoo back when it’s over. Oh, and speaking of over, I have a fake name and backstory for you to use when you're on stage. I can’t call you Ribbon for . . . what I hope are obvious reasons. So, you will be introduced as Ribbon Eve Adela. Pretty, isn't it?"

Ribbon listened to it and nodded.

“Good, you're making this much easier.” Nightmare looked at Ribbon over his shoulder and shrugged. “Because I've also decided that is going to be your permanent name. It sounds much nicer."

Adela. Ribbon repeated the word in his head. It had a ring to it that made him sound like a princess. “I'm okay with that."

Nightmare bit his lower jaw to repress a smile. "You're easy to please. I appreciate that about you." He took the microphone off the vanity and handed it to Ribbon. "Now follow me, I'll lead you to the stage. Don't forget to bring your parasol with you."

Ribbon squeezed it and nodded. Nightmare cupped his cheekbones and kissed him before walking out. The doll followed after him like a puppy. He twirled his parasol in one hand and gripped his microphone with the other. He tried to ignore his building anxiety.

His boyfriend took him to a door with a heavy padlock. Unlocking it, he opened it to a strange room. The walls and floor were black with blue diamond marks on the walls. A silver pedestal sat in the middle of the wood floor. Bright spotlights shined at the top. Someone was talking up there, must have been the maintenance crew. Ribbon sat on the pedestal when Nightmare pointed at it. He turned his microphone on and breathed into it to get a feel.

“Cross one leg over the other, hands on your lap, sit up straight, smile, there we go. Good doll.” Nightmare adjusted his hand with his tendril so his parasol was open. "Perfect. Now wait there, the curtains will pull back when I'm ready. Stay still and don't say a word." Nightmare turned around and left.

Ribbon listened and stayed still in the dark, spinning his parasol from boredom. Nightmare had already trained him not to blink or breathe often, so not moving was easy. It was even easier in his new plastic body, which didn’t need to breathe. He did have a set of lungs made from stretchy plastic, but they weren’t necessary for his automation. Were they?

Ribbon didn't have much time to experiment as the music cut and everything went silent. Nightmare cleared his nonexistent throat and tapped the microphone. Or that’s what Ribbon thought. He went by hearing alone. “Now, is this working? Good. Thank you everyone for coming tonight. It's been an . . . interesting last few months. I've been busy with further " Nightmare chuckled and it stirred a laugh from the crowd.

The curtains pulled back. Ribbon sat up straighter on his pedestal and smiled into the crowd. Their stares and oohs made his fingers clench. Their faces all blended together into a dark mass. A dark mass of judging hungry eyes that looked like they would-

No, good dolls don’t get stage fright. He wasn’t scared. He looked down at Nightmare, who gave him a coy grin.

Nightmare paced back and forth and kept talking. “This is Ribbon Eve Adela, the newest member of my team and a rare case. He was a monster abandoned in his timeline, unfinished, and with several damaged bones. I found him on a mission and couldn't help but take pity on the poor little thing." Nightmare pinched his porcelain cheek and shook him. Ribbon giggled. "Look at him, he was frankly pathetic. But I could see that heart and potential inside of him and I took him under my wing." Nightmare morphed two of his tendrils into a giant wing and wrapped it around Ribbon's back.

“But it isn't the same if I'm the one talking for him. For as perfect as he is when he's silent and obedient, it doesn't feel the same compared to him doing it himself. So . . ." Nightmare stepped off the stage. "Let him take over for me."

The lights flashed off until it was only focused on him. The speakers blared the start of the song he had been practicing and practicing for a while now. Ribbon slipped off the pedestal and curtsied, spinning Blossom around and opening it. Some of the audience whispered. Nightmare crossed his leg over the other backstage. Ribbon looked to him for reassurance and he winked. Then he melted across the floor into the front row.

With a deep breath, Ribbon began to sing on his cue. The song was an old-fashioned ballad that Nightmare liked and thought would fit him. Ribbon didn't understand the historical context behind it at all, but it did sound pretty. It took him forever to learn how to crescendo, but it worked great with his high-pitched voice. He followed his dance steps as he practiced, even getting help from Nightmare. It wasn't that much different from how he fought. Ribbon twirled and bounced on his feet.

The doll thought he recognized one of the people in the back. It was a gray kid with pitch-black eyes, staring at him with their hand over their mouth. But then he blinked and they were gone. He looked around for the kid while keeping his dance going. Where has he seen that kid before? Their name was on the tip of his tongue . . .

No, he couldn't worry about that now! He was going to mess up! He almost lost his footing. Ribbon spun around on his heel and broke into the chorus. He closed his eyes to try something out. He pretended to be in the great hall instead of here, which helped a lot. Singing was a blast and he loved it, but he didn't like the crowd. He would love to do a private performance for Nightmare. Honestly, that would make all this better. No loud sounds, no big scary crowds, no new places. Ooh! Or if it was for little AUs that they destroyed! He was sure he could convince Nightmare to do it! Ribbon beamed and reopened his eyes at the thought, but then he spotted that child again. This time, their hollow black eyes looked angry. Or dissappointed? Ribbon couldn't tell, but it was bad. They shouldn't have freaked him out so much.

Ribbon shuddered as he lost his footing. He jumped back on the stage to try and hide it. He flashed back to the audience and looked down at Nightmare. He narrowed his eye at him. Nightmare’s voice echoed in his head clear as day.

Ignore the child. Keep. Singing.

So Ribbon kept singing and did his best to look like he knew what was going on. He twirled and danced like a puppet on strings. Because he couldn’t feel, Ribbon didn’t get tired, but he did close his eyes as he waited for the music to finish. It had to be over soon, it was the bridge! One more verse, he could do one more verse. He stared at Nightmare as did it. Come on, do it for him. He rested his skull on his hand and stared up at him. Was he . . . blushing? His face was bright teal with a proud smile. Ribbon smiled back at him.

The music finished with Ribbon taking a bow and the song hitting a loud sudden note. The crowd erupted into applause and Nightmare stood in the center of it, clapping slowly. The curtains closed and Ribbon took a deep breath. He slipped out the back, ready to relax.

Ribbon took his fuzzy coat off the hook and wrapped it tight around his shivering body. His teeth chattered as he drank down a bottle of water. Wool was nowhere as warm as blood was. He was grateful for everything else in his transformation, but he missed having blood. He wondered if it was intentional so he wanted to snuggle more often. Nightmare said before that he liked it was he was sweeter. He took a moment to cool down the adrenaline rushing through his body.

They loved him, they adored him, and now everyone in the multiverse would know his name.

Ribbon left the dressing room to try and find Nightmare. Instead, one of the monsters grabbed his chin and jerked his skull to the right. Wait, did he recognize him as Ink? Was he going to take him away? Ribbon fidgeted, trying to fight back until his arms went weak. It’s like he forgot how to fight and was stuck in a damsel-in-distress mindset. “Hiya, cutie. Where did Nightmare get a toy like you? You're so adorable. Wonder if your boss will be up for a deal-”

“Not for sale.” Nightmare’s tendril wrapped around his neck and slammed him against the wall. Something cracked that Ribbon guessed was his ribs. Nightmare grabbed the monster by the ankle and head and ripped him apart. The monster's screams went quiet and Nightmare looked back at Ribbon. He brushed the dirt off his cheek as the monster dusted behind them. “Traitor, I had good relations with him, shame. And it's a shame the cleaning staff has extra work to do." Nightmare shrugged and stared at "He won’t be touching you again. No one is allowed to touch you.”

Ribbon hugged him in relief. Did Nightmare blush again? He couldn't tell. “Thank you, moon bun. I . . . I didn’t know what to do.”

“I understand. I believe you've had enough for one night. I don't need anyone else making a pass at you." Nightmare's voice sounded bitter and jealous. Ribbon couldn't help but get flustered. He sounded protective and it made him feel safe. The monster's blood dripped down the wall and if that was anything to go by, he was in good hands.

"Thanks, I kinda want to go home too . . ." Ribbon didn't resist as Nightmare grabbed him by the shoulder and led him outside. But as he did, he saw that gray child that almost ruined his performance, staring at him with an empty look. They sighed and turned away, fading into thin air.

Nightmare didn't want to do another show yet, so he did the next best thing. He let Ribbon go with him on a duo mission to corrupt an AU. Epictale was a lot different than Birdtale. Instead of the green grass, wood buildings, and cliffs, it was futuristic cities. Tall silver skyscrapers, shiny buildings, and modern landscaping. He liked Birdtale better.

Ribbon's dress was stained with the blood of the monsters in the apartment building he took over. He stabbed all of them on sight but kept them alive so Nightmare could corrupt their souls. He worked his way up the building and cleared it out. Nightmare was going to be so happy.

In one of the apartment rooms, something caught his eye. Ribbon picked it up from the corner, it was a bunny plush. Sweet! Another one to add to his collection! And it was one of the ones with shiny eyes too! He didn’t know why he had the urge to protect and collect stuffed animals, but it was there. He never cared about them before. Now cutesy things made him squeal with joy. He named it Sprinkle.

Ribbon tucked Sprinkle into his bag. He checked the rest of the apartments and only found a few monsters. He killed them and moved them into hiding, making sure he didn’t make a mess. He peered out the window into the destruction. It was so dark outside with Nightmare's corruption, but Ribbon wasn't scared of that. Nightmare would never let it infect him. Ribbon ran out of the apartment. He wanted to tell him about the bodies in the apartment, which was around sixty-three total. He had to be close because he sensed a strong aura.

“Epic, I’m so sorry for all this.”

Ribbon froze as he recognized the voice. Dream? Dream was here? That had to be why he felt more bouncy than usual, his aura. The doll lowered Blossom and peered behind the ruined building.

Dream didn’t look so good. His eye sockets had dark bags and his magic was dim. Two other skeletons fought beside him. The first must have been Epic. He kinda remembered him. The neon one made his heart hurt, though it took him a minute to remember who it was. Fresh. He seemed different, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. His powers? Fresh shot waves of bright rainbow paint to the broken buildings. They wrapped around the broken buildings and fixed the broken patches. The missing rock pieces glowed neon green and then settled into the same color as the building.

“Nah, bruh. It wasn’t your fault your ass of a brother came.” Epic karate kicked a corrupted monster and smacked a second with a rubber chicken.

“But you still don’t deserve your world destroyed!" Dream protested. "Oh, I should’ve gotten here earlier and I could’ve saved this world!”

“Cross was right, you have some self-esteem issues," Epic grumbled.

Ribbon couldn't stop watching them. He didn't even notice the hand clamped around his shoulder until Nightmare leaned down by him. Ribbon flinched and. "Hi!"

Nightmare raised a brow bone at him. “Spying on your friends, are you?"

His tone sounded like it was a bad thing. Ribbon hung his head, half expecting a hit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was curious."

"Oh, I'm not mad at you for it." Nightmare let go of his shoulder and watched beside him. Dream, Fresh, and Epic talked between hits, but Ribbon didn't understand what they said. Too much other noise, screaming, buildings falling, and the corrupt getting crushed. Nightmare narrowed his eye light, wrapping a tendril around Ribbon like a piece of armor. He pulled him closer. “My sweet, would you like to give your old friends a surprise?”

“They’re not my friends.” Ribbon hid the little growl in his voice. Why would they be? They abandoned him! They left him for a better person, but they still left him!

“Your old acquaintances.” Nightmare looked back out. "I have an idea to get revenge for you. Follow my lead."

Nightmare and Ribbon snuck around the back of the building. Dream panted as he kicked and slashed malice monsters. He jumped back every time the negativity got too close and kept them away from his friends. Epic was faring better. Ribbon thought it silly how he fought with a rubber chicken, but now he was scared of him. He was fast, really fast. He also fired Gaster Blasters to fight off monsters. Fresh covered monsters in paint and confetti. He used his baseball bat to smash the skulls of monsters.

Dream shot an arrow to fight another sludge monster, but the air stilled. The monsters stopped moving, the remaining monsters stayed still. Nightmare waved his hand and held Ribbon's with his other. He covered his mouth with the tip of his tendril.

“What the bruh?” Epic crouched down, poking a Froggit, half covered in malice.

Nightmare wrapped his arms around Ribbon and they melted into the ground. Nightmare could see, but Ribbon was stuck in pitch black. Four rivers of darkness combined into an X shape. In the middle, Nightmare formed with Ribbon behind him. Ribbon hid behind Nightmare, not moving with a huge grin. Nightmare examined his hand, ignoring the destruction around him.

“You know, if you wanted to give your big brother a visit, all you had to do was ask. It’s far more polite.”

“Nightmare!” Dream barred his short swords. “Take your corruption and hate-filled heart and leave this world!

“Hush, dear brother. It’s not as bad as you believe. I’m improving this world with negativity and claiming it as my own. A form of salvation, if you will.” Nightmare tightened his grip on Ribbon’s hand. Dream narrowed his eyes and Epic scoffed in offense. Nightmare chuckled. “Oh, and I brought you a little surprise.”

Epic stepped closer. “And what surprise is that, bruh?”

Nightmare glanced over his back and swayed his middle and pointer fingers. Tentatively, Ribbon stepped out from behind him with Blossom in hand. Nightmare kept a tendril around his waist to keep him safe. Dream covered his mouth and teared up. Ribbon felt his soul beating and his positive aura from here. Fresh lit up and his glasses flashed INKY!, but it turned into shock as fast. Epic scrunched his face and tilted his skull. “Who the heck is-”

“Ink! Oh, thank the stars you’re alive! You’re okay!” Dream ran to him with his arms outstretched. Ribbon panicked and slashed his parasol in the air. Fresh’s glasses changed to DANGER and he reached a hand out for the guardian.

“Wait, Dream-brah! STOP!”

Chapter Text

Dream’s joy and happiness faded as soon as he slammed into a wall of black paint. They fell onto the broken road, rubbing their head and staring at its height. The wall shook and splashed over him, Fresh, and Epic like a waterfall.

Dream spit the thin bitter paint out of his mouth. He resembled his twin more than he liked. He looked up with shock. “Wha- what was that for?”

Ink broke into laughter, except . . . it was all wrong. Not just because he played a cruel joke, but his laugh didn’t sound like his. Ink should have snorted and sounded carefree. Instead, he had a quiet giggle and he hid it behind his hand. Laying on the ground, Dream started to notice other strange things.

Ink showed no signs of being in pain. No limping, no bandages, no bruises, no scars, not even fear of his captor. He appeared more uneasy about Epic, Fresh, and him.

Even with his positive aura, something else was amiss. He was too healthy with the circumstances. He also looked more diminutive than Dream remembered, at least with a thinner waist. Was he shorter or was Nightmare taller? Ink stood in perfect ballerina stance with an uncanny smile that never faded. In fact, his entire face was too round and soft. And the artist’s outfit . . . Nightmare had to have forced him into it. Ink would never wear those lavender bows and that lacey white dress unironically. Dream didn’t process it at first since all he saw was his best’s friends face. Only one person in the multiverse had that cheek mark. Maybe Ink had scars and bruises under the white fabric. He had to be hurting somewhere.

Then he saw the worst of it. His eye lights. The lilac hearts and white pupils replaced them. Lilac, pink, bows, the bows around his waist and on his head.

Wait, bows . . . oh stars. Bow. Bow.

Dream went cold and he felt like an idiot. Everything clicked into place. It was like working on a puzzle but not knowing what the picture is until you find the last piece. Core warned them about this not long ago. Killer lied and faked Ink’s death, he was with them all along. But yet, he was left with more questions. Most began with Why?

He turned to Epic for his input, but he disappeared. Fresh was as stunned as he was, hiss aura was almost heartbroken. Dream prayed to the Creators that Epic had some common sense and ran through the portal. The guardians should handle this, not a mortal who isn’t experienced. He looked back at Nightmare and Ink. Nightmare crossed his arms and a smug smile plastered across his face. Dream scowled at his vanity and cruelty toward Ink.

Dream blinked to make sure he didn’t imagine this. “Ink, your clothes. . .”

The artist looked hurt, picking at his frilly sleeves. His voice sounded different too, higher-pitched and soft, it was adorable. “Is something wrong with them?”

“Of course not, my little doll.” Nightmare reassured. He ran a hand down his skull. Ink closed his eye sockets in ecstasy, leaning into the touch. Dream cringed. “You look adorable. Dream is just dense and doesn’t understand the new you. Nor what we have.”

“New . . .” The Guardian of Positivity trailed off. He refused to believe what the last sentence implied. Fear filled his mind, shutting down all logic. He barely held his anger back. “Nightmare, what have you done? What did you do to him? WHAT DID YOU DO TO INK?”

Ink answered for him. “He fixed me!” His smile didn’t match his words, as if his twin did a good thing. Dream went nauseous. The sleep deprivation had to be affecting him. Yes, this had to be a bad dream. This couldn’t be the real Ink. He couldn’t be in love with Nightmare. He couldn’t have killed for him. He took him prisoner!

It’s true. A dream wouldn’t be this detailed. It’s an undeniable aura., but he can be saved.

Dream took a deep breath and held out his hand. He hoped for him to see it as a sign of peace. “Ink, listen to yourself! I don’t know what Nightmare told you, but he’s lying! He’s messing with your head! He’s using you! Look what he’s done to you!” Dream gestured at his . . . everything. He tried not to cry. “He didn’t fix you, he made you worse!” It came out harsher than he intended it. Ink lowered his head and stepped behind Nightmare, taking hold of his tendril. His little whimper broke Dream's heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Nightmare pinched his nasal bridge. “Now do you see why I kept you in the castle? I told you they’ll hurt you for being my partner.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Dream protested. “What I'm trying to say is that you’re not . . . his. You’re your own person. Nightmare has no right to treat you like this! You’re not a doll! Oh stars, Ink please! Snap out of it!”

His brother shook his head. “More lies, for shame. Is it so hard to understand-” He paused and gained a malicious grin. “Oh, is a demonstration what you need? You always were a visual learner. Come here, my angel.”

The artist obeyed with a smile and stood in front of him, bouncing on his heels. At first, Dream didn’t understand what was happening. Nightmare wrapped his tendrils tight around Ink and lifted his chin to face him. He caressed Ink’s cheek. Otherwise, he stood still as stone. His eye made contact with his twin’s, conveying a thousand words without uttering one.

Now show Dream who you belong to.

Ink threw himself at Nightmare, cupping his captor’s cheekbones and kissing him. Nightmare pulled him into a low dip, still locked into the kiss. Any possibility that Ink may have been feigning vanished. He wouldn’t fake his happy aura. Nightmare wrapped his hand around the back of the artist’s skull. He hadn’t stopped glaring at Dream, smirking as he fed from his disgust and horror. It was like a car crash. The guardian couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. He gripped his swords and Fresh followed with his bat.

They stopped when a sound resembling a lightning bolt crashed in the distance. A Gaster Blaster appeared behind Nightmare and Ink. Purple flames flicked and flickered in its eye sockets. Jacket blowing in the wind, Epic stood on top of the blaster’s skull. He gagged and looked like he wanted to vomit.

“Are you kidding me, bruh? You destroy my home, kill my friends, and I leave for eight minutes only to come back to you snogging Inkblot? The hell . . .” Epic shrugged. “I got other things to worry about. See ya.” Epic snapped his fingers and shot the blaster. Nightmare wrapped his arms around Ink and he melted them both into the ground. Dream’s heart stopped as he thought he had taken Ink away again. But then he sensed a strong negative force behind him. He turned around and slashed Nightmare’s tendril aside with his sword. Nightmare retracted his tendril, glaring him down as he kept an arm tight around Ink. Ink clung to him like he was the last good thing in his life.

“Inky brah, let go!” Fresh shouted. Dream could have sworn he saw a purple tendril peek from under his glasses. It vanished and he snapped his fingers. Four furbies surrounded them. Nightmare blocked the explosion by covering both of them in a shield made from his tendrils. Dream still didn’t understand. Was Nightmare protecting Ink? His arms were tight around his frail form.

Scowling, Nightmare snapped his fingers. Ink twitched as if a button was pressed in his mind. He flipped his parasol into a fighting position. He looked to Nightmare, who pointed his finger at Epic. “Fight that one, I’ll humor Dream. You can do it, my sweet Ribbon.”

Epic paused at the name. “Woah, woah, what did you just call hi-?”

Before Epic could finish, Ink charged with the parasol. Nightmare melted into a puddle of sludge and mixed with the shadows. Dream held his daggers out as he watched for any sign of movement.

Ink and Epic clashed. Ink danced, staying light on his feet and gliding around Epic. It would have been beautiful if not for the circumstances and the blood on his dress. Epic brought down his rubber chicken and Ink twirled away. The chicken squeaked.

Fresh launched his first attack at Nightmare, who shot at him from the shadows. A hurricane of rainbow paint and confetti pushed Nightmare back. Dream combined their swords and fired an arrow at their brother. Ink had a strangely potent amount of positivity as he fought Epic.

Nightmare waved his hand and harnessed the malice surrounding the area. The monsters corrupted in the Code Purple rose from the dead and crawled close. Dream slashed them aside, muttering apologies as he cut the heads off each one. Fresh bashed them with his baseball bat.

Ink blocked off paint and blaster beams with his parasol. Epic jumped on broken building parts and eyed Ink. Ink kept watching Nightmare with a nervous glance. Epic found the highest platform he could and jumped off with a scream. He had his rubber chicken ready and close to Ink’s head.

But in the last second, Nightmare threw Epic aside and blocked Ink off. Epic made a safe landing. Nightmare turned around and cupped Ink’s cheeks. Dream, Fresh, and Epic took the chance to duck behind the debris of the building. They panted and looked at each other.

Epic peeked up from the rocks. “Hm . . . ooo-kay, bruh. I see a good shot. I can throw a bone and it should go straight threw Nightmare and we can grab Ink. I don’t know what’s going on in his head to stay with that guy. Look at them!”

Epic sharpened a bone attack and watched for the two. Nightmare didn’t notice as he fussed over Ink, cleaning grime from his face and cooing. Dream leaned over to Epic and whispered. “Now, please.”

Epic threw the bone with all his fury. Ink looked up as Nightmare tended to him and gasped. “Nonononono, Nighty look out!”

Jumping in front of Nightmare, Ink blocked the attack with his body. The bone lodged through his chest. He didn’t make a noise as if he couldn’t feel it, but he stumbled and twitched. Nightmare caught him before he hit the ground, sitting down and holding him. He lay his hand over his head and used magic to put him to sleep. With extreme gentleness, Nightmare sat down with Ink in his lap, stroking his skull. Dream, Fresh, and Epic ran over. Nightmare glared at them, but he turned it into a charming smile.

“By the way, I forgot to ask, do you like him so far?” Nightmare readjusted Ink so his arms wrapped around his waist. “It took a fair bit of trial and error, but he’s a fast learner. He was so fun to break, both physically and mentally. He’s adorable when he begs, you should hear him.” He brushed his cheekbone. “Not a single defiant thought in this little head . . .”

Epic stared with an unreadable expression. “Bruh, what is wrong with you? I mean, what is actually wrong with you?”

Nightmare frowned. “How rude, you didn’t answer my question. I assumed you would love the new Inky. He’s gone from a pest to a sweet, obedient doll. I washed away all his annoying habits and replaced them with polite manners. I recall you hate how arrogant and loud he was. Well, now he’s humble and silent. He loves being my servant. He- oh, I have an excellent idea. I will allow you to keep him for a few days and see how much better he’s become. Once that time is up, I will return to bring him home.” He lifted Ink with his tendrils and dropped him at Dream’s feet.

Dream kneeled and rested his sleeping friend’s head on his femur. He wondered what kind of torment or spell Nightmare put him through to make him so submissive. He glared at his twin. “Whatever you did to mess with his mind, we’ll free him from it. We’ll tell him you handed him over. We’ll tell him what you truly see him as.”

Without turning around, Nightmare said, “And who do you think he’ll believe? The love of his life? Or the person he believes abandoned him? You should be more grateful, brother. I usually hate sharing my toys.” With that, he melted into a puddle of darkness.

Fresh eyed the shaking beams. A pipe snapped and whistled. Rumbling sounded from the ceiling. “Come on, brahs! This joint is going down!”

Dream found he could lift Ink with no trouble at all. He never could before. Epic grabbed Dream and Fresh’s arms and snapped his fingers. He teleported them to the Omega Timeline portal. The building they were in collapsed not a moment later, dust covered the air in a black and gray blanket. Black negativity devoured it. Fresh reached his arm out and twisted it, changing the location of where the doorway would take them. His portal abilities were stronger after becoming the Guardian of Creativity. They jumped through the entrance.

The four skeletons appeared in a small white waiting room with wooden bookshelves. The Omega Hospital. Core and Blue chatted at a round table. Blue’s left eye socket was bruised and forming a small scar. Core’s hair was burned at the tips. The knight caught sight of the skeletons and waved, pausing mid-greeting as soon as he saw the mess.

“What happened to you guys?” Core peeked up at the unconscious body in Dream’s arms. “And- oh my stars, is that Ribbon?

“Ribbon?” Epic and Blue asked at the same time.

"He's Nightmare's most recent hi-" Core stopped. Dream’s fingers slipped, revealing Ink’s paint mark tattoo. Core went pale. Their aura was consumed in shame and guilt.

“Oh, um . . . so why are you covered in malice?” the child asked, looking everywhere but at the three skeletons.

“A lot happened . . .” Dream admitted. They were hiding something, but it wasn’t important right now. Ink was in critical condition. “Don’t worry. This isn’t malice, this is paint.”

Epic took Ink from the guardian’s arms. Ink shifted so he nestled into his jacket. “We’re going to need to heal him and check for extra injuries. Most of the scars seem psychological, but who knows what else that creepy octopus bruh did to him.”

Core nodded and the two talked over medical procedures as they entered a hospital room down the hall. Dream and Fresh joined Blue at the table. “How did saving Underfell go?”

He perked up when Dream mentioned his mission. “Not bad! They didn’t believe me at first. Red thought Core and I were looking for attention and cussed at us. But once he saw the corruption, he helped me out! But forget about that, what happened with Ink? What did Nightmare do to him?”

The three skeletons summarized their adventures. Underfell Frisk gave Blue a cinnamon bunny as a thank you. Blue and Dream split the treat, Fresh didn’t want it. It tasted and smelled like spice, butter, and brown sugar. Dream didn’t realize how hungry he was and devoured the snack in seconds. His magic was running low. Despite that, he still healed Blue’s bruise.

“That’s . . . wowie.” Blue said once Dream and Fresh finished their story, exchanging parts. “When Core and I were fighting the Murder Time Trio, they said something about a ‘special surprise’. I thought they were messing with us. I never would’ve guessed they meant Ink! Bow is Ink?”

“Mm-hm.” Dream ate the last of his cinnamon bunny. “Nightmare did something to him. Toture, or some magic. He was acting so strangely and. He acted like he loved-”

The screaming started from down the hall.

Dream shot up and was about to check it out as Core ran down the hall, bracing themself on the corner. They panted and rubbed their arms. “Dream, Blue, Fresh, we need your help. Now. It’s Ink. He woke up, he’s strangling Epic, nearly broke half the bones in my body, and- don’t stand there, get in here!”

The Stars shared a concerned glance and followed them into an emergency room. Epic and Ink wrestled on the concrete floor. Anti-Magic cuffs around his wrists forced Ink to rely on physical strength. Epic huffed as he pinned his back to the ground. The artist struggled as much as he could, yipping and tearing up. Epic made his movements quick. He flipped around, lowered Ink’s wrists behind his back, and brought them both standing. Ink tried to kick him. Epic forced him on his back onto the hospital bed. Core held his arms to the banister, which turned out to be a laboring task.

“No, no, NO! Please, you don’t understand! I’m not Ink! I’m Ribbon! I’ll do anything you want, just give me back to Nightmare! Please! I belong to him!” Ink wailed and kicked. His face dripped with tears. His aura burned with agonizing fear, but strangely, he didn’t stop smiling. “Nighty, save me! HELP!”

Dream watched, paralyzed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It stung his golden apple soul to see his friend suffering this way. Blue found his strength first and summoned two magic wristbands to hold down the artist’s arms. Fresh snapped his fingers and used confetti-infested paint to hold down his legs. Core exhaled in relief. Ink wailed louder. The sound helped Dream refocus. Ink needed him; Dream would worry about his obsession with his twin later. Removing his glove, Dream rushed over and placed his glowing hand over the artist’s foreskull.

“Shh, it’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe now, it’s okay, it’s okay. Calm down, that’s it. Breathe in, breathe out, nice and slow. I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Deep breaths. Focus on the sound of my voice and nothing else. Relax. Go back to sleep.” Dream rubbed Ink’s cheek with one hand, trying to soothe him.

Ink stopped thrashing and began to settle down. But he fought against the magic and Dream was weak, so he sobbed harder at the touch. “Stop . . . stop it. Hands off, liar.”

Liar?

His negative emotions pulsed strong enough so Dream couldn’t put him to sleep. Thankfully, Core was three steps ahead of him and wrapped a clear gas mask over his face. Ink tried to fight the sedative too, squealing in protest. His attempts fell fruitless as Core turned the machine on. “I’m sorry, Ink.”

He fought, his eye sockets fluttered, and his arms slumped against his sides. Even if it was only for a little while, he was at peace.

The sudden silence was haunting. No one spoke for a full two minutes, instead sharing looks of question and worry. Fresh didn’t look away from Ink. Dream had imagined what Ink’s return would be like before, even in his wistful fantasies. None of them involved this level of fear, horror, and crying.

“Phew.” Core’s voice was quiet. They wiped their forehead with a sleeve. “What in the world was that about? Why was he crying for Nightmare to save him?”

“This is what I meant by ‘long story’. Nightmare . . . brainwashed him. To what extent I don’t know, but he’s madly in love with him,” Dream said.

They looked over at the artist. Now that he was up close and away from danger, they could see some of the physical effects of his brother’s ‘care’. His face was beautiful, along with the rest of his body, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And that made Dream clench his teeth. He doubted Ink consented to having his body mutilated like this.

Dream took a white towel from the counter and gently wiped Ink’s face. He intended to dry his tears, but the surface revealed itself pink. A streak sliced across his left cheekbone, blush. “Why is- is this makeup?”

“Bruh, if Nightmare’s got him in dresses, why are you surprised he went for the full sugar-and-spice look?” Epic brushed his fingers against his bruised neck. He flicked the heart charm around his neck. Dream thought it was part of his dress. “We’re going to need some permanent restraints, at least for his arms. Otherwise, he’s going to kill someone. Seriously, all I did was try and hook him up with an IV and his murder mode was on. It wouldn’t go in for some reason.”

Blue released his magic. “He does have trypanophobia, but that can't be it. I think I have something that could work! I'll be back." Blue ran out of the room, his smile twitching the entire time.

Dream finished cleaning Ink's face, but not before he heard a sound like a china plate against a table. He tapped Ink’s eyelids.

Clink clink.

No . . . no, Nightmare couldn’t have been that cruel.

Dream forced the tip of his finger under Ink’s left eyelid and lifted it. It was certainly plastic. His whole face glimmered with a porcelain covering, not bone. He ran his hand down his neck, resting on a pull-string charm again. Dream gave it a pull and his snores became more audible.

Core's face was grim. "That’s a voice box. I don't know how he even managed to do it, it should be medically impossible."

"Only one way to find out." Epic undid the buttons on Ink’s blood-stained dress, adjusting and lifting his body to slide it down. He tugged at the bone through his chest. “Could someone lend me a hand and fetch the magic stabilizers? They’re clear and in little vials.”

“Of course.” Dream walked across the room and found the medicine. Core helped him. Fresh stood between them, watching Epic and Ink. His aura was a mix of disappointment and sadness, not too different from how Dream felt. Epic pulled Ink's dress off and shimmed it down to his waist. He paused.

“Holy. Shed.” Epic’s voice sounded tight. “I figured out why the IV didn’t work.”

Dream carried the syringes over and Fresh peered over to view Ink’s now-exposed body. His breath caught in his throat; it was so much worse than he was expecting. No wonder the bone hurt so bad and he had such a little waist. The attack didn’t hit his ribs, it broke through thick plastic and porcelain. Ink had a feminine human-like torso, not a skeleton’s bones. Fluffy stuffing fell out of the battle wound like blood would. In the center of his chest was a dark crescent moon brand. Nightmare turned him into some twisted arts and crafts project.

Core stood on their tiptoes to see better. They pushed their hand to their mouth and gagged, turning away. “Oh my stars, I’m going to vomit.”

“I don’t blame ya. Oh, thanks, bruh.” Epic took the vial and opened Ink's mouth, slowly pouring it in. The stabilizer medicine was usually delivered in syringes, but they couldn't do that. He took off one of Ink’s white lace gloves. A ball-jointed plastic hand was underneath. “I’ve never seen something like this, same as you Core. This type of body modification shouldn’t be possible. He should be long dead. Back in medical school-"

“Ya went to medical school?” Fresh interrupted.

“Yeah, I have a medical degree and a robotics degree. I went a few years ago for personal reasons.” Epic grinned mischievously. “Okay, where was I . . . oh right. Back in medical school, we learned a bit about artificial limbs. But this is something else. There's gotta be some magic involved in keeping him together. He should've died from blood loss when he cut off his arms."

"Nightmare must have found away around that . . . I don't know how." The guilt returned to Core's aura and they looked out the window instead.

Dream noticed Core’s strange behavior. “Core, you looked nervous earlier. Why was that? No one is angry, we just need to know. It could help him. Did you know Ribbon was Ink?"

"No, I didn't." The child hung their head. “Two weeks ago . . . I went to this show outside a Mafiatale variant. I could sense the unnatural activity and it was Nightmare showing Ink off. He called him 'Ribbon'. He gave a speech and then made him sing. I knew there was something off about that whole thing, but I didn’t know it was Ink! His paint mark was covered and he didn’t look like him at all. He was wearing a dress like that except it was blue and more revealing. His voice was so high-pitched it sounded nothing like him. Nightmare made up this story about how he found 'Ribbon' in an abandoned timeline. I feel bad I didn’t do anything but watch."

Dream set their hand on their shoulder. "Don't feel bad, none of us would have known either. Nightmare tricked the entire multiverse into believing Ink was dead and we believed him. We're not calling him Ribbon, we won't let Nightmare win like that." He looked at Ink with his hand still on their shoulder. "But just to be safe . . . can you check Ink's mind? In case Nightmare put any spells on him to hinder his healing."

"Sure . . ." Core removed their hand from Ink's head. They looked at the others. “The test worked. . . . do you guys want the good news or the bad news first?”

Dream tried for a hopeful smile. “The good news first."

“The good news is that whatever Nightmare did improve him. Ink has stronger abilities, senses, and stats than he did before. His ATK and DEF are up almost twenty percent.”

Fresh grinned. “Dat's all great! What’s da bad news?”

Core looked guilty. “Everything that isn’t that. It says his mind has a history of spells, but it does not say which type. Nightmare could be seeing through his eyes for all we know.”

Epic glanced at Ink before tearing off a spare piece of bandage and wrapping it around his eye sockets.

“He was weirdly weak." Epic pondered aloud. "I’ve arm-wrestled Ink before and we were an even match. He won too. That was the night we went skating and he went missing. But I crushed him this time. His arms have almost zero muscle on them. And not just because we’re skeletons, bruh.”

Dream rubbed Ink's head and crouched down, pressing his skull against his. "Can you fix this and make him himself again? Or . . . or is this permanent? Will he live?"

Epic leaned back and crossed his arms. “That’s what it looks like, bruh, he'll be stuck as a weird porcelain doll. But if he’s made it this far and can fight as well as he did, he’s going to be fine. Now the conditioning on the other hand, that needs to be rid of as soon as possible, once he calms down a little.” He snapped a pair of medical gloves on. “Let’s get this taken care of and I’m going to see my brother and check on my girl buddy, Undyne. Her girlfriend, Alphys, died in the corruption and she’s not doing well. Also, I could use a cookie break, I'm still not over my AU getting destroyed."

Dream hesitated with a breakfast tray in his arms. He’s volunteered at the hospital several times before, but this was the first that made him nervous. He opened the door to Ink’s hospital room, only a crack. Ink was fast asleep. Dream dropped his defense and the corner of his mouth perked up. Ink always was the one who slept in the longest. He could almost imagine everything was right again.

His wrists were bound with the white plush straps Blue brought. So far, they succeeded in keeping him from fighting and/or injuring himself. His legs were also tied to the bed with matching bands. The guardian disliked they had to restrain him at all, but they were soft enough and tied with comfort in mind. It was the best for everyone.

Setting the tray aside, Dream took advantage of his sleepiness to check on his bandages. The ones on his torso were secure and healing nicely. Little smiley face bandages covered his arms and neck where he was test-injected. Dream made the mistake of shifting his t-shirt to see his torso better. Ink’s eyes flashed open. He hissed and Dream pulled the heart string so he could speak.

“B-back off!” Ink cried. His struggle was weak and slow from drowsiness. “Please don’t touch me, sir!”

Dream did as he asked and retracted his hand. Ink shuffled away as much as he could. Fear and anger clouded his aura. He didn’t like anyone, but he had extra apprehensiveness for Dream. He wished his friend wasn’t so scared. Dream shivered, though his jean jacket and sweater should have kept him warm.

“Okay, I won’t touch you, I’m sorry. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’.” He thought he saw a look of confusion cross Ink’s face. Despite the outburst, Dream tried for a bright smile to increase his positive aura and calm his fear. “Are you hungry? The croissants are fresh-baked!”

He shook his head. “No thank you.”

“Just one bite? Please? You haven’t eaten anything in days! You’re going to get sick!”

Ink stared at the food for a long time, ravenous hunger shining through his eyes. He flicked his head away.

Dream sighed and left the tray on the side table. Ink refused to give up his hunger strike. A nurse tried to spoon-feed him the first time he awoke and the only thing he consumed was a panic attack. Crying, flailing, and all. He wouldn’t take any painkillers either; the medicine terrified him more than the food. Core has also tried to force-feed him and he bit their hand hard. Dream thought of using a tube, but with Ink’s new clockwork organs, it would be too risky. They didn’t know how they functioned. Since nothing worked, he decided it was best to wait for Ink’s permission. The guardian pulled up an armchair from the wall and sat beside his friend.

“If you want to help me, I kinda want these bands off.” Ink tugged at his wrists. “I swear, I’ll be good! I won’t fight this time. Please?” He gave him puppy-dog eyes, which were both cuter and more uncanny with the body modifications. “Please?”

Dream looked away. “I can’t do that.” He wanted to. He wanted to so badly, but he knew Ink was lying. He’d make a break for it, run away, and harm someone in the process, maybe even himself. “I’m sorry, it’s for your own good. Once the pink paint wears off, we’ll remove them. I promise. You’ll be able to see clearly.” Ink’s sad smile made Dream feel guilty. “But if you want, I could bring you your sketchbook and some crayons so you could draw while we talk. Blue and I kept it and the rest of your drawings. That way, you would be free and have something to focus on, but I can still keep an eye on you. I would also need to put the restraints back when I leave, sorry. I know you must be bored from doing nothing in this room. I would be too.”

He laughed to lighten the mood, but Ink didn’t join in. On the contrary, he looked more miserable. “I don’t want to draw, all I want is Nightmare.”

Dream stopped laughing and Ink sunk into his pillows, his aura miserable. The two remained quiet for a long time.

Dream carefully planned some questions. It may have been for nothing. Ink remained silent every time he was asked a question, especially if it was about Nightmare. But he had hope with the paint losing effect. One of his old village friends once said something like, ‘If you want to sell a lie, tell them what they want to hear’. Could the same logic apply here?

With a deep breath, he broke the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you see in Nightmare? I know you love him, but how can you fall in love with someone who kidnapped you?”

The artist looked offended. “Nightmare didn’t kidnap me! He asked me on a date. He offered to let me live in his castle as his boyfriend and I said yes. As for why I’m in love with him . . .”

For the first time since his rescue, Ink’s eyes sparkled, filling with life. “Everything, he’s a masterpiece. He’s smart, caring, handsome, mysterious, has an amazing voice . . . I could go on forever. Sure he’s a bit overprotective, but he only means to keep me safe. He made me better and stronger, he wouldn’t protect me if he didn’t care! And he makes me feel special and understood like I’m the most important person in the Doodlesphere. Then there’s his aura. Sounds weird with it being pure negativity, but it’s addicting to be around. I can’t get enough of it! No one else makes me feel the way he does.” His eyes frowned and he looked away from Dream. “I miss my Nightlight.”

Dream froze. He hadn’t heard that nickname in years. Technically centuries, but he didn’t count the time he was frozen in his stone prison. ‘Nightlight’ was the nickname Dream gave his twin when they were children. Nightlight and Daydream. If Nightmare told Ink about the nickname, he must have put a lot of trust in him. Maybe he did see him as something more than a weapon. He didn’t know which option was better. It wasn’t even close to the worst aspect of his answer, but it was the part that disturbed him the most.

Dream decided to keep getting answers while Ink was talking, not risking the chance. “Did he ever hurt you?”

Ink narrowed his eyes, which looked more sinister than angry. He seemed to panic. “No! He never hurt me! Not once!”

Dream’s expression turned firm. “Ink, I know you’re lying. This all started after I didn’t push you to talk, I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll even take a yes or no answer. Did. Nightmare. Hurt you.”

“. . . he’s hit me a few times, but not recently! And I deserved every single punishment! I was too dumb to follow his rules even though he made them easy to understand. And my name isn’t Ink, it’s Ribbon!”

“He hits you?” Dream’s heart hurt. He pressed his jaw together. trying to keep his temper calm. He would let his anger toward Nightmare out in another way, not in front of a traumatized Ink. “Ink, you don’t deserve to be hit by your partner, no matter what you did. You’re not a masochist, I know you. You sometimes joke about pain, but you don’t want it. And for stars’ sake, you are not dumb! What about the dresses? Did he force you to wear them?”

“No! I’m a doll, and dolls must wear dresses, otherwise I’m doing something wrong. He likes it when I wear cutesy things. I like them too, they’re comfy. Nightmare says I look my best when I’m in skirts and bows.”

Dream fiddled with his thumbs. That didn’t sound like Nightmare’s taste at all. Nightmare loved the gothic aesthetic. What twisted game was he playing? “One last question.”

Ink squirmed in his spot. His aura was full of shame. “On that first day, when you were crying and fighting, you called me a liar. Why is that?”

Ink raised a browbone like it was a joke Dream didn’t understand. “You- you know why.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“You do,” the artist said with gritted teeth. It wasn’t in an angry way, more fearful. “Can I ask you a question, sir?”

Dream smiled. “Of course! You know you can ask me anything.”

“Why do you care so much about what happened to me? I don’t get why you’d think twice. Nobody cared when I disappeared, you left me. ”

“Nobody care- that’s not true at all! We stopped searching for you because Killer gave us your scarf and told us you were dead!” All the built-up stress from the past few months tumbled out of Dream. He raised his voice. “I thought you were being used as a living training dummy or kept as a slave! But I never could’ve guessed that you- that you became so . . .” Dream gestured his hand around, unable to find the words. He eventually gave up. “Everyone misses you and we need you. The Doodlesphere has been falling apart without you protecting it. no world is safe from Error or Nightmare. Fresh, Core, and I are patrolling it, but it’s getting more difficult each day. So many monsters and humans are losing hope thanks to the constant Code Purples! They’re getting worse and more violent! Come on, Ink, I know you’re still in there. Buried under brainwashing and lies, but something in you has to hear me. Please. We’re friends, remember?”

For a brief moment, something in Ink’s expression changed. Regret? Realization? Embarrassment? No matter the emotion, the artist was lost in his mind, his eyes resembling a child who made a grave mistake. Then he hit himself against the headboard again, hard with each word. “Idiot! You’re so weak-minded! Gullible! Bad doll! Bad doll!”

“Stop that!” The guardian took the round pillow from his armchair and set it between Ink and the headboard. He’d need something more permanent if he was going to keep this up. “You’re not any of those things! You’re just confused right now, and that’s okay. We’re going to help you get better-”

“I’m stupid for believing the lies of a brother killer!” Ink halted as Dream went still. “Nightmare told me everything. I know all about that mysterious past of yours. Your naivety and selfishness got him bullied and turned him into a monster. And then you were using me to get stronger by taking advantage of my magic. And-and everyone took advantage of me! Everyone knows I’m as dumb as a rock. Nightmare rescued me from you!” He shook with a crazed look. “All of you . . .”

Dream was speechless. Nightmare had to have exaggerated the story, he knew he did, but it still stung. He couldn’t believe Ink’s self-esteem was this low. “I-”

“Don’t answer that! I hate you, Dream! I hate you so much! You don’t care about me! You just want to manipulate me like everyone else!” Ink thrashed in his restraints and started to wail.

The Guardian of Positivity didn’t know what to say. He wanted to take his pain away but didn’t know how. He couldn’t fix this problem. He slowed his breath down and sighed. He stood up and trudged toward the door. The handle was freezing in his hand. He resisted the urge to look back at Ink. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.” He opened the door and crashed into another skeleton.

Dream and Fresh both fell into the white hallway, Dream on top of Fresh. He rolled off. The parasite rubbed his head and Dream readjusted his jean jacket. He had no disdain towards Fresh, but he was hoping no one would be out here so he could have a good cry. His head pounded and he rubbed his eye sockets.

“Sorry ‘bout dat, Dreamboat! How’s Inky-brah?” Fresh asked as he stood up. He kept his word and didn’t tell anyone Ink was alive, other than the nurses, doctors, and a few of their friends. The artist’s condition was too unstable to be known to the public.

“Um . . .” Dream peered back into the room. Ink still shook, cried in hysteria, and muttered something to himself. Something with the word monsters. If he kept his behavior up, he would need to be sent to special care. Dream shivered at the thought of Ink in a straitjacket. He would hate it, it would terrify him more. Dream turned to Fresh. “He’s not doing well. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, sorry. We had an argument and . . . we were both hurt.”

Fresh frowned and he stared into Ink’s room. “Still? Geez, he’s been a real downer . . .”

Dream sensed his aura and set a hand on his arm. "He'll get better. Core and I are working on getting him therapy so he can remember who he is. He's just a little confused right now, it will be fine. Come on

Fresh looked back at Ink's room one more time and decided to follow Dream. Ink would have likely started crying again at the sight of him. They walked through the hospital hallways. A few doctors and nurses walked past, continuing business as usual. Their footsteps echoed through the sterile hall.

How could this happen? How could everything go so wrong? It was all too much. First Ink’s disappearance, then the drop in positivity, then the corrupted worlds, and now this. Dream wanted everything to return to normal, for his brother’s sick game to end.

And it was all his fault.

He was the reason Ink was abducted, tortured, and brainwashed. He was the reason all those worlds and innocents died from corruption. He was the reason everyone was suffering. It was all so Nightmare could steal the last golden apple. If he gave him what he wanted, would the darkness go away? He looked up at Fresh.

No, he had to stay positive. Smile for the others, give them hope.

He and Fresh made it to the hospital lounge. It was white with a few black seats and small tables. Visiting hours have been restricted since Ink showed up, so it was empty except for one person. Core Frisk sat alone on a chair, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. They read a book written in Wingdings. As leader of the Omega Timeline, they had special privileges. They sensed Dream and Fresh before they opened either of their mouths.

“Is Ink still- oh no, something happened,” Core noted, wiping a spare chocolate drip from their face. Bandages wrapped around their right hand where Ink bit them.

“No, I-” Dream sighed and wiped his eye sockets as he sat on the chair beside Core. They were met with a wave of dizziness. “Yes, something happened. Ink hasn’t stopped asking for Nightmare. I coaxed a few answers out of him and he said some . . . hurtful things.”

Core set their book down, suddenly looking concerned. “What did he say?”

“He explained the dresses and why he loves Nightmare. It’s because . . .” He felt sick remembering Ink’s worshipping look and couldn’t finish the thought. “Stars, he has Ink wrapped around his bloody finger. He can’t think about anything else but him."

“And he was shakin' and cryin' in dere. I'm all up and talkin' with him, but he didn't make a peep, so I dipped!" Fresh leaned against the chair with his hand on the armrest. His arm grazed Dream and he paused. Fresh patted the sides of his cheekbones. "Hol' up. Dream, ya burning hot.”

"I am?” The guardian placed a hand on his forehead. “Strange, I’ve been feeling cold all morning. Now that you mention it, I’ve had this weird dizzy headache too. Maybe I should drink some water.”

Core watched him with concern. “I can get some for you if you want to lay back a while. You’ve been working non-stop.”

“Thank you, but it’s no trouble. You shouldn’t need to-” Dream collapsed onto the floor, barely catching the table. His head swam and ached; his throat hurt. The whites and grays of the lounge merged. His teeth chattered from the unknown source of cold.

“DREAM!” Fresh and Core each caught one of his arms and dragged him back toward the couch. The guardian didn’t resist as they pushed him on.

“I can sense your magic is unstable.” Core said, clenching and unclenching her hands. Dream didn’t argue. "I need to grab a thermometer so you-"

"No need, gotcha already." Fresh snapped his fingers and a painted thermometer. He tossed it over to Core. They almost missed it, but they caught it.

“Oh . . . thank you. Dream, open up.” Core stuck a thermometer under Dream’s tongue. A few seconds passed before they pulled it out. Their void-like eyes went wide. “Holy stars, you have a fever of a hundred and seven! Dream, you're very sick! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Dream heaved air and tried to steady himself, preparing for a dizzy spell. “Because . . . I didn’t think it was that bad. And it isn’t. Ink and Nightmare are much more important, especially Ink. He needs us, he needs me.” He sat up with his cape loosely hanging over his shoulders. “I don’t have time to rest. I have so much work to do and-”

“Nuh-uh!” Fresh pushed him back down. “Ya can’t get any sicker than ya are now. Da multiverse will be fine, I can watch it! Y'all keep forgetting I'm a guardian and have radical superpowers now!”

“That's true . . . okay.” Chuckling, Dream had to admit, he was quite tired. He lay on the couch and let sleep take him within minutes.

He awoke to a dark hall. A massive glass window graced the back of the room and showed a rainy night. The decorations of flowers and white silk banners suggested a party of some kind. Or an event. A glimmering chandelier dangled from the ceiling.

But despite the breathtaking interior, signs of a recent battle littered the place. Bones stuck out of the rubble from the walls and ceiling. Blood and clothes were scattered about, even a broken Gaster Blaster head. Nightmare's malice dripped across the room. Dream realized he was standing in his castle. Muffled screams sounded from the hall behind him, but he couldn't make out any voice in particular.

Core Frisk stepped through a white portal. Their face was frozen in shock like they witnessed a traumatic tragedy. They weren’t paying attention to where they were walking and almost hit one of the bones. They frowned until they saw what was hanging on it. A dark blue scarf. Core took a shaky breath as they stared at the scarf in their hands.

“Core . . . help!”

The child looked around the room and spotted Cross trapped under rubble and sludge. He shivered, beaten and bleeding. His body was covered in scratches, scars, and burns. His left hand was caked in a hard layer of malice. Dream fought as hard as he could to reach for and comfort him, save him. But he couldn’t move or offer help.

Core ran over to his side. Cross’s ribcage was broken open and he lay in a pool of blood and grime. His fingers twitched.

“Cross, where’s everyone else? Where’s Dream? Where’s Epic? Blue? Or Error? Is he . . . dead?” Core asked as they crouched down beside him. They held up the scarf.

Cross groaned and tried to shift under the rocks. He moaned and fell back down. “They . . . Nightmare took Blue and Dream. They said something about Error, but I didn’t catch what they said. Sorry, kid.”

Core stood still, their dark eyes staring into nothing. Their coordination was off as they tried to lift the fallen pillar off of Cross. Their nine-year-old arms couldn’t lift it. Glancing between Core and the archway, Cross gritted his teeth. “Leave me here. One of them is going to be back any second and-”

A clatter rattled from behind Core. Core looked up and before they could react, they were slammed against the rock with blue magic. Horror held his hand out and chuckled. He wore a ripped black suit, unlike his usual jacket. Core struggled and pulled for their freedom, but it was no use. Horror slammed them down again and knocked them out. Cross screamed.

“Lucky . . . day.” Horror grinned. He breathed heavily. “Boss . . . is goin’ . . . be happy about this . . .”

The scene changed. The ruined castle was gone. Instead, five skeletons and a human child were held in a dungeon. They all wore silver Anti-Magic cuffs on their wrists, pulsating with purple magic. Blue tried to lockpick his way out of the cage. Cross kicked and punched the stone wall, not caring about his bleeding knuckles. Epic tossed a scrap of paper in the air as he lay on the floor. Error paced around in circles, occasionally grabbing his bars and shaking them. Core sat cross-legged on the ground, tracing lines on the floor. In the final cell, Dream saw himself, lying in the corner, thin, and bruised up. His eye lights were dim, losing strength from the negativity in the place.

“Bruh, you’re going to break your knuckles. Calm down, you’re not getting anywhere.” Epic scolded Cross.

Cross dropped his hand down to his side and sighed. He looked down at it, covered in blood and scratched bones. He slumped down on the bench in his cell. “I don't care, it's the one thing keeping me sane right now."

“Cross, please.” Dream’s voice was quiet and monotone. He barely looked up. "Don't hurt yourself more than you are now. You have to save your strength, you're already weak."

Error's fingers scratched the bars, echoing across the entire dungeon. "Don't pull that 'oh I'm so selfless and so worried about everyone!" crap on me." He spoke in glitchy falsetto to mock Dream's voice. "This is all your fault. You got everyone involved when you couldn't wait one more day to rescue stupid Ink. I could be in the Anti-void right now laughing at this but noooooo, you needed my help."

Dream narrowed his eye sockets. "I didn't make you! And I didn't mean to screw this up! I said I'm sorry a hundred times! Again, I'm sorry!"

Core stood up. "Stop arguing, all of you. It won't free us. You both have points. Nightmare will either become bored and kill us or let us go with a twist. We need to stay patient and determined."

They stayed silent and went back to their former activities. Blue almost broke his lock, but then he stopped. He cupped his hand to the side of his skull and listened.

The floor broke open beneath them, and they all fell through the floor of their cells into portals. Instead of finishing, the dream changed. Nightmare stormed through the door of what appeared to be the Omega Hall. The colors faded into monochrome black and gray. It was dead silent with only the occasional whisper of wind against the banners. He opened the door to the meeting hall. It was as empty as the rest of the desolate building, but someone was there.

Dream gasped as he recognized the variant from his hallucination back in Candytale. The other him stared out the window with a blank stare. The Omega Timeline was barren and lifeless, only zombies created from malice wandered. Dream scrunched his face at the sight of his home destroyed. How could something like this happen? The fake Dream turned to Nightmare and bowed at his presence. "Hello. Can I help you, Your Highness?"

"I do. Come here." Nightmare pointed at the ground and the fake Dream kneeled before him. The moon mark glowed brighter. Nightmare pushed his hood down and his chin up. "Did you find them, yet?"

The fake Dream shook his head. "No, but I have found some of their group members in captivity. They're set to be executed tomorrow morning. I have troops surrounding the timeline. I found out from one of them that they're after your baby doll. They're going to torture him until you step down from your throne."

Nightmare's expression tightened and his tendrils waved, almost sending the banners down. "Thank you for the information. I'm not ending my rule, but I'll keep Ribbon inside the castle until they're taken care of." He turned around. "A progress check was all I needed, you may continue your work. But next time there's noticeable gain, report to me immediately, do you understand?"

"Understood, Your Highness." Dream said. The real Dream sensed the bitterness in his voice. He didn't like that version of himself. He couldn't feel hate, but it was close."

He left Dream alone. Nightmare opened a portal to his bedroom and lay on his bed. He pinched his nasal bridge and took a deep breath. A while later, the door opened, and Ink stepped inside.

“Nighty, is everything okay? You look sad.” Ink looked like he did in his hospital room, only his outfit was different. He wore a pastel pink and white dress and a pink beret with a bow on it. He held a baby skeleton in a blue onesie in his arms. He had black star markings gracing his skull.

Nightmare sat up. He smiled at Ink as if nothing was wrong. “I’m fine, my sweet doll.” He kissed his foreskull and then kissed the baby. “How come Crescendo isn’t in bed? Is Aurora?”

“I couldn’t get him to sleep, so I thought walking around and rocking him would do it, but Aurora is sleeping. It’s working.” Ink rocked the baby. "Maybe he was worried about you!"

Nightmare watched him with pure adoration and kissed his cheek. Dream could sense the emotions in his soul, but he wouldn’t call them love. No, this was something much darker, more dangerous, more toxic.

The scene changed one more time. Dream looked around and touched a soft white cloud. The sky was a pleasant pink with droplets of purple and blue. His back felt strangely heavy. He found out he could move when he turned his head to the left and stroked the feathery gold wing.

“Daydream?”

The guardian spun around. The voice had the same British accent as he does. He turned around to a skeleton not much taller than he was. He wore a purple vest over a white dress shirt. His eye light matched his clothes. The right side of his face was a gash of melted and broken bone. Atop his skull was a gold crown with a moon symbol in the center. Dream teared up, but this time, they were tears of joy.

“Nightlight!” Dream ran to his twin and threw his arms around him. The long-lost brothers hugged each other, neither wanting to let go. Dream’s fingers traced over something velvety. Confused, he removed them to a purple feather lodged between his fingers. Nightmare had wings. Angel wings, just like his, only far larger.

“Even after five hundred years, you’re still a crybaby,” Nightmare teased. He laughed, and Dream didn’t realize how much he missed the sound. He drew back once “Hey, what’s wrong? We’re together now.”

Dread and failure consumed Dream’s thoughts, though the latter was confusing. He thought of several failures, but none of them felt quite right. “I’m dead.”

Nightmare sighed. “You did your best. I watched the whole fight, that monster overcame you. But you were brave, really brave. He tricked you, that wasn’t your fault.”

"Which wasn't my fault?" Dream panicked. He didn't know what Error spoke of, nor Nightmare now. "Please, tell me so I can fix it before it happens."

“You don't remember? Oh, well it will only hurt you if I say it. Speaking of saying . . . um . . . there’s no way I can put this lightly. Your friend, Ink was it? He doesn’t exist. His mind is so far gone that even if he falls in battle, he’ll still be Ribbon in the afterlife." Nightmare looked guilty and stared at the ground.

Dream's smile faded. Nightmare noticed and kept talking. "But not all is lost. You still have a chance to rescue him. You can do it, brother. I believe in you. Don't lose hope yet."

Nightmare stepped away from him. His boots faded into wisps of air as his voice began to trail off, slowly growing louder. Dream . . . Dream . . .

“Dream! DREAM! Wake up!” Cross shook his shivering body awake. “It’s alright, wake up. It’s not real.”

Dream’s skull dripped with sweat. Seeing he was safe and not in that horrible dungeon with bloody knuckles made him cry. He hugged him with full force.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Shit . . . that must have been a worse nightmare than I thought . . .” Cross spoke mostly to himself. He returned the hug and rubbed the back of his skull. His aura was perplexed and worried. “What did you dream about? I thought you couldn’t get nightmares.”

“I can’t.” The fact scared him. He never had a nightmare in his life, only pleasant dreams or none at all. Through the tears, Dream explained the vision to his boyfriend. He left out the part about seeing Nightmare pre-corrupted. He told Cross about Nighty a few times prior, but it hurt too much now.

“If it makes you feel any better, I doubt Nightmare would keep you in a fancy coffin for all of eternity, that’s not like him at all. I could handle a rock falling on me too.” Cross sat down and laid an arm across his shoulders as he drank it. The corner of Dream’s mouth curved up. “Everyone’s fine. I talked to Epic and Blue about five minutes ago and they told me about Ink’s . . . condition. The Stockholm Syndrome hit him hard, didn’t it?”

Dream nodded. “It’s not even that alone. Nightmare made him believe he’s a doll named Ribbon. He dressed him in cutesy dresses, altered his body, changed the way he speaks and acts, and Ink is obedient to a tee. It’s so . . . creepy. Ink thinks it’s love, Nightmare thinks it’s duplicity. But he didn’t break him, yet. I know it. The real Ink heard me! Even if it was for only a few seconds.”

“Are you sure? Dream, I believe you, but I also believe you're taking on too much negativity. You can't handle the Code Purples, Nightmare, Ink, and your mental health at the same time. It's killing your soul and we can all feel it." Cross touched Dream's chest with his finger. He pulled out his soul. It darkened from the pure gold to a dim gold, yet it still shined.

"But . . ." Dream gasped as a painful tingle vibrated through his body. The same feeling he had whenever there was a strong source of negativity. Whenever . . . him.

“Nightmare!” The Guardian of Positivity jumped as if he was shocked with electricity. “Nightmare’s back. He’s in the hospital. He has to be close to Ink.”

“This is exactly what I mean. You have that shield around the base, it's impossible for Nightmare to get in here. But if it will make you feel better, I’ll check it out. Besides, I want to see this ‘dollified Ink’ for myself. I’ll be back.” Cross grabbed his daggers and ran out of the room.

Dream stood up to follow him, but he was met with a wave of dizziness and sat back down. He put his hands together and prayed to the Creators that it was a mishap. And that he would get better so he wasn’t useless like this.

Chapter Text

“-so, we break through this portal and take out the Asgore first. Then when we take down New Home, you- boss? Hey, are you listening? You’re zoning out for the fourth time this week!” Killer shook Nightmare’s arm.

Nightmare snapped back to attention. He groaned and held his skull in his hand, replaying the conversation in his mind. The rest of the Murder Time Trio stared at him with disinterest. “Yes, yes go ahead. Be sure to stay out of sight, the usual.”

Horror raised a browbone, his single eye looking at him critically. “You’ve been . . . zoning a lot.”

“I know I have.” Nightmare’s tendrils swayed behind him as he stared at the battle map lying on the table. He looked at the empty seat by his side. He was used to having Ribbon looked at him with wonder and hold his hand as he talked. “And I apologize. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

Dust chuckled without humor, following his gaze. “You only have one thing on your mind. It’s him, isn’t it? It’s only been a week and you already can’t function without him.”

Nightmare scowled, straightening himself out. “I can function fine and I do not miss Ribbon. That’s ludicrous. I’m only worried about the plan going south. He’s so dumb he’ll believe anything they tell him. it’s why he needs me.”

“Sure. The plan, keep telling yourself that.” Killer snickered to himself. Nightmare rolled his eye light. Their laughing irritated him.

“Well, if you three are ready to go, there.” Nightmare opened a portal to the minor AU they planned to attack. “I have work to do here. Dust has the vial, Horror has our banner. Contact me once you’ve finished.”

Horror and Dust went through the portal, but Killer lingered for a moment. He hummed a mocking tune of a romantic song and summoned a knife. He dashed through the portal just as Nightmare closed it. He sighed. They didn’t understand him. Nightmare stood up.

He stood in the middle of the castle hallway, unsure of where to go. He wasn’t in the mindset to read, nor did paperwork and planning sound interesting.

He ended up opening the door to Ribbon’s room. His room smelled of vanilla and sugar cookies. It hasn’t been opened since the day he left. Nightmare walked inside. He touched the bunny plush Ribbon found on the mission. He brought it back when he gave it away. He thought he would like it. It could be a nice surprise when he returns home.

Nightmare stepped on a piece of fabric and it slid from the bed. He picked it up with his tendril out of curiosity. It was a suit jacket, but unlike the ones he had, this was a dark blue with embroidery. The sleeve cuffs were stitched with yellow and white stars. The sleeves had patches of glittering blue fabric, framed like the galaxy. Two star charms dangled from under the high collar. A limp needle hung loose with lavender thread to make what he believed was the Milky Way. It reminded Nightmare of an old myth about a weaver who could create tapestries so realistic, they seemed to move. The patterns seemed to move like the constellations they were based on.

He could only imagine how many hours this must have taken to sew. Especially since Ribbon did it by hand. He had talent, though that wasn’t surprising given he was the Guardian of Creativity. Partially, with Fresh holding most of the power. Nightmare planned to buy him a sewing machine.

The inner flap had the words Love you, Nighty! stitched in shimmery pink thread. Nightmare’s soul tugged and he put a hand over his chest. It almost hurt. The gesture was sweet like a high-quality mead. That, along with Ribbon jumping in front of an attack to keep him safe. It made him realize something. He . . . missed Ribbon. Deeply. He missed having him at his side. It wasn’t the same without him.

Nightmare scowled to snap himself out of it. He shoved the unfinished suit back under the bed. Ribbon was a doll, a doll for him to play with and nothing more. He was a replaceable object. If something happened to him, he could simply kidnap someone else and break them. He had more important things to worry about than if his toy was being cared for.

But what if they were mistreating him or telling him lies? The thought of Ribbon crying his name, crying for help, it hurt him.

Nightmare groaned and opened a portal. It was in the corner of Ribbon’s hospital room. He rested his skull on his hand and stared at him. He was so adorable when he slept. All he wanted was to bundle him in his arms and keep him warm. He wondered if Dream and his friends knew how sensitive Ribbon was to cold. They put him in a t-shirt for cripes sake, they weren't taking care of him correctly. He at least needed warmer blankets than that thin sheet over him.

The words finally passed his mind, the ones he had been ignoring and denying for weeks. He fell in love with his own prisoner.

He covered his face to hide his blush, even though no one else was in the castle. This was supposed to be a fake relationship. He had been torturing him for months and he enjoyed it. He couldn’t want to protect him now. That would make him truly twisted.

Nightmare dug his fingertips into his skull. It had been a week, but Nightmare planned to get Ribbon back at nightfall. The intrusion would prevent the Star Sanses from interrupting. And it would have more impact when they find out in the morning. It was only two in the afternoon, Nightmare couldn’t wait another eight hours to get his dollie back.

He lowered the portal and made it large enough for him to walk through. He reached his hand out and it stung and fizzled. Dream’s shield blocked his way so he could do nothing but watch. Nightmare sharpened his tendrils and slammed them into it. He threw a punch of fury. “Let. Me. IN.”

The barrier shattered sooner than he expected. Hm, Dream must have done a poor job guarding it. Or he was asleep and couldn’t focus. Nightmare sensed how weak his aura was and assumed to be the latter.

Nightmare dropped through the portal by Ribbon’s bedside. His eye sockets were closed, but not sleeping. Daydreaming. Dried tears stained his perfect face. Nightmare approached him slowly before pressing several kisses on his neck.

Ribbon gasped, hissed, and then fought until he saw him. His eyes lit up with life and he made a weak squeak, trying to reach his pullstring.

Nightmare covered his mouth with a single finger. “Shh, give me one moment. I’ll let you speak, but you need to whisper. You don’t want to alert anyone, do you?” He removed his hand and pulled his string. “I apologize for being late, my little lamb. I had to choose the perfect moment so we wouldn’t be caught. I also apologize for failing to save you from kidnapping. They tricked me and ripped you away. It will never happen again, you have my word.”

Of course he believed the lie. Ribbon lowered his voice to a whisper, but it held the same energy. “I knew you would come back! Everyone kept saying you gave me to them, but I didn’t believe any of their lies! I forgive you!” Ribbon tried to sit up, but the fuzzy white straps restrained him. “Can you please untie me? I’ve tried getting them off but I can’t.”

“Polite as always.” He undid the knots on his wrists and legs and tossed them on the floor. Once he was freed, he hugged Nightmare close, burying his face in his jacket. Ribbon trembled as Nightmare rubbed his back. Poor thing.

“Can you kiss me? Please? Please?” Ribbon lifted his head up for the request. Nightmare slipped two of his fingers under his chin and brought them together. Ribbon’s frame relaxed as he deepened the kiss; melting into the touch of the only person he loved. Nightmare adored his clinging.

Nightmare drew back, keeping their foreheads pressed together. “How much information did you give them?”

Ribbon’s aura turned guilty. “I tried not to say anything. Really, I did! I ignored all their questions until today, and even then I only said a few things. I told them how much I loved you and why I wear my dresses. Please don’t be mad!”

Nightmare held him in his tendrils. His look of fear was precious. “I’m not mad. Well, I am, but not at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. Dream did. He took you from me, locked you in this room, and forced you to say terrible things about your dear, dear beloved. You’re innocent in this.” He rubbed Ribbon’s cool porcelain arms, holding him in a tight embrace. He closed his eye for a moment, simply enjoying his company. But it was too dangerous and a waste of time to linger in the hospital. Dream must have sensed his entrance by now.

Nightmare let go of Ribbon and offered his hand. “Come on. We must return bef-” He moved Ribbon slightly and he collapsed into his arms. Nightmare peered behind him at the untouched food tray, then back to the doll struggling to stand. Since he lacked a soul, Nightmare couldn’t check his magic stability, but he didn’t need to. He knew what was wrong. “Ribbon, have you been eating?”

Ribbon wrapped an arm around his torso. “Not since they took me here. I knew they were trying to poison me, so I didn’t eat or drink anything. Thank you for training me not to eat. The hunger barely hurts!”

Nightmare kept his expression neutral, but inside, he was elated. Ribbon chose to go weak instead of relying on his old friends. That level of paranoia . . . oh he was so proud of him. He kissed his nose. “No, no. You were smart by rebelling. They would have slipped something in to turn you against me. I’ll feed you when we go home but don’t mention your antics to Horror. You know how he gets about skipping meals.”

“He’s going to shove it down my throat, literally!” Ribbon’s fragile giggle made him smile. Nightmare loved the sound of his laugh. It was easier to listen to than Ink’s voice and was so cute, so helpless. The dark king picked him up and held him in a bridal carry, careful to keep from touching his bandages.

Ribbon nuzzled his head into his neck. “I kinda feel like a princess. And you’re my knight in shining armor!”

Nightmare turned his head so he wouldn’t see his eye roll. But it wasn’t a hateful one. “You’ve spent too much time with your head in the clouds.”

“I didn’t have anything else to do,” Ribbon giggled again, keeping his aura from being too positive. Nightmare spun a tendril, forming a portal so they could leave this drab place.

A knock stopped him in his tracks. Nightmare muttered a curse that was common centuries ago and planned to make a quick escape. But then he saw who came through the door.

“Ink! Are you okay? I wanted to check on you!” Blue stepped in with a nervous grin. “Are you talking to someone? I thought I heard-”

He went pale. “Oh no.”

“Well hello, Blueberry,” Nightmare taunted. He ran a hand down Ribbon’s skull, earning himself a satisfied purr and nuzzle. The knight recoiled. “You decided to visit him at the worst time. Or are you here on purpose? Pathetic. I expected the ‘Heroes of the Doodlesphere’ to have a better prisoner security system.”

Blue scoffed at the nickname but kept the overconfident look. He summoned his hammer. Nightmare looked around the room. They couldn’t fight without destroying the place. Blue spoke. “Prisoners? We don’t have- ooh. Good try, but the Magnificent Blue will never fall for your mind games! Let Ink go!”

“Fine, I’ll be fair. Ribbon, who would you like to go with? Me or Blue?”

“You! You! I don’t wanna be left here!” Ribbon clung tighter to Nightmare. He knew his little toy wouldn’t leave him, but it was still satisfying to hear.

Nightmare shrugged. “Very well.” He spun his tendril in a circle and a portal formed. With a kiss, he dropped Ribbon through it and immediately closed the entrance. Nightmare held up his hands in mock surrender, with a matching smug smile. “Aw, is that not the answer you wanted?”

“Wha- how- why-” Blue stammered. “That’s not fair! You brainwashed him! He doesn’t know what he’s doing!”

“So you’re saying he doesn’t get a say in what happens to his own life? My, how rude. I assumed you were better than this, being a Star Sans with all that positivity in your heart. Though I can sense it’s less than usual . . .” Nightmare waved his hand. Blue’s aura was certainly less joyful than when he last encountered him. He felt bitterness, respectlessness, and unfulfillment.

Nightmare chuckled. “You know . . . if you’re getting tired of being Dream’s side piece, I’d give you a chance to join me. You would have more respect, fear-”

“No, I would never join you! That’s not what I was talking about! I- Ink’s confused. I’m confused. Look, we’re both confused!” The Star felt behind himself for the door knob. A tendril shot out and secured his hand to the metal, forcing him to lock it. Blue pulled to get free and took a sharp inhale, preparing to fight. Nightmare wrapped another tendril around his mouth. His energy hammer disappeared.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He shook a finger. “None of that now. You arrived alone and you will face me alone. No help from your little friends.”

He sent a third tendril under his victim’s shirt. Blue gagged at the cold wet limb. Nightmare broke two of his ribs clean off. His screams sounded muffled against his tendril, but then he retaliated. He summoned a bone and jammed it into Nightmare’s tendril, clutching his ribs as he did.

Nightmare pulled his tendrils back. Blue stumbled forward, but he also fired bones at Nightmare. The Lord of Negativity sunk into the ground and teleported behind Blue. He grabbed him by the neck and shoved him into the wall, cracking his skull. He threw him onto the ground.

Nightmare increased his negative aura to make Blue feel hopeless and weak. Crimson blood dripped from his mouth. He coughed in the little ball he curled in. A few more hits and his body would crumble to dust. But Nightmare wouldn’t let that happen.

He crouched before him and summoned his soul. Blue struggled at the sudden removal. Almost gently, the dark king covered his mouth with a tendril. Nightmare hummed as he thought over what curse to cast. Should he taint his eye lights make him only see the negative in life? That would be fun with his supposed optimistic attitude. Or paralyze him? Blind him?

Nightmare decided to do something special for the third member of the Star Sanses. He waved his fingers and muttered an incarnation. Blue’s white soul turned gray around the edges, as did his hands and feet. The stone curse he used on Dream so many years ago crawled up his hands and boots. Blue moaned. He shouldn’t have been able to feel his hands now. His arms and legs were soon consumed with rock. Only a little farther before-

“Blue? Is that you in there? The nurse said you were visiting Ink before me. Dream said he sensed Nightmare, but I'm sure he's sick. Tell me he's just sick. Is everything alright?”

Nightmare groaned at the familiar sound of a certain monochromatic traitor. He paused the curse. The handle shook again as Cross tried to unlock it. “Why did you lock the door? Blue, open up."

“Oh, no reason.” Nightmare said in a squeaky impression of Blue’s voice. The stone covered his arms and legs.

Silence. Then several loud slams hit the wood. “Damn it Nightmare, what did you do to Blue and Ink? Open the fucking door!” The sound of metal being removed from a holster made Nightmare’s smile grow.

The doorknob fell and clattered to the ground. Cross pushed it open with his daggers in a fighting position. His white eye lights darted from Nightmare to Blue and back to Nightmare. "Where the hell is Ink?"

Nightmare snapped his fingers and a portal formed behind himself. Ribbon cuddled up in a ball. Nightmare sent him to his bedroom where he hid under the blankets and squeezed his stuffed toys. Cross stepped back, a look between confusion and anger on his face. Yet, there was also a vengeful satisfaction. "Ink . . . you . . . he really is your toy. You destroyed him."

"You're correct, I made him into a doll. And it's Ribbon, not Ink. Aw, are you concerned for him? I thought you hated Ink. I know you still do." Nightmare chuckled at his own mocking tone. Cross stopped gaping and didn't hesitate to throw his left blade at the dark king. Waving, Nightmare engulfed himself in liquid negativity and vanished. The portal disappeared with him. The blade struck the wall and broke into plaster. The last thing he caught was the Cross using healing magic and yelling for the others.

He reformed in Ribbon’s room. Sitting on the bed and swinging his legs, the doll looked up and jumped into his arms. He checked him over for injuries. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I’m sorry you had to go through so much trouble because I’m not worth that much-”

Nightmare shushed him by putting a finger to his mouth. “Now, now, little one, I’m fine. Let’s clean you up.” He paused, sensing a disturbance in the AU, someone entered. “Let me rephrase that. I need an update from the Murder Time Trio, and then I will give you a cleanser wash and some food. That t-shirt looks horrendous on you."

After eating a hot meal and changing into his proper pink dress, Ribbon wanted to walk through the garden. Nightmare understood his feelings as the doll wasn’t allowed to stretch his legs for a week. He also wanted Nightmare to come along. So he did. The dark king held his hand the entire time; not daring to let go and lose him.

Ribbon was distracted by everything. Every falling leaf, butterfly, and the warmth of the sun. Nightmare still kept it cloudy, but he let a flicker of sunshine in for his sunshine.

Nightmare watched him with a close eye. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and could hurt himself. Ribbon had been through enough, and he didn't want him to damage his pretty dress.

They made it to the end of the garden, where a large grassy hill lay. Ribbon ran up it and twirled, almost tripping. His layered skirt blew around him in a circle. His positivity didn’t bother Nightmare for an unknown reason. In fact, he enjoyed seeing him happy. Perhaps he was coming down with an illness. Nightmare patted his cheekbones and foreskull. His cheekbones were warmer than usual, but his foreskull was cold. He’d need to take some fever medicine.

Ribbon spun around a few more times before lying down on the grass with the grace of a dancer. Nightmare lay beside him. The doll soaked in the sunlight, eyes closed. He looked so peaceful and serene. The light reflected off his porcelain body.

Ribbon rolled over to look at him, nuzzling up by his chest. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“You said that fifty times by now.”

“I know, but I am! If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be trapped in that hospital, and . . . they would’ve done something to me—like poison me or take me a- apart. You’re the best boyfriend ever!” Ribbon tightly hugged him and had a bright smile.

The last sentence sent a surge down Nightmare’s spine. It felt like he had a feather duster tickling it and his chest. He didn't have a chance to do as much research on the feeling of love. He was too busy taking care of Ribbon to go to the library. He didn't count Killer's dream journal as a good source to learn about love.

Nightmare lay a hand over his chest, close to where his soul would be. That’s where the sensation was strongest. This warm feeling . . . he couldn’t describe it. It was even stronger now than it was in Ribbon's bedroom, by at least tenfold. In his five hundred and seven years of existence, he’s never experienced such an emotion. It was the most positive he’s ever felt. It must have been what Dream felt daily. No, this was better than that. The feeling increased the more he thought about him. His laugh, his loyalty, his power, his beauty, the dazed look in his eyes from confusion and ignorance. It’s precious. Even some of his non-trained quirks were growing on him. Like how he bounced and clapped his hands when excited.

He glanced over at Ribbon. He felt a strange protectiveness over him. His urges told him to hide him away, to make sure no one else would ever take him for themselves. Perhaps in a glass display case only he could see. He was the only one who could touch him. He was the only one he should listen to and turn to. He was the one who perfectly conditioned him. If anyone were to hurt him, it would be no one but him. As Nightmare’s cheekbones grew warmer and more teal, he couldn't hold himself back anymore.

He pulled himself on top of Ribbon and kissed him, pinning him against the tree. Nightmare wrapped his arms around his back. Ribbon was shocked by the sudden intimate moment but immediately returned it. His tendrils moved to make him more comfortable.

“I love you,” Nightmare whispered.

Nightmare avoided saying those exact words to Ribbon since they started 'dating'. He looked around and picked a rose from a nearby flower patch and tucked it into Ribbon's beret, under the bow. Nightmare wanted to spend the rest of eternity with his beautiful queen at his side. The King of Negativity and the Queen of Creativity. Yes, he liked the sound of that.

“I love you too, my king." Ribbon kissed Nightmare's cheek. Nightmare's soul fluttered again. Ribbon paused and thought. “Do you mean it? You love me?”

The dark king traced a finger down his cheekbone, gazing into his glittering glass eyes. They were hypnotic. “I don’t lie. Why shouldn’t I love you? You’re finally perfect. You’re everything I desire and more. I promise I will protect you from everything. I’ll keep that little mind of yours pure, make sure no one can ever harm or touch you.” Nightmare nuzzled close to where his ear would be.

“No one will take what's mine from me ever again.”

Chapter Text

Ribbon worked on his new project. He figured out how to sew plushies and that became his new favorite thing to do. He worked on a bear. He was careful to sew the white star beads on, being sure not to prick himself. Sewing felt so normal and comforting.

Ribbon calmed down since the kidnapping and could finally relax. He didn’t cling to Nightmare. Well, he did, but not as much. He got back onto his routine with chores, calm activities, and love time with Nightmare. Ribbon didn’t even want to go outside because he was so scared of kidnapping.

Part of him heard the door open, but he was too focused on his project to register it. So hearing Nightmare’s smooth voice startled him. “It looks lovely, Ribbon. You truly have talent.”

Ribbon didn’t expect Nightmare’s voice and jumped. Nightmare chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my apologies.”

Ribbon pulled his string and chuckled. “It’s okay, Nighty! What did you want to ask me?” He pulled the bows on the waistband to make sure it would stay.

Nightmare watched him, rubbing his pointer finger and thumb together. “I have a business exchange in Mafiatale. I bought . . . something special and he told me to pick it up at a masquerade ball he’s attending. I want you to come with me, at least as an armpiece. There will be dancing and food, and it takes place at a nicely kept mansion."

“A party?” Ribbon looked up at Nightmare and set his supplies down. “But . . . I thought you didn’t want me to be exposed to anyone.”

“Only to people I don't like or trust. The monsters here I have more faith in. More, not entirely, but they won't kidnap you. And this is important. Very important, especially for you.” Nightmare held a hand out for Ribbon to take.

Ribbon took his hand and stood up, looking into Nightmare’s eye. He knew better than ever to turn down an order. He nodded, letting Nightmare caress his cheekbones. “Okay. Is there something in particular you want me to wear?”

Nightmare traced a hand down his body. “Nothing in particular, but I don’t want your body to be too exposed. Cover up. Oh, and include bits of gold to match my outfit.”

“Of course, Nighty!” Ribbon kissed his cheekbone. He had the perfect dress and necklace in mind. He was going to be so pretty for him!

Ribbon had never been in a limo before. Nightmare said he was able to get one because of his associate. Ribbon liked the feeling of the leather seats and the view of the buildings zooming past. He rested his head on his gloved hand, Blossom leaned against his leg. Mafiatale was scary and dark, but also really cool. The random gunshots kept making him jump. Nightmare chuckled each time. Probably because he knew nothing could harm Ribbon while he was in the limo with him.

When he wasn’t looking out the window, Ribbon couldn’t take his eye lights off Nightmare. His high-collared silk shirt was black bordering dark teal. Across the left part of his chest were gold swirls and stitched symbols. A gold sash started at his right shoulder and ended at his waist.

Meanwhile, Ribbon’s outfit was the perfect mix of cutesy and fancy. He took Nightmare’s advice and had very little of his body shown. It was a soft white gown with a lacey layer over the bodice and leggings. Tight at the top and flowy waist down. He wore silky white gloves reaching his shoulders. He wore a choker with gold details like Nightmare’s outfit. Pinned to the back of his skull was a white bow.

Nightmare squeezed his gloved hand and kissed his cheek. “You look lovely, my little princess. It's a similar crowd to your show, they're going to love you.”

Ribbon blushed and nuzzled up to Nightmare, resting his head on his shoulder. Nightmare pulled him onto his lap. He kept petting his head, then he adjusted the bow on his head. Between the bumping of the limo and the soft pets from Nightmare, Ribbon could fall asleep if he wanted to. It was so cozy . . .

After another five minutes, the bumping finally stopped and Ribbon woke up. He looked around and his eyes immediately widened at the giant white mansion in the back. It was shiny with neat white landscaping surrounding a giant marble fountain. Ten lit lamps surrounded the sidewalk and made up for the black sky. The water looked clear and blue enough to drink. Some type of music and talking came from the inside. Nightmare took Ribbon by the waist and spoke something to the chauffeur. It was in another language that the doll didn’t understand. Italian maybe? That would make sense with Mafiatale.

Nightmare stepped out of the limousine and took Ribbon’s hand to help him out. Once Ribbon’s high heel touched the ground, he grabbed Nightmare to steady himself. The dark king chuckled. He squeezed his hand, then he walked up to the mansion, one tendril around Ribbon’s shoulders.

They stepped up to the entryway, Nightmare’s arm wrapped around his. He helped him balance on his high heels, even though Ribbon could handle them fine. He didn’t say it, but he liked how worried he was.

Nightmare stopped in front of the gigantic swirl-patterned doors. He turned to Ribbon and adjusted the choker on his neck, then he patted down his skirt.

Ribbon shook his head. He pulled his neck charm. “Nightmare, I look fine and you look great. You’re overthinking.”

“I know, but I want you to look perfect. Remember to curtsy and smile, show them you’re happy to be at my side. No talking to anyone unless I permit you to do so. I don’t want anyone . . . influencing you.”

“I am happy to be at your side. You know this! Just relax a bit, please.” The doll fixed his sash. It was slipping. “There. That’s better."

Nightmare smiled at him and pulled the door open. Ribbon shielded his eyes. It was bright, but pretty A blackish-blue theme ranged from the long rug on the floor to the walls. The bright part was the bright white lights on the ceiling. Nightmare talked to a guard in completely black clothes in the same weird language. The guard opened the bigger door. They walked through a short hall, and then they were at the party.

Golden chandelier lights shone down on a massive ballroom. The floor was made of orange and yellow tiles. Too loud, too bright, too big, too many people. Ribbon was immediately overwhelmed and overstimulated and clung tighter to his boyfriend. Not even being in the scarier and bigger AUs stressed him out this much. It was way more than his show! And the lights were dark

Nightmare’s tendril rested on his shoulder, protecting him. “Is this too much for you?"

Ribbon nodded his head. He didn't complain out loud because he didn't want to make Nightmare upset. He could have sworn everyone was staring at him, he had a bad feeling about this. But he felt better with Nightmare holding his hand. What could go wrong when he was here? Nightmare walked with him through the party and crowd. Ribbon listened to the whispers of people nearby. He took a deep calming breath. clinging onto Nightmare.

Nightmare grinned and ran his fingers down his skull. The gentle touch helped. “Shh, you’re fine. I’m here.”

Nightmare walked inside with Ribbon still on his arm. His heels clicked against the floor, people whispered about him. Nightmare nodded in greeting to people. Ribbon hated all the noise. He recognized a couple of people from when Nightmare made him sing in that club. Ribbon looked up at a platform in the back of the room, behind the stairs. Would he have to sing again? He shivered.

Nightmare pulled Ribbon ahead and stopped. He set his gaze on a monster, but Ribbon couldn’t see who, at least not well. But then they stepped out and held a hand out to Nightmare. “Lord Joku, it’s a pleasure. ”

Ribbon couldn’t figure out the monster’s accent. He was a fox with brownish-gray fur and sharp features. He sported a black suit vest over a white collared shirt. Ribbon liked how shiny his gold watch was. Pretty . . .

“So this is the little cutie you took under your wing, hm? Sorry, I couldn't make it to that show.” Warg looked him over. “My, you’re even cuter than how Nightmare described you. Especially those twinkling little eyes, they’re beautiful.” The fox reached a hand out to touch his face. The doll cringed with an awkward smile. He curtsied anyway.

Nightmare’s tendril swatted it away and shielded Ribbon. “If you prefer to leave with your spine intact, keep your filthy paws off him. No one is allowed to touch him without my permission, which you don’t have. I’m here for business only.”

Ribbon mouthed a ‘thank you’. Nightmare squeezed his hand tighter.

“Buzzkill,” Warg muttered. He fiddled with one of the pockets on his vest. His paw wrapped around something and he gave a sharp-toothed smile. “Anyways, if it’s business you want, it’s business you’re going to get.”

“Excellent.” The dark king turned to Ribbon. He looked back at the fox. “I’ll be back, there’s something I have to do first. Pardon me.” Nightmare took Ribbon by the hand and led him toward the staircase. He listened to the nearby crowds and voices.

“Aw, I recognize him."

“He almost looks like the fallen guardian."

“He’s so cute in that dress.”

“Oh great, the Lord of Negativity is in love."

Ribbon blushed in embarrassment, but something in him felt good. They were scared of Nightmare, and by extension scared of him. He moved closer to Nightmare as he climbed up one of the massive staircases. The thin shiny steps were tricky with his high heels. He looked down at the party and felt even bigger. He grinned wide.

Ribbon stepped onto the cream-colored balcony and set his arms on the chipped barrier. The sky was amazing, covered in glittery stars. He could still hear the party behind him, but it was mild background noise. Cold air blew on his face, but he didn’t mind. Nightmare held his tendrils up to intimate and scare off the few people on the balcony. Nightmare brought him into the corner between the balcony and the wall.

Nightmare pushed him into the corner and pinned him, blocking him with his tendrils. "I’m afraid I have to do this alone, my little doll. You must stand right here, don’t move a single step. I will return to you as soon as possible, then we can return to enjoying the party. I’ll dance with you and you can sing, okay?”

Ribbon’s eye sockets widened at the idea of being without him. “Why can’t I go with you? You said that we would spend the night together-"

Nightmare raised his right hand; Ribbon stopped talking. Nightmare set a hand on his pull string. “Believe me, I wish I could bring you along, but you will soon understand why I can not. Think of it as a . . . little game, see how long you can last without me. Also, you have permission to attack anyone who threatens to hurt you. If you manage this, you’ll receive a reward, understand? Good.” He took his sash off and wrapped it around him for a little warmth. He kissed his neck and left him on the balcony.

Ribbon was alone. Well, by definition, he was lonely. But he wasn't going to let Nightmare down. He stepped behind the massive curtain that hid between the wall and the balcony. That feeling of powerfulness faded without him. Oh, who was he kidding before? He was only strong when he had Nightmare to guard him! Ribbon hugged the sash. It smelt like Nightmare, bitter apple cider.

Calm down, it’s not a big deal. He’s just in another room. Maybe I should go downstairs and look for him? No, he’d be disappointed. Do as he says and stay here.

The doll looked off the balcony. The faint sound of sirens rang from the distance, along with some screaming. Music played from behind him. He couldn't feel Nightmare's negative aura, but he had to be close. Ribbon squeezed the sash. He stepped slightly out of the corner to see better. Being alone wasn't so bad!

The sounds of broken static cracked from next to him. “I’ve never seen a Sans in a stupid dress like that before. Who are you supposed to be?”

Nevermind.

Ribbon jumped back as he tried to see who was on his left. It was a skeleton with black bones like Nightmare. He wore a simple black suit with a bow tie matching the blue stripes on his face. ERROR signs and white particles danced around him. His right hand dangled a giant plastic cup of chocolate from the fountain. Something about this guy was familiar, but Ribbon couldn’t put his finger on it. It reminded him of someone you see as a background character in a dream.

“Wait, Ink? It’s you?” The stranger strode closer, his grin growing. Ribbon backed up. “I was told Nightmare killed you, but I knew that was fake because of that doll plan he made. Huh, it actually worked. And they replaced you with Fresh. Ugh." He rolled his eyelights. Why did his voice glitch like that? "I heard about your funeral and stars above, you look ridiculous. Are you wearing perfume? I smell cherry blossoms.”

Ribbon’s instincts drove him to an uncomfortable curtsy. He trembled on his heels, but remembered he still had Blossom on him. He took the parasol off his back, remembering Nightmare's words. He knew it was a good idea to have an outfit that fit with Blossom! Ribbon leaned on his parasol as the point stabbed into the ground. He pulled his string. “Sir, I . . . I don’t know you. And I’m not allowed to talk to strangers. so please leave me alone.”

The skeleton stopped. His snicker turned into a full glitchy cackle. “Did you call me sir? And you curtsied? What happened to your voice? Holy stars, where do I even start? Did Nightmare wipe your memory or something? You know, that would actually explain a lot. My name is Error, and I’m your sworn enemy.”

He tried harder to place him, but his mind kept playing static. His mind offered him a blurry memory. Ribbon blew raspberries at him while he was sewing skeleton dolls. Why would he act that immature? Dolls would never do that. Frenemies, that’s what he and Error were. But he didn’t know why. Something to do with the AUs? Ribbon lit up. “Oh, now I remember you! I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier. How have you been?”

“Eh, not too bad. It’s been easier to destroy AUs without you getting in the way. Dream and Core are still problems, but they're easier than you. Since when did you get so . . . polite? It's creepy." Error tilted his head. "Where did you get that dress? It doesn't look like the kind Nightmare got.

Ribbon smiled, relaxing his grip on Blossom. “Since I’ve been trained! Nightmare’s the best.” He spun around in his dress, giving Error a better view. “I made it myself! Nightmare taught me how to sew! But he gave me this choker, I didn't make that.”

Error broke into another laughing fit. Ribbon didn’t get what was so funny. “You’re joking, right? Nightmare is a dick, he wouldn't be so soft to teach you to sew. You gotta be lying, or you're that stupid. I can't believe you ate up everything he told you."

Ribbon gasped and covered his mouth. He didn’t care that he was laughing at him, but he was making fun of Nightmare! He tightened his grip Blossom and stormed up to Error. “He is not bad and I'm not lying! Be quiet! He is worth more than you will ever be! He is perfect!”

“Aw, did I offend you and your ‘boyfriend’?” Error’s mocking tone trailed off as he squinted at Ribbon. The doll sensed the suspicion, a look he remembered from back when he was bad and disobedient. Error reached into his pocket and took out a pair of red glasses. He put them on and looked at Ribbon again. “Wait a minute, you didn’t have a babyface before getting taken by Nightmare. Is that plastic surgery?” He stepped back and walked around him. “You’re a lot shorter too, which is impressive because I didn’t think you could get shorter. It’s like you exchanged your height for curves. What kind of workout is he putting you on?”

Ribbon didn’t know how to explain that. He kept his mouth shut and hoped Error would lose interest. He couldn’t make himself move either, he had Blossom, but he worried about something else. If he moved too much, Error would get more suspcious, which would make him more likely to find out, which would-

Error kept looking him over until pausing at his shoulder. “Hey, what’s this?” Error’s strings pulled away part of his dress to show off his silver stitches. Ribbon’s hand flew to cover them, but it was too late. Error’s strings traced over the thread. Ribbon fidgeted in his hold.

“Stop touching me! Please! I’m not allowed to talk about it! I’ll get in trouble! Get away from me!” Ribbon lifted Blossom and twirled, slicing Error across the face. “Stop! Stop, st-" His voice cut off when the string returned.

Error jumped back as Ribbon's voice cut. Error wasn't hurt badly. But with the way he pulled his hand from his cheekbone, he looked surprised Blossom was sharp. Calming down, Ribbon huffed and pulled his string, making his voice sound normal again. Error's eye's socket glitched over, he must have thought the charm was part of the choker. "What . . . what the hell?” He asked, mostly to himself.

“Error, that’s mine.”

To Ribbon’s relief, a familiar sludge-covered limb nudged his shoulder. He sighed and ran to Nightmare. Nightmare offered him a tendril to hug while his arms were crossed, glaring down at Error. The destroyer looked somewhere between baffled and uneasy. "There you are."

“Usually, I would say thank you for keeping an eye on him,” Nightmare said. “However, I could sense his fear from the basement, among a manor of other souls. To be fair, he’s easy to scare when alone, but there was no need to take advantage. Only I can do that.”

“Come on, I was having some fun. Look at him, he’s fine!” Error smiled, though it twitched. Ribbon trembled and whimpered. “I’ll admit it, you were right. I thought this idea of yours was stupid and would go horribly wrong. But you trained your toy well, I didn't even recognize him at first. I'd believe he was a doll if I didn't know.

Nightmare raised a browbone. “Toy? Now, where did you get an idea like that?”

Error watched Ribbon snuggle into his tendril with a smile of bliss and safety. His already stressed smile faded into a scowl. His browbones furrowed as he put two and two together. “Wait, you two aren’t actually dating, right? You told me you were going to fake it. anomaly four hundred forty-four, don’t give me that look. Tell me you two aren’t a thing.” His voice glitched more.

“We are!” Ribbon exclaimed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! I love him!"

Error’s amusement faded into dust. He stared at Nightmare like he wanted to punch him in the face and grind him into calamari. “That . . . is disgusting. And it violates our deal."

“Yes, we have feelings for each other, end of story.” Nightmare rolled his eye light. “Ribbon, we’re returning to the dance. I’ll stay by your side this time.”

Error growled. “Oh no, you’re not leaving until I get some real answers!” He clawed at his eye sockets until blue strings came out. He jerked his hand and the threads shot at Ribbon. Ribbon jumped into defense mode, but Nightmare pushed him aside. He blocked the strings with his tendrils.

“Nightlight, hold on! Let me give you a hand!”

Without turning around, Nightmare tapped his middle finger, pointer finger, and thumb together. Ribbon dropped to his knees, hands in his lap, still and silent. As a doll should.

Error froze, stunned. “What the actual- what is he, your dog?”

Error was so distracted, he didn’t see Nightmare slam a tendril into his ribs. He crashed into a pillar. The dark king raised his fist and brought it down on his chest. Error caught his hand and strangled him with his strings. Ribbon struggled between the urges to help and stay put and obey. He closed his eyes.

He didn't see what happened next, but he listened to their screaming, the punching, and the violence. Then everything went quiet. Ribbon kept his eyes closed until Nightmare pet him on the head. Ribbon gulped and looked him over. “Are you hurt? What happened to Error?"

Nightmare helped him stand. “Ah, no. But I appreciate the concern. I threw him off the balcony.” His tendrils brushed down Ribbon’s dress, which got dirty in the scuffle. “There, much better. Come along now.”

Ribbon tried to stand on his tiptoes and almost toppled off his heels. He couldn’t see Error anywhere. He couldn’t hear his glitching either. “Is he going to be okay?”

“That is none of our concern. Now come along. I won’t say it again.” Nightmare took the back of his skull and turned him around. He had a tight grip on his hand that would’ve hurt if Ribbon could feel it. Once they were back inside, he softened his hold and voice. “I apologize for my aggression. I was just worried he would damage you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, he spooked me, that’s all.” Ribbon worried if that was the right thing to say. It didn’t hurt, but he still felt Error’s strings on his shoulder. Why was he acting so weird? His new body was better, but Error acted like it was nasty.

Nightmare must have sensed his emotions because he wrapped him in his tendrils. He pulled him close to his body and let Ribbon breathe. “Certain? You’re not considering anything, are you?

Ribbon cupped Nightmare’s cheekbones and kissed him, hoping to calm him down. “Nightmare, I belong to you. You know I belong to you, it’s in the contract and I have your mark on my chest, remember? No one will ever make me want to run away! Please don’t be upset.”

“I’m not upset.” Nightmare looked a bit calmer, but his body was still tense. “This is why I don’t take you out in public. You’re too easy to trick. Come on, we’re going back downstairs.”

Nightmare grabbed Ribbon by the hand and brought him back to the party. He looked behind himself as if Error was going to jump back and drag him to the Anti-void.

By the time they got down there, a slow song started and the lights dimmed. Nightmare took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked with a joking tone.

Ribbon smiled. “Yes, yes you may.”

Nightmare wrapped one arm around his waist and held hands with the other. He took the lead. “Just as we practiced now.”

The artist clenched his teeth to stop himself from grinning. Nightmare didn’t know about the extra practice he was taking on his own. His ballerina build made it easier to dance. Not that he couldn’t dance before, but he was lighter on his tiny plastic body.

They started a waltz. Nightmare swayed him across the floor. Ribbon made sure not to trip on his feet. It wasn’t like he was going to screw up, he was literally trained to dance in battle. He didn’t want to ruin things, especially when he was having so much fun. He gripped Nightmare’s hand tighter. Ribbon looked up at him as Nightmare’s twirled him around. It was scary at first, but this was turning into one of the best nights of his life.

Ribbon’s thoughts shifted back to Error. He looked at the balcony, then at the door. He gripped tighter to Nightmare's shoulders. Silly, Error wasn’t coming back, Nightmare took care of him! But still . . . something was on his mind.

“Nightlight? Can I ask you something?” Ribbon whispered against his chest. "Am I even allowed to talk right now?"

“You have my permission. Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, Error said something back there that was . . . kinda weird.”

Nightmare scowled and his grip tightened on his hand. “What did he tell you?”

“He said something like . . .” He made a bad impression of Error’s voice, “‘I’m surprised Nightmare hasn’t killed you yet'. Then he told me how stupid I was for ‘believing your lies’. I know he was trying to trick me, but I was still scared. I fought for you though!" He gulped before asking the big question. “Are you planning to kill me?”

Nightmare brought him in a low dip before pulling them back together and answering. “Error is dangerous. Erratic. Manipulative. Twisted. Emotionally unstable. A sociopath. You can’t rely on anything he says. I’m sorry you crossed paths with him at all. I should’ve never left you on your own, my mistake. Yes, I did visit him the day before our first date so I could ask for . . . advice. I may have made my intentions unclear, but no, I don’t plan to kill you. The mere opposite.” He booped his nasal bone. “I plan to keep you forever.”

Ribbon sighed in relief. He knew it. His love would never hurt him like that. Sounds like a good thing he could barely remember who Error was. He didn’t want to remember either. The artist knew he had a life before Nightmare, but the details turned blurrier each day. He didn’t care about his old life if Nightmare wasn’t in it. Stress off his mind, Ribbon relaxed and focused on dancing. He could autopilot after a while.

Left foot up, right foot back. Don’t let go of Nightmare. Ribbon closed his eyes and imagined them dancing like this a few years from new. His heart beat faster at the thought alone. He hoped Nightmare never got bored of him. Ribbon stood in his tiptoes and pecked Nightmare.

The rest of the party had no more attacks, so it was great. They spent most of it dancing, but they also had drinks and talked casually. Ribbon wasn’t allowed alcohol, so he had punch instead while Nightmare drank wine. Nightmare never let him leave his sight. He was always keeping a tendril around his waist, keeping an arm around his, holding his hand. He had a dreamy look in his eye whenever he stared at Ribbon, which made him feel lucky and important. Nightmare never looked at anyone else like that. He had a few more talks with associates of his. Ribbon kept silent during all of them, earning some praise for Nightmare about how good of a trainer he was. They told him Ribbon was a very well-behaved and quiet doll.

Nightmare decided to leave without announcing it. He wrapped an arm around Ribbon’s shoulders and led him out. Ribbon was dizzy from party fever, plus his social battery was low. When was the last time he was around that many people and not killing and or torturing them? It had to be almost a year ago.

He expected Nightmare to wait for the limo and use a portal to go back home, but then he took a turn. He held Ribbon’s wrist and walked with him to the back of the mansion, near the garden. Ribbon looked around in confusion. The flowers and plants were pretty, but he didn't get what was going on.

When Nightmare found a clearing, he slipped in front of Ribbon and put his hands on his shoulders. “Ribbon, we need to talk. I have something to ask you.”

The adrenaline in Ribbon dimmed down. He tried to figure out where he messed up at the party. Was he too loud? Too autonomous? Did he embarrass Nightmare? The doll lowered his head. “I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

“Oh on the contrary. You were excellent out there. Your dancing in particular impressed me, I didn’t know you could move like that.” Nightmare laughed to himself, which made Ribbon feel a lot better. “No, I wanted to discuss something else.” He turned around and walked a short bit.

“I understand we’ve been together for less than a year, but you have made such an impact on my life. I meant it that first night in Outertale when I said you’re special, even if it wasn't in the way I thought. You’ve affected me in a way no one else ever has. And I know I’ve improved you in more ways than one. I will be truthful, I’ve been debating this for several weeks, but now I know it’s the right time. After all, what’s a king without his queen?”

Ribbon didn’t have time to answer before Nightmare got down on one knee and took a small box out of his pocket. Slipping his thumb between the velvet lid, he opened it to a beautiful black ring. The dark band held the biggest and shiniest diamond Ribbon’s ever seen. Little blue particles and swirls glittered inside. “Ribbon Eve Adela, I vow to love you for all eternity. I’m offering every part of me in exchange for every piece of you. We’ll be the strongest love in a new multiverse, one of our own design. But before that, I need to ask. Will you marry me?”

If Ribbon still could, he would’ve vomited paint there and then. Besides that, he barely held back his excitement. “Yes! YES! A million times yes!” He threw himself at his new fiancé and they both fell backward. Nightmare groaned and Ribbon realized his mistake, he forgot about his positivity.

The doll muttered an apology and started to pull away, but Nightmare’s tendrils hugged him back. “No, don't pull back. I like your positive emotions. Stay here, don't worry.” He took Ribbon’s hand in his own. “Here, put it on.”

The dark king removed his right glove and slid the ring over his fourth finger. It fit like it was always meant to be there. Ribbon flexed his hand, reflecting the moonlight to make it shimmer even brighter.

“I love it! I love it, I love it!” Ribbon exclaimed. He leaned in and kissed Nightmare as a thank you. Nightmare didn’t mind returning it. Under the moon, he could’ve stayed there, kissing his soon-to-be husband forever.

(Holy Hera, that proposal was so hard for my aroace ass to write. But I like the way it turned out.)

Chapter Text

When Blue’s body was found, Dream felt his soul stop.

Cross carried him in his jacket so he didn’t touch the stone. Blue’s well-built arms and legs turned into stone. His face was scrunched as if his last moments were in pain. No, not last. It couldn’t have been the last, he was still breathing. He had been waiting on the couch the entire time. He should have listened to his heart and went to help the second he felt the negativity.

“Oh my stars . . .” Dream stared at him. He set his hands on Blue’s cheekbones, then on his neck, searching for a pulse. There was one but at a slow, weak beat. Dream rubbed his hands together to summon golden magic. He pushed his hand against his chest, pulling out his soul with his other. He touched the gray edges with his glowing fingertips to heal them.

Dream’s hands shook as they attempted to focus. Memories flashed through his mind. He was eleven years old again. His beloved twin brother ate the black apple and was losing control. People ran and screamed. The sky turned dark and cloudy, threatening rain. Most of his village friends were stabbed and/or killed, their corpses dusted or bled. Dream didn’t know what to do. Nightmare pinned Dream down with his foot and cursed him, both with words and magic.

Nightmare! Brother, stop! That’s not safe! I know this isn’t you!

Isn’t me? Of course it is me.

“Dream! Calm down! You’re burning Blue!” Cross grabbed the sides of his face, snapping him into reality. Dream took a deep breath and looked down at his friend. His emotions caused his magic to flare more than needed. The stone around Blue’s soul darkened with a gold tint. Dream flustered from shame. The gold faded from his palms.

At some point during his panic, Core teleported to them. They had a grim look plastered on their face, making Dream wonder if they knew this would happen. They looked down at Blue. His fingers trembled. Stars, he almost made it worse . . .

“Cross, what happened in there? What did Nightmare do? Is Ink gone?” Dream looked at his boyfriend and moved away from Blue, afraid of causing more damage. Core came over to their side and held Dream’s hand. The guardian couldn’t tell if it was to keep his emotions in control, to comfort him, or both. Dream took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He couldn’t enter another breakdown, though he already did. He had to stay strong. Strong for Blue, strong for Cross, strong for Core.

Cross sighed. “I went to Ink’s room, but the door was locked. One of the nurses told me that Blue was already in there. I didn’t see what happened, but I heard Nightmare’s voice. He faked Blue's voice and when I came in, he kidnapped Ink and turned Blue halfway into stone. Then he left. I tried to heal him, but my healing magic didn't work.

Dream sighed in bitter acceptance and stood up. “I’m going to do as much research as I can. Blue deserves it. Is there anywhere I should start searching? Has this ever happened before?"

Core shook their head. “From my knowledge. I mean, thousands of humans and monsters have been turned into stone. But Nightmare’s curse has only happened one time.” They pointed at Dream. "But try your best."

"I will." Dream looked down at their friend. He wanted to say he would fix this and everything would be fine. But he said that over and over, yet the world kept worsening, and he wasn't sure anymore.

Core requested the nurses and guards to sign an NDA, keeping information about Ink and Blue quiet. They still worried about causing public fear with two Star Sanses gone. Most didn't even know about the Code Purples.

Dream’s eyebags were near impossible not to notice now. He spent all his time in two places: Blue’s hospital room and the Omega library. scared that if he left, Nightmare would take him too. Two weeks have passed since he petrified Blue. The curse didn't break on it's own, but it also didn't progress.

“No . . . no . . . mm, close . . .” Dream sighed as he placed another book on the shelf. He swore he read every spell book the Omega library had to offer. The building was massive, six stories of information and fiction across the multiverse. The floor was a patterned blue and dark purple carpet. Silver made up the circular barriers and shelves. Dream sat in an armchair, flipping through another book he found.

They searched through the history of magic, going back centuries. Yet they couldn’t find anything about Nightmare’s specific curse. Dreamtale had very little information, at least compared to the other AUs. Most of the books and information burned when Nightmare massacred everyone there.

They could try using the spells to reverse petrifaction . . . but what if it did help? Dream grabbed the spell book with the stone spell.

It was worth a try.

Dream checked the book out and returned to the hospital from the library. He yawned and opened the door up, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps he could use one more spell, and then he could let his magic rest. He could sleep in Blue’s room- no. Nightmare could take both of them. Must stay awake . . .

Dream opened Blue’s door and stumbled inside. He smiled at him. In his coma, Blue looked deep in thought. Dream stood beside his bed and opened the book up. His fingers rapped across the page he bookmarked, hoping this would be a miracle. He stroked Blue’s head. “It’s going to be okay, Blue. I know you can’t hear me, but I’m here. I’m sorry I didn’t pay enough attention to you. But don’t worry, I have the cure this time.”

Dream cleared his throat. His eyelids drooped. He muttered the incantation. Gold magic glowed and turned white. Dream mumbled parts of the spell, but woke back up in jumps. Once the magic raged and swirled, they set their hand on Blue’s soul. They rubbed it like their hands were covered in lotion so the magic would stay.

Dream waited. The gray cracks on the end of Blue’s arms began to lighten and his body twinged with hope. Could it be?

The stone cracked, but then it began to melt. It was a slow drip, but it was hard not to notice. Dream panicked and opened the book up. The anxiety woke him up as he tried to process what was happening. A memory of HELP_tale entered their mind and Dream gagged. Oh, stars.

Blue’s skull dripped near his chin. His eyelids caved in and they stretched down. He was melting. Falling down, that was when a monster absorbed too much of a chemical or magic. Their bodies could only handle so much before collapsing on themselves and . . . combining with anyone who touches them.

“No! No! Oh sweet carnation!" Dream reached out and tried to touch him. His glove touched the liquid and he pulled it back, shaking it away before it could infect him. "Core! Doctor! I need backup!"

Once again, Core, Cross, and Dream all stood around Blue. This time however, Fresh joined. The doctors did the best they could, bandaging up Blue and trying to repress the melting. The guilt ate Dream up. In fear he couldn't go back into the hospital, Dream lied and said Blue started melting in the middle of the visit. They reread the spell again and misspoke three words, yet that was enough to change it.

"Howza 'bout I use some paint to seal his melting bones back to his real bones? That'a stick." Fresh's glasses changed to SAVE.

"Good idea, but that won't fix the petrifcation." Dream bit his nails, digging his thumb into his palm.

They thought harder about plans to fix this. Cross snapped his fingers as he got an idea. “Wait, there’s still something we can do. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Anything to save Blue.” Dream said.

Cross leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, staring at Blue. “When my world was destroyed, I woke up in the Anti-void. I didn’t have any injuries from the battle. But the strange part was after a while, I couldn’t see my shadow. My voice had a weird stutter. I started seeing these particles around me. Nightmare . . . ” He scowled at his name and sighed. “He got me out before I turned completely. If we take Blue to the Anti-void, he’ll turn into a glitch, but he might survive. I did, and I was there for days, hell even months. I don’t remember.”

Dream considered it. He knew how dangerous the Anti-Void was, but he wanted his friend back. He didn’t care if he would come out a glitch, as long as he was okay, safe, and healthy. They nodded. “Okay, we can go together to bring him. That has to convenience Error Nightmare is a threat to all of us.”

“I’ll go with, Error has more trust in me.” Core said. They looked over at Blue and their expression turned determined. They gestured at him. “Who’s going to pick him up?”

“I can do it, I have gloves.” Dream picked up Blue’s body, making sure not to touch his melted face. He stumbled but kept holding him close.

Core, Cross, Fresh, Blue, and Dream stepped through the Anti-void portal. Strings hung in the air. Error crocheted on his beanbag. He wore a pair of red glasses to make his focus clearer, it seemed to help with the glitches. He grumbled something under his breath, something angry and vulgar.

Fresh cleared his throat and called, “Error! Yo Error-brah, we need ya help down here!"

“Who- oh great, not him again.” The destroyer quickly removed his glasses when he heard Fresh's voice. He kept sewing and turned away from them, not even looking. “Go away. I'm not dealing with anyone's shit right now."

Cross groaned and facepalmed. “Dude, stop moping around! This is important! Blue’s life is on the line!”

Error froze. He set his project down and glimpsed over at Dream. His eye sockets went wide. Error had his right arm in a homemade cast. He rushed over to Blue and wrapped him in his strings, almost in a cradle. He turned to the trio with a look of vengeance. It was strange. Dream knew Error and Blue were somewhat friends, but he had never seen him show care. He only had Blue's word to believe until now. Error's voice was a bitter calm that he never used before. “What. Happened.”

Core studied Error, tilting their head slightly to the side. “Nightmare damaged his soul a fortnight ago and he’s been in a coma ever since. We tried everything to get him to wake up, but nothing’s working.”

“A fortnight? Oh, of course it was Nightmare. Why didn’t any of you tell me?"

“I thought you were naturally able to tell what’s going on in the Doodlesphere?” Dream asked.

“This is the Anti-void for crying out loud! Time doesn’t exist! You could be in there for a week and only a day passes in real time. You’re thinking Ink’s powers.” Error’s voice turned into a snarl on Ink’s name. Dream sighed, he must have found out what happened. That's why he was so bitter. Yet he questioned his cast.

Error put his glasses away and held onto Blue with his strings. He raised his hand and the strings on the ceiling weaved together, forming a soft platform. Error tossed Blue on it. It could have been the Anti-void’s magic, but the melting slowed. The Guardian of Destruction muttered to himself. “Oh, first he falls in love with the guy he was meant to kill, then he throws me off a balcony for making him upset. Now he does this-"

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Cross held his hands out and looked up at Error. “You knew what Nightmare’s plan was the whole time? You knew Ink’s death was fake? Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because he didn’t realize Nightmare was serious about how badly he would torture Ink. No did he care until he suffered consequences." Core's eyes flashed as they talked.

Error blinked at them and their omniscient eyes. “What they said. I didn’t think Nightmare was this much of a freak. He wouldn't even let me talk to him and he treats him like his personal poodle. I can't believe him . . . threw me off a balcony and I hit a ledge . . . jerk . . ."

Fresh looked at the others with skepticism. "Is this a good idea? Is he goin' to do his job?"

Cross looked at Fresh and then up at Error. Dream followed him, giving him a stern look. Error rolled his eye lights, but Dream sensed sincerity in his aura. "I'll protect him and call if anything happens, don't give me the death glare. I promise."

"Keep your promise, Error, please. I will have vengeance if you let him down." Dream waved a portal, but not to the hospital. He opened it to the Omega Central, the main hall. The other three walked through. Dream lingered to watch Error look Blue over. Distrusting, Dream muttered a prayer and joined the others through the portal. Fresh and Cross had entered a conversation about meeting up with Epic later to help him move in. Fresh held Cross's shoulder as he tensed, worrying about Blue. They walked down the hall and out of sight. Dream wanted to join them, but Core grabbed their hand.

Core gestured for Dream to come closer. The guardian did as they began to speak. “Dream, with Blue out of commission . . . I believe it to be best if you went into a shelter-in-place for the time being.”

“What?” Dream thought he misheard them.

Core gave him a solemn look. “No leaving your. Nightmare can’t find you. He took Ink and Blue, you’re the last member of the Star Sanses active. And as Guardian of Positivity, your life holds the balance. I can send members of the Omega Guard to watch over your home.”

Dream’s mouth held agape. “Core? What are you talking about? I’m not going into isolation when everyone needs me.

Core held his hands in theirs. “You need to calm down. Your powers and strength won’t recover if you keep stressing yourself out. Have you even looked in a mirror recently?” Core reached into their void eye and pulled out a mirror, holding it in front of Dream. He sighed at his worn expression, it looked like he aged another five centuries. But he was already aware of that. "Breathe, Dream. You can't help anyone if you can't help yourself first."

The Guardian of Positivity wasn’t sure he could relax. His best friend had a faint chance of surviving amalgamation with a murderer. His other best friend was still brainwashed and abused by his twin. Dream should’ve been the one suffering, not them.

Dream looked down at his soul, which glowed far dimmer. It was practically gray. His eye socket twitched and he pulled his hands from Core’s. “I will only calm down the second I know Ink and Blue are home, uninjured, safe, and themselves again! I’m a more powerful guardian than you are, don’t you dare tell me to stand aside and let the Doodlesphere fall apart!”

Core’s eyes widened from Dream’s rage. Dream felt bad for shouting, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. He didn't want to be treated like he couldn't handle himself. They didn't understand why they didn't leave Core, but then they realized something.

He couldn't move.

He looked down and noticed Core held him in place with magic. Their hand held dark blue magic. In a healthier and more awake state, Dream would have realized what it was, but he couldn't. Wisps and waves wrapped around him, making him calmer and feel colder.

“H- hey! What are you doing?” Dream shouted at Core. He scowled at the child.

"I'm sorry, Dream. You'll come to your senses once you rest. I'm doing this for you and the multiverse." Core waved their hand. Dream gasped as the wisps grew larger and surrounded him in a cocoon. He lifted his head as he fell to the floor of the Star Sanses' clubhouse, the living room to be precise. Dream got up and ran out of the house, seeing double. He didn't notice anything wrong. As he walked up to the shield, however, he was pushed back inside. Dream looked to his left and spotted a leaf blowing in the artificial breeze. As soon as it hit the shield, it flew the other way. Dream's shield only kept people in or out. This . . . this was stronger. But was it enough?

"No . . . Core, let me out! How can you do this?" Dream tried to summon his own magic, but it did little against Core's. He sighed, rubbing his exhausted eye sockets in defeat. He didn't even know if the shield would keep him safe since his own didn't work. "I . . . fine, I'll make the most of it . . ."

Despite his best protests and efforts, Dream never left the shield. Things became lonely without Blue around. The silence in the Star Sanses base was too much. Cross and Epic sometimes visited with permission from Core. Dream was grateful for those visits. Yet they also annoyed him, which made him feel worse because it was his boyfriend. Dream knew he was next on Nightmare’s hit list, making him paranoid. He seldom slept. The question was what Nightmare was going to do to him. Mind control him like Cross? Turn him into stone like Blue? Brainwash him into a toy like Ink? Death by soul extraction was the most likely answer, it’s been his plan for centuries. But after finding out Nightmare was supposed to kill Ink . . . he wasn’t sure anymore. Dream slammed his hands and head against the wall.

Waiting.

Waiting.

WAITING.

He was so tired of waiting. Nightmare hasn’t attacked a single AU since taking Ink. He sent Killer, Horror, and Dust to do it instead. And unlike before, there wasn’t a clear pattern. It wasn’t the most positive AUs anymore. Sometimes it was AUs brimming with hate and suffering, other times it was neutral AUs. He couldn't predict it and save the people in them.

Dream wished he could be doing something, he wished his life wasn’t as important to the multiverse as it was. If he was a regular monster, he could be out there fighting, not staying inside with guards watching.

Eventually, Dream decided the best thing he could do was sleep. He wasn't able to help anymore and the exhaustion was getting to him. They took a hot shower, changed into comfy clothes, and slept in their room.

No, sleeping wasn’t the best thing.

His dream started with a ghostish field. The sky was gray yet with few clouds. The knee-length grass was almost pitch black. A covering of mist stretched for miles.

Fresh walked through the field, holding a piece of paper in his hand. The other held his baseball bat, resting on his shoulder.

“Heyo! Anyone here? I got ya note.” He waved a piece of paper in the air, looking around for any sign of life. He stopped at a shadowy silhouette sitting cross-legged on a rock. The fog moved away, making the person come into view. They had a thin silhouette and an abundance of pink clothes.

“Hi, Fresh.” Ink jumped off his ledge and curtsied. He wore a pastel pink and white dress with a matching beret. He looked welcoming and friendly, even though Dream knew the truth behind that sewn smile. Dream felt nothing but pity.

Fresh lit up at the sight of his old friend. “Inky brah!” He teleported in a ball of confetti and hugged him from behind.

Ink flinched and pushed him off with a yelp. He hit him with his parasol to get him away.

Fresh cocked his head. “Hey! What’s goin’ on with ya? What are ya wearin’?”

“My uniform. You know, like the one I used to have.” Ink twirled to show off his dress. “And my name is Ribbon now! Ink was all wrong, Nightmare helped me see that."

Fresh frowned. “‘Kay then . . . Ribbon.” He didn’t say his name with as much enthusiasm as Ink. “So I get ya not my brotato chip anymore.”

Ink shook his head. “Nighty says no to friends. Well, he did suggest that maybe I can talk to people if he chooses who they are, but I don't know. I can’t have anyone ruining me. Can I see the . . . you know what?”

He paused to think about it, then he shrugged. Fresh took his glasses off, and Dream understood why he was called parasite. His white soul floated in his left socket. But the other eye socket was unique. It carried a small purple creature with five lashing tendrils. The center of its body was both a mouth and a red eye. It seemed too large for his eye socket, he assumed it was at least two feet long. “Is this what ya want?”

Ink nodded. He stared almost hypnotized at the parasite and almost reached out for it. He clutched his gloved hand to his chest. He wore soft white mittens with his dress, but it didn't seem to be cold out.

Fresh put his glasses black on. “So, did’ja come to gawk at my little friend or why are ya here?”

Ink swayed on his heels. “Well, Nightmare says you’re a bad influence on me. He didn’t like that you talked to me so much when you kidnapped me. He didn’t like you helping Dream either. He doesn’t want you to be alive, so I need to take care of you.” He tightened his grip on his parasol with a little giggle.

Fresh watched Ink run into the mist. He kept one hand on his baseball bat and summoned neon paint in the other. Shades of green and pink mixed. Fresh’s head shot up and he fired the ball at Ink. It stained his dress

Dream sensed something wrong in the aura of the field. There was too much negativity. Dream reached out and tried to warn Fresh as the two kept fighting. Ink used the mist to his advantage, running into it to throw Fresh off and trick him. Fresh smashed his arms with his baseball bat. Unlike the fights with Nightmare and the corrupted monsters, he held back. His attacks never caused serious harm, they were meant to throw Ink off balance.

Fresh changed his tactic. He smiled as Ink ran at him with his hand stretched out. Fresh grabbed him by the hand and spun around. He pinned Ink to the ground and pressed his foot against his chest.

“Huh?”

Fresh laughed, letting the purple tentacles crawl out of his eye sockets, consuming both. “Did ya think I was gonna stand there and take it? Nah. Sorry, brah!"

The tentacles shoved Ink to the ground and he screamed. Fresh’s parasite held down his arms and legs. Ink kicked and struggled to free himself. He tried to hide and curl into a ball.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya, Inky. Drop the doll thing and we can chat." His expression softened. "I miss ya. Don't ya remember me? We were besties, we did everythin' together, I met ya when I plannin' to take over ya body. But ya ended up being so fun to hang with, I let ya live. This isn't the fun Ink I befriended."

Ink hesitated. He stopped struggling as much and blinked up. Dream was so used to seeing his eyes change to his emotions it almost felt fake. His expression became curious. “Wait, friends?”

“Exactly, I’m ya friend! Stop listenin’ to that goopy freako for five minutes and think! That guy is hurtin' you and makin' ya hurt others!” Fresh removed his foot from his chest.

Ink held one arm with his other and stood away from Fresh, pondering to himself. He stood there for a minute. He began to tremble and ran to Fresh, wrapping him in a hug. He buried his head in his chest. "You . . . you are my friend, I can't believe my stupid brain forgot. I'm sorry!"

Fresh grinned and hugged him back. He ruffled Ink's head and beret. "There ya go. I knew ya were-

Ink smashed Fresh over the head with his parasol, shoving him to the ground. Fresh held his skull as the hit cracked it. Giggling, he ran into the mist. No one moved until he came back. Ink arrived with something in his hands, a new weapon that wasn't his parasol. It became clear that it was a pitch-black harpoon chain, made out of malice.

Fresh’s glasses changed to INK! NO!

Ink whipped his back. The spikes tore through his clothing. Fresh screamed. He struggled to stand up and almost succeeded, but he was shoved back down. Ink went for his legs so he couldn’t run away. Fresh could barely crawl.

Ink stomped on the spot between his leg and his pelvis, shattering it in one push. His Mary Janes' must have been strong. Fresh screamed. His legs and lower body crumbled into dust.

The parasite in Fresh’s eye socket leaped out and latched itself onto Ink. The artist yelped and tried to shove it off as it grew closer to his eyes. He lashed out back and forth, doing everything he could to throw the creature off. He wrapped his hand around its body, but it bit him over and over, covering his arm in marks. Then a tendril shot out and stabbed the parasite through the eye. The parasite fell to the ground in a pool of black blood. Fresh's upper body and head crumbled into dust, leaving only his clothes.

Ink stared at the dust of his former best friend and shook on the ground. He looked up at Nightmare, who stepped out of the mist with his tendril still in the air. He crouched down to him and hugged him with his other two tendrils.

“Well done, my little light.” Nightmare kissed his forehead with a twisted grin. He tickled under his chin to make him giggle. “I knew he would let his guard down when he saw it was you. You did your job perfectly. He will never harm you again, okay?"

"You did good too! You did the final kill and taught me that hugging trick! I never would have been able to do it without you." To Dream's horror and shock, Ink didn't seem upset at all that he murdered Fresh. His aura was difficult to read, and the positivity suppressed his negativity. His lilac eyes lit up as Nightmare hugged him. "Ooh, I have an idea! Can I tell you?"

"Of course." Nightmare picked Ink up into a bridal carry. Ink leaned up by Nightmare's skull and whispered something into him. Dream didn't hear what, but the dream ended.

Dream shot up and immediately jumped from his bed. He had to find Fresh. But it was just a nightmare, right? Fresh was fine. Yes, he had been suffering from nightmares since he was locked in here. He couldn't sleep due to his constant visions of his loved ones going through various torture. Yet, he couldn't tell which were serious and which were normal nightmares. Dream would have counted up the hours of sleep he needed and lost, but it was too many.

As Dream planned on how to break through the barrier to find Fresh. They sensed a change. It was like someone removed a suit of tight-fitting armor and gave him room to breathe. Dream looked out his window. The barrier . . . has Core removed it?

They had to ask. For as little sleep and relaxation as Dream received, his magic healed slightly. He used it to form a portal and run to the Omega Central in hopes of finding Core and speak with them.

He made the right choice. Cross, Epic, and Core sat around the long table, looking at something in Cross's hands. Fresh was no where to be seen. His boyfriend looked up. “Dream, you need to be here for this. Core found this outside their front step this morning.

The guardian's stomach dropped. Cross’s voice never wavered. He had never seen him so terrified and shocked, but he also held a stance of firm authority. Dream sat in between Epic and Cross. "What is it?"

Dream spotted Cross holding a strange box. It seemed to be a quick packaging, black construction paper wrapped with a pink string as the bow. Dream bit his tongue, fearing the worst. Epic ripped the paper off and opened the lid.

Inside the box was Fresh's dead parasite and his ripped clothes. Pink writing, a gel pen, doodled hearts and smiley faces inside it. Fresh's usually colorful clothes were no better than filthy tatters. The parasite's tendrils were chopped off and spread across the box. His pinwheel hat covered the eye of the creature, which was devoid of any life. The spiked chain broke through the upper right tendril and the rest wrapped around his body. His sunglasses lay inside the buddle of closes. The cracked lenses were empty of color and words. An aromatic stench of rot and bubblegum filled the box. Fresh would never speak, laugh, or battle again.

“Bruh . . . FRESH!” Epic dropped the box and bawled. Cross pulled him into a hug, staring at their friend’s corpse.

“Nightmare used this paper all the time for his words. The pink has to be Ink, it makes no sense for it to be anyone else. They worked together here.” Cross’s voice was a cold whisper. He slowly let go of Epic, who was starting to calm down.

Dream said nothing. He didn't have the energy to explain his nightmare, nor did he think he needed to. Cross already figured it out and the pictures spoke for themselves. Dream picked up Fresh's hat and spun the propeller. The visions of his nightmares flashed through his mind. Fresh's screams . . .

Cross looked at the child. “Core, what about you? What do you think you should do?"

Core’s eyes glowed as they used their powers. A shadow covered their face. “Fate has multiple plans for how this will end. I don’t know for certain if Ink is going to live or die, but living seems more like-”

“IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!” Dream shouted at the other three., namely Core He wiped tears off his face. when was the last time he felt so much anger at once? “If you didn’t lock me inside the clubhouse, I could've saved him! I told you I should have been there to help. Our Guardian of Creativity is gone again, a guardian! Cross, Epic, you two should know that you could die by Nightmare at any moment since you're mortal. That's why I was so worried about Blue and kept him out of this, I wanted to keep him safe. Nightmare is stronger than he ever was, he has no pattern as to who he kills and why. I'm more important to the multiverse's health, yes, but I also have more endurance and health. I don't know why I keep messing up everything, but messing up will not stop me from trying!"

"Dream? What's going on with you?" Cross'asked. His face scrunched in concern. "This wasn't Core's fault, why are you blaming them? You said it yourself, no one could have predicted this. I love you and I know how you think, even when you're sleep-deprived. You choose your emotions and need to save over everything else. I have to agree with Core here, but that's not me turning against you. I'm worried about you, you almost never listen to use anymore."

"You need to see a therapist, bruh." Epic muttered. He chuckled in an attempt to use humor to help himself. It didn't help much for the morale, but he controlled his emotions. "But seriously, Fresh's death is all Nightmare's fault. Also, you are the one who made Blue amalgamate in the first place."

"Yes, that is my fault, but at least I tried to help him!" Dream's arm shook from adrenaline.

Cross held Fresh's glasses in his hands. He managed not to cry until this point, but he wiped a tear away. "It's obvious to me. Whoever’s in that body now, it’s not Ink. Ink would never do something like this no matter how selfish he was feeling. Him and Nightmare, Nightmare and Ribbon or whatever his name is now, I'm making it my mission to kill both of them."

Dream clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. Core reached a hand out to Dream, but he ignored it. He turned around and left the room, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them. Cross's words echoed in his head, he couldn't believe he sounded so callous over murdering Ink. He didn't want to choose between his boyfriend and his best friend. They needed to be alone, out of their own free will this time.

Chapter Text

Nightmare read over a set of plans while Ribbon napped on his lap, curled up into a ball. The sun began to set over the horizon, though it was nothing more than a meek light. His throne wasn’t the most comfortable place in the castle, but it gave him a sense of power. His tendril ran down Ribbon’s skull. He never made him his throne since if he was just going to kill him, what was the point? But despite the plan changing, Nightmare preferred him on his lap. Ribbon was so soft to cuddle with. He looked down at him. This must be what it will be like when he’s his wife.

He was halfway through a rescue scene before the doors to the throne room crashed open. Error stormed inside. Killer and Dust used their telekinesis to hold him back, but he threw the two aside. They slammed against the wall and it knocked them out. It wasn’t until then that Nightmare looked up. His eye narrowed at the violence toward his team.

Error turned his attention back to the dark king and growled. “WE HAD A DEAL, NIGHTMARE! YOU-”

“Shh,” Nightmare pointed down at Ribbon, holding him closer to protect him, “he’s sleeping.”

Error must not have noticed him until now because his face scrunched. He didn’t expect the adorable little doll to be asleep on his lap, lightly clinging to him. Hearing the commotion, Ribbon scrunched his eye sockets and stretched like a cat.

“Nighty? What’s going on?” Ribbon yawned and started to sit up, but Nightmare’s tendril pushed him back down. He covered Ribbon’s eyes with his hands to keep him from worrying about Error.

“Nothing of importance. Continue your nap, my angel. You’ve earned it.” Nightmare kissed his head, using a mix of calming and sleeping magic. Ribbon curled back up and slept. Nightmare snapped his fingers and teleported Ribbon to his bedroom. Nightmare slid off his throne and walked down the steps, heels clacking against the stone.

Error cringed until Nightmare finished descending. The dark king held Killer and Dust in his tendrils, checking up on their injuries. Dust was half-conscious. Killer’s skull cracked and had blood dripping down. Both were direct hits on the head. They’d have concussions most likely.

Nightmare snapped his fingers and teleported the two into the infirmary. Either Horror or Ribbon will heal them, most likely the latter when he wakes up. He glared at Error and the cast on his arm. His tendrils whipped around as he talked. “Whatever you came for, we’ll discuss it outside the throne room. You have injured not one, but two of my subordinates. That is unacceptable, and don’t you dare involve Ribbon and put him in danger.”

Error scoffed, but he complied. The two guardians stepped into the hallway. Error’s hands clenched as Nightmare shut the door. “Now, what is it you wanted to discu-”

Error wrapped his strings around Nightmare’s neck and strangled him. Nightmare’s eye light widened as he gasped for breath. He narrowed his eye and a tendril lashed out, wrapping around Error’s torso and throwing him aside. He got to his feet.

“Real mature.” Nightmare brushed off his neck and crossed his arms. His body began to distort. “You’re either going to talk to me like the adult you claim you are, or you will leave. Make your choice.”

The destroyer huffed and brushed himself off. He gritted his teeth. “We’re going to talk.”

“Very well.” Nightmare waved his fingers and created a portal. He wrapped Error in his tendril and threw him in. Nightmare walked in more gracefully. He stared down at the destroyer as if he was less than and gestured for him to stand. “Walk with me.”

Nightmare started strolling down the path with Error next to him. The two said nothing else for an extended time, only exchanging glares. Nightmare kept his arms crossed, fingers tapping his left arm. The sky was dark with only a hint of sunlight left. Gray stone ruins and fresh grass surrounded the place. Nightmare opened a portal to the closest AU he could think of, so he didn't know where they were. It didn't matter.

Nightmare sighed after the silence stayed and his tendrils straightened behind him. “So, I’m assuming you’re here about the events in Mafiatale. If you’re still angry about your arm, you’re a little late to complain. It’s been a month. But if you're here about Ribbon . . . that depends on what you want. Which would it be?”

Error slipped one hand into his pocket while the other hung free. “No, that’s not what this is about. When you told me about your ‘Use Ink to Kill Dream’ plan, I thought we had a deal to not hurt Blue. You turned him halfway to stone!”

Nightmare had to think about it. Nothing came to mind “I can't recall any deal, maybe the void is screwing up your memory. But I could reverse the spell if you’d like.”

“Too late for that. He’s in a coma, falling down, and I don’t know if he’s going to survive.” Error scowled at him. Nightmare rolled his eye light.

“Well, if he didn’t want to be turned to stone, then he shouldn’t have tried to take my lamb. And if you didn’t want him to get hurt, you should have made a real deal with me. I’m not the one to blame.”

Error narrowed his gaze. His aura grew disturbed. “Ink's your lamb? Don’t ever use pet names again. It sounds weird coming from you."

“You have no power to tell me what to do, especially in my love life. I will call Ribbon whatever I want."

“Oh yeah, speaking of that. What did you do to him? He was sleeping on a dog bed and you dressed him like a little girl!” Error took several deep breaths to recover, still fuming.

Nightmare rolled his eye light. “First of all, it’s a pillow, not a dog bed. I am not looking for a pet.” He eyed Error’s frame, a faint smirk and a thought forming. “Unless you want to take that role.”

Error’s left eye socket glitched over. “What the- ew! Why would I?”

“Oh calm down, It was just a joke. Your attitude would make you a terrible pet. You wouldn’t be as fun to break.” Nightmare chuckled. The idea of Error kneeling at his feet beaten with a collar was amusing to him. “And second of all, his name isn’t Ink. It’s Ribbon.”

Error stepped away from him and turned his head. He walked straight ahead. He waved his strings in his hands and ripped the top stone off one of the ruins. He smashed another in a violent swoop. “Sweet? Cuddly? Are we talking about the same skeleton? Please. With Ink’s annoying attitude, I doubt anyone can make him that soft. Even with him being that skittish at the party, that had to be some kind of act."

Nightmare shook his head. "It's no act, Error. His attitude problem is gone now. He hasn’t used sarcasm in over five months now, nor has he tried to defy me in any way. We never argue because he only worries about making me happy.” Nightmare paused and grinned. “Those films make mind control look so complicated. In reality, it’s not that different from training a dog. You punish the behavior you don’t want to see and reward the ones you do. Eventually, you overwrite their entire personality until they are perfect. Ribbon's only flaws are his separation anxiety and sensitivity. But those are minor, and I will admit they are both my causing. He’s made so much progress the last year and I'm sure he will keep getting better.”

Error stared at him the same way the villagers did when he first became a monster. He fed from the destroyer’s uncomfortable aura. Nightmare flexed his fingers so he could clearly see his engagement ring. It succeeded in getting his attention and Error froze. “Wait, what’s that?”

Nightmare feigned ignorance. “Oh, this little thing? It’s my ring. After I proposed to Ribbon-”

“You WHAT?”

“-I started wearing it. I bought a custom ring for him. Blue diamond is harder to find than white diamond, but it looks beautiful on him.” Nightmare adjusted his ring. He sensed the shock and confusion in Error’s aura. “I can’t wait until I slide the ring onto his finger at our wedding. I still need to choose a location. I want it to be a grand event. I want Ribbon covered in flowers and I want it at night so we can dance under the stars and the moon. Then when he's too tired to keep awake, I'll carry him back to our hotel room and cuddle him." Nightmare smiled at his fantasies. He's been thinking about them for a while, making sure every detail was right.

Error's eye sockets were still wide. ERROR signs danced around his vision and threatened to blind him. Nightmare chuckled. "Oh, don't worry, I'll invite you to the wedding. You can even be in the front row if you desire."

"That's what you think I care about? Do you even listen to yourself when you talk?" Error inhaled. "You said you were going to kill him! You . . . you . . ."

Nightmare tilted his head. He assumed Error would be happier about this. He never had to deal with his sworn enemy ever again. “You don’t miss Ink, do you?”

The question caught Error off guard. “What? Why would I? I couldn’t care less what happens to him! I want him dead, but I don't want to give him a slow agonizing one because I'm not a sadist. I don’t get your weird kick out of torturing people."

"Mm-hm, now we're both in denial." Nightmare laughed at his comment. “You don’t need to worry for him. This role suits him better than a guardian ever did. He’s much happier as a cute doll. I couldn’t ask for a better future queen to rule beside me.”

"Sure he will. You can't keep Ink on a leash forever, he likes to do his own thing and he's going to get tired of being arm candy. I can't even keep him still to watch an hour of Undernovela and he threw a fit when I tied him to the ceiling. An eternity as your queen sounds like torture." Error pulled more strings out of his eye sockets. They vibrated with static.

“He killed his best friend in cold blood to please me. I think I have plenty of control over him," Nightmare said with nonchalance.

Error paused and his arm lowered. "Wait, Dr- no, that doesn't make sense. . . . you killed Fresh. Oh thank the Creators. You did one thing right." Error cackled. Nightmare's mouth curved up. Perhaps there still was a chance he could keep Error on his side and wouldn't need to turn him into an enemy.

But Error noticed his smile and went back to scowling. "I said you did one thing right. I don't get everything else and I'm still ticked you lied. Wait, you haven't . . . you know, been intimate with him, right?" Error looked like he was going to be sick.

Nightmare raised a browbone and shrugged. “I don’t believe in sex before marriage, so no. I'm not Killer or even Dust. Why is that what you're concerned about?"

“It's not that itself, it's that you're going that far. It’s one thing to break someone into being an emotionless robot. It’s another to brainwash said person into a smiley giggly puppet you dress in pink skirts! You fucked over the entire multiverse so you could play house with Ink!”

Error's body glitched more. The static and vibrations on the strings became visible. But then he smiled with mischief. "But, you know what? It's not all bad. He's my enemy in the first place! I should get to decide what happens, you get Dream! I could grab him from you whenever I want. I can keep you on your toes so you know how the rest of us feel and that includes Ink-"

Nightmare grabbed Error by the collar and pinned him against a stone wall. He snarled. “If you get in the way of my plan, if you try and take my Ribbon from me, I will make it your deepest regret. I am more than willing to duel you, but the second you touch him, it's over. Is that understood?"

Error shoved Nightmare off, scratching his lower chin. Nightmare touched the wound and watched it bleed. He didn't understand how Error's phalanges were so sharp. The destroyer flipped him off and glitched into nothing.

Nightmare wiped the blood off his neck. He wanted to chase after Error, but he remembered his boys. They were still injured and they needed him, unless Ribbon or Horror got there first. He needed Ribbon right now, he couldn't imagine Error breaking in in the middle of the night to snatch him away. Nightmare teleported to his castle.

Nightmare sensed a set of auras from the medical room, so that’s where he headed. It was one of the most frequently used rooms as the Murder Time Trio always injured themselves. The back wall had a shelf filled with pills, liquid medicines, and bandages. Surgical equipment had it’s own shelf. Some were for decoration purposes only as they were two centuries outdated.

Ribbon wrapped bandages around Dust’s skull. Killer was nowhere to be seen. Dust was now awake, staying still as Ribbon did his work. The doll finished tying up the bandages and snipped them off. His sewing and crafting abilities must have helped. Dream was the healer of the Star Sanses, he couldn’t see Ink doing it. Nightmare adjusted his collar so Ribbon wouldn't see the blood and panic.

He turned around and spotted Nightmare. Ribbon wrapped the roll of bandages up and skipped up to Nightmare. “Hi! I found Killer and Dust and helped them! Are you okay? Where were you? I thought something happened to you and I got scared!"

Dust rubbed his head and looked up. “What happened with Error, Boss? What made him so pissy?"

“Error?” Ribbon looked between Nightmare and Dust. “Error was here? What did he . . .”

Nightmare raised his right hand. He looked at Dust. “It’s fine, he won’t be causing any more problems. I'll make sure of it. But Ribbon, I want you to sleep in my room for the next few days. But that should be simple for you." He pressed his nonexistent lips into a hard line. He didn't need Error in the long run. It was his choice to betray him. He planned to spare the destroyer from the corruption taking over the multiverse. But now he had no reason to. If Error became a monster under his control, more than he was now, it was his fault.

Ribbon must have noticed the tension for it was as thick as poison gas. He fiddled with the charm on his neck until he gave one of his shy smiles. "Um, I have something that can help you feel better! I'll be right back!"

The doll dashed off and Nightmare knew what he meant in a second. He glanced at Dust, who shrugged in response. Nightmare leaned against the wall and waited, holding back a smile. His precious nature almost made him ignore Error.

Ribbon came back a moment later with something behind his back. He walked up to Nightmare and waited, then he revealed a fancy black suit from behind his back. "Ta-da! I made it for you! I worked really hard . . . do you like it?"

Nightmare pretended to look surprised and unaware. The suit looked almost the same, only now Ribbon sewed on a train that went down to his ankles. Embroidery lined the sides and the same galaxy pattern covered the back. It was just as beautiful as the rest of the suit. Nightmare kissed his forehead and held his cheek, playing up a sappy voice that made Dust wince. “Aw, you made this for me? How sweet of you. Good doll, Ribbon, very good doll.”

Ribbon beamed and made a happy squeal. Nightmare looked back down at his suit and held Ribbon close with his tendrils. “Hm, you know what? I’ll wear it for our wedding. It's beautiful enough. Imagine how much people will admire you once they see your sewing skills. Everyone will see just how special you are."

Minutes or hours after the guardians spoke, Error watched Blue as he slept. The void’s curse began to affect him. His shadow faded and his breathing became more audible. His stone gloves started turning black. Error couldn’t remember how he got into the void, only that he woke up as a glitch. Sometimes he had a faint memory or heard a voice, but he didn’t know anything about his past. Would Blue be the same? Ugh, he could have sworn he made a deal about Blue. Or was that a nightmare he had? Ever since Nightmare started this, he had more nightmares than usual. Some felt real, like the one where he chopped the body parts off Sans anomalies and sewed them to himself. The screw-up made him feel like a moron. Error tilted his head.

It would be so easy to take him under your wing.

He could be a destroyer like you!

You won’t be lonely anymore!

“SHUT UP!” Error shouted at the voices in the void, which had only gotten worse since Nightmare’s master plan. No, that would make him no better than Nightmare. And he made that stupid promise to Dream and the other Smiling Stars . . .

His fingers twitched as they got bored of stalling his plan. He looked down at his arm, now free of the cast. Error waved his hand and opened up a portal. But instead of an AU like usual, it was a dark blue space with white sparks. Looking closer, the sparks were teeny bits of the binary code that made up Nightmare’s AU.

Error grinned at it. Zeros and ones glitched around him, but Error could read them as easily as words. He reached out with his strings in hand and gripped the code. He’s done this a thousand times with destroying other AUs. Error yanked down his arm and ripped the code out of place.

But then an electric shock made him scream. He ripped his hand away from the code and watched steam fizzle from it. His yellow fingertips darkened from the burn.

“He cursed it, of course he did. Damn it.” Error shut the portal and stared at his fingers. He shook them to reduce the pain. It only made him angrier. There had to be something he could do to get back at him . . . oh wait.

Remembering the other part of the plan, Error opened a portal to the Doodlesphere. He had been lax about destroying corrupted AUs, Code Purples as the Star Sanses called them. But even he felt the misery of these parasites.

Something stood out to Error that he never noticed before. The corrupted AUs always stayed isolated from the other AUs. Corrupted Lustswap moved closer to Deltaswap and the malice spread. It wasn’t as dark and stormy as Lustswap, but it rotted the land. Error took a double take and lowered himself down.

Error followed along the path. What the hell was this? It looked like Nightmare’s sludge, acted like acid, and smelt like an apple orchard on a hot day, with a hit of carcasses. He didn’t know if the dead body smell came from the liquid itself, or actual body parts it carried. He didn’t want to know the answer.

He opened a portal and flipped through it like channels on a TV. Whatever that negative sludge was, it spread throughout the AU. Most of the monsters stayed away, but a few ignorant ones touched it. Error narrowed his gaze and his mind started guessing.

The destroyer opened a second portal and scanned it for a half-corrupted AU. Something had to be different, and it was. The monsters broke their code and went off script. Nightmare’s sludge leaked out of their mouths and eyes. Error found a Chara variant lying in bed, getting cared for by Toriel. Their hair darkened from brown to black and they coughed up malice. Toriel reached out to pet their head, but Chara lashed out and scratched her.

“Anomaly four hundred forty-four. . . what have you done?” Error muttered. He shut the two portals and focused back on the Doodlesphere. If they weren’t already anomalies, this parasite turned them into them. Error had the balance to keep in mind while destroying AUs, but that didn’t stop him from destroying them for fun.

He wrapped his strings around the infected parts of the islands and ripped them off. The rocks and dirt fell through the yellow void, disappearing into glitches.

Once he started, a shiver ran through his body. Nightmare would have his head once he found out about this, but he didn’t care what he thought. Error floated through the Anti-Void until he spotted more corrupted AUs. He fired his strings at them, shattering the portals on the islands. The AUs collapsed into masses of sludge and rock. Error slaughtered a dozen before he landed on a safe island, one without any of Nightmare’s magic. Even if he had to side with Dream, he was done dealing with Nightmare.

Error sighed. “Hang in there, you stupid lovesick squid. I’m getting you out of there.”

Chapter Text

Ribbon stretched and yawned, flipping through the wedding dress catalog on his vanity. He drew hearts on the ones he liked with a pink gel pen. He loved the ones with the super long trains and lace sleeves. He knew no matter what, Nightmare was going to pick what he wanted him to wear. But it was fun to see all the pretty options, and Nightmare wanted a little input from Ribbon. It was his wedding too and he wanted him happy.

Mrrow?

Ribbon looked up as he heard the strange noise. Ribbon looked up from his vanity. The sound came from the window in the room. He got up and cautiously walked up to it, was it one of Killer’s pranks again? He liked cats and it seemed like something he would do. Ribbon opened the pink lace curtains and looked outside. He took a double take. Outside was a white cat with thick fluffy fur and big black eyes hanging from blue strings. Ribbon tilted his head and pressed his hands against the glass. As soon as he did, the cat moved and landed on a nearby ledge. He waved his paw and Ribbon tapped his finger against the window. Ribbon narrowed his eyes and the cat lifted in the air, jumping from ledges and running to the garden.

“Wait, come here! What are you?” Ribbon pulled his neck charm, grabbed his parasol, and ran out of his room. He made his way through the castle and into the gardens. He spotted the cat rolling on the ground in a field of tulips. with the strings still attached. He looked around in case anyone would try to attack him. But he knew couldn’t happen because of Nightmare’s magic. Still . . . he felt like he was being watched. The sharp end of his parasol glinted in the light.

Before he knew it, something wrapped around his waist, wrists, and legs. His parasol almost fell out of his hand. More blue strings. Wait, like the strings of-

Ribbon couldn’t finish that thought as he was flung backward and through a portal. Going faster, the doll screamed until he came to a sudden halt. He hung from his wrists. His breathing raced as he looked down. He was at least fifty feet in the air of a . . . oh stars, not more white! He hasn’t been in the Anti-void in forever. How did he remember the name? Ribbon kicked and tried to curl up into a ball, terrified of falling. Would he shatter? His porcelain body was strong, but he didn’t know if it could handle fall damage. He looked around at the blue strings, souls, and puppets around him.

“Gotcha. You can thank me later, Ink.” Error said. He sat on a blue string swing and lowered Ribbon to his level. His fingers were so tight around it that it looked like they would break. Ribbon couldn’t tell if he was angry, happy, or both. Was he angry at him? His grin and glitching eye sockets made Ribbon squirm and cower. Error stared at the cat and threw it through a portal. “Underfell was actually useful for once. I stole Fell’s cat, Doomfanger. Now to the point.” He threw the cat through the portal and brought Ribbon closer. He looked him directly in the eyes. “Look, I’m not standing by and watching as Nightmare breaks everything out of you and by extension, me. I’m going to end this right now. If you fight against me, I’ll hang you. No, scratch that. I’ll hang Nightmare first, then you’re next. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

“Yes, sir!” Ribbon nodded quickly. He noticed Error’s distaste for the word. “I mean, yes Error!” There, that made him happy. Error lowered both of them to the ground and Ribbon took a breath of relief. Error picked up something from behind his bean bag and threw it at Ribbon. Something brown covered his face and he shook it off to see what it was. It was an outfit. A white shirt with a brown shoulder jacket, heavy brown pants, and a brown scarf. They all had very noticeable blue stitches. The outfit looked familiar and Ribbon had to think. Then he remembered it was his old uniform, back before Nightmare fixed him.

“Put that on and then we can get going. I made it for you.” Error said. He turned around so he didn’t watch Ribbon change. Knowing he had no choice here, Ribbon took his dress, beret, and stockings off. He put on the outfit Error gave him instead. It wasn’t as comfy as his dresses and it felt too tight and too big at the same time.

“I’m done . . .” Ribbon whispered when he finished. He rubbed his hands together, looking around in the hope Nightmare would save him. He looked at Error’s multicolored eye lights and had no will to protest.

Error relaxed a bit when he put the outfit on. “There, now you look normal. Almost, it doesn’t fix your proportions. Can you change your eye lights to something that isn’t those creepy pink hearts? Why haven’t they changed at all since I brought you here?”

“I can’t, Nightmare fixed my eyes and gave me pretty mechanical ones! They’re always this pink!” Ribbon blinked his mechanical eyes. He knew they were lilac, but pink was close enough. The white pupils made Error grimace.

“. . . I don’t want to know.” Error sighed. He created a portal out of glitches and dropped them both through.

They fell into the Doodlesphere. Ribbon hasn’t been in the endless yellow void for so long that it felt like new territory. Some of the islands were pitch black from their corruption. Part of him wanted to do something about it, but the louder part was pleased. Nightmare’s plan was working! Error lowered himself with more carefulness than he did with Ribbon. His glitches increased as he got to the ground.

“What do you think of this? I destroyed twenty-eight AUs so far because of the mayhem you and Nightmare pulled. I know you don’t care, but it’s ruining the monsters and the code.” He looked at Ribbon for a response. Ribbon didn’t move a muscle. Error’s mouth held slightly agape. “Seriously? This is your life’s work and you feel nothing?”

“No . . .” Ribbon knew he shouldn’t, but he thought harder. Yeah, he should help here . . . but he also didn’t want to. Nightmare wouldn’t like that. Ribbon pulled at the scarf on his neck. He didn’t like how big this outfit was. He was so used to dresses that not wearing a skirt felt wrong.

Error facepalmed and groaned. He made a hand out of string and smacked Ribbon’s hand away from his scarf. “Don’t take that off. I can’t believe I’m going to try and fix something.” He opened a giant rectangle box beside Ribbon. His eyes went wide at all the white code moving. It was so pretty! Error looked bored. His fingers flashed across the screen, moving stuff around and deleting it. Ribbon’s body jolted each time it did. It reminded him of the shock collar. Was this Error’s way of punishment?

“Huh . . . why isn’t any of your Guardian of Creativity code in here? Almost all of your code is broken, like you.”

Ribbon thought about it. He tried to pretend breaking that sphere didn’t happen, but it was a hard thing to forget. “Um, I don’t know. A few months ago, I was on a mission with Dust, Killer, and Horror, and I wandered into this strange place. There was a big sphere in the middle of the room and . . . I kinda broke it . . . please don't be angry! I just said it because I felt weird since then!"

“The creativity sphere you told me about? You shattered your magic?” Error muttered in disbelief to himself. His eye sockets went blind with glitches. “Oh . . . that's why Fresh replaced you so easily. How could have you been that stupid? Whatever, it's not important. This isn't working either. Crap, Nightmare is going to be here . . ."

The rectangle disappeared and Ribbon took a deep breath. It felt good on his plastic lungs. Error snapped his fingers again and they fell through a portal. They crashed back into the Anti-void. Ribbon barely saw what he was doing as he landed flat on his face. Ribbon lay there for a moment, contemplating his life, then he heard Error drop a set of papers down.

Error spread a set of drawings on the ground. Someone with a lot of talent must have made them. One of them had someone who looked like Ribbon, sort of. He wore the same outfit he did now, but his face and body were wrong.

Error kept his arms crossed and stared down at him. “Hurry up, do you recognize any of these? You made that one for my birthday. It looks stupid.” He tapped his foot on the drawing of a chibi Error with a massive chocolate bar. He kissed and cuddled it.

The drawing was silly and he laughed a little, but Ribbon didn’t recognize it. He shook his head. Error huffed and tapped another drawing. “This one? It was a consolation prize you made me when I got stuck in your trap for five hours.”

He didn't recognize that one either. He had a tiny glimpse of something, but that could easily be his imagination. “I- I don’t even draw that much anymore. I usually sew. I’m not this talented either . . .” Ribbon crawled backward. He looked around for Nightmare again. He had to notice he was missing by now, right? Sure he was at a business meeting, but he had to find him!

Error gathered the drawings with his strings and sent them into the air. “I have one more idea. After this, I’m sending you to Dream and the Stars and letting them deal with you.”

Ribbon shook his head. He didn’t want to go back to his kidnappers! They were going to punish him for getting away. “I’ll behave, I’ll be good, I promise! I’ll do my best! What is it?”

“Fight me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Error snapped his fingers and teleported them back to the Doodlesphere. He chose the islands floating around, not any real AUs. The other islands came from AU pieces breaking off and debris from the Creators and Error. The destroyer landed on the ground. He picked up a big stick and threw it at Ribbon. “Pretend that’s Broomie since Nightmare destroyed it.”

Ribbon looked at the stick. Error gave him digital artist gloves with his outfit and it made the stick feel slippery. Or he was just weak, he had almost no muscle after his surgeries. His parasol was lighter and easier to use. Ribbon swung it and fell over on the ground. Error wrapped his strings around him and made him stand up.

Error stood in front of Ribbon and sighed. "Hit me with the stick." I'm standing right here and I'm not even defending myself. This isn't hard, even a baby Asriel could do it."

Ribbon tried to hold it better, but then he panicked. He remembered his training and how Nightmare didn't like it when he landed a hit on him. “I’m sorry! I don’t know how to use this, it's too heavy. Can I have my parasol back? Please please?"

"It's the same size as Broomie! How are you . . ." Error rubbed his hand on his face. His tight voice made Ribbon worry he was in trouble. “Okay squid, I need you to listen to me very carefully. First, take the stick and hold it like a weapon. Now, I’m going to destroy this AU and you need to stop me by any means possible. You need to save the world and the people inside before I kill them all. Don’t beg, don’t argue, don’t stammer, don’t cower, and don’t be a crybaby. Just don’t . . . whatever Nightmare told you to do, do the opposite. There, that’s the easiest way I can explain it.”

Ribbon took a moment to absorb the new information and nodded. Opposite? Nightmare liked obedience, silence, trained helplessness, and sweetness. So Error must want defiance, noisiness, independence, and . . . him to act like an asshole? Rude was the opposite of sweet. The thought of acting like that was scary, but he could try if it meant he wouldn't get hurt. It’s like playing make-believe! "Um, Error? When I’m done, can you please send me back home?”

Error laughed without humor. “No! You’re not going back to him! That man is crazy."

Ribbon switched his mannerisms. He narrowed his eyes and changed his stance to one hand on his hip. “Or what? You’re going to use your puppet strings on me? You're too slow to catch me, I'm- I'm better! Faster?" Ribbon wasn't sure what to say.

Error’s mouth froze open before turning into a grin. “There’s the Ink I know and hate! We’re trying this again.”

Ribbon faced him with more of a strut than usual. It felt so wrong, but also natural in a weird way. It’s like he was a confident person.

No, what was he thinking? This was bad, bad, bad! Confidence was a person feeling and Nightmare warned him not to think like a person. When Error wasn’t looking, Ribbon switched back to the way he always stood. Prim and proper. He hit himself for misbehavior.

Error noticed but said nothing, throwing more bone attacks. Ribbon bounced around. "Missed me! Missed me! You call yourself a destroyer? Your aim is awful!” The doll dodged all of his attacks. Being confident, even as an act, was actually . . . fun? A little bit fun, he never played this rough.

Error smirked and doubled down on his Gaster Blasters. Ribbon leaped in the air and ran to go hit him with the stick. He almost laughed, but then Nightmare’s disappointed face flashed before his eyes. Ribbon lost his smile. He would be so mad right now.

Error threw his string of bones at him. Ribbon wasn’t paying attention and was hit in three spots, both shoulders in chest. He flew and slammed against the wall, tangled in bones and string. His shoulders popped and throbbed with pain.

“Nighty . . .” Ribbon moaned, falling flat onto the ground.

The destroyer teleported in front of him and scowled. “Come on, Ink! You were so close that time! Why did you have to screw it up?" He paused and his glitches increased. "He really did reduce you to a damsel in distress who can’t even fight for himself. Can you do anything without him?”

Ribbon curled up in a ball, feeling guilty and embarrassed. “N-no. I can’t. I need him. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . ."

“You’re not a doll, Ink! I want you back to normal!” Was that worry in his voice? Ribbon couldn’t tell. Error's glitches covered his eyes. He grabbed Ribbon’s collar with his strings and brought him closer. “Snap out of it! I- oh screw it, I miss you! I miss fighting and hanging out with you! You annoyed the hell out of me, but I would take that a million times over whatever this is!"

Blue magic wrapped around Ribbon’s body and he was ripped away from Error. He floated away until he fell into Horror’s arms. He looked up and grinned, snuggling up to the bigger skeleton. Horror looked confused, but he gave him a nice head scratch. If Horror was here, that must have meant-

Error couldn’t watch for long as a tendril pulled him to the ground. Error fired a Gaster Blaster at it. Nightmare pulled his top tendril away. He used the bottom two to stand. Error readied his strings and Gaster Blasters. Nightmare prepared his tendrils.

“Nightmare? How did you know where we were?”

Nightmare stood on his tendrils. “I can find Ribbon anywhere in the Doodlesphere, I've been around his aura long enough to recognize it. And we used to fight near the same planes and areas, I remembered this one."

“Should've known," Error grumbled.

“Starlight!” Ribbon struggled in Horror's arms to get to Nightmare. Nightmare held up his hand and while it usually meant to be quiet, he assumed he wanted him to stop.

"Hold still . . . they got this. Nightmare . . . says he wants you . . . with me." Horror said. Ribbon did feel safe with him, so he relaxed. Right, they could handle this. He had to stay safe and then cuddle Nightmare when this was over.

Sneaking from behind, Killer and Dust jumped Error. Killer stabbed his shoulder. Error rolled over and jammed his elbow into his chest, kicking Dust away. He wrapped his strings around their souls and threw them to the other islands. Error fired his Gaster Blasters at the three of them. Horror tightened his grip on Ribbon and hid behind a portal. He still squeezed him as they watched the four of them fight.

Dust teleported around and fired his pistols in the air to confuse Error. Killer ran around and threw knives and bones. Nightmare waited patiently for the perfect time to strike. Dirt and dust blew into the air and made Ribbon cough. Error levitated out of the heavy cloud and targeted Killer. Error turned around and Nightmare struck him from behind. He wrapped his tendrils around Error and pulled him out of the sky. He grabbed him by the skull, making him glitch and kick, then he summoned his sleeping magic. Error screamed and worked to fight it off, but he couldn't. His eye sockets went heavy and he fell asleep. Nightmare's magic always felt good, so he didn't worry about Error.

"Well now I'm not the only one with a concussion." Killer spat at Error's feet. "Dang, I kinda liked you before all this."

Nightmare watched as Killer and Dust tied Error up with his own strings. Then he looked over at Ribbon and Horror. Ribbon reached out for him. Nightmare only noticed his outfit now and Ribbon couldn't read his expression. Anger? Shock? He didn't know, but he didn't think he was in trouble. Nightmare kissed Ribbon's head and looked up at Horror. He nodded at him. "Good work, you may carry him back to the castle and we will deal with this. I need your help."

“Come on, Error! Wake up! Wake up!"

Error groaned and stretched. “Ugh, my head . . . wait. Where am I?” He looked around and found himself shirtless and shackled in a dark dungeon. He tried to summon his strings, but the Anti-Magic cuffs He shot toward the bars and shook them. “Ribbon, what did you do to me? You bastard!”

Ribbon smiled and tilted his head. He struggled to contain his excitement, not only because Nightmare refilled his paints. Nightmare promised he would punish Error for everything he did to him. He and Horror were out of the room gathering supplies. Ribbon even got to help! His creative mind already had ideas, like he was the one who got to hold him down.

“Nightmare said he might be able to help you! He's mad at you for taking me, hurting me, putting me in those clothes." Ribbon patted the skirt of his dress, the one he had before Error made him take it off. Killer found it.

"Help me? What is that supposed to mean?"

“I . . . I don't know yet. All he said was that you would never hurt me or anyone else again. If I had to guess . . . I bet he's going to do the same thing he did when I misbehaved. Punish you.” Ribbon looked down at the moon brand on his chest. “I'm not allowed to make the big decisions on what happens to prisoners, Nightmare does all of that. I only help do the little things like tie them up and bring food or water."

Error looked horrified instead of happy, which surprised Ribbon. Why wouldn’t anyone want this life? “Why . . . what are you allowed to do? It sounds like Nightmare doesn't let you do anything,” he asked.

Ribbon had to think about that question. He counted on his fingers and pulled his string. “No talking to strangers, no wearing boy clothes, no leaving the castle, no spending money." He took a deep breath. "No speaking without permission, no alcohol, no drugs, no sweets unless on special occasions, and no friends. Oh, never talk back, never disobey, never complain, act sweet and smile, remember my place . . ."

"I would need drugs to put up with this." Error leaned against the cage, looking nauseous.

“I think that's all the things I'm not allowed to do. It might sound bad, but it's actually a good thing! Having all those things made me act out and disobey. I need strict rules to follow! I got used to them, and Nightmare became much nicer once I stopped thinking for myself. Maybe you'll be happy here if Nightmare decides to train you like he did with me! I can teach you to avoid the same mistakes I made. We can even be friends if he says it's okay!”

That was the part Ribbon was most enthusiastic about. He could have his very first real friend. Could. He felt safer knowing Error was behind bars and he couldn't hurt him. He could watch someone else go through his training. He could shape him into the perfect BFF. He wanted to play with him so badly.

Error took in a long breath. “Oh for the love of the Creators, Ink! Open your eyes! I don’t believe for one minute you’re happy like this. I haven’t seen you this pathetic since you tried drinking your blue and red vials at the same time. You’re fifty times worse now. You’re jumpy, you’re scared, you’re confused, you always look like you’re about to cry, and Nightmare treats you like an object! You just listed a bunch of normal things you're not allowed to do! Admit it, you’re miserable! What happened to the annoying Ink who used to cause mischief and never let others boss him around? Oh wait, I know! NIGHTMARE BEAT HIM INTO HIDING!”

Ribbon’s enthusiasm faded and his left eye twitched. He didn’t care that he said bad things about him, he got that a lot, but he wouldn’t let bad things about his fiance slide. “Hey! You don’t know anything! Nightmare doesn’t beat me, it was only when I was bad, and that was months ago!” He wasn’t allowed to use the word Error says. He remembered what Error said “He’s the one person who’s ever loved me! Once I become his wife and queen, he’ll love me even more!”

“Bullshit! Nightmare doesn’t care about you, he’s just crazy! He cares about your powers and how easy you are to control. If he loves you as much as you say he does, then why does he treat you like some puppy? Why does he make you feel like you’re nothing compared to him? I’ve never been in a relationship, but I don’t need to be to know that is a major red flag.”

“I am less than a person! I explained this a few minutes ago! I am a doll. I was supposed to be a doll all along, being a person only made me worse! I think that- that will help you too! You'll be better once Nightmare is done with you! Listen to me! This is why NO ONE LOVES YOU!" Ribbon's mind started to spiral and he took a breath.

Error’s scowl tightened. He growled and lashed out, but then changed his mind, sinking back down. “You’re a liar, Ink. I choose not to care about others and vice versa."

Ribbon cocked his head in confusion. “Why does everyone keep calling me Ink? I’m not Ink anymore!”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sure as hell not talking to him and it was a mistake to try and save you. Until he comes back to his senses, I’m not saying a word to you.” Error turned around and slumped against the cage wall.

“Wait, Error! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean what I said.” Ribbon pleaded, but Error didn’t budge. His scowl increased. The doll sniffed. “I’m sorry, I just want to be friends! I can be better! I swear I can fix it!"

He kept apologizing and trying to get Error to talk to him until his pull-string retracted. Nothing worked. He did want Error to be happy. He was sure he would be happy and make a good doll. But Ribbon failed to be a good friend first. Another thing he’s worthless at. Maybe he had to use a different persuasion method to prove being a toy was better than being a person. A direct comparison. What would Nightmare do in this situation? Probably turn to violence . . .

The door to the dungeon opened. Ribbon looked up to Nightmare walking down the steps. He had his arms behind his back and looked as handsome as ever, even in the creepy dungeon light.

“Well, well, well, this is interesting. Ribbon, how are you-” Nightmare noticed the tears on his cheekbones. “Did Error make you cry?”

Ribbon nodded, wiping his eye. Nightmare frowned and picked him up, rubbing his skull and shushing him. Ribbon clung to him, trying to ignore what Error said. Nightmare hummed and kept rubbing his head.

“Shh, tell me what happened.” His voice was quiet and gentle, calming Ribbon down almost instantly. He snuggled onto his lap and whispered the entire conversation. Error’s face scrunched from disgust.

“Can you stop cuddling him in front of me? It's gross!" Error shouted, grabbing the bars and trying to shake them. “Let me go!”

Nightmare glared at Error as he set Ribbon back down. “My little doll, could you do me a favor? Go into the storage room and bring the blindfold and bandages. I have a plan.”

“Yes Nighty,” Ribbon said. He slipped off his lap and skipped through the dungeon. He looked around a big room filled with weapons, restraints, spikes, and a few medical supplies. It was like his training room, but bigger. Ribbon picked out a black blindfold from a drawer and picked up a roll of bandages.

Ribbon carried both items through the dungeon, which wasn’t as scary as it once had been. Probably because Nightmare hasn’t sent him to the white room in that time. He hoped to never go in there again.

Ribbon slowed down when he heard them arguing. More screaming, mostly from Error. He peeked from around the corner at them. It looked the same as before, but Horror showed up this time. It was only for a moment, then he disappeared into the dark. Not even his red eye glowed.

“-you’re the one who decided to ruin my plan. I gave you a warning in advance, yet you ignored me. I don’t want to hurt him." Nightmare looked up and smiled when Ribbon arrived. "There he is. Oh, you chose an excellent blindfold. Good work." Nightmare picked up the rough fabric and pet Ribbon's head, making him purr.

Error pulled his head back and screamed. Nightmare brushed his fingers along his cheekbone and held back a laugh. “My, my, the great destroyer being brought to his knees over a single touch. This is going to be interesting. Ribbon, would you like to do the honor of preparing him for torture?"

“Don’t do it, Ink! If you want me to be your friend so bad, you’ll get me out of here!”

Nightmare kissed him on the head, then on both cheeks. “Go on, do it for me?"

Ribbon didn't even need to think. Nightmare's kisses made it so he didn't have to think about who to help. It did make him feel ashamed for having those thoughts about friends. Nightmare was right, again. He had to put his loneliness aside and focus on the team, friendship did nothing good. Or he could give all of his stuffed animals names and stories and treat them as friends, more than he already is. He liked that idea more. Ribbon tied the blindfold around Error, nearly getting bit by him. Nightmare pulled Ribbon out of the way with his tendril and set him by his side. Nightmare made a hand gesture.

Horror stepped out of the shadows, holding a massive chainsaw. He pulled the cord and revved it up. Error's mouth went agape at the sound and he shuffled back, fighting his Anti-Magic bonds. "Why the hell do you have a chainsaw?"

Nightmare's mouth curved up as he stared down at Error. "To teach you a lesson. Ribbon told me what happened. You forced him to fight you and you put your hands on him. I don't want to cut both of your hands off in case I need you later, but I have another idea. Horror, go ahead."

Nightmare covered Ribbon's eyes with his tendrils and held him, but he listened. It was a mix of screaming, glitching, chainsaw sounds, and bones breaking. He thought it would only be a few seconds, but it seemed to last way longer than that. Horror took his time. Error's screaming stopped and Ribbon worried. Did Nightmare and Horror go further than his arm? Something heavy clattered on the ground.

"Close your eyes if you can't handle it." Nightmare removed the tendril after a moment and let Ribbon see. Oh, that's why he went quiet. Error crashed in the middle of getting his arm chopped off. A loading bar hovered above his head and his arm lay on the ground. Yellowish-blue blood leaked from his shoulder. His arm glitched on the ground, almost dusting.

Nightmare wrapped his strings around Error's soul and snapped him out of his crash. Ribbon's heart fluttered over Nightmare showing off his power like that. There wasn't a single thing that could hurt him when Nightmare was around. The dark king summoned malice in his hand, forcing it into Error's soul. Well, half of it went into his soul. The other half went down his throat as Nightmare shoved his hand inside. The move woke Error up all the way. Error gagged and curled up into himself. He stared at his bleeding arm turning into dust and glitches. "Nightmare, stop!"

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought you said you needed drugs to put up with this?” Nightmare chuckled under his breath, then he forced the malice down his throat again. Error sputtered and tried to cough it out. Glitches burst around his body. The liquid leaked out of his eyes and mouth. "Were you bluffing? Oh well."

Nightmare smiled at his doll. “Ribbon, sweetheart, bring me my branding iron, it's in the living room by the fireplace. This is going to be a long night.”

Chapter Text

Dream checked off a day on one of his now several calendars, using the board once used for Ink. Two months since Blue has been in a coma, Fresh died, and Error went missing. He disappeared not long after he, Cross, and Core took Blue to him. It couldn’t have been longer than three weeks. He hadn’t spoken to Epic or Core since their argument. He spoke to Cross seldom, but it had always been tense. Dream thought it was strange Error went so long without attacking an AU. Outer hasn’t seen him, the Anti-Void was empty, and no AUs were destroyed.

It wouldn’t make sense for him to abandon Blue. Blue spoke good things about Error and how he treated him after he destroyed his AU. Dream was a hundred and one percent certain his disappearance had ties to Nightmare. The question lay in what, how, and why . . .

Error may not have been someone he was close to, but Dream was still worried. He never left the Anti-void when he. He could have been dead, it would make sense. They feared choosing a new Guardian of Destruction after what happened to Fresh. At least if both positions were down, neither side was stronger than the other. The balance was in check.

Almost.

Dream opened his window and looked around to make sure no one was watching. He searched through his nightstand drawer and removed a package of cigarettes. He used to be very against smoking, but now it was one of the only things that calmed him. Dream lit the end and took a long puff, blowing it into the air outside. He watched the smoke cloud drift into the sky, melting into the air with an orange hue. A bird flew through the sky and landed in a nest, adding sticks to the woven pile. At least the sunset and the beauty outside never changed when the world went dark.

Dream inhaled again and looked to his left. His nightstand held a photo of the three heroes after a victory. Dream held their bow in the air, Blue held his hammer, and Ink held Broomie. A faint smile appeared on his face as he remembered that day, back when everything was okay.

Blue . . . oh, he hasn’t seen him in a week.

Dream blew his cigarette out. Tossing it in the trash, they made an entrance to the Anti-void. He snapped his fingers four times before a portal appeared. They looked down at their soul again. Math wasn’t Dream’s specialty, but he assumed he only had about twenty-six percent of color left. It no longer glowed as it used all its energy to stay alive. He wanted to fix it, but he couldn’t with the multiverse filled with so much negativity- combined with his own.

Error still hasn’t returned to the Anti-void. Dream wandered around the white space, studying the blue strings around the place. When he wasn’t in his home, he was here. Someone had to watch over him now that Error was gone. There was a tiny chance Blue could hear him. Dream vented his frustrations, reminisced out loud, and read stories to him. The guardian walked over to Blue’s hammock, only to realize he was gone.

“Blue? Oh no . . .” Dream pressed his nail into his palm. He couldn’t lose another person he cared about, Blue was like a brother to him. Dream looked around in a panic, waking up from the exhaustion taking him over all day.

But luckily, someone shouted at him. “Dream! Hey!”

The voice glitched like Error’s, but was much lighter. A pair of strong arms wrapped around Dream’s body in a hug. Dream didn’t recognize who it was at first glance. But then he looked into his eye lights. He could recognize the look from anywhere in the multiverse. He beamed and hugged him back. “Blue! Oh my stars, you’re alive! You’re okay! You look . . . different!”

Blue let him go and stepped back. His bones and armor turned black like Error’s. Instead of red limbs, his were a blueish-purple gradient. His teeth, eye sockets, and nasal bone turned light blue. He wore a red scarf and boots to replace his blue ones. Three gold stars were tattooed on his right cheekbone and one was tattooed on his left. His eye lights were yellow with purplish pupils.

The glitch that was once Blue noticed Dream’s tense smile. “Dream, don’t tell me you’re scared of me . . .”

Dream laughed for the first time in a while. “Blue, I don’t care how you look! I was just shocked at first. I’m so happy you’re okay!” He hugged him again. He looked over his body. “How are your arms and legs? Do they hurt?”

Blue flexed his arms. They glitched as he moved them. “They’re kinda stiff, but I feel better.”

Dream smiled, but it slid away as fast as it appeared. He hugged Blue again. He wanted to shield him from Nightmare ever reaching him again. “I’m sorry this happened to you. This wasn’t what you deserved. I was worried this exact thing would happen . . .”

“Was that why you didn’t let me go on missions with you?” Blue crossed his arms. “I thought you were looking down on me. You kept pushing me aside whenever I wanted to help. I can fight. I'm a mortal, but we've fought together for years! I just want you to see that!"

Dream nodded, ashamed of himself. Yet part of him also wanted to yell at Blue. He pushed the thought aside and sighed. He was not interested in a repeat of Fresh’s death. “I am so, so sorry. I just wanted to protect you. I hope at least you see that.” He spoke the last bit with a scoff.

"Sorta. But I'm still hur-" Blue raised a browbone and his glitches flared. “What do you mean 'at least you'?”

“Blue . . . a lot has happened. Cross and I are on bad terms, Core and I are on bad terms, Fresh died-”

“Wait, what? What do you mean Fresh died? When? How?” Blue’s jaw dropped.

Dream sighed and explained everything to him. It felt nice having someone to talk to after weeks of shunning everyone. He zoned out and nodded off in the middle of explaining. Blue had to keep squeezing his arms to keep him awake.

“Is that way you’re dressed like that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a black shirt.” Blue gestured to Dream’s outfit. The guardian sighed. They haven’t put much effort into their appearance lately. Dream couldn’t even recall the last time he took a bath, not even in a river. He didn’t have the energy and failed to see a reason to.

“Yes, yes I am.” Dream said. He decided to change the conversation to something more .positive. “You can come home now, it’s not safe to stay here. The clubhouse has been so empty without you and Ink. It’s not safe to be in here after what happened to Error.”

“Error’s gone too?” Blue looked around the Anti-void. “I mean, I guessed that since I couldn’t find him here.”

“Nightmare has him, there’s no other explanation.” He scowled. “He has everyone these days.” He grabbed his arm and dragged him through the portal he summoned.

They made it inside and Dream shut the portal. Blur stumbled and clutched his ribs. Dream gazed at him, preparing himself for something going astray. As everything else in his life seemed to be. “Is something wrong?”

Blue looked at him. “Yeah, I’m fine! I haven’t eaten or drank anything in . . . however long I was there.”

“Oh, well go ahead. I don’t care.” Dream walked up the stairs back to his room. He lacked the energy to continue talking to him. As he made it halfway up the steps, blue magic stopped him in his tracks. Dream looked down at Blue, who held in him a tight grasp. Drema gritted his teeth and pulled at his magic. "What are you doing?"

"I can read your code now and your soul is losing power. You're not acting like yourself at all, so I thought of something just now! Well, since I woke up in the Anti-void, but it works here. I haven't talked with anyone in months and you're isolating yourself. So . . . how about we both visit him together and we can all talk?"

Dream looked at Blue as if he had two heads. "No! It's only going to make things worse. I'll do it later. I can teleport you alone. I have work to do."

Blue's aura turned worried. "Dream, that's absurd. You two love each other. I don't know how bad that argument was, but you two have been through worse. And you owe me for keeping me out for so long." The glitch reminded them.

Wanting to argue things are worse, Dream thought about the request. He did want Cross back . . . but he said to kill . . . would it even matter? Was he making a bigger problem out of nothing? Was it his own thoughts or his damaged soul speaking? He didn't know. Dream wasn't in the mood to argue. He would take whatever made them appeased. He looked up, not meeting Blue's mismatched stare. "That would be fair. Fine . . ."

Fresh purple daises and chocolate filled the air. Dream bought the presents no longer than twenty minutes ago, though he didn't have to. The petals were crisp and untouched. The hall of the apartment was black and empty. Monsters and humans shuffled in their homes. Cross's door was dark black with the number 1010 plastered in silver. His room made no sounds. Dream looked at Blue, then he knocked on the door.

The door opened and Cross stepped out of his apartment. He wore a dress shirt, dark pants, and slacks. His eyes sockets widened at Dream and he leaned against the doorway.

Dream took a deep breath. He kept his anger and bitter feelings inside, he knew he had to apologize. He wasn’t scared of Cross, but he did fear his emotions. He held out the flowers and chocolate. “These are for you. I’m so sorry for lashing out at you. I don't want to fight anymore, not after everything else. You . . . here, just take it.”

Cross took the gifts out of Dream's grasp and touched the petals. He opened the chocolates and chuckled. “Thank you. You even got my favorite brand." He sighed, wrapping Dream in a hug. "I'm sorry too. I should've known how much that was going to hurt you."

Dream leaned into the hold. “Wait, who's that behind you?"

Blue stepped closer as he lingered in the dark hallway until then. His miscolored eye lights glowed in the dark. Cross's breath caught in his nonexistent throat. "Hey, Cross. It's me, Blue!

"No, you look awesome, dude."

Unlike Dream's room, messy with notes everywhere, Cross kept his apartment perfect. Two black couches rested in the living room on a black and white carpet. The walls were white as fresh cream. A bookshelf was littered with trinkets and photographs. Dream recognized one from their first anniversary. Cross prepared a glass vase with a purple bow wrapped around it. He set the flowers inside and set it on the coffee table.

Dream said nothing unless directly asked. Blue and Cross chatted about him becoming a glitch and turning into stone. Dream half-smiled at the two interacting so well. They encouraged him to join in, but Dream waved them off. He rested his head on his hand and closed his eyes, almost falling asleep.

To everyone's surprise, someone knocked on the door. They sounded frantic and like they were running from something. Dream sensed a distressed aura, but they couldn’t pinpoint what was off about it. Then a faint groan, followed by the scratch of nails on wood echoed through the room.

“Dream, stay back." Cross stood up and gripped his sword. “I’ll get that.”

Cross walked toward the door, stepping out of sight. Dream didn't move a muscle and stayed, tapping his fingers on the armrest. Blue stood up from the couch to join Cross.

“Error? Holy crap. Dude, what happened to you?”

Blue rushed ahead of Cross and ran toward the door. “Error! Why do you only have one arm?"

Dream couldn’t hear what Error was saying, but his voice sounded weaker and raspier than usual. It was barely audible.

“- me in. I won’t destroy anything, I swear on the Creators.” Error dragged himself inside. Cross and Blue stepped aside and Dream gasped. Error looked like he walked through one of the darker, gorier AUs without protection. His turtleneck was gone, revealing his damaged ribs. Stained a deep black with specks of purple, Dream recognized as the malice corrupting AUs. His jacket was missing the sleeves. The torn clothing made the moon-shaped brand on his chest obvious. One of his eye sockets was blue, his version of a black eye. Error limped as he walked, glitching more than usual. His left arm was gone, only a few pieces of chipped bone remained. He had a tremble throughout his entire body as if he was both sleep-deprived and high on caffeine. His hand held the worst of the twitching.

Error sat on the other sofa by himself. He looked exhausted and defeated like he fought in a war only to lose. Dream could tell he wouldn’t be able to hurt them even if he wanted to. Black liquid leaked from his mouth, Nightmare’s malice. Dream bit his lower jaw. It was a miracle Error was even conscious, much less alive.

Blue sat closest to him and dropped a blanket over his shoulders. “Do you want me to get you a hot chocolate or something?"

“Yes, sir.” Error clung to the blanket. “I haven’t eaten in days. I don’t get hungry in the Anti-void and I hate it.”

“Sir? I . . . nevermind. Cross, do you still have it in the upper cabinet?” Cross nodded at his question. Blue stepped into the other room. Dream watched Error with a mixture of emotions. His soul ached, assumingly from Error’s malice. He made a fist in case he attacked.

Error put the sweater on and his shivering calmed a bit. Blue came in with a hot chocolate and some toast. Error drank half the mug, even though it was piping hot. He looked up at the Stars and Cross. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want your pity. I- I’m just hungry.”

“It’s not out of pity, it’s out of basic kindness. You’re hurt.” Dream kept his eyes on Error’s missing arm. The shards of bone sticking from his shoulder never received proper medical treatment. “I can heal you a little, may I?”

“Dream . . .” Cross warned him with his tone. “Be careful with your magic, please.”

Error looked skeptical. He tried to move his arm, but it stayed still as ever. Sighing, he moved over and held his damaged shoulder in front of Dream. He lowered his sweater to expose his shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’ll try my best.” Dream moved closer to the shards. He held his hand over it, summoning green magic. Usually, he liked to hum while performing healing spells, it helped with concentration. But now he didn’t believe it was the time. He hoped he earned Error’s trust by now and he wouldn’t lash out.

Cross kept a tense look on his face, preparing to step in if Error attacked Dream. “Where were you this last month and how did this happen?”

Error grunted, leaning back a little. “I got kidnapped by Dream’s brother and his gang of bloodthirsty hyenas.”

“Called it,” Cross muttered. “So what’s the story?”

“After you guys brought Blue to the Anti-void, I was pissed at Nightmare. We had a deal that he could torture you and Ink as much as he wanted as long as he didn’t hurt Blue. Well, then he turned Blue into stone. I broke into his castle and strangled him, then he insisted we go for a walk. Long story short, I found out how messed up and Ink were. I tried to help Ink and get him out of there, but he didn’t listen! All he did was cry and beg for Nightmare! It was worthless because Nightmare came back anyway. He captured me and beat me up. Even Ink got in to help and smiled while Nightmare branded me! He was happy to be his slave and help torture me. You should have seen his outfit and ribbons, he looked so stupid.” Error smiled for half a second, returning to scowling.

“Ink- no, Ribbon wouldn’t stop smiling. He tried to make me his friend. He talked to me about how ‘good’ this all was and how much he loved Nightmare. He even made me have tea parties with him. That . . . .was probably the best part of any of this. I don’t know who taught him how to bake, but he brought me chocolate biscuits. I almost felt bad, he’s lonely. Nightmare hasn’t allowed him to socialize with anyone except his numbskulls. I kept yelling at him to snap out of it, but that made him cry. And then Nightmare punished me for making him cry. It’s not my fault he’s so damn sensitive! Somehow, I can’t make myself hate him. He’s scared and doesn’t want to get hurt. But I hate everyone else in that castle, especially Nightmare.”

“The worst part was that Ribbon's visits, or playtime as he called it, was the best part. The rest of the time, Killer, Dust, Horror, or Nightmare would torture me. Nightmare wouldn’t stop jabbing me with the sludge he infected AUs with. Then he made me describe the effects. I’ve never been so hungry in my life. In the Anti-void, I don’t get hungry or tired. Blue figured that out. But these guys wouldn’t feed me for days unless it was more sludge. They promised I would get more food and clean clothes if I started ‘behaving’. I spit in their faces and I punched Horror. Then Nightmare blindfolded me and beat me with his tendrils. He even muzzled me most of the time to embarass me. He finally said,” Error’s bitter look slacked, “he would make me into a doll like Ribbon. Dust would've taken my voice and Ribbon talked about making me dresses. He nearly cut my magic strings out of my eye sockets because Dust wanted to experiment on them.”

Error coughed up more black liquid. Dream moved aside to avoid it. “But one day, after Ribbon came down for playtime, the lock on my cage wasn’t closed right. I slammed myself against the bars a few times and the door broke open. I didn’t realize how weak I was and struggled to walk. I was never let out unless it was for me to get tortured or humiliated in some way. I think they were on a mission or something so I was looking around the castle and . . . and . ."

“And then what?” Blue leaned closer to Error. Dream's mind drifted off, not focusing on the entire story. He concentrated on the malice and Ink, how Error described it. His hands shook as he healed Error. The sharpened ends lost their points.

“I found the key to my Anti-magic chains in Nightmare's office. I also found this . . . I don't know, a potion? It was that, a book, and an empty syringe. I broke those stupid handcuffs and got away. I tried figuring out what that potion was, but the book was in a different language I couldn't read. I didn’t have enough time and I didn't want to keep looking. Eventually, my powers worked again, but. Killer, Horror, and Dust fought me and I won. I got here since I felt your soul, Dream. This malice is making me miserable."

Dream stopped healing for a moment. He had a horrible premonition about the potion. With knowledge of Nightmare's history, he feared it was something horrible. His nightmares were always horrible, but he didn't see any potions in them. Yet . . . there was no way Error should have been able to enter the Omega Timeline with Core's defenses. Dream's personal feelings slid into concern.

Error shivered in his blanket. “If I was in there another month, hell even a few weeks or days, I would’ve gone crazy like Ink did. He meant it when he said it’s easier to give into the rewards and stop thinking.”

Dream dug his nail into his palm. He thought back to his final conversation with Ink before Nightmare took him. "How does Nightmare treat Ink? Did he ever hit him or something like that?"

Error sighed. “Weirdly. Sometimes he treats him like a partner, sometimes like a little kid, and sometimes like a dog. Like I said I . . . I didn’t see much in the dungeon, but Ribbon seems used to adapting to what he wants. He was so cuddly with him . . . I can't believe they're getting married . . ." He rubbed his temples. He paused and coughed up more malice, eyeing Dream's chest. His weak soul begged not to fight and Dream covered it with one of his hands.

Cross's aura was shocked, yet mixed. Dream remembered something he told them once, about his soul. Error stole it years ago and it started the X-Event. "Yeah. I hope you're okay, but can you stop coughing up liquid corruption on my couch?" He snapped his fingers and used his telekinesis to drag a trashcan in front of Error. "Keep it in ther- did you just say they're getting married?"

Error looked shocked. “Huh, I thought he would've flaunted that off by now. Nightmare popped the question and he’s marrying him at the end of the month.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled paper. Dirt and blood stained it. He tossed it to Blue. “Read this, I got it from Nightmare's desk."

Blue unfolded the note and scanned Nightmare's centuries-old writing style. Dream and Cross looked over his shoulder at the black and lavender note. The location was a chapel in Mafiatale. Of course, Nightmare loved to make things official. It fed into his superiority complex. If Ink married him, he would change his name and . . . Nightmare would steal his position, completing his claim on him and becoming a god. There couldn’t be any other reason. Part of Ink's guardianship had to remain, right? Leaning away, Dream finished healing Error's arm, at least the best he could. He lay down from the magic exhaustion.

“There, how does that feel?”

Error touched his shoulder. Once he figured out the pain lessened, he moved his fingers down each point. He pulled his hand away to check for signs of blood. Error smirked and his aura glowed with new positivity. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.” Dream watched as he worked with the arm. “Do you want me to try and help with the malice?"

Please say no.

“No. You can't do anything, I would've figured out how to get rid of it by now if there was something. I can't even stop my damn hand from shaking! I even bit someone on the way here and I couldn't control it!"

Dream sighed. "Error, I think what you’re experiencing is withdrawal. You said they pumped you with poison and starved you, so it makes sense your body grew dependent.” Dream paused as he thought about Ink again. He might be having problems too if he stayed longer and in similar circumstances. He was already addicted to Nightmare’s toxic aura. Dream heard the last bit, but he didn't want to acknowledge it, not now. But his idiot friend beat him to it.

"Who did you bite?" Blue looked into the trashcan full of malice. He paled. "Oh stars . . . did you spread that?"

"Some random monster, I don't know. They looked fine. It made me good after. How do I make it stop?” Error's hand kept twitching. He dug his nails into his scarred shoulder. More black liquid spilled onto the trash can. Cross frowned at the liquid staining the edges. The malice moved inside.

Dream had to remember the course he took on helping addiction victims. The tactics blurred in his mind, too exhausted and too negative to think. "I forgot. Nevermind., you can find out yourself."

Cross stared into the garbage can. "I'm getting Core on this. This isn't normal. Error, if you bit someone and this spreads, shit." Cross wrapped the garbage bag up to keep the malice inside.

Blue seemed disappointed. Dream wanted to take a nap anyways, even if he felt a little bad for Cross. "Error . . . can you teleport me home? I don't have enough magic to use." Dream covered his soul. Error's hungry glare still made him uncomfortable.

"Ugh, fine . . . just because you healed me." Error opened a glitching portal. The ends dripped with black negativity. Dream hugged Cross again and kissed him on his nonexistent lips. Cross returned the embrace, running a hand down Dream's skull. Despite everything, both gave him positivity and helped him feel warm inside.

"I love you, cookie dough."

Cross kissed Dream on the head. "I love you too. We'll take care of this, together."

“Error Crayon,” Core said in a polite tone.

“Core Frisk.” Error crossed his arm.

Five skeletons and the Guardian of the Omega surrounded the main table in the Omega Central. Never seeing the Omega Central before, Error looked around in awe. Four nights came and gone from when he showed up. The monster he bit was found and sent to a lab, hopefully for testing. Dream leaned against the wall. He itched for another cigarette, or to leave. His soul ached with misery. He rested between Epic and Blue, keeping his sights away from the main task and Core.

Epic stared at Error's mutilated state and his missing arm. He wore Fresh's glasses on a chain around his neck. "Dang bruh, where's your arm?"

Error glared daggers. He grabbed the strings on his face. “Not. A. Word.”

Cross walked up to the head of the table, wearing his royal guard armor. He rolled a massive sheet of blank parchment and a few pens and pencils on the long table. Each pen was a different color. "So . . . we have a problem. Another one. Nightmare is getting married to Ink, or Ribbon, and he has some plan with a potion. That, on top of whatever this malice infection is.

"So what do we do about it?" Epic asked. "'Cause everything is ending up with someone dying, or worse."

Cross put on his commanding general voice. "We need an attack plan. This could be one our final chances to defeat Nightmare, we need to take down that wedding. If I learned anything from the year I worked for him, it's that Nightmare won't have it be normal. He needs to turn it into a grand spectacle.

"That's true." Blue looked at his arm, flexing his glitching fingers.

Cross closed his eye sockets. “Look, it’s no secret I hate Ink. He’s selfish, cocky, childish, ruined my life because he was bored, and he never apologized for any of it. My friends, my brother, and my world are dead because of what he and X-Gaster did. I don’t forgive him, but not even he deserves to be Nightmare’s braindead plaything. No one does.”

Error grumbled. “Braindead is right, he can't even think for himself. ‘Oh I'm just a little doll!’ That’s a dog bed, bastard. Nightmare has him sleeping in a dog bed and he likes it.

“I’m not even going to ask.” Cross bit the tip of the pencil as his mind constructed plans. He sketched out a castle, shockingly accurate to Nightmare's. He switched his pencil out for a pen and drew attack lines.

Blue looked over at the plans. "Wowie, you're good at drawing."

"Thanks. Ink taught me." Cross sighed. He peered up from the surface and noticed Core Frisk sleeping. Their head was buried deep in their arms. Cross tapped them with a pencil. "Core, wake up. We need your help here."

The child didn’t even seem to realize they fell asleep. Core sat up and looked at the others. Dream glanced out the tall window. He lacked their ability to sense what happens in this AU and he couldn't open code like Error. Despite that, they could tell the aura around the place weakened. The emotions of tension and confusion from the citizens told him.

"I'm sorry, my nightmares have gotten worse. I can't sleep." Core rubbed their eyes and yawned. “Error, if you know where Nightmare’s castle is and can access the AU, why don’t you destroy it?”

Error scoffed. “What? Do you think I haven’t tried? If I could, I would’ve destroyed it a long time ago. Nightmare cast spells and altered the code of that world so I get shocked if I mess with it. Not worth it.

"We don't need to destroy the AU or Cross slammed his finger on the map. "There’s another way. Right here there’s a secret door that can be activated with a lever. The lever is disguised behind one of the rocks holding up the mountain. It would take longer to get in, fifteen minutes instead of three, but it’s our best bet.”

“And how do you know all of this?” Core inquired. “Just curious.”

Cross pressed his mouth into a firm line. “Killer showed me. Sometimes, he, Horror, Dust, and/or I would sneak out at night to cause trouble. We would creep back before Nightmare woke up so we were never caught. Everyone will be too busy with the wedding to check the castle, but it's safer to use that door. Someone can still be there."

“Oh hey, that reminds me. When Dream and I were fighting Nightmare in my AU, he mentioned something about a contract he made Ink sign. Where would that be?” Epic swirled his finger on the map.

“Easy, his office. Nightmare always keeps a lot of paperwork on his desk. That should be around here, so we’d need to take a sharp left. We can get that and the potion at the same time,” Cross said.

“So now that we have that settled, who wants to go?” Blue asked. "I'm going!"

Error laughed. “Oh hell no! I’m not risking getting tortured again, especially not for Ribbon. Blue? Sure, but not Ribbon. And my arm is gone, so I can’t fight anyway. I still think this whole mission is pointless. We need to separate those two, but there’s no saving Ink. He’s too far gone. He described being forcefully stripped and branded to be as bad as a minor argument. He doesn’t think he’s being tortured.”

Dream frowned at that. His optimism stirred in his chest again. He wanted to believe Ink was there, he did. But did he have any proof? Every piece of evidence pointed to him being less and less redeemable. Positivity was what they all expected from him too. He sighed.

“Okay, so let’s say Ink is gone for good and nothing can save him. Whoever is in his body now needs our help. He doesn’t know how to live and care for himself. We can teach him how to be a person again and help him remember who he is.” Dream said with a nervous tone. Error tensed at the word friend. Dream said a silent prayer to the Creators. “But . . . I’m willing to give Ink only one more chance. If this doesn’t work, I give up. I’m so tired of fighting. Nightmare can have Ink if that’s what makes him happy, I don’t care. Just make him stop.” He buried his face in his hands.

Cross put his hand over his, giving it a comforting squeeze. “We’ll figure out how to handle Ink, or Ribbon, when we get there. For now, I say we should focus our attention on stopping Nightmare and saving the multiverse."

Epic fiddled with Fresh's glasses around his neck. “I’ve never been on one of these “save the multiverse” missions of yours.

“Epic, if you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. We can handle this! We've all done missions before," Blue said.

“Bruh, are you kidding? Of course I’m going!” Epic grinned. “I want revenge on Nightmare for destroying my AU and killing Fresh. And we’re breaking into a wedding, rescuing the bride, and making sure the groom doesn’t take control of every world.” Epic suddenly grinned. “We’re doing a Shrek.”

Dream didn’t know what that term meant, but since everyone else at the table nodded or shrugged, he didn’t ask.

Cross drew two small figures on his plans. "Okay . . . we split up into two teams. Epic and I will break into Nightmare's castle and find the contract and spell. Dream and Blue, you two break into the wedding and stop them from getting married. I don't know the layout of that chapel, so we'll have to research it, okay?"

"Fine." Dream thought back to Aviar’s goggles still on his nightstand. He’s only touched them when they needed to dust them. His gaze drifted to Blue. His glitching never would have happened if not for Nightmare. Dream held his hand over the table, groaning. “For everyone who’s fallen.”

Cross, Epic, Blue, Core, and with string, Error, set their hands atop Dream’s. Cross removed his hand and his eye lights glinted with determination. “Alright everyone, listen up. Here’s the plan.”

Chapter Text

“I see . . .” Nightmare copied the address down from the letter in his hand. He spoke to no one but himself. He wrote a list with his quill pen. “Perfect.”

He finished the reservations for his and Ribbon’s wedding. The venue would take place at an old chapel in Mafiatale. He toured the place recently to make sure everything was as expected, and it was. Ribbon liked it too, though he liked anything he did. The list was almost complete. Outfits, reception, catering, cake, photographers, florists, the guests, the vows, and the honeymoon. He even hired extra guards. Nightmare didn’t want to risk his bride getting hurt or abducted. He couldn’t have anything go wrong on this day, his wedding needed to be perfect. Nightmare wasn’t interested in battle on his special day, especially for as much work as it was to set it up. Speaking of . . .

Nightmare looked around and tried to sense Ribbon’s aura. He couldn’t find him. Nightmare stood up and left his office. He couldn’t help his apprehensive building. The dark king walked until he felt a nervous aura. It was difficult to believe that wasn’t Ribbon. Not even Error’s uneasiness was this extreme and he had been torturing him for over two months.

He followed the aura until he walked to the entrance of the castle and opened one of the massive doors. Nightmare looked down. Ribbon sat on the front steps of the castle. His chin rested on his palm as he stared into the distance, ignoring his fiancé behind him. His aura was a mix of emotions, dominated by anxiety. His other hand played with the skirt of his dress.

Nightmare sat next to him. His tendril rested on his hand and squeezed and Ribbon jumped. Nightmare smiled. “It’s just me, no need to panic. Is something bothering you?”

Ribbon pulled his string and rubbed the charm. “Um, no. I’m okay, Nighty! I’m just a little sleepy . . .” Chuckling, he blushed and looked away. His permanent smile looked tense.

“No lying to me Ribbon, you know that’s against the rules. And did you forget I could read emotions? I know you are dim-witted, but you’re not that dim-witted.” Nightmare pulled Ribbon closer to him, pushing his head onto his shoulder. He put one finger on his chin and made him look up. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I don’t like seeing you this upset.”

Ribbon bit his lower jaw and looked up with his soft lilac eyes. “Promise you won’t get angry?”

“Depends if it will make me angry, I doubt it will.”

“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure . . .”

Nightmare sighed. “I promise I won’t be angry at you. Now tell me what’s bothering you. That’s an order.”

Ribbon rubbed his arms. “I’m scared. I have wedding jitters. I want to get married to you, I do! But I don’t know. Marriage is a big thing and before I met you, it’s something I never planned to do. What if I mess up? What if you don’t like me as your wife? You deserve a perfect wedding and if I start stumbling over the vows or trip in the aisle-”

Nightmare raised his right hand. He worried Ribbon wanted to back out, which if he did, Nightmare would never allow. His tendrils stroked Ribbon’s leg as he moved closer to him. “Ribbon, nervousness is a normal thing to feel and I’m not mad at you for it. If someone mocks you or hurts you, they’ll lose their hands. I know how shy you are, it’s one of the things I love about you. The only monster you will have to talk to is the officiator, you can stay silent for the whole reception. All you would have to do is smile and look adorable. And I have an exceptional plan for the honeymoon. But I won’t tell you, it’s a surprise.”

The doll beamed. Nightmare planned to take Ribbon on a week-long cruise. No stress, no work, just the two of them spending time with each other. He’d take a hiatus from his multiversal destruction. He looked forward to having Ribbon in general, it felt . . . special, important.

Nightmare caressed his face with his hand. “If it will ease your anxiety, remember that you don’t have to make any of the difficult choices. I will choose your wedding dress and veil, I will tell you what to say, and all you will need to do is listen. You made some excellent choices. I knew you would pick out something beautiful.”

“You thought it was beautiful? I- um, thank you! I don’t have many ideas right now, but I’ll think of something! I’ll make it pretty for you.” Ribbon nuzzled up to Nightmare. He held him close, rubbing his shoulder.

Nightmare took Ribbon’s hand and held it out in this. He touched his ring with his fingertips. Ribbon cuddled closer and Nightmare kissed his head.

“Have you thought about kids yet? I don’t mind them, I’ll . . . I’ll do it if you want me to.”

Nightmare pondered it. He hasn’t considered children. He practically had three with Killer, Horror, and Dust. He imagined Ribbon against an oak tree, laughing with a little skeleton. It would leave him with a true heir. As an immortal, Nightmare didn’t believe he would ever leave the throne. But the idea of having a successor, whether a prince or a princess, did interest him. It would make him look more powerful. “I would like a baby, at least one. It’s a simple spell, we have to combine our magic and willpower to summon a soul and take care of it. You would be an excellent mother, my little doll. A child of two guardians . . . it’s never been done before. Hm, creativity and negativity would be interesting concepts to mix . . .”

Ribbon’s aura darkened and his voice lightened. “Um . . . Nighmare? Do you have to be a guardian to be immortal?”

“No, but why do you ask? You are a guardian, albeit only partially. Unless . . .” Nightmare’s tendrils tensed up, curling. “Ribbon . . . what did you do? Tell me now.”

Ribbon rubbed his hands together. “Um . . . I was talking with Error again and he was nicer! He let me pet him! But he was also mad at me. Before you took him, uh, I broke this big sphere. It was like, six or seven months ago? Error said it would’ve my guardian powers in it and he couldn’t read the code in it.”

“I’m sorry, what did you do?”

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry! It scared me! It made me think bad thoughts and I panicked! I didn't tell you because I was scared of punishment and I didn't realize it was that bad.”

Nightmare’s soul beat faster. If Ribbon destroyed his guardianship, that made him a mortal. His time was limited. Nightmare didn’t know how long that period was. The Lord of Negativity struck Ribbon across the face.

Ribbon rubbed his cheek. “You- you promised you wouldn’t be a- angry.”

“The promise was only about telling me your fears. I don’t count this as part of it.”

“But-”

“No buts, I don’t know what has gotten into you today. You hid crucial information from me, and now you’re talking back? You know how to be good, act like it. Do you realize you ruined my entire plan for us?”

Ribbon lowered his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You’re right, I should’ve told you. I was a stupid, stupid little doll. Please don’t call off the wedding!”

Nightmare tapped three fingers together and Ribbon switched to being on his knees. Nightmare couldn’t help but feel bad. The doll’s big teary eyes and trembling stance beneath him softened his soul. Nightmare pat him on the head with a tendril.

“I said nothing about calling off the wedding. You’re fine. But if you ever hide something like this again, I will punish you much harsher.”

Ribbon nodded quickly. “Thank you, Nighty. I'm sorry for making you mad . . ." He smiled up at him. “Can I go on a walk in the garden? Please?”

“Don’t get your dress dirty, don’t hurt yourself, and be back in an hour, no later.” Nightmare stood up. Ribbon’s reveal tore at him, no matter how much he tried to say otherwise. If it was anyone else, even another romantic partner, he wouldn’t care. No one would be or would ever be the same as Ribbon. A redrawing of someone else’s art would never be the same, and was often inferior. Nightmare considered all of this as he walked to his office. He sat down and set his head on his hands as he considered this.

Ribbon was running out of time.

The concept haunted Nightmare. The idea of his perfect, helpless partner dying within years while he lived for eternity. He had come to terms with it happening to the Murder Time Trio. As much as he cared for them, they were always mortal, they were always going to die. But Ribbon . . . he was supposed to be immortal like him. Nightmare imagined him having to hold Ribbon’s hand and watch him die.

The logical part of his mind understood he had little to fear. The doll body had to keep him alive longer, yet he was uncertain. The surgery was so experimental that he wasn’t sure if it could be out one day. Artificial body parts stopped working as soon as the person died, so Ribbon must be the same. Yet the paranoia wouldn’t fade. How long did Ribbon have to live? It could have been anywhere from days to decades. Nightmare clenched his fists. He despised not having an answer and he hated not having control.

Nightmare clutched his skull with his tightened fist and shook. The fuzzy feeling in his spine and soul became unbearable. His tendrils lashed out behind him, wrapping around whatever was close by. Sludge dripped and leaked down his body. His arms felt numb yet full of energy. Everything burned with the strange pain he couldn’t put a finger on. He couldn’t think. All he felt was pain and the burning need to protect.

“Boss?” Horror’s voice sounded farther away than it was. “I heard . . . something crash.”

Nightmare didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He looked down and realized he shattered his quill ink glass. Black liquid spread across the floor like the blood his torture victims would be drenched in. The same color as Ink’s blood.

Horror ended up checking the other side of the desk. He was at least a little surprised to see his boss so tense. He grabbed Nightmare’s shirt collar with his massive hand and pulled him up. It helped Nightmare snap out of his trance. “You . . . alright?”

Nightmare took a deep breath to calm himself and clear his head. “I’m- no, I’m not. Help me up and check my soul for signs of damage.”

Horror looked confused but followed the order. He lifted Nightmare with ease. “Uh, something’s wrong.”

Nightmare looked down at his black apple soul. An aura of pink magic floated around the apple. He knew what it meant, yet it's never happened before. If a soul overloads on emotion, it would begin to glow. Nightmare's soul burned with desire and euphoric love. Whatever these strange emotions were, it was all for Ribbon. It was killing him. A thought came to mind. Nightmare opened his top left drawer and removed a black compact. As he expected, he had heart-shaped eye light. His eye twitched as he thought about Ribbon.

Horror's breathing became more audible. “I’m . . . not that good with emotions but . . . I think you're overwhelmed, boss.”

Nightmare snapped the compact closed. “Elaborate.”

Horror took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I'm guessing . . . this is 'bout Ribbon. You're only like this . . . with him, whenever it's 'bout him. You . . love Ribbon. I don't know why . . . you're ticked, what he did, but . . . it's making you act weird. We did this for the . . . multiverse. We have to . . . stick to that first, we're close."

“Wait . . . that’s it,” Nightmare gasped, the pieces clicking together. A vision of Error flashed through his mind. “I’ll take advantage of what I have. Horror, keep Ribbon distracted for a few hours. He’s in the gardens, I’m assuming by the roses, he adores those. Play with him, understand?”

Horror looked confused and skeptical, but he obeyed his boss. As soon as he left. Nightmare wasted no time. He pictured the book page in his mind and went to the castle library.

Nightmare went to the spell book section and his tendrils pulled books off the shelves. He flipped through five texts at once, trying to find the right one. He read every spell book in this library, he knew it existed. It took several books before he found it. The book had no title, no author, only a caduceus with a skull on the top. Nightmare grinned, checking the table of contents before flipping to the correct spell. The one that would ensure his teddy bear would never die in his arms.

Seelen-Reset

This is one of the highest-risk and most difficult spells in this book, yet most effective. Only the most powerful souls can perform it. Seelen-Reset empties a soul and it’s memories, experiences, and any modifications. The only pieces will be core magic skills and remaining lifespan, including immortality. Unlike Memoria Alteration (see pg. 124), it overwrites a soul’s entire history instead of a single event. It is also far more dangerous; the spell has a 75:25 ratio of failure. The soul can be transferred to another body with this spell without the identity taking over. This spell can treat monsters with souls damaged beyond repair. However, it will cost the life of the former soul owner. Their body will melt and die. It is unknown if these monsters will reach the afterlife.

Seelen-Reset can be cast in two ways. The first is to use a verbal curse, the second is to create a tonic. The recipe is on the following page. The tonic works soonest when shot with a syringe to the soul, yet drinking it will also work. The injection takes three minutes to go into effect and drinking will take twenty. The verbal curse makes the removal less painful for the previous owner. Rather, the tonic is easier to create as long as you have the correct ingredients. The final step for either method is for the new user to wear a blood ruby.

Once cast, it is impossible to reverse. I have yet to find a remedy. The victim may become defensive as a part of their subconscious knows something is wrong. Other side effects may include headaches, fatigue, confusion, codependency, paranoia, and migraines. If the spell fails, the victim could experience paralysis, loss of cognitive skills, and madness. The key signs of failure are incoherent mumbling, glazed eyes, persistent confusion, and lack of response to stimuli. The only way to cure them is to dust them.

If the spell succeeds, give them time to adjust to their new soul and offer painkillers if necessary. Keep them away from stressful situations or bright lights to prevent more migraines. Hypnotherapy has also helped speed up the healing process.

To perform the verbal spell, follow the scribe below. To create the tonic, follow the recipe under it.

Nightmare had cast this spell only once, two hundred and eleven years ago. He attempted to use a soul to heal one of his allies. But his magic fell short and it cost him to go insane. The tonic recipe under the words seemed safer, he was only missing one ingredient, the blood ruby. He knew he could find those easily in Moltontale, they grew like dandelions if you knew where to look. Knowing this would protect his beloved Ribbon soothed the feeling in his soul.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Nightmare speed-walked to his office, analyzing the spell and planning the ingredients. His mind raced as he read and couldn’t help but read some of the others. Due to Ribbon’s help in corrupting AUs, he grew twice as powerful as he was without him. Another reason he must keep him safe and close.

Nightmare entered the medical room and stepped into a smaller space. Dust enjoyed working in this section; it was full of magic plants and chemicals. Dozens of AUs made up the collection. Nightmare laid the spell book down and pulled out a beaker. He filled it up with hot water and gathered the needed ingredients.

Glancing out the window, Horror, Killer, and Ribbon walked through the garden. Nightmare pressed his mouth into a hard line. He knew he shouldn't feel jealous over such a frivolous thing, Ribbon loved him and only him. But the way Ribbon smiled and awed when Killer put on his theatrics . . . Nightmare's mind spiraled, twisting deeper into the dark abyss it already was. Ribbon belonged to him, not them.

Once he finished the potion, he needed to choose a soul to take. Obviously, he would take Error's. His soul was the safest and most stable out of the three guardians remaining. Core's soul was scattered across space and time. Nightmare couldn't even infect it with his parasite, his magic needed a soul to latch onto. Dream's soul was the highest quality, but it meant Ribbon would always suffer. It wasn't worth giving up the multiversal control for something like this. Error's soul was a glitching mess, but he knew the glitches would lighten when he was injected.

In any other circumstance, he would be against sacrificing Error. He was a powerful ally who served him through times of need, even if he was never on his team. But Error betrayed him the moment he tried to steal his doll. He deserved his death. Nightmare picked the petals off a dried eclipse rose. It was a rare plant but now was a worthy use. Ribbon's life was almost worth the multiverse.

Nightmare paused as he regarded it. What if the tonic failed and it drove Ribbon insane? Nightmare's hands switched to fists and he smiled. He could always retrain Ribbon. Yes, he could go through the conditioning process all over again. It didn't matter if the doll was in pain as long as he was the one doing it. It meant he had the power. All Nightmare cared about was having Ribbon alive and having him here, no matter the risk.

Nightmare had his attention only focused on the potion. However, he did spot Dust from the corner of his eye light, wrapping his palm with bandages. Nightmare considered if he should hide this, but he decided against this. One of them would have to wonder where such a crucial soul like Error went to. He forced himself to calm down. “Dust, is there something you need?”

The murderer jumped and looked into the room. It was lit by nothing but Nightmare's eye light and a single candle. “Yeah . . . I was gettin’ some rubbin’ alcohol and bandages because I sliced my hand open. I got a knife through it. What are you makin'?”

“Something for Ribbon. He lied to me, so I'm going to fix him."

“Boss . . . he can't get sick.” Dust hovered the book over with his telekinesis. "Forbidden magic, why am I not surprised this is for Ribbon."

“It's necessary. I would appreciate your help. I need you to measure and cut the rest of those plants. If he does, then I will deal with him.”

Dust read it over and looked at Nightmare from the corner of his gaze. "Oh."

Nightmare expected Dust to argue or call him insane, but he went along with it. It wasn't the most illegal experiment he had ever done on Ribbon. Nightmare remembered how he first discovered Dust's passion for science and experiments. Only three weeks after he brought him to the castle, Nightmare caught Dust tinkering with beakers. The murderer revealed he was making poisonous bullets for his pistols. Nightmare believed it to be ludicrous. But to his surprise, they worked on his targets, and quite well. He assumed Dust learned from the years he spent alone in his AU. His silent nature was also appreciated. Nightmare was proud of Dust. Someone who once wanted to throw himself off a cliff changed into one of his most useful servants. Ribbon never would be who he is if it wasn't for him.

When the final leaf was added, the tonic bubbled and glowed with red and white streaks. Nightmare switched the liquid into a syringe, pattting Dust on the shoulder with his tendril. Dust sighed. "Thank you for your help, Dust. But I will need to do this last part alone. I need to think."

"I saw that part on the bottom, I know. Fine. I'm staying here so I can finish what I started." Dust said. He picked up his bandages and finished wrapping his half-healed hand. Nightmare ignored him. He picked up the syringe in one tendril and the spell book in another. Nightmare's head pounded. He almost shattered the tonic from sheer strength and emotion. He feared his death if he waited too long. All he wanted now was a damn answer to Ribbon's lifespan question.

Nightmare only had one piece left of the spell to complete, then he could inject Error. He focused his energy on the syringe and summoned magic from the pits of his black soul. His fingertips glowed dark gray with streaks of blue. Streaks of pink mixed in and shot his finger toward the syringe.

The magic flowed from both hands with ease. The tonic glowed a bright blue and Nightmare could’ve sworn he heard a crash of lightning, despite the lack of rain. The light faded until the syringe was its normal color. Only the touch was an obvious change; it was far colder.

Nightmare clutched his chest in pain. His soul beat faster; the pink aura glowed brighter. The complicated spell drained his energy. His eye socket fluttered and he fell unconscious on the office floor.

“Nightlight? Are you okay? Please be okay . . .”

Nightmare opened his eye, looking around his bedroom. His coat and shoes were missing and he was tucked under the covers. Ribbon looked down at him with a worried expression, which was adorable with his frozen smile. Nightmare sat up. “Ah, Ribbon. Yes, I’m okay. Could you tell me what happened? I’m afraid it’s a blur.”

Ribbon lay against him and nuzzled by his side. “I went to check on you a few hours ago to see if you were still mad because you were in there for a while. I walked into your office and you fainted on the floor! I used some of my paint to help carry you here, I'm too weak to carry you. You also had a book half-opened on the ground so I put it back on your desk. Oh! And I made you some tea. Lavender is your favorite, right?”

“Right.” Relieved Ribbon couldn’t read, Nightmare lifted the cup from the nightstand and took a sip. He gave him a head pat. “A tad lukewarm, but it tastes perfect. Thank you.”

Ribbon sighed in relief. His ring glinted as he wiped his porcelain cheek. Nightmare touched that hand, giving it a light squeeze. He looked up at him. His face had sparkling pieces of dried resin, his tears.

“Have you been crying?”

Ribbon looked ashamed. “I . . . I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up. I tried shaking you and calling your name but it didn’t work! You were barely breathing and were dripping a lot of goop.”

“Aw, my little lamb. Come here.” Nightmare opened his arms and Ribbon crawled in. He rested his skull on his chest. Nightmare scratched where his ear would be, listening to the clockwork in his head. A steady creaking. It didn’t matter if he overreacted, the curse was already cast. Ribbon wouldn't die unless Nightmare gave the command, which would never happen.

Ribbon relaxed and peeked up at the Lord of Negativity. “Are you still mad at me for lying?”

“No, I'm not. I found a solution to your mistake. I'll tell you when the time is ready." He traced a finger down his chin. "You would never try to leave me correct? Leave me for . . . someone else?"

Ribbon shook his head. “I'd never leave you! Where else would I go? I'm too dumb and weak to survive on my own and most of the multiverse wants me dead. I need you!" He clung to Nightmare's arm.

Nightmare kissed him on the skull again. Nightmare tapped his fingers together and Ribbon went limp. He set him on the bed and cuddled him, taking in every part of his body. His tendrils tickled his neck and Ribbon burst into giggles. Nightmare smiled. His happiness was the only positivity he could tolerate. No, not just tolerate. Adore. Crave. He couldn’t get enough of the strange feelings Ribbon gave him. It made him feel fulfilled and happy, more than any amount of negativity could give him. He couldn’t imagine living without it.

Holding Ribbon relieved the aches and pains in his soul. He was here and no one could lay their hands on him. Dream couldn’t lay his hands on him. No one would take his source of positivity away. Not even death.

Nightmare stopped cuddling him and sat up, still holding Ribbon in his arms. He stood up and helped him off the bed. "Come on, let's fetch the Murder Time trio. I have a mission we need to begin."

"Ooh, a mission? Okay!" Ribbon bounced. "I'll grab Blossom!"

Moltontale was a difficult AU to traverse and take over. The ground was made of scorching rock and obsidian. The monsters were all made of fire or fire-proof flesh. Gaster Blasters were useless here, the hot magic beams were useless.

Nightmare stormed through Moltontale, spreading negativity and corruption wherever he stepped. He used his tendrils to move faster, gliding across the hot terrain. One of the tendrils carried Ribbon, Nightmare refused to let him be on his own. Killer, Horror, and Dust fought and murdered.

Nightmare searched one of the massive caves he found. Ribbon looked around from the tendril he stayed in. The rubies had a distinct glow that was almost pink. Ribbon helped look around, narrowing his eyes to see better. Nightmare ended up staring at him longer than he searched for the rubies. This would be Ribbon's final mission, he couldn't put him in more danger or risk. He would always stay inside the castle unless Nightmare needed him for business or singing.

Bright orange lava lit up the pure black caves. Nightmare took advantage of the light to find the gems. Ribbon began to squirm in his tendrils and pointed to the left. "Night! Is that what you're looking for?"

Nightmare turned around and spotted the gems. He was tied up in a snowbank and shivering in thin clothes. Nightmare pulled a small chisel from his coat pocket and stabbed it into the rocks. The gem gleamed with the same color as fresh blood, hence the name.

The lava began to turn into a mix of black, teal, and purple malice. The air turned colder, the negative aura of the AU grew. Nightmare let Ribbon go. Ribbon looked at the gem in awe. "Ooh, it's so pretty! What is this for anyways?"

"It's for you, my sweet little doll. I have it all under control." Nightmare's eye glinted with a mad light. All he needed now was to inject Error and everything would be according to plan.

Chapter Text

For the fifth time that day, Ribbon adjusted his new ruby necklace.

Nightmare didn’t want him to take it off, he never told him why. All he said was it had to do with his mortality problem. Since talking about the guardianship issue made him so upset, Ribbon kept his mouth shut. He didn’t question anything he said, although he always did that. Nightmare was always stressed, especially after Error escaped. Ribbon offered help in any way he could. He made him tea, offered cuddles, did extra chores, and always let Nightmare hold him on his lap. Ribbon couldn’t be happy unless Nightmare was happy first! The head pats were nice too, Ribbon made sure to purr at those, Nightmare liked that, he always wanted him at his side. And all this pressure a week before they got married too!

That’s why Ribbon was here, singing for him in private in his office.

His dress spun around as he twirled. Nightmare leaned back in his leather chair and watched him. Ribbon didn’t know the words to this song very well, it was in French, but Nightmare said it was one of his favorites. It was from somewhere in the seventeenth- no, the eighteenth century? Ribbon forgot. Nightmare went a long ramble about it when he taught Ribbon the song.

Ribbon kept his eyes on Nightmare’s tense face. Yeah, Ribbon was upset about Error running away too. He tried to be good to him! He tried so hard to be his friend and Error always said no! But Nightmare took it way harder. But luckily, Ribbon watched as his face softened. It was working! His soft little soprano voice was helping!

“Thank you, my little bear. That was lovely.” Nightmare said with a slow clap when he finished. Ribbon curtsied, blushing at the pet name. At this point, Nightmare used pet names to describe him more than his real name, even to other people. Nightmare booped his nasal bone with his tendril.

“I just didn’t want you to be stressed out.”

“I’m not. Everything is under control. However, I do need your help to pack the last of the decorations." Nightmare stood up from his desk chair and gestured for his doll to follow. Ribbon studied his stance and vibe. Tendrils relaxed, aura calm. Good, he was genuinely happy. The doll skipped after him, smiling knowing his job was done.

The big day has finally arrived.

Ribbon scrunched his face as he did his best to fill his back with paint. He used a mirror to help him see what he was doing. Strange, Nightmare always remembered to help him with this. It could be because there was so much other stuff to do today. Still. Ribbon struggled to fill each compartment on his spine, arms shaking. Yellow paint and pink paint had to be the strongest, . That’s why he could. He couldn’t even feel emotions without him!

But he figured it out after about five minutes of trying and failing. His spinal compartments dripped with all shades of the rainbow. Nightmare wouldn’t notice with his back screwed back up. Ribbon left his room and walked through the dark hallways. He met up with the other four members at the front entrance. Horror and Dust whispered to each other. Killer stared out the window, holding a wreath under his left arm.

The entire Villian Sans Squad teleported to the venue. Each member carried a different tote of supplies. Ribbon carried the lightest one. The building was the size of Nightmare’s ballroom and had two floors. The first floor was the actual place they were going to marry. Twenty-six long benches lined a massive space with a triangular roof. Three stained glass windows with pictures of the monster-human war lined the back. But that wasn’t important right now. They had to decorate the second floor, which was where the celebration was going to be.

First, Ribbon went to help Horror with the food. The kitchen area was a room behind the bar. It was small and periwinkle. Horror dropped a cooler and a tote of supplies by the entrance. Ribbon looked up. Why was this place so cold?

Horror frosted the cake, going slow to get every peak right. It was four-tiered and covered in white frosting. Each tier had black fondant acting like streamers and roses to hold them up. Horror’s massive hands didn’t look like they were fit for holding the tiny frosting, but they worked. The top had a little fondant display of Nightmare and Ribbon dancing. Dream's circlet sat at Nightmare's feet, covered in dust.

“Tryin’ . . . follow boss’s plan.” Horror pushed a drawing toward Ribbon. Ribbon looked between the two. Nightmare had amazing drawing skills.

“It looks perfect! Good job!” Ribbon grinned and bounced. Horror’s mouth curved up in a half smile. He looked over and spotted leftover frosting left in the bowl. He wanted a taste, but he knew Nightmare would say no.

Horror looked over and gave Ribbon a nod. “You can . . . have it. Better than letting it . . waste.” His comment was technically permission, so Ribbon took a spoon. He took a scoop of the white buttercream frosting and licked it up. It wasn’t too sweet, but the vanilla was strong. And there was something else. Cinnamon? That had to be it. The cake was apple spice, so it made sense.

"Do you need any help? That's . . . that's why I came in." Ribbon asked, wiping the frosting off his face with a napkin.

Horror shook his head. "No. 'M fine."

Ribbon nodded. He checked that off his mental checklist and dashed out of the room. He went back to the main decorating room. Nightmare and Killer worked together and Ribbon joined in. He shuffled through a tote until he found some fake flowers that had to be hung up. Nightmare used his tendril to help Ribbon go up and tie purple flowers to the walls. Ribbon wrapped bows around each bouquet. The chandelier at the top of the room glittered.

“This is a little . . . brighter than I expected my wedding to be, but I still like it.” Nightmare said, looking around the light purple and black room. The streamers the flowers held up looked just like the cake.

"I did this intentionally. Your dress will be the brightest thing in this room since you're the brightest thing in my life." Nightmare chuckled and nuzzled Ribbon, making him blush.

Dust knocked on one of the wood benches to get Nightmare's attention. "Hey boss, I got a situation with the guest list. I need your help."

"Of course. Wait here, my doll," Nightmare said. He dropped Ribbon and followed him. Ribbon focused on ground decorations instead, at

Ribbon hung up a banner as Killer dropped one of the roses. He wore his best man suit with a knife lapel pin on the chest. Ribbon designed all the outfits, the weeks of sewing hurt his hands. Well, made them ache at least, it was hard to feel much pain without nerves. Ribbon picked it up and handed it over to him.

“Thanks, dollface,” Killer said. He set the rose back in the bouquet. Then he poked a petal. “Do you think I can get Cross to do this with me one day?

Ribbon paused and looked down at him. He pulled his heart charm. “Um . . . I don’t know. Maybe. Why Cross? Do you like him?”

Killer laughed, which was more of a mix between a scoff and a wheeze. “Have you seen that guy? I’ve liked him since boss brought him into the castle. Cross hid his face with his turtleneck when he introduced us and it was adorable. I saw him training for the first time a week later, shirtless.” Killer fake-fanned himself with one of the napkins. “He has a really nice body. One time he put his knife to my throat after a battle . . . you should’ve seen the look on his face. It was hot as hell.”

Killer giggled to himself. Ribbon couldn’t help but giggle with him. It was silly.

“What would this be about?” Nightmare stepped into the doorway with his arms crossed. His tendril lashed out and grabbed Ribbon. He was yanked back like a pull-string into Nightmare’s arms. He held Ribbon with one hand on the back of his head and the other wrapped around his back. Ribbon couldn’t see Killer with his face pushed into Nightmare’s chest.

Killer held his hands up. “Woah, boss. I was just joking with him.”

“Well don’t joke. Not . . . Ribbon doesn’t need to be agitated. He needs to be in a calm mindset before the ceremony.” Nightmare turned around and walked with Ribbon, holding him close. Ribbon couldn’t breathe and looked up, taking in a big breath. He squirmed. Nightmare loosened a little bit, only when he realized he was suffocating him. Nightmare kissed Ribbon on the cheek as he sat him down on a bench. No one was around but them. “Aw, I didn’t mean to choke you.”

Ribbon nodded. “Mm hm, I’m fine! I forgive you.” Ribbon looked at the clock on the wall. He couldn’t read it very well. He asked Nightmare for help before, but he just said he didn’t have to learn. He would do that for him. “How much longer before I have to get ready?”

Nightmare looked around like he was nervous someone was watching. But why? Nightmare was stronger than everyone here combined! Nightmare set a finger on Ribbon’s mouth. “Now. I hired some maids to help you get ready. So don’t be scared of them.”

“Okie!” Ribbon exclaimed. He forgot about Nightmare taking him from Killer, that wasn’t important right now.

“Good. Now remember where the bridal’s suite is and go put your dress on. Killer, Dust, and Horror will greet the guests while we get ready.” Nightmare turned Ribbon around by grabbing his shoulders. He leaned down and whispered in Ribbon’s nonexistent ear with a grin. “The next time I see you will be on the altar. Traditionally, it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. The same goes for your seeing me, so go on.” Nightmare let go and melted through the shadows.

The doll did remember the suite from their tour. Ribbon walked down and listened to the sounds of arguing from Killer and Dust. Nightmare scolded them. Ribbon found the wood staircase and walked up it. It was one of the thin ones that forced him to tiptoe so he didn’t slip. It led him through another hallway.

Ribbon entered the bridal suite. It was a mix of periwinkle and pink. Big cushy sofas lined the room. Framed photos of previous brides lined the walls. He walked to the back and sat on a soft ledge, looking out at the busy Mafiatale. Ribbon looked into a small subsection of the room and spotted a group of seven maids, all in matching white dresses. Nightmare didn't tell him much about this, so he didn't know what he was getting into. Bridesmaids? Maybe.

"Queen Ribbon!" One of them exclaimed. She walked up to him and held his hand. Ribbon assumed she was the oldest being the tallest with long black hair and blue eyes. But she didn't have a name tag or anything like that, so he wasn't sure what to call her. The maid grabbed him by the shoulder, something everyone seemed to like to do today, and brought him over to a small bathroom. It was at least gentler than what Nightmare did, somehow. "Would you like any assistance?"

"I can do it myself. That- that's okay." Ribbon didn't like the idea of anyone seeing him naked except his soon-to-be husband.

"As you wish, your highness." She bowed before him and went back to the other girls, who all seemed to be invested in some kind of drama. Something about a secret cannibalism ring. He didn't want to know.

Ribbon took his dress off and set it aside, along with his shoes, stockings, and beret. He would get to pick it up later, once all of the party and noise and action was over. He climbed inside. He turned the right setting on and a wave of hot steam blew onto him. He poured porcelain cleaner on a scrub brush and

Ribbon washed himself in the shower, taking deep slow breaths. The steam felt nice and helped him clean. Since it was only vapor, it didn't damage his porcelain body like liquid water or ice. He couldn’t believe it. Less than three hours from now, he would be Nightmare’s queen and wife. His hands jittered with excitement and anxiety. He had to make his porcelain body shine and glitter.

Ribbon didn’t know anyone, they were all Nightmare’s connections and friends. But he remembered what he said. He wouldn’t need to talk so much. It would be like his singing; he wouldn’t need to talk directly to people. He took another deep breath. His mechanical heart pitter-pattered in his chest.

The doll finished cleaning himself and was grabbed by two maids. They dragged him over to a dressing room. The walls were periwinkle with brown trimming. Was there any heating in here? Ribbon shivered from the cold. Maybe it wasn’t the building’s fault and only his porcelain body.

“Your Highness?” One of the maids asked. Muscle memory forced Ribbon to curtsy. "Can you stay still so we can get you prepared for Lord Nightmare?"

“Um . . . go ahead.” Ribbon wondered how much he was allowed to talk to them.

Ribbon stood as still as possible in a t-pose. Soft material slipped over his head and something clicked on his neck. The only time he moved was whenever one of the maids adjusted his limbs. Either to slip his arms into sleeves or to tilt his head this way and that. Several times he had to resist peaking. Ribbon could’ve opened his eye sockets whenever he wanted, but he tried to keep it a surprise. He struggled not to giggle when the makeup brushes tickled his face. The room smelt like vanilla and roses. It felt like it went on forever, though it couldn't have been longer than fifteen minutes.

Once they slid his veil on, a maid gripped his shoulders and guided him to what he guessed was the mirror. One of her fingers pushed something out of Ribbon’s face saying, “Open your eyes, your highness.”

Ribbon stopped repressing his smile and followed the order. He looked in the mirror and smiled with a gasp.

The maids dressed him in a long-sleeved silk white dress with a long train. The heart-shaped bodice revealed most of his chest. His breezy skirt had a medieval-looking corset. The sleeves were made of lace and dropped down. Tight around his neck was a white choker with his heart charm peeking out from above it. His chapel-length veil was semi-translucent and lined with white lace. Rose-gold flowers covered both that and his dress in a long chain. Light blush and eye shadow tinted his face, along with highlighter on his cheekbones. His ‘nails’ were painted light pink. Ribbon reached up and touched the last piece of the outfit. A silver tiara with a lavender diamond-shaped gem in the middle. He put it on, smiling. He did feel like a queen.

Yes, Nightmare’s beautiful queen, as you were always meant to be. This is who you are.

Ribbon bounced and clapped his hands. He looked in the mirror and watched as the maids giggled with each other and left through the back. As disappointed as he was, he kinda understood, they didn't know him. Or at least, he didn't know them. It was a job, that's it. What if Error was here? He would stay! He would be his friend here and say something nice. Error seemed to care . . .

The doll looked at the one thing that was left, a bouquet of black dahlias. They were real flowers, not fake ones like the decorations. A little note hanging off one of the stems said 'Good luck!' with a smiley face. Ribbon smiled and picked it up. He opened the bridal suite and left.

Ribbon walked down the hallway. The walls were white and the floor was darker tan. It was empty besides a few windows and vases here and there. He could have sworn he heard footsteps, really angry ones. But then he looked around at all the guards. Nightmare said he would be safe, so he had to be safe. His silly doll brain was just overthinking. Ribbon puffed up his sleeves and adjusted the flower chain on his dress.

Finally, he stood in front of the door. Both sides were engraved with humans down on their knees and praying. Ribbon listened for any strange sounds, but he didn’t hear anything. This was it. Once he walked through the door, there was no going back. He had to face the scary strangers. His hand shook as he grabbed the door handle.

Ribbon took a deep breath and stepped through the entrance. Rose pink petals fell down from the ceiling and onto his head. One fell right on his nasal bone, but he shook it off. He did most of the decorating, and it still looked great. The banners were the same ones Nightmare put up after taking down an AU.

The orchestra played a soft tune while he walked down the aisle. His veil and dress trailed behind him. He looked at the monsters and humans whispering and staring at him. There had to be eighty at least. They were mostly Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Chara, and Asriel variants. Ribbon waved with a nervous smile.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s my wedding. I’m safe.

He wasn’t sure, but then he saw Nightmare and all his panic faded away. His back was turned as he talked to the officiator, an old Gaster, but he must’ve sensed Ribbon’s aura as he looked at him. The only word he caught from the conversation was ‘legal’. He wore the suit Ribbon made as he promised. The embroidery shimmered in the light and made it look like it glowed. He only added one more thing to the outfit, a crown. Well, it was more like Dream’s circlet. It was the same silver as Ribbon’s, except with a fancier moon design. A crescent moon was in the middle and was surrounded by waves. Ribbon’s soul fluttered; his cheekbones exploded in blush. Stars, he was perfect.

Ribbon walked down the rest of the aisle. His body was fuzzy all over. If he squeezed the bouquet any tighter, he would’ve snapped those rose stems in half.

He made it to the altar. Nightmare offered a hand to help up the steps. Killer gave Ribbon a wink. He stood as Nightmare's best man. The maids that cleaned him stood as bridesmaids. Ribbon ignored them though and only focused on Nightmare. He stared into his eye as they held hands.

Nightmare brushed his thumb against his knuckles before kissing them. “Are you ready to become a queen, princess? You look perfect, precisely as I imagined you.”

“Very ready,” Ribbon said. His scared jitters turned into excited ones, but he kept his emotions in control for Nightmare’s sake.

A sigh came from Killer. “If you two are done being sappy with each other, let’s get this show on the road.” He glanced up at the door. “And Horror will get here at some point. I don't know where the hell he went. Last time I saw him, Horror went to investigate some sounds he heard. Don't ask me what, I have no clue. I didn't hear anything."

"Interesting . . ." Nightmare eye twitched. Ribbon rubbed his arm to remind him to calm down. What if there were angry noises and he wasn't imagining it?

The officiator cleared his throat. “We gather here today to join Nightmare Joku and Ribbon Adela in marriage. The bonding of two souls is a practice as old as monsters lived, as these two immortals should know.” Ribbon tilted his head a bit. He knew that wasn’t true. Only Nightmare was immortal.

“Within the circle of love, marriage encompasses all of life’s most important relationships. A wife and a husband are each other’s best friend, confidant, lover, teacher, listener, and counselor. Marriage deepens and enriches every facet of life. Happiness is fuller, memories are fresher, and commitment is stronger. Now, please join hands and look each other in the eye.”

Ribbon and Nightmare followed the order. Nightmare’s eye glowed a bit, both with teal and pink. The officiator looked at Nightmare. “Do you, Nightmare, take Ribbon to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Nightmare said. Killer gave a thumbs up.

The officiator nodded. “And do you, Ribbon, take Nightmare to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Ribbon couldn’t stop grinning.

At that moment, Dust walked down the aisle. He carried a small silver pillow surrounded with lace. Their rings glittered on it. He wore a suit like Killer’s, using an embroidered cloak Ribbon made for him to make up for his hood. He went down on one knee and held out the pillow. He didn’t look all that happy.

“The two of you have chosen rings to exchange with each other as a symbol of your unendin’ love. As you place this ring on Ribbon’s finger, repeat after me. ‘With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever.’”

Nightmare took the black ring and slipped it onto Ribbon’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever.” Dust didn’t even look up when it was Ribbon’s turn. He stood up and walked to stand by Killer.

Ribbon grabbed the black and silver band and did the same thing. “With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever.”

“If there are no objectifications to this marriage,” he shut the book, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Nightmare pushed his veil aside and pulled him in. Ribbon wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He’d kissed him a million times before, but none came close to this one. He wasn’t kissing his boyfriend anymore. He was kissing his husband.

The crowd clapped and cheered. Killer whistled. The rainbow glass from the window shimmered onto them. Nightmare’s face was lit with green, red, blue, and pink. His mind went blank; his eyes glazed over, flickering between lilac and blue. The doll’s tiara and ruby necklace also caught light. Nightmare chose the perfect time for the sun to hit. Queen Ribbon Adela Joku, he liked that title. Though the idea of being a queen worried him. Would he have a lot of new responsibilities? Was he good enough for it? Would there be more once they took over the Doodlesphere? Could he handle it without breaking down? But lucky for him, Nightmare would always be there to help when he was too dumb and weak to do so.

Nightmare broke the kiss and pulled back. His tendrils wagged. One of them traced the outline of Ribbon’s black cheek mark, absently thinking. “Well . . . shall we begin the festivities, my sweet wife?”

Being called ‘wife’ made Ribbon blush and go back to that dreamy feeling. He felt it the whole time, but now it was at its peak. He was walking on cotton candy clouds and he couldn’t be happier. He pulled his string, being sure not to get it tangled with his necklace. “Yes, Nighty! I’m ready for-”

Ribbon stopped as the back door flew open in a field of dust. Ribbon coughed and his husband held him. At first, Ribbon thought it was something Nightmare set up and planned. But he looked shocked too, something was wrong. Very wrong. From the cloud, a glitchy skeleton wearing a red scarf and battle armor strode out. Blue’s body was covered in blood and dust. Ribbon couldn’t tell which was his own. He screamed and burst into tears. The doll didn’t know what else to do with all the stress.

If it couldn’t get any worse, Dream followed Blue. He’d never seen him that angry before. His eye lights blazed with anger. They made eye contact with Ribbon, which softened their gaze, but only a little. He was covered in less blood, but that didn’t make him less scary. Were they here to kill him? Or Nighty? Neither of them said a word. Nightmare’s tendrils raised and Killer and Dust summoned their weapons.

Everything was perfect. Everything was going to be perfect. Now they ruined it. Blue summoned his hammer with a huff, pointing at Nightmare.

“I OBJECT!”

Chapter Text

Dream, Cross, Blue, Epic, Core, and Error met up in Undertale. The original AU was uninfected by the corruption, hop. Whether it be from hope or something else, Dream didn’t believe it was spreading across AUs. But it was. The pressure and stakes pushing on his shoulders wanted to shove him to the ground. Millions of innocent souls would lose their way of life if he failed.

Error waited against a cave wall encased in snow. He watched the residents of Snowdin go about their business, unaware of their stalker. Undertale’s Sans and Papyrus battled in a snowball fight with Frisk. Error’s aura was nostalgic, but that changed as soon as he saw the group. “Well, you guys took long enough. We’re running out of time.”

Dream grimaced. He didn’t sleep well the previous nights as he kept having nightmares of everything that could go wrong. The first was the team slowly tortured while he watched. The second was Killer forcing Cross to be his husband in a double marriage. Then Dream turned to stone, or he murdered Ink. He blubbered and begged to be spared as Dream shot him through the skull. They shook the dreams out of their head. He yawned. They drank caffeinated tea and smoked before arriving, unsure how much it helped.

Cross sheathed his daggers. “I know. But it’s not a long walk through the castle. Dude, come on.”

Cross and Epic walked over to Error, who was going to send them to Nightmare’s castle. Dream and Blue walked over to Core. They found the location of the chapel and examined it. They formed an entry plan.

Cross and Dream stared into each other’s eye lights. They exchanged a hug. Dream took in Cross’s warmth and whispered. “Could we go to a movie or something when this is over? Just . . . something fun. Obviously. we’ll have more work to do once we defeat Nightmare, but a simple break would be nice.

“Sounds great.” Cross squeezed him a bit tighter before he let go. “Be careful out there, flower.”

“You too.” Dream let go. Error snapped his fingers and formed a portal. Cross and Epic jumped through the portal. The only sight Dream saw was darkness and a stone wall.

Blue and Dream walked over to Core. The Guardian of Positivity carried a bow and a quiver full of arrows. These were only traditional ones, he couldn't risk summoning his bow. But any help was good.

Core’s arms stayed behind their back and their hair tassels swayed in the wind. They didn’t make footprints in the snow. “Be careful out there, both of you.”

Dream nodded and grabbed his bow. “We will. And when we return, we’ll have Ink home and safe again. We can finally put all of this behind us and move on. I’m looking forward to that.”

They turned to the Blue and Dream nocked an arrow. Error tapped his fingers against his legs and rolled his eye lights. Core clapped their hands once and a large portal appeared in front of them.

Blue leaped through, but Dream lingered. Error's strings grabbed his arm. The destroyer gave them a smug look. “Kick his ass for me. Kick Ink’s too for getting us all in this mess.”

Dream sighed at the request. But he wasn’t all disappointed. Hearing Error’s support for the mission gave him more hope he would succeed. “I can’t promise Ink, but I will Nightmare’s.”

“Fine, fair.” Error raised his hand and the strings tossed Dream through the portal. They landed with a light thump. The other three prepared their weapons, looking at the chapel. The outside was gorgeous. Stained glass windows spotted the smooth white walls. Lush green bushes grew outside, a stark contrast from Mafiatale’s dull brown monotony.

Blue looked at the cars, then the guards at the door. He gestured for Dream to follow him. They crept into a bush and peeked out. They shuffled through the bushes and fencing, pausing whenever a monster moved.

“Is my aura going to be a problem?” Dream asked.

“I don’t think so. I can’t feel it.” Blue’s hand glitched and he summoned a bone by accident. He almost shook it away, but then he looked at the guards. They were hound monsters with sliver glistening armor.

Blue summoned another bone and aimed. He fired both of them, slicing through each guard’s face. They crumbled into dust. Dream sighed, hoping the entire mission would be this simple.

The two Stars dashed through the opening and into the building. The holy building smelt like cedar wood. Dream listened for the sound of people or more guards, spotting two more down the hall. Dream sensed Nightmare’s aura nearby. They wanted to defeat him now, but the plan required Ink first.

“Be quiet.” Dream whispered. He loaded his bow and shot four security cameras out. The shattering of glass caught the attention of the guards. Blue used telekinesis and slammed them both into the wall. The crack rang down the hall, echoing with the lack of sound blocks. Blue stopped.

“That’s . . . not really quiet.” Dream rubbed his temples, yawning. His eye sockets threatened to close. He ran after Blue and hoped the sound wouldn't cause more conflict than necessary. He focused his magic on finding Nightmare and the rest of the monsters here. They were all evil, he reminded himself, except Ink.

The Star Sanses walked down the hall, looking for more guards. Each time they came across someone, they'd knock them out with arrows or bones. It worked like a charm. They dashed into spare rooms and through doors whenever someone walked by. Dream's aura was palpable to the average soul, but he didn't have much to spare. His soul beat, trying to feed from emotions and stay alive.

Dream sensed Ink’s aura and peeked around the hall. He spotted him in a flowing gown of white and high heels. His pink eyes flickered around the room. Dream stared in both sadness and awe. In any other situation, with any other partner, he’d be happy for him. They wanted to go over and give Ink a pep talk, something to lift his spirits.

Ink must have heard them because he turned around with wide eyes. His bouquet shook and he gulped. He walked faster down the hall. Dream walked behind him, hiding behind pillars to avoid guards. Ink dashed down a different corridor, dress dragging behind him.

Blue prepared to jump the brainwashed skeleton and take him. Dream’s sleep magic was both calming and painless. He decided to risk it and teleported to the end of the hall to grab Ribbon. Blue missed and slammed into the wall, unable to control the glitch.

“Are you okay?” The Guardian of Positivity asked.

"Ow . . . yeah. Error's been helping me practice and don't tell him I said this, but he's not a good teacher." Blue wiped his pants off. Dream laughed to himself about Error as a poor mentor.

Dream loaded his bow at the sound of footsteps. Five more guards appeared, flaking each side. Dream’s eye lights darted back and forth. The doors to the ceremony were so close, yet the spears were too much of a threat.

Dream sensed his brother’s aura grow agitated, he could hear them. Depending on how many guests were skilled in combat, he could send more fighters on them. Dream could hardly handle the guards attacking them. He had to fight, but it was too much risk. The guardian looked for another option as he fired two arrows at once, pinning a man to the wall. He looked around and spotted another hallway, close to the left set of guards.

"Over here!" Dream shouted. He had no mercy left to give to them. They took away his best friend and so many more innocent souls. Blue followed him. They called for backup.

Blue summoned his hammer. He set his eyes on the left guards and charged at them. He swung his hammer and bashed a human in the head. The guard’s nose bones shattered and blood spilled down their face. Blue leaped to avoid a spear through his chest. Another security guard in a black suit pulled a gun and fired at Blue. Dream summoned a shield and blocked the bullet. It clicked against the gold magic and fell to the ground. Dream gritted his teeth. “Blue, up the stairs!”

Blue punched another guard and looked up to where Dream stood. He ran up the stairs and kicked someone else in the face. Blue bled from a cut on the top of his skull. "We are going so far off the plan . . ."

“I know, I didn’t think there were so many guards. I don't know why Nightmare wants Ink bad enough to hire all of these people." Dream panted. He listened to the angry shouts of more security running their way. He sighed and pinched his nasal bridge. "Blue . . . fire. Use the strongest Gaster Blaster you have. Please."

Blue wavered, giving Dream a look mixed with confusion and worry. The remaining guards made it up the stairs and held up pistols. Blue snapped both fingers and summoned a Gaster Blaster, one large enough to take up the entire hall. He pointed in the direction of the guards

The humans were incinerated into charred husks while the monsters turned into dust. Dream blinked the ashes away. At least they were a little safer.

"We can circle around now," Dream said with a sense of relief. It could have simply been because their auras were so negative, but . . . Dream felt much better after their deaths.

He and Blue circled back around the chapel. They hoped there was still time before Nightmare and Ink said 'I do'. Dream had a bad feeling about that. He also had a bad feeling as something grabbed his cape and pulled him away from Blue.

Dream gasped and kicked his legs in the air as a massive hand wrapped around his neck. It lifted him in the air and cut off his air. His lack of sleep combined with the choking made the world spin and darken.

“Damn . . .” Horror mumbled. “Knew there was noise. Can . . . sense a pest . . anywhere.”

“Let him GO!” Blue shouted and summoned his hammer. He brought it down on Horror’s skull and he dodged.

Dream looked down and focused on his boot. He struggled until he lodged his foot between Horror’s ribs. Then he shot his foot up. The move didn’t break his ribs, but he was injured. Horror dropped Dream and clutched the spot, coughing and wheezing. He was unsure if he would ever breathe normally again. The guardian stood up.

Dream knew he was getting himself killed, but he had to try. “Horror . . . listen to me. I know you’re the most reasonable of Nightmare’s team. He’s killing millions of innocents. If you help us defeat him and bring Ink to safety, we can help you redeem yourself.”

“No.”

If Dream stood a little farther to the left, his ax would have gone right through his skull. Horror threw it and they almost fought back, but Dream checked the clock.

“No time!” Dream grabbed Blue’s glitching arm, but Blue pulled out. He disappeared in a field of glitches the way Error did. For a second, Dream worried he left to go fight Nightmare alone. But then Blue teleported in front of Horror and landed a hit to the face. Small fragments of bone crumbled to the ground.

Horror screamed and clutched his eye, the one on the side of his cracked head. Neither of the Stars wanted to see Horror in this state, so they ran. The ax murderer lead them on a chase, holding his axe high. Dream let go of Blue and let him release his anger. He used his hammer to smash a vase and litter the shards across the floor.

Dream focused on the door. The smooth floors were slick and slippery with scarlet blood and dust. He listened to clapping inside the room. Oh stars . . .

Blue summoned seven tall bones to block off Horror’s path. The murderer swung his ax, attempting to chop them down like trees. But it bought them enough time. Blue grinned, wiping some of the blood off his face.

“Epic wanted me to do this. Dream, move.” Blue said. The guardian stepped aside and Blue cleared his throat. He kicked the door down with a powerful strike. Dust from the ground picked up and blew. He pointed at Nightmare and shouted. “I OBJECT!”

Twelve tall leans towers with sharp points reached into the sky for intimidation and decoration. The giant vast walls were made of pure obsidian. Ornate windows were scattered in even patterns across the walls. Cross couldn’t see the designs well from the ground, but he knew they were astronomical. Nightmare loved his stars and moons.

“Geez, this place reeks of Nightmare,” Epic commented.

“Tell me about it.” Cross pointed to one of the largest windows. “That’s Nightmare’s office, let’s get this over with."

His voice trailed off at the end as he stared with a grimace. The last time he was in Nightmare's office was to leave his run-away note. Epic waved a hand in front of Cross to get his attention. “Hey bruh, is everything okay up there?”

The royal guard looked away, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah, it’s just . . . memories.”

“Whatever you say.” Epic didn't seem to believe him. He gave him a friendly smile. “If you start going into flashbacks, tell me. We can call Error and he-”

“No. I’m not going to run, not this time. I’ll be fine. Grab the syringe, the contract, and never come back here again.” He turned to look at him. “Alright, we need to look for a light gray stone with the letters C/D/H/K carved on it. The C might be missing though. Or scratched out. Call out if you find it.”

Epic summoned two orbs of light and set one in each of his hands. The magic glowed purple like his eye.

“Thanks, dude.” Cross took his orb and walked along the wall, trying to find the entrance. Cross walked down the left side of the rocks. Epic went in the other direction.

They felt around the smooth gray rocks, looking for anything out of place. Occasionally, Cross looked back up at the lights glowing in the castle. Everyone had to be at the wedding, so those were the sconces Nightmare kept lit with magic. Cross grumbled. This would have been so much easier if Nightmare didn't hate sunlight so much. The chronic clouds always made him miserable and tense, though he assumed that was the point.

As he wondered, Cross's hand grazed something odd. The jagged texture of the other rocks was replaced with something smooth. It reminded him of his plastic training helmet.

“Found it!” Cross announced. He flipped the fake rock, it was secretly a cover. A lever lay dusty underneath, he assumed it hadn’t been used in a while. Cross pulled the lever and the wall shook. Two sides of rock opened into a pitch-black tunnel. Cross coughed and pushed the dust cloud out of the way.

"Woah, how often did you use this?, bruh" Epic peeked inside the gap.

"About . . ." Cross hovered the light closer so he could see, "two or three times a month. I don't know when the Murder Time Trio last used it. I don't remember it being this dusty."

Cross led himself and Epic through the dark. The tunnel was crumbling dirt with glowing teal stones embedded in it. Dew from the walls filled the air, making it damp and cold. He looked around as memories of the MTT and himself laughing through entered his mind. Cross shook his head.

Focus. Remember your training.

Cross stopped at a dead end. Epic blinked. “You sure we're in the right place? It’s kinda . . . empty.”

“We’re exactly in the right place, trust me.” Cross put his hands on the ceiling and pushed. The sound of stone on stone screeched and light illuminated the space. It was a trap door disguised as a floor tile. He wondered why Nightmare designed his castle like this in the first place, or if he just found it. Cross was too afraid to ask.

Cross climbed out of the tunnel and helped the Epic climb out. Cross gagged at the smell, he forgot how bad it was. It was a mix of blood, rot, and mold. He coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. Epic scrunched his nasal bone, but he kept quiet. The cells were rusted and desolate. Cross was rarely ever the one to torture prisoners, that was saved for the MTT, but he did sometimes help. The guard still had guilt over the screams, though the voices of everyone he killed mixed over the years.

They walked past the cells with pitch-black bars. Cross looked into them, but luckily there was no one in them. Nobody could survive a dark, dank place like this. Not unless Nightmare wanted them to.

“The torture room is to the left, the center hall is the entrance to the castle. Stay close.” Cross used his commander voice instinctively. Epic narrowed his glowing eye and studied the dungeon, especially Dust's medical equipment. He left it in the torture room. Cross watched Epic snatch a few syringes, a scalpel, and walk up the winding stairway. Thirty-seven stairs, Cross counted multiple times.

They made it to the top and squinted from the light. Cross breathed in the smell of citrus floor polish and something sharp. Nightmare's apple stench if he had to guess. Cross followed his instinct. He used to walk the halls every night on parol, it calmed his nerves. So despite a few pauses, he remembered the route to Nightmare's office.

But something was different. Cross noticed it as he ran through the hallway with everyone's bedroom. His old one was empty, but a spare room now had the name 'RIBBON' on the silver tag with a bow design. It had to be Ink's room.

"Is that Nightmare's office?

"Give me a sec . . . holy shit." Cross's expression slacked as he walked inside. He repainted the dull walls pink with flowers and baby animals. A delicate vanity was covered in beauty products and accessories, neatly organized. He had a white shelf in the left corner with a collection of stuffed animals. His bed in the back of the room was white and draped with pink curtains and round pillows. There weren't any art supplies or drawings for a room meant for Ink, just some sketches of dresses.

It was a pretty dollhouse for a pretty doll.

Epic rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Huh, no wonder Ink lost his mind. I wouldn’t last a week in here, much less however long he was. What, ten months? Eleven?" He looked at a microphone on the desk, kept in a fancy case. Cross tried to imagine himself in Ink's shoes, being stuck day after day in this room and this castle. He felt bad for the guy. This was a level of depravity he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemies, Ink, Nightmare, and X-Gaster. Cross balled his hand into a fist.

"Yeah, dude. No wonder he's so screwed up. If Nightmare kidnapped you instead and did this, you'd outsmart him." Cross chuckled, trying to make a joke and lighten the mood. He scowled at the pastel room and turned around.

"I could, I'd pull an Uno reverse card and make Nightmare the doll. He'd look so bad in pink, I can picture it." Epic turned around and left. Cross followed him, the sickly pink room was too much. He didn't want to think about turning into a brain-dead doll too. Nightmare's office was only a few doors down, so it didn't take long to refocus on the mission. His office was unlocked. It didn't change a bit.

Cross and Epic split to look around the room. The serum was much easier to find, it lay right on the corner of Nightmare's desk. Cross picked it up and looked at the book it was on top of. Damn it, it could take hours to find the right spell, and what if that wasn't even the right book? Cross picked it up and moved it aside, wincing as he moved the syringe. It burned the closer it moved to his soul. Core had to know what it was, as long as they moved it away from Nightmare's magic. Cross held the syringe up to Epic and dangled it to show he got it. His best friend gave him a thumbs up.

Cross examined the serum further while Epic searched through the papers on his desk. Epic grumbled curses as he threw aside documents and whatever else Nightmare kept. Cross glanced at a few of them out of curiosity, he and the rest of the MTT sometimes debated what Nightmare did. Alliance deals mostly, who would've thought? He also had multiple checks for wedding purchases. He hoped Dream was okay there.

Epic pulled the one locked drawer, forming a half-smile. He reached for his belt and pulled out a silver lock pick. Cross watched him stick it into the lock and he fiddled for a minute. Then it opened with a clinking sound.

“Ah ha! Here it is . . .” Epic droned on the ‘s’ as he read a sheet of stapled paper. He flipped it to the next page and read that too. "Ink Myebi, what did you sign yourself into? Everyone knows you don't sign one of these things without reading the fine print!"

Cross looked up. Epic's tone made him skeptical. "How bad is it?"

"Well, bruh, this is essentially an ownership contract. It takes away all of Ink’s rights and autonomy. And I mean all of it. This controls everything from his clothes to his diet to his friends. Spoiler alert, he isn’t allowed to have any without verbal permission from the octopus. Nightmare thought of everything."

Epic set the contract aside and dug into the drawer. He pulled out the purple notebook branded with the word INK. Cross braced himself. Epic flipped through it. He paused at a page and facepalmed. "Nevermind, I jinxed it, he got worse. This kinda reminds me of a scrapbook. But instead of like . . . vacations, it’s a lot of pictures of Ink getting tortured, stalked, crying, and some random notes. You wanna see?"

Cross took the notebook from Epic and skimmed through it. He wasn't lying. Each entry went on long tirades about Ink and what torture he went through that day. The earliest was back in May of last year.

May 26th, 20xx.

I'm starting this journal to write my progress on my new project. I lack a name at the moment, but I'm simply calling it INK. I plan to create a living weapon like no other. If this works, it's a guaranteed success.

I need to learn if this is ever going to work. Ink's vials are unlike anything I've ever seen before. But I'm certain I can learn how to manipulate them. If Ink's witless mind can use them, so I can too. I'll watch him day by day until I learn what each vial's strengths and weaknesses are. I'll find what makes him tick. Then I'll send that upon Dream. He will never be able to resist, he's too much of a pacifist. Blue will be easy to capture and kill as soon as the guardians are down, a mortal could never compare to me.

The most recent entry was from that morning and seemed to be written in a hurry. Cross didn't want to read it since half of it was meaningless praise and adoration for Ribbon. He used more pet names in the one page than Cross had heard him say in a year. Even if he didn't want to admit it, the plan was a success.

"We gotta show this to Dream and the others," Cross said with determination.

"Oh, he'd have fun with that." Cross whipped his dagger out and threw it across the room. It hit the wall above Killer's head. He leaned one arm against the wall, snickering with his knife in hand. "Boss is not going to be happy about you snooping in his stuff. But welcome back."

Chapter Text

Nightmare stared shocked at the skeleton panting at the door. His shock faded as soon as Blue stepped into view though. Despite having crashed his special day, The dark king was more amused than anything. It impressed him how they broke through the security guards in their poor condition. He also found Blue’s new look interesting. He didn’t recognize him at first, but his aura was unmistakable.

Blue’s look of triumph faded. It was fair given how he embarrassed himself. “Dream? We . . . didn’t make it.”

“What do you mean ‘didn’t make it’?” Nightmare recognized the squeaky voice of his twin, as did his bride. He shrieked and clung to him tightly, his aura radiating tantalizing fear. Ribbon whisper-screamed the word no over and over again. Nightmare wrapped his tendrils around Ribbon and kissed his head.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He whispered to him. “No one is going to hurt you. I’ll fix this. Just be quiet.”

Dream took a disgusted double-take at the Ribbon, both his white gown and his attachment. Somehow, his brother’s positive aura didn’t affect Nightmare. A closer look and he understood why. Dream’s eye sockets sagged with dark bags and his movements were slower than the other three. He was weak, very weak. His aura was dark, bitter, and stressed.

Horror appeared behind them, clothes destroyed and stained with blood. His eye bled. The side of his face with his red eye was bashed in, destroying the outside of the socket. Besides the injury, he didn’t complain. Nightmare’s eye light widened at the injury. It reminded him of a childhood memory. The one where the villager smashed his eye with a hoe before he ate the black apple. Nightmare growled.

Dust stood up and his stoic expression slid ever so slightly. His tone was laced with sarcasm. “There you are. This is goin’ to be fun.”

“Sorry . . . . I’m late . . . boss.” Horror spoke even slower than usual with the heavy breathing. He coughed up dust.

“I see you gotta little,” Killer clicked his tongue, “held up.” He glared down at the new skeleton, who grinned in response. The circle wound on his skull and blood on his clothes made the incident obvious. Nightmare glared at Blue.

“Horror, you have been excused.” Nightmare told them. He gave Ribbon a gentle push off him and turned to the duo of unwelcome skeletons. “You two, have not. What an interesting team of souls we have here. The fallen Star Sanses, a broken glitch,” he smiled without pleasure, “and my dear brother. Honestly Dream, I thought you were better than this. Breaking in on your twin’s wedding day, for shame. I thought you would be happy for us!”

Dream loaded his bow. “I’ve had enough of your games, brother. You know exactly why we’re here.”

“It wouldn’t be to take away my queen, would it?” A tendril wrapped around Ribbon’s waist to protect him.

“No, a little bird told me to come and wish you the best on this- of course we’re here to save Ink!” Dream snapped. “We’re going to take him back home, help him heal and be himself again, and end whatever this is. It’s horrible.”

Ribbon ran and hid behind Killer. The only reason Nightmare didn’t pull him back was because he was distracted with his brother. Ribbon peeked out from behind Killer as the latter pat his head. “I don’t get it. What do you guys want from me? Why can’t you let me be happy? I love Nightmare and I’m going to stay with him! I’ve made up my mind so you guys can-”

Nightmare raised his hand and Ribbon immediately went silent. A glare escaped Blue. Killer covered Ribbon’s pull-string with his hand.

“Ink, what are you talking about?” Blue asked. “‘Of course we want you to be happy! You’re not thinking clearly right now! Snap out of it!”

“Let me handle the talking, my little doll. You just stand there and look pretty.” Nightmare refocused on the intruders. “You will not lay a hand on him. We have already said ‘I do’, he has my name.”

“So? If we need to force a divorce, we will!" Blue stomped his foot on the ground. "You're not going to win and keep him!

Ribbon remained quiet, looking up at Nightmare for help. He sighed. He couldn't resist Ribbon's big puppy eyes. “You may come back.”

It only took a second for Ribbon to rush into Nightmare’s arms. The mafia guests prepared their weapons for a possible battle. Dream pointed an arrow at Mafiatale's Asgore, Capone, one of Nightmare's closest friends. It didn't please him.

Ribbon shivered in his hold. He looked up at his newlywed with pleading eye lights. “Please don’t let them take me. I can’t go back there! They’re going to try and hurt me again! They’ll beat me and break bones for sure, maybe keep locked up, or worse . . .”

“Shh, I know. I will never let them take you,” Nightmare whispered back. He tapped a loafer on the floor as an idea formed. “Listen closely, I have a plan and I’m going to explain it quick. I will teleport you to a part of the castle and you need to find a place to hide. Stay there and don’t make a sound until I come to find you. Don’t fret. As long as you are on the premises, I will be able to locate your aura. Is that clear?”

“Clear! Crystal clear.” Ribbon gulped. Nightmare slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around his tiny shoulders. He held his pointer finger out and created a puddle, slipping him through. Nightmare shut it, though it caused him to feel something. Someone’s aura was at the castle. His gaze flashed between the monsters and humans preparing for battle and the portal. Ribbon was his only worry now. but he couldn’t show it. He had to keep everything under control.

“No, NO!” Dream reached out to the now empty space. Blue caught the hood of his cape; he continued to struggle. “Where did he go? Where is he?”

Nightmare chuckled. With Ribbon absent, he could enjoy himself more. He wanted a calm ceremony, but this may be more entertaining. “Oh, he’s fine. I merely hid him away. Best of luck finding my little doll.”

The guardian’s gaze held more disappointment than animosity. “You are sick, brother. You’ve done some horrible, twisted things over the years, but this? This has gone too far.”

“I’m sick? Bold choice of words coming from someone with a fever of one hundred and six. Or was it one hundred and seven? The sleep deprivation isn’t good for you. I’m impressed you can function as well as you can.”

Dream froze. “That . . . is not important. Ink’s safety is what’s important. Would you accept a deal? I’ll give you something to trade for setting him free.”

“Well, if you had asked me months ago, I would take your life in exchange for his, but I no longer believe that is a fair deal. Ribbon isn’t worth that little. And besides, your friend Ink no longer exists. You could never take care of him as I could. The poor thing wouldn’t even know what to do with freedom. He’d be so scared and overwhelmed that he’d cry in a corner until someone gave him a guiding hand. He needs someone to give him orders. You’ll only be hurting him by taking him away from me. Trust me when I say I’ll take excellent care of him and, hopefully, our future children too.”

Dream stomped closer. “You can have me. You can torture me as much as you want, but you can’t kill me. You also set Ink free and reverse any spell and curse you cast on him! Put me in eternal pain and let everyone else go free!”

“Dream!” Blue argued in disbelief. “Don’t.”

Nightmare tapped his finger against his face. “Mmm . . . I appreciate the offer, but no. Ribbon is worth too much.” He was sure there was a way he could win both Dream’s soul and keep his wife at his side. He needed to mess with Dream’s mind, confuse him, and throw him off guard. Nightmare looked down at his hand and shifted it to a Gaster’s hand, having a hole in the middle. He changed it back to normal and looked at Dream.

“My apologies everyone, but I’m afraid there’s a change of plans.” Nightmare made a motion with his arms and multiple portals summoned across the floor. The guests fell through and Nightmare shut them. The only monsters remaining were Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Horror, Blue, and Dream.

Dream and Blue stood back to back as the guests vanished. Dream shot a nervous glance at Nightmare. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t need you murdering my comrades too. I’ve known some of those men for years. I would lose access to investments and my suppliers. Oh, and friends I suppose." Nightmare increased the size of his tendrils and shot himself into the air. He used the large tendrils to balance as the top two swayed and flickered.

“Blue . . . we can do this." Dream's voice wavered as he watched the Murder Time Trio, though it stayed stern. He wiped the bag under his eye. “T- two against one. Stop him! Save Ink! Save the Doodlesphere!”

“Finally, it’s showtime!” Killer couldn’t wait and threw the first attack at Blue. Red knives surrounded the glitching mortal in a perfect circle. Blue leaped upwards. The other Murder Time Trio members scattered.

Dust rolled his eye lights and snapped his fingers. His multi-colored eye glowed. “You ready, Pap?” He pulled his pistols from their holsters, something Nightmare told him to remove. For the only time, he was grateful one of his subordinates didn’t listen to him. He chose Dream as his opponent. He ran along the side of the hall and fired bullets at him. Dream gasped and blocked them off with a golden shield.

Wanting revenge for his eye injury, Horror charged at Blue. Blue summoned a glitching Gaster Blaster and fired it back. Horror teleported and swung his ax, but he moved and it lodged into the bench instead. Nightmare scowled. Most of the decorations he planned out so carefully were going to end up destroyed. Lovely.

Killer crept up on Blue and slashed his sleeve. The injury glitched and Blue yelped. He turned around and stabbed Killer with a bone. Killer spun and the two engaged in battle, ducking and attacking. They used the benches to hide and gain higher ground.

Nightmare sharpened his tendrils and fired them at Dream. Dream rolled on his side and moved under a table. Before Nightmare could pull back, one of them smashed the furniture. The table snapped and the black rose vase shattered, spilling glass and water. Dream maneuvered his way through the debris.

He sensed the strange aura again back in his castle, making him fear for Ribbon and his safety. He felt his fear too. His poor baby shouldn’t have been feeling these emotions on his own wedding day. Nightmare flicked one of Dream’s arrows away. He would’ve picked him up if he wasn’t needed for Dream. The Lord of Negativity looked around the room and had an idea.

“Killer!” Nightmare called from across the room, gritting his teeth. His tendrils flailed out and wrapped around the skeleton, helping him dodge Dream.

“Boss! What?” Killer’s irritation was clear in both his aura and his voice.

Nightmare furrowed his browbones. “I sense someone is in the castle, so I need you to go and make sure Ribbon is safe. I believe he could be in danger and I need you to find who’s there.”

“You’re not going to freak out again ‘cause I talked to your little doll?” Killer asked. Nightmare ignored him and threw him through a portal he created. Dream spotted the entrance and ran for it, but Nightmare shut it in time.

“Dream! I need backup!” Blue shouted, smashing Dust's arm with his hammer. He summoned a field of bones and used it to pin him down. Horror attacked from the back and Blue blocked him with a glitching shield. Dream ran toward his side and fired arrows at Dust, aiming for his two glowing eyes lights. Dust shot his pistol and knocked both of them out of the air.

Nightmare stomped his foot on the ground and spread a layer of malice across the floor. Dream and Blue were forced to leap onto the benches to avoid touching it. The Murder Time Trio jumped too, but Nightmare was less worried about them. He could clear the malice from an area or a soul whenever he desired.

“Why the hell did you guys have to show up . . ." Dust muttered, firing another round of bullets at Blue. He talked to himself as he fought. "Makin' everythin' more difficult . . ."

"Then stop fighting and let up save Ink!" Blue barely dodged as Horror threw his axe from across the room. The weapon returned to its owner in a second. Blue turned around to face him. But instead of attacking him, he turned around and blasted Dust with a Gaster Blaster.

Dream fired arrow after arrow as Nightmare melted into every shadow of the room. He watched as more arrows littered the floor. His poor health didn't stop him from having good aim, for the most part. Dream shot an arrow as Nightmare leaned against the pedestal. it knocked over a candle holder instead.

Dream breathed faster as he realized his quiver was out of arrows. The Guardian of Positivity groaned and snapped the bow over his knee. He turned it into two sharp sabers. Dream's ripped cape blew behind him. He glared down at Nightmare.

"Surrender. Ribbon is mine. Also, I would like to know who you sent into my castle," Nightmare said.

"I- fine! Fine! Keep him! Just stop everything else! I'm tired of the murder, tired of you corrupting AUs, it's draining my magic, and I will not put Cro-" Dream covered his mouth. The damage was already done. It didn't surprise Nightmare that it was Cross.

"Cross . . . and who else? I can tell you're hiding something. Is it the purple one I've seen him spend time with?"

"I'm not telling you any more! You can teleport there whenever you please. They will have a more successful mission than us. I know-"

"OW!" Blue screamed from across the field. Dream paused and swerved around, gasping at the massive ax in Blue's shoulder blade.

Distracted by his friend, Dream couldn’t register Nightmare shoving him to the ground. Dream touched the blood dripping from his mouth and tightened his grip on the bow piece. The injury was almost black from the malice on Nightmare's hand. Dream and Nightmare tackled on the floor until Dream was on top of him. He held an arrow over his nonexistent throat with a scream. Nightmare thought quickly. Dream would’ve stabbed him in the throat, except . . . it wasn’t Nightmare. Not the one the guardian was fighting.

“Dr-Dream? Dream!” Nightmare’s voice and body trembled with childlike disbelief. His bones were still pitch black, but his teal eye light glowed purple. The covering over the opposing eye turned into an open crack. Lavender tears dripped the same color as the collared outfit he wore. “What’s going on? W-where are we? Were you about to ki-ki-kill me?”

Dream's look shifted from anger to shock, then suspicion, then sorrow and exhaustion. “Oh, my stars . . . no . . . Nighty?" He threw his arrow aside and wrapped his arms around his real twin. Nightmare could feel the wet stain forming on his shoulder. He didn’t let go. He felt his twin's weakness from the way he held him. “I would never kill you, you were just . . . someone else for a while.” The guardian smiled again. “I can’t believe this! I knew you were in there! I gave the idea to my friends and they said it was too optimistic. This is amazing! We came to save Ink but we’ll save you too.”

“Who-who’s Ink?” Nightmare looked over at the battlefield. “And who are they?”

. “The glitching one is Blue, the one in the hood is Dust, we're not allies and- oh I’ll introduce you guys later. You’re alive!”

Nightmare trembled violently, his body dripping more black liquid. h“It’s so dark and cold in here. I haven’t seen the sun in so long.”

Dream slipped some melancholy tears. “You will, I’ll make sure of it. Once we save Ink, I’ll take you to watch the sunrise. We’ll even get some nice cream, any flavor you want. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Nightmare leaned into his neck. “Dream, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome- wait, what for?”

“For giving me the last golden apple.”

His tendrils stabbed through Dream.

The Guardian of Positivity screamed. It echoed throughout the room as he clutched the bleeding wound in his chest. Nightmare pulled his tendrils out and stared down at his twin. Blue looked up from his battle with Horror and lowered his hammer. He ran to save him, but Horror jumped him, shoving him to the ground.

Dream managed to sit up, shaking. He put pressure on the wound and his eye lights turned into pinpricks. “I don’t know what the final nail in the coffin was, but there are so many contenders. Helping to murder Fresh, helping to turn all those innocents into zombies, crying at the thought of leaving you. But most of all, the torture and trauma you inflicted on him. Sometime during this last year, I knew for a fact that you killed my best friend. But not in the way I thought. When Killer said Ink died, I was horrified, but I could move on as I knew he was safe from harm-"

"I don't have time for a monologue." Nightmare set his hand on Dream’s forehead and his hand glowed blue. Dream fell asleep and collapsed on the floor. Nightmare picked him up in his arms. Not the way he held Ribbon as if he was the most precious thing in the multiverse. Dream’s head lolled to the side and his limbs hung down.

Horror and Dust struggled but eventually managed to pin a kicking Blue to the ground. Horror held down his legs and Dust used his magic to keep his arms behind his back. It satisfied Nightmare to see the confident Star Sans struggling with fear in his eye lights. Nightmare switched out Dream so he dangled in his tendrils instead of his arms. Nightmare placed his hand on Blue's head and put him to sleep too.

The two members of the Murder Time Trio stared down at the Stars. Dust put his hood up as it fell during the action. "So . . . what are we doin' with them now?"

"Imprisoning them, of course." Nightmare considered his next move. He looked into the evening sky out the window. He knew who helped with this, and Nightmare wanted revenge. "Horror, I will send you to the castle so you can help Killer and Ribbon. Lock up Dream and Blue too. Dust, go outside and explain the reception will be postponed an hour and a half. I need to take care of a certain mistake."

"Yes, boss."

Nightmare snapped his fingers and opened a portal for Horror. Dust turned around and left the room. Nightmare made his own portal and strode inside. The malice on his body melted and gurgled. He entered the Anti-void and glared. A certain destruction guardian helped a certain Omega guardian through a portal. Error turned around and stopped when he saw Nightmare.

"Have something you want to tell me, Error?" He held back from impaling him there and now. He needed his soul.

Error gritted his teeth and pulled out his strings. Despite that, Nightmare wasn't phased. He knew what he taught Error to do. As Error screamed and charged at him, Nightmare summoned liquid malice in his hands.

Error hesitated and his eye socket twitched. His one hand trembled as he stared down at it. "Get rid of that. I'm not drinking it like I was in there."

"No, you're hooked. I know you are. There's no point left in fighting. I already have you and all three Star Sanses in my power now." Nightmare closed his eye, his pride expecting Error to collapse for the malice. It didn't work as well as he imagined.

Error wrapped his strings around Nightmare's body, including his tendrils. He swung him around the Anti-void until he hit the floor with a loud crack. Nightmare hissed and flicked his tendril, an easy fix but a painful one.

"That's for my arm!" Error screamed. His eye sockets were blinded with glitches. He grinned and surrounded Nightmare with Gaster Blasters. Nightmare melted into the ground as blinding light took over the void. "That's for Blue!"

Error raised his hand and lowered his puppets down from the ceiling. They contained the souls of the Sanses they embodied. Error never used his Anti-void puppets unless he fought in the specific terrain, and especially as a last resort. The three puppets he chose, Underfell, Seraphim, and G, all had stiff movements and button eyes. Their bodies were stitched over and their mouths held the same uncanny smiles as the rest of the dolls. Error cackled, blazing with new power. His scarf and jacket blew in the wind as he levitated with magic.

Nightmare scowled and stabbed his tendril through the Underfell Sans puppet. It exploded into stuffing and fabric, along with a shattered soul. They fired blasters and bones at him. Nightmare ducked and swerved to avoid being attacked. He melted through the shadows of the blasters' light. Seraphim's purple wing almost knocked Nightmare down, but his goal was too clear. He treated it as one of the games the MTT played, timing out each move to use the perfect amount of light and shadow. He leapt through shadows. Error fired his strings at Nightmare, attempting to wrap up his soul.

Nightmare finally leaped out of the dark and grabbed Error's strings on the ceiling. He dropped down and pressed his foot against his back. He slammed Error against the floor and resummoned the malice in his hand. He shoved the fist full into his mouth.

Error didn't resist the malice. His struggle was too weak. He swallowed it down without a fight. Nightmare kicked him in the skull and cast the sleeping spell. The Seraphim and G puppets collapsed and shrunk back into tiny dolls. Nightmare pet his head with a mocking tone.

"That's a good boy. My, my, what a day . . ." Nightmare dragged Error across the void's floor with his tendrils, not caring about hurting him. He sighed and pinched his nasal bridge. He took back what he thought earlier about this being entertaining. All he wanted to do was dance with the wife he earned. And he now needed to use a spell to fix the chapel.

The dungeon was the same as he left it. However, now two guests took up the cells. Dream and Blue lay in separate cells. Neither of their injuries were patched and Dream's wound bled. Nightmare wasn't bothered, it would scab soon. Anti-Magic cuffs locked around their hands and ankles.

Nightmare threw Error inside a third cage and chained him up. It would be at least a few hours before they all awoke. Nightmare planned to extract his soul as soon as possible, no longer than a month. But a bit of torture would be fun . . . it's what they deserved. Nightmare still needed three more prisoners and to celebrate the rest of his wedding. His honeymoon would come first. The MTT could take care of them. In the moment, Ribbon was his only desire. He left the dungeon to find him.

Chapter Text

The second Ribbon teleported into his room, he ducked and hid under his blankets.

He tried to calm down his shivering and remind himself that yes, he was safe! He picked up as many stuffed animals as he could and hugged them to his chest. He wasn’t there, but he could hear the faint blasts of Gaster Blasters and the shing of bones and knives. Or that was all in his head, his messy, dumb little head.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die. Ribbon’s thoughts raced. Why are they going through so much effort to take me away? Why does Dream hate me so much? Did I do something wrong? I can’t go back, not into that scary hospital . . .

No, Nightmare would never let him be kidnapped and tormented again, he said it himself.

Ribbon clutched Nightmare’s oversized jacket tighter. It smelled like him, apple cider, and it was cozy. Ribbon knew that though as he was the one who made it. He kicked his high heels off and laid the chain of flowers aside. He hoped he could still wear it later, once they defeated Dream and could celebrate.

To distract himself, he played with Sprinkles, the bunny plush he took from Epictale. It was one of his favorites, the teddy bear Nightmare gave him. The second was the very first plush he had in his collection. He named it Lumi. It was even one of the animals he painted on his wall.

Ribbon tilted the heads and messed with the paws of his stuffed animals. “Am I overreacting? Is Nightmare going to be okay? Is he in danger? Oh no oh no . .” Ribbon rubbed his bunny’s arms against his cheek to pretend it was hugging him. Ribbon nuzzled, but he couldn’t stop worrying about Nightmare, Horror, Killer, and himself. Ribbon closed his eyes. If he went to sleep, it would all be over by the time he woke up! It was a perfect plan! He tried his best to drift off. He managed to half-sleep for ten, maybe fifteen minutes.

The doll thought he heard footsteps, but that wasn’t possible. There was no one else here! Was Nightmare back already? But it sounded too frantic. Nightmare could be nervous and wanted to get to him quickly.

The doll looked up as a skeleton with a purple jacket broke into his room. He panted with his eye sockets closed. He opened them to reveal a glowing purple eye. He looked around and groaned. “Ugh . . . not this weird ass room again-”

Epic noticed Ribbon cuddled up on his bed. Ribbon scampered backward, muffling a scream. Panic made him forget his battle training. He struggled between deciding to fight or to hide. Epic did a double take and grinned a serial killer smile. “Oh, hey bruh. Aren’t you supposed to be getting married right now?”

“Yeah, N- Nighty hid me from the bad guys. We’re married!” Ribbon’s voice trembled. He stood up and walked to the side of the room with his parasol. He took a deep breath. Pretend Nightmare was here and he was watching, he was going to be proud . . . Ribbon had to protect him and the castle. “Why are you here?”

“I was breaking in with Cross to get that contract Nightmare put you under! Then Killer came out of nowhere and told Cross he ‘just wanted to talk’. Cross told me to run and we argued and then he pushed me out. I didn’t want to end up here, bruh.” Epic stood up. His hand glided to his belt, but then he paused. A smug look covered his face. “I’m not going to hurt you, put the parasol down.”

“No!” Ribbon didn’t know what he meant by serum. His hand reached up to touch his ruby necklace. He had a bad feeling about that. But Killer was here? He had a backup! Ribbon relaxed a bit. Epic turned around as he heard knives clashing in the hallway. He sighed and offered his hand to Ribbon.

“Look, bruh. I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now and I get you don’t trust me. But this is also seriously messed up. The other guys and I are getting you out of here and to some much-needed therapy. This whole doll and mind control nonsense is finally going to be over.” As Epic spoke, he inched toward the door until he entered the hallway. The battle sounds grew louder. Glass shattered.

“Liar!” Ribbon followed him out into the hall and stood in a dainty battle stance. He stood with one foot in front of the above and Blossom on his shoulder. “You have to think I’m dumb if I’m going to believe that! Well, I am kinda dumb, but you know what I mean! I’m not leaving my husband and I don’t need therapy!”

Epic shrugged, looking more baffled than angry. “Bruh, have you seen yourself lately? Yeah, you do.” He paused. “Hey, that reminds me . . . remember about a year ago when we were playing ‘never have I ever’ and we made that bet? Before all of this happened?”

Ribbon had no idea what he was talking about. He tried to think of what Epic did with him a tear ago, but he didn’t know. At least when it was Dream, Blue, or Error, he knew a little bit. Nightmare never talked about Epic, so he wasn’t worth remembering. “No.”

“That sucks. We were supposed to do this in my AU, but in case you forgot, you and your hentai husband destroyed it. And want to know something else?” He dug into his jacket, took out something yellow and red, then tossed it to him—a squeaky chicken. Ribbon gave it a squeeze. Then Epic grabbed another one for himself and held it out like a sword.

“You still owe me a rubber chicken battle.”

Despite his fear, the doll couldn’t help but giggle. This was so silly! There was no-

Epic slammed the chicken into his chest with the force of a karate kick. Stumbling, Ribbon coughed up stuffing. Why did this guy keep hitting his energy box?

“What? Can’t handle a fight without the octopus?” Epic squeaked the chicken. He charged at him and jumped up, smacking Ribbon in the face with the rubber chicken. It made a loud caw.

Ribbon knew it was breaking the rules, but they weren’t Nightmare’s rules so they didn’t matter. He dropped the rubber chicken and picked up his parasol, which he dropped when he was hit. He twirled with the weapon in his hand and rammed Blossom’s point at Epic, but it hit the wall instead. Oopsies.

“Come on! You’re not even a good sport anymore, bruh!” Epic kept dodging as Ribbon kept stabbing. He ended up hitting him in the shoulder and Epic hissed. His chicken slid a bit from his hand for a moment before he retightened his grip on it.

Ribbon stumbled as he finally landed the hit. Epic hissed and pulled the point out of his shoulder. He stayed light on his feet and moved to hit him again with Blossom.

Epic leaped back and fired a Gaster Blaster at Ribbon. The doll leaped to avoid the beam. He took a moment to regain his breath. Epic kicked him in the face. Ribbon stumbled, coughing up white fluff. His boot was dirty, Nightmare wasn’t going to be happy that his makeup was ruined.

Ribbon solution was to run, he knew the castle better than Epic did. Epic chased after him and teleported in front of his path. Ribbon twisted around and ran to a different hallway. All of the training Nightmare gave him about running in heels paid off. He managed to get away and not trip on his dress. The intruder grunted as he ran. “Calm down, you brainwashed bruh!”

Ribbon bounced awkwardly as he almost tripped on a curve. He said he was doing good too early, or it was too much nasty pride. Ribbon stopped as he came across a different battle. Killer threw knives at Cross, who parried all of them with his dual daggers. But what if Nightmare couldn’t get in and-

“Ribbon!”

Sharp bones surrounded the doll, keeping him in a little cage. No, cage wasn’t the right word, that meant he was being punished. This was more like a safe space. Ribbon put his hands on the sides, not even trying to escape. He looked behind him at Epic. Cross and him in the same place . . . that was scary and dangerous.

“There you are, finally!” Killer shouted over the violence.

Ribbon squealed in his space. Epic shot a massive bone through his train and pinned him to the ground. He pulled the bone with one arm and reached his other arm out for the stronger skeleton. He had to let go to pull his string. “Help me! He’s going to kill me!”

“Bruh, didja listen to a single word I said? You’re not going to die! If anyone is going to bite the bullet here, it’s going to end up being Killer!”

Cross didn’t pay attention to him and sliced Killer’s face. Epic ducked down and dropped a kick to his ankles. Killer tripped but didn’t fall. He stomped on Epic’s exposed hand, holding a knife over his head. Epic rolled to dodge each knife slash, getting part of his trench coat chopped in the process. Ribbon shivered in the spot. Where was Nightmare? He should’ve been here by now! He wanted Nightmare! He wanted his love and protection, he could’ve taken both of them down by now. Ribbon glanced between the three, feeling useless.

“Get off of him!” Cross slammed Killer into the wall with his telekinesis. Ribbon tensed up, but he also got angry. They hurt part of his family! Ribbon focused on the bone and kept pulling it, trying to yank it out of the floor and his dress.

Killer chuckled and launched a field of bones at them. When Epic jumped back, Ribbon snuck up on him with Blossom. Cross tried to go in for the kill, which made Killer grin. Killer fought Epic with much more effort than Cross. Ribbon remembered what Killer told him at the chapel and it all made sense. Ribbon didn’t scream because his pullstring ran out. Epic’s glowing purple eye flashed at him as he stabbed him right above the soul. Epic covered his chest and screamed. Ribbon took his chance when he threw Epic off and stabbed him again. Aw, he had to clean Blossom later. Killer saw what he was doing and decided to help. He fired a Gaster Blaster at Cross to distract him and shot knives at Epic. He dodged most of them, but not the one that stabbed him through the soul and made him collapse.

“EPIC! Fuck, get up!” Cross blocked another one of Killer’s attacks. Cross picked up Epic and held his limp body in his arms. He snapped his finger and teleported away. Ribbon trembled once he left, did he really manage to fight back? Without Nightmare?

He helped Killer stand up and he hugged him, grateful for someone he trusted. Killer pet his head. “Thanks. Boss sent me after you. He’s pretty angry about all this. If Epic hurt you, I’m dead.”

“He- he didn’t hurt me. I’m just scared.” Ribbon wiped his dirty face off with his sleeve, getting it dirty too. He touched the spot where Epic hit him with the rubber chicken. "Well, maybe he damaged my energy box, I don't know . . ."

"Aw, damn it," Killer said. "I'll tell boss that he hurt you before I came and saved your life, but you gotta back me up."

"I will! Promise!" Ribbon nodded and Killer ruffled his head, making him giggle. Killer tilted his head, listening for Cross. He walked into one of the rooms with a window and peered out. Cross ran through a tunnel at the bottom of the castle.

Killer grabbed him. "Hold on one sec, I'm gonna shortcut the shortcut." Killer snapped his fingers and teleported to the castle gardens, next to the lake. Nightmare didn't like him around this place because he was always worried he was going to fall in.

"Error! For the love of Asgore, where are you?" Cross swore under his breath. He crouched down and covered Epic's injury to heal him. His soul hovered above his chest. Blossom left a nasty gash in the middle of it. Was it wrong to feel a teeny tiny bit of guilt?

Killer didn't even try to sneak up and attacked right away. Ribbon wasn't ready. Cross created a shield of bones around him as he kept trying to heal Epic. Killer teleported inside the bones. He eyed something poking out of Epic's jacket, a syringe and a sheet of paper. Ribbon had no idea what the syringe was for, but he recognized his contract. Nightmare wanted that!

"That's Nightmare's!' Ribbon pointed out. Cross didn't seem to care. Even Nightmare's scariest moments didn't compare to the glare Cross gave him right now.

"I can't believe you." Cross charged at him with his daggers. He had to leave Epic and his bleeding chest alone in the grass. Killer dashed around Cross, leaving small cuts all around his body. Cross's clothes were already so ripped up that it seemed like nothing changed. Cross summoned a massive Gaster Blaster and jumped on it. He fired it at Killer with the same fire burning in his eye lights. The flames burned down a long X-shaped path of trees and flowers. Ribbon yipped in fear, almost stumbling into the lake by accident. Cross's guard armor looked like it almost glowed purple.

"ERROR! CORE!" Cross screamed into the sky. His soul was wrapped in blue magic and Killer zipped him around the grassy area. He bashed and bonked into every surface like a basketball. Once he stopped, he was covered in bruises and scars, but he didn't give up. He looked even angrier as he wiped purple blood off his face.

Killer pulled him close. "My offer's still open if you wanna give up."

Cross tried to stab him in the face, but due to the awkward position of his arm. He couldn't go far and it ended up swinging in the air more than anything. He kicked Killer's knees, trying to knock them out and make them trip. Ribbon stayed far away from the fight. He ran along the path, trying to return to the castle. Killer was strong, Killer could do this. But something made him stop.

Cross screamed and used his telekinesis to trap Ribbon in a bubble. He threw him in the air and off to the side. Ribbon screamed and kicked mid-air before slamming into the lake. He kicked and flailed his arms to get to the surface, but sparks flew out. Ribbon sunk deeper into the lake. Water leaked through the ball joints on his body. This was exactly what Dust warned him about. Where was Killer? Why wasn't he there to save him? Ribbon's vision flickered as his eyes sparked. The hand he reached up for help fell. It felt like his mechanical organs were going to explode. His vision went dark as he sank into the dark blue lake. At least it was pretty . . . sorry Nightmare.

A hand reached out into the dark, but Ribbon already fell asleep.

Ribbon wasn't sure what happened next, he was knocked out and confused. He remembered . . . drowning, that was right! Cross pushed him into the lake and Ribbon started to die. He looked around the room and recognized it as the medical room. He was wrapped in a thick blanket and his entire body hurt like it was lit on fire. His wedding dress and jacket were gone and he wore a dry fluffy nightgown. His vision was still blurry. He found Lumi lying by his side in the blanket and Ribbon weakly held it. The ball-jointed openings on his body were all wrapped in tight bandages.

Nightmare sat on the bed next to him, reading a novel. He looked sleepy. Ribbon made small noises, whatever he was able to do since he didn't have the energy to pull his string. Nightmare heard it immediately and moved to Ribbon's side, holding his hand. "Ribbon! Oh my sweet little doll, how do you feel? Don't move."

Nightmare tightened the blanket around him and pressed his head against his. Nightmare pushed Ribbon aside so he could hold him. His tendrils wrapped around him and Nightmare showered him with kisses. "You need to thank Dust the next time you see him, he saved your life. We've been draining the water out of you for about thirty-six hours now. Oh, my poor baby. I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. It seems every time I leave you, even for a minute, you're hurt. I believed you would be safe here."

Ribbon squirmed in bed, trying to reach his pullstring. Nightmare pinned his arms down when he cuddled him. Ribbon tried to point at it so he could talk. Nightmare pulled it for him and Ribbon sighed. "Thirty-six hours? Does that mean I missed the wedding?"

He was excited for the dancing and the cake and having a romantic evening! Then he screwed it up because he was too slow to stop Cross. Nightmare nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. You missed the ceremony and it was me and the Murder Time Trio. Don't feel too upset, there were plenty of leftovers. You must be hungry, would you like me to bring you some of the lamb?"

Ribbon nodded. It looked amazing when the delivery people brought it. "Yes please! Can I have some of the cake too?"

"Of course. Whatever you want, my wife, I'll get it for you." Nightmare got out of bed. Before he left, he paused with a chuckle. "I almost forgot the best part. The Star Sanses, Cross, Epic, and Core won't be bothering you anymore, they're in the dungeon. Horror found Core in the castle. They broke some of the ballroom, but it's fixable. I was waiting until you woke up for Cross to receive his punishment. I thought you would enjoy watching and receiving revenge."

Ribbon's head peeked up. "Really? Can I watch?"

"That's what I was hoping you would say. Would you like to eat first or after you see Cross?"

"I can wait to eat." Ribbon tried to sit up, but his head ached. He coughed up a bit of water, still not a hundred percent out of his system. Nightmare didn't mind helping though and scooped Ribbon up in his arms, taking the blanket off. He carried him carefully out of the medical room. Ribbon wouldn't have minded falling asleep again with Nightmare rocking him. "When I drowned . . . did I destroy my dress?"

Nightmare shook his head. "You soaked it, and my jacket. Both of those items can be dried. I don't care about your clothes, Ribbon. Just you." Nightmare peered down and looked bashful. "But you are to make up the lost night to me by putting that dress back on and dancing with me. I would say in the ballroom, but that's under repair, so wait until the honeymoon."

“I promise, I'll dance for you. I can sing for you too . . ." Ribbon smiled at the thoughts. He could sing for Nightmare too. Nightmare carried Ribbon down the steps of the dungeon, not struggling a step. Ribbon listened to the faint sound of arguing. He recognized Error's voice above all else. His friend was back.

Nightmare walked into a different room though, the private torture chamber. Cross sat in a chair, tied up and furious, but also confused. The gag in his mouth kept him from saying much, but Ribbon assumed he was mad at Killer. Killer seemed disappointed at Cross's confusion, whatever they were talking about. Nightmare sat down on the floor nearby and sat Ribbon on his lap.

Cross's eye sockets widened in shock. Killer ripped his gag off and made him cough. "Ink? I thought you drowned."

“He almost drowned. Or more accurately, you almost drowned him." Nightmare pat Ribbon's head as spoke as if he was a perfect pet cat.

"I didn't know he was weak to water! How was I supposed to know that? I was trying to distract Killer by making him chase after-"

"I don't care if it was an accident, you attempted to kill my wife. Now you're paying the consequences of attempting to kill him. Along for betraying me, dating my brother, and making Killer sob for a week straight. You changed and ruined everything."

Killer shot Nightmare a narrowed look.

Nightmare ignored him. Ribbon's head drifted to the side, but he kept smiling at Cross. “I already know what I want to do with you." Nightmare snapped his fingers.

He summoned two clamps, one to hold each side of his mouth open. He also summoned a mini saw. Ribbon oohed. Nightmare handed the tools to Killer with his tendrils. "Killer, do you remember the jaw kill we used on Fellswap Mettaton years ago?"

A flash of doubt crossed Killer's face, but then he looked at Cross and it turned into jealousy. He grinned. "Yeah, that was one of my favorite kills! Top five at the least. That's what Cross deserves?"

“What the hell are you guys talking about? What's a jaw kill?" Cross pulled at his chains, but the Anti-magic effects were strong.

"You'll find out. You're experiencing the set up, but not the death. Don't worry, traitor." Nightmare nodded toward Killer. He grabbed both clamps and walked closer to Cross. Nightmare leaned down by Ribbon's head. "If this scares you too much, tell me and I'll shield you, okay, sweetie pie?" Ribbon nodded.

Killer strapped the devices onto Cross. The metal pried his mouth open and he struggled to close it. He thrashed as he tried to pull the device off. Killer snickered. "I take back what I said earlier, you still look hot when you're helpless. Sucks you still don't want me."

Killer flipped the saw in his hand and hit the hinge of Cross's jawbone. He sawed back and forth, making Cross scream. The clamps kept him from closing his mouth. Killer didn't saw it all the way off, only enough so there was a tiny hinge on each. Cross's eyes turned into pinpricks. The violence scared Ribbon, but it also made him smile. Cross was never going to hurt any of them ever again!

Once both sides were sawed and Cross was in a daze, Killer stuck his hand under his jawbone. He put the other one on the side of Cross's head. In one quick swoop, Killer twisted Cross's head with a punch and a snap that echoed around the room. That, and Cross's screams of pain, were the only sounds. His blood-stained lower jaw flew across the room and hit the wall. Cross looked down at his mouth the best he could. His entire jaw was gone. His thrashing got worse.

Nightmare held the jawbone in his tendril and looked it over. "You had an excellent skull shape, shame you had to ruin it. I'll keep this on my office wall, sound fair?"

Cross tried to scream, but without his missing jaw and tongue, he couldn't say anything. He toppled and the chair fell with him, making him land harshly on the ground and knocking him out. Ribbon clapped and Nightmare laughed.

He deserved it, it was fair!

Chapter Text

They fell . . . and fell . . . and fell.

Wind and time slowed. They were stagnant, yet moving. The gray castle and dark green forest faded to blocks of color. Were they closer to the window or to the ground? Where were they even? Dream couldn't recall this.

Dream and Cross clung to each other. Cross’s arms wrapped around his back and gripped his shoulders. The guardian was so tired and nauseous from the fight, he welcomed it. Dream shifted his weight so he was the one facing the ground. “Cross, if this is the last time I get to tell you, I love you. And I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. And I know how hard it was to return to a place that traumatized-”

“Shut up, you worry too much.” Cross silenced him with a kiss. “Error is going to pick us up and if for some reason he doesn’t, at least I got to throw it in Nightmare’s face one more time. And you know what? I don’t care if it’s cliche, I love you too.”

Dream laughed. The ground was only another hundred feet away. Dread and panic filled Dream’s mind. Where was Core? They were supposed to be here. The area began to shift. The castle and trees faded into a glitching void. Cross’s voice began to falter. His body faded away piece by piece. Dream suffocated. He kicked his legs and struggled to swim to the light right above him. He was so close, yet the darkness pulled him deeper, deeper until-

Dream snapped awake.

He panted and looked around, first to his aching wrists. Two heavy Anti-Magic chains rested on his wrists. Dream lifted the chains to his face and looked around. The amount of negativity pressing against him felt like a weighted blanket, only far less pleasant.

Blue woke up in the cell across from them. His head bled from a wound. Dream tried to remember what happened. The wedding, Nightmare transformed into his real self, he lied, Blue struggled to help him . . . then everything went dark. He failed his mission, he should have been outraged. Yet . . . Dream felt nothing.

“Dream?” The knight asked, snapping Dream from his worried thoughts. “Are you okay? Nightmare hit you hard.”

Dream stared expressionless at the ground with a glazed look in his eye lights. Less than a year ago, those same eye lights were big, bright, and full of optimism. But now they were tiny pin-pricks and almost gray. His voice was just as monotone. “I’m fine. I have a few bruises, but it’s fine. You . . . you stopped fighting, I saw you and Dust and Horror beat you. Are you okay?”

Blue sighed. “Yeah, they didn’t beat me as much as catch me off guard. I’ve seen worse.”

Dream looked around the other cells. Epic lay unconscious, so did Core Frisk. Their arm bled a grayish crimson. Error began to stir. He groaned as he sat up. He blinked his tired eye lights, which shot open as soon as he recognized the dungeon.

“No . . . no . . . NOT THIS HELL AGAIN!” Error screamed and his fingers dug into the bar. He crashed almost immediately. A reboot bar appeared over his head as he panted, his eye sockets blurred, and Epic woke up.

“What the heck . . . bruh, where am I?” Epic shook his head and set a hand on the bloody wound on his chest. “Oh, right. Ribbon.”

Dream dragged himself to the other side of the cage. “Epic, have you seen Cross? Where is he? What have they done to him?”

Epic shrugged. “Sorry, bruh. I don’t know. I was helping him fight Killer and Ribbon and then Ribbon snuck up on me.” His hand lifted from the wound, now stained with purple blood.

Core Frisk lay in the final cell, rubbing their eyes. They seemed the least injured, though that didn’t mean they had none. Tears littered their sleeves and bruises and scrapes covered their arms. From the way they struggled to sit up, their back was in agony.

Dream tried to sense Cross’s aura. It stung their soul, the castle was so negative it made the chapel feel like a carnival. Dream could barely breathe in the stuffy cell. Yet, despite the worry buried deep in their soul . . . most of them didn’t care. Did it even matter anymore? He caught the pattern of whenever he had something worth living for, Nightmare took it away. It put less pressure on his soul.

So when they heard Cross’s screams from a room down the hall, Dream toughened up and looked away. He knew what would happen now. Cross would come back mutilated, brainwashed, mind-controlled, or as a pile of ashes. Then Nightmare would taunt him for a reaction. Dream refused to give him one. He closed his eye sockets and pretended he was somewhere else, drowning out the noise. Eventually, they stopped. It was abrupt, not a slow transition. Dream couldn’t sense if he was dead or not.

Epic looked in the direction of the screams. A wave of guilt passed through him. “So, bruh . . . what do you think they’re doing to him?”

Error finished his reboot and panted. “I don’t know, drawing on his arms with knives? They were never consistent on what action led to what punishment. I thought talking back meant I would get slapped in the face, but no. The next time, it was poison!” Error’s body flared up.

“Error! Stop! You’re going to crash again. You’re not alone this time.” Blue smiled at him and offered a glitchy hand through the bars. He looked around at them and stood up. “Nobody panic, I’m sure we’re going to get out of here. We can’t save Ink, but we can save ourselves and get revenge! Dream, help me out! You’re the one good at pep talks!”

Dream didn’t respond, staring blankly at the floor instead. He traced his finger along the floor, creating an ash drawing of the Tree of Feelings. They drew a mini Nightmare and a mini Dream smiling and holding hands beside it. His hand lingered on the tree itself before he scribbled it out. It felt like his soul floated outside his body, or he was in a strange dream.

“Dream, what’s going on?” Core Frisk asked. “Don’t keep it bottled up. Is your soul alright?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about me.” Dream sighed. “Cross may be dead. We need to be prepared for that. We all are going to die here.”

“That’s . . . that’s the opposite of what I was looking for.” Blue sighed, sitting back down against his cage.

No one spoke unless it was to calm someone down. Dream kept his mouth close. Eventually, Killer walked in with Cross in his arms. He cradled him close to his chest, which didn’t sit well with Dream. But the most important thing was that Cross’s lower jaw was completely gone. Unlike the rest of them, he did receive light bandaging. Killer opened the cage beside Blue and threw Cross inside. Before he closed the cage, he kissed him on the cheek, running a hand down his chest. Dream screamed and pounded the wall beside his bars.

“Bruh, let go of him!” Epic screamed, reaching through the bars. He tried to find the weak point on his Anti-Magic cuffs and shatter them.

“Nah, I don’t feel like it. And what are you going to do, beat me with another dog toy?” Killer grinned with sadistic satisfaction. “A rubber chicken is a stupid weapon.” He looked up at Dream. “I thought you try to fight a little for him? I mean, if you don’t want him anymore . . .”

Dream curled up in the corner, closing his eyes. He would’ve argued, but more footsteps entered the room. They listened to the click of heels and the squelching of tendrils as he entered the room. Dream peeked. Nightmare carried Ribbon in his arms, using a tendril to pet his head. Dream glared, jealousy building in their heart. They risked their lives, they were captured, and others died to save him. Ribbon didn’t even try to help them in exchange, Nightmare just spoiled him, the only reason he survived. Ribbon took Ink away. If Dream couldn’t stop Nightmare, and he couldn’t save Ink, he would murder Ribbon. He was as much of a zombie as those victim of the Code Purples. Dream’s gray soul burned, something that made everyone else’s positivity drop.

Was this . . . what hate felt like? Had he fallen that low? For a moment, it scared him.

Nightmare walked around the prisoners, keeping his grip tight around Ribbon. Ribbon smiled when he saw Error. The latter scowled at him. Nightmare stopped at the end of the room, locking eye lights with Dream. He seemed to enjoy how empty and hollow his gaze was.

“Well, well, this is convenient. If you would take my advice, I would suggest pacing yourselves. Don’t send all your soldiers to attack in separate areas. The greatest armies in history never survived with that technique.” Nightmare leaned against the wall. Ribbon started to doze off.

“If you’re going to kill us, do it already! I’m not sitting through another one of your sick fantasies! We get it, you got us.” Error’s sharp nails scratched the bar.

Nightmare sighed. “Don’t swear in my face, you out of everyone here should know that. And no, I’m not going to kill you, not right away. You crashed my wedding, killed my guards, ruined the reception, and almost drowned my wife. Cross, congrats. You made everything worse for your friends.”

Cross didn’t respond, he was still unconscious. But he was also still intimidating without his lower jaw. Nightmare shook his head. “I haven’t decided your fates yet, but I can assure you Error has his fate sealed.” Nightmare chuckled at watching Error fall into a panic.

“Most of you need training. We’ll start with simple obedience and change plans depending on what I want from each of you. Again, except for you, Error.” Nightmare looked down at Dream and crouched down.

Core Frisk stood up, putting pressure on their wound. “Nightmare, do you realize what you did? Without the balance of the guardians, the multiverse will crumble. If there is no one controlling the balance of AUs, then creativity will remain stagnant. If you’re the only emotional guardian, no one will be able to feel positive emotions again. Emotions will become worthless. And if I’m not protecting the Omega Timeline, the hub of the multiverse will be destroy-”

“I’ve considered all that, and I simply don’t care.” Nightmare flicked a tendril at Core’s feet to trip them. They let out a cry as they fell, irritating Error. Dream sighed, but didn’t waste his energy fighting for them. Nightmare noticed his lack of energy. “Well, well, I expected you to be fighting harder, brother. Your soul and aura are . . . very weak. I assume the negativity isn’t good for you.”

Dream looked up. He kept a blank expression, but this time because he refused to give him satisfaction. He kept his gaze on Ribbon. The doll that stole his friend’s body looked scared and clung to Nightmare. His pink eyes were shiner than usual, appearing to glow. “I’m fine, I can live with the negativity. I’m just tired and recovering from battle.”

“Mm, if you say so.” Nightmare turned around and began to walk out of the dungeon, though he paused. “Sleep well, you are all going to have a long day of training tomorrow. And I need to feed my little Ribbon.” Nightmare disappeared into the darkness and left.

The sound of dirty water plunking against the ground was too loud. If the torture or starvation wasn’t enough to kill someone, then infection would have to do it. At least, that was what Dream believed. Cross finally woke up. He tried to talk, but found out he had no jaw. He touched the edge of it, eye sockets going wide. He turned and looked at Dream, trying to ask if he was okay with his gaze alone.

“Cookie dough, I’m so sorry about your jaw. I should’ve been there. Does it hurt?” Cross nodded at Dream’s question. Dream realized they would have to feed him with a tube, a liquid diet. They could poison him at any time.

Frowning, Core stood up. Unlike Dream, they weren’t going to give up, especially with the Omega Timeline at stake. They tapped their foot against the floor as their mind thought of a plan. Epic stood up too, staring at Cross’s missing jaw. “Can you talk at all, bruh? Are you okay? And uh . . . I’m sorry I didn’t watch my guard. If I did, you would have your whole skull.

Cross responded the only way he could, a weak grunt. He touched the bars of the cage and punched them. His knuckles turned bloody, but he didn’t seem to care. Neither did Dream, frankly. He couldn’t make himself care.

It seemed like it would be a long time before they escaped.

==============================================================================

“Ow, ow! BRUH! STOP!” Epic screamed as Horror hovered a chainsaw above his arms. His jacket was removed so it was just his t-shirt and exposed arms. Against their will, Dream, Blue, Epic, Core, and Error watched. Cross was the only one without a gag. Epic screamed as Horror dug the chainsaw into him. It wasn’t enough to cut his bones, but it was enough to leave bloody gashes across his body.

Killer laughed so hard that he clutched his ribs. Dust’s expression was difficult to read under the dim light and dark hood. Epic kept screaming, turning into a pant as Horror backed away with the chainsaw. He laughed his slow deep laugh. Epic tried to sit up, but he collapsed down. His arms couldn’t hold his weight. His eyes had dark bags, a mix of stress and exhaustion most likely. No one had been sleeping well.

“Alright, we’re done for now. Trying to attack me is a pretty bad idea, agree?” Killer flicked Epic on the nasal bone. He turned to the others. “Show’s over everyone. Lesson of the day is that you don’t ever try to pickpocket knives and use them as lock picks. Knives suck as lockpicks anyways. Now say ‘Yes Killer’ so I know you actually listened.”

Killer pulled Epic by the turtleneck. He coughed from being choked. Epic yanked his leg, but Horror slashed his ax through it to keep it still. Epic let out a hoarse scream, more of a cough since he used up his voice. He sighed, going limp. “Ugh, yes Killer.”

“See? Now was that so hard? Get over here, all of ya.” Killer and Horror wrapped them in their telekinesis and threw them into their cells. Blue and Cross crawled over to Epic, who was curled up and moaning with pain. The blood from his wounds spread across the floor. Dream touched the whip marks covering his back. He worried if they would scar, they were deep enough to do so. Dream’s vision flashed with the weapons striking him every day. Killer and Horror left.

“Stay strong, Epic. You . . . you tried.” Core buried their face in their hands. Their aura burned with frustration.

It didn’t take long before different footsteps came down the stairs. Dream prayed for no more torture and was almost relieved to see Ribbon instead. The good part about him is that he was never physically violent. Ribbon wore a white dress today, this one with a fluffy covering over his shoulders. He carried a matching purse. They remembered from the hospital how the porcelain made him always cold. Dream almost felt bad, but he reminded himself not to. He was the reason Cross had no jaw. He killed Ink. Ink would hate Ribbon, right?

Ribbon dashed for Error’s cage right away, smiling as he set his hands on his bars. “Hi! Error, I missed you! Why did you leave me? I brought you something to help out! I made it.” He opened his bag and pulled out a dark blue blanket with white stars. "Nighty says I shouldn't be too attached to you. Not only did you leave me, but he has-"

"I know, I know, plans for me." Error stared at the blanket. He sighed and took Ribbon’s gift. His exasperated tone made it sound like he had rehearsed it multiple times. “Thanks. I left because your husband is a monster, Ink. He's torturing us and you don't care!"

"Stop calling me that!" Ribbon let out a low cry, suddenly defensive. "I do care! But the pain is important, believe me! You have to learn to be good first, and then the fun stuff happens! That's how I was taught. I just want a new friend. That's why I'm here. I don't torture anyone, promise!"

Ribbon looked among the cages. His mechanical doll eyes dashed around the cages. His porcelain limbs made slight mechanical sounds as he walked. This couldn't have been right. Nightmare would want something more.

A long silence entered the room and everyone's eyes bore into the living doll. His emotions were part of the reason the torture was so merciless. Yet, someone spoke up.

“Ribbon, do you want a friend? I’ll be your friend. Come here.” Blue said, not taking his eye lights off the others. Ribbon looked curious and sat in front of Blue’s cell. He pet Ribbon on the head, letting him lean into his hand. Ribbon beamed as his smile widened. Dream frowned with betrayal. He couldn’t believe Blue let Ribbon manipulate him that easily.

“I’ll try to be a good friend this time, I promise! I’ll do everything I can! Here, do you need help? You must've did something wrong because your arms look like they hurt. I can fix it!" Ribbon shuffled through his purse until he found a key and unlocked Blue's cell. He sat on his knees in front of Blue, smiling at him. He pulled out a roll of bandages from his handbag and began wrapping Blue up. The latter’s smile was hesitant, but he accepted the care.

“Blue? What the hell are you doing? Don’t be his friend! You're going to be a bigger target for Nightmare!” Error whisper-shouted from his cell.

“Shh,” Blue put his free hand up to his mouth in a quiet gesture, “trust me. I got this. I think he needs some love."

Days, maybe weeks passed, and Blue became the lucky one, making Dream jealous. He assumed Cross, Epic, and Error felt the same. Ribbon brought him some extra food and warmer, clean clothes. However, Blue shared the food if he had any, which Dream was grateful for. He was still tortured like the rest of them, just lesser so, and he always received medical care. In exchange, Blue pet Ribbon and talked with him.

"Don't make Ribbon cry. Whatever you do, don't remind him of Ink, call him a bad friend, hurt him, or call out Nightmare. If Nightmare senses he's upset, we're all screwed." Error reminded them over and over.

"I won't make him cry! This isn't all his fault, he needs help. I'm going to win his trust and then help us. Then I can help him back." Blue didn't seem so sure of himself, especially at the bit about calling out Nightmare. He stayed determined.

Later, Blue wore a sweater Ribbon sewed for him. Dream leaned against the wall, staring bitterly at them. Error lay on the floor, tapping his fingers against the floor with a snarl.

“I can’t wait until you finish your training! Nightmare says you need to be done first, then you can come upstairs and I can show you my room! It’s pink, and pretty, and I can show you my stuffed animal collection!” Ribbon rolled onto his back and let Blue scratch under his chin.

Blue’s aura turned nervous as he let Ribbon cuddle by his chest. “I . . . don’t know. I’d like my own room and you’re really sweet, but I can’t leave my friends. Sorry.”

Ribbon frowned. He seemed confused but then lit up again. “That’s okay, Blueberry! You just haven’t learned how good it is here yet! I can show you more tricks if you need it. Nightmare’s going to be here to help Dream and I can ask him for something to help you!’

“Wait, pardon?” Dream looked up from his cell. Ribbon leaned his head onto Blue, who nervously held him. “What is Nightmare going to do to me? Tell me.”

"I- I don’t know. He didn’t tell me very much. He said it’s going to make you feel again and help your progress!" Ribbon turned to Dream and smiled. Dream frowned. Ink's smile was always more confident and fun. They stayed quiet though, remembering the cost of commenting on it."

A while later, after Blue cuddled Ribbon, Nightmare came down to the dungeon. His fingers glinted with magic. He seemed displeased with how Blue held Ribbon, but once he noticed it wasn't romantic, he relaxed. Ribbon stood up when he reached the cells and kissed him on his cheekbone. Nightmare's tendrils shook with joy. Ribbon pulled his string to speak.

“Hi, darling! They're doing better than yesterday! Do you know any spells that can teach Blue to be good faster? He needs help learning and I don't know how well punishments are working . . ." Ribbon gave Blue a wink.

“Something to speed up the process? Hm . . .” Nightmare’s tendrils touched Blue’s glitching cheek, making him jerk back. He hummed. “I believe I have a potion that can help make him docile. I finally have enough power for more complicated potions. Don’t worry, Blue. It won’t hurt you at all. You’ll make my baby doll so happy, that’s all that matters.”

Blue shook his head. “Wait, that’s not what I meant! Nightmare, you’re not changing me anymore! Ink- I mean, Ribbon, help me!”

“I am! Can you do it? Please? Pretty please? It’s going to be okay. It’s a good thing!” Ribbon pleaded with Blue. Dream wasn’t sure why Nightmare allowed this, Ribbon to be so close with someone else. His aura wasn’t happy, but he had a sinister smile plastered across his face.

“Ribbon, no!” Blue tried to push him off. Ribbon clung to him tighter. Nightmare’s tendril shot out and smacked him across the face. Blue bit back a groan of pain.

“I’d advise against that. Keep my little wife happy, that’s all you have to do to receive more care. It’s not hard.” Nightmare turned around to Dream’s cage. “Moving on, we need to have a talk, Dream. Your rotting soul is boring me. This place is killing you from the inside out. Now, I wouldn’t mind this if say, you were becoming more obedient because of it, but that’s not the case. Look at you, you didn’t even react to when I hit Swap. You’re so . . . hollow. The present might not be able to sway you, but I’m sure the past will.”

It was true, Dream only possessed a light glare, but that didn’t stop him from moving back. Nightmare’s tendrils wrapped around each of his limbs, pinning him against the wall. His skull slammed against the wall, making his head ring. Nightmare approached him with washed-out teal magic. It burned the closer he got. Cross tried to kick his bars down to reach him, but the chains and lack of jaw kept him from completing much. He did appreciate the effort.

“Have a fun trip down memory lane, Dream. Maybe this will snap some life into you. You’re rather boring when you’re depressed.” Nightmare touched the sides of his head. Dream’s eye sockets reopened on their own. The entire socket was glowing gold.

The guardian found himself in a foggy, vivid void of muddy gold. Dream has never been inside a mind before, but he expected it to be more . . . bright. He couldn’t see very far with the thick mist. It smelt of apples, peaches, and something else Dream couldn’t identify. Crumpled-up papers littered the ground, scattered with no pattern. Dream picked one up between his fingers and unfolded it. It was a self-portrait of himself done in gold pastel. Frantic scribbles blocked his eye sockets out and the word COWARD surrendered it.

Gulping, Dream dropped the paper and was about to take another one when he caught a strange sound. It was almost a giggle. He could’ve sworn the shadows moved behind a pain bottle. The silhouette of a skeleton . . .

“Something is wrong. Very wrong . . .” Dream muttered to himself. They coughed in the gas, finally realizing what it was. Ammonia is usually the sign of a mind rotting, or a spell. They doubled over and squeezed their eyes shut. Dream removed his cape and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. The stench still affected him, but nowhere as much as it once was. It would have been worse if he had lungs.

Dream decided to chase after the skeleton, it was important, and he knew it. He ran after the stranger, listening for any footsteps or movement. He even listened for giggling or voices. After his Candytale experience, he knew what to expect from Nightmare. He would do anything to enter his head.

He thought he heard the sound of a growl, but he turned around and faced an open portal instead, swirling with gold.

Dream touched the portal and air blew past him, sending him to a flashback. The memory was from his perspective; it was one of his memories, back when he was eleven years old. He kneeled on the grass in his blue outfit, dirty from playing in the mud. He made a flower crown with some flowers he found. The gold cape had a massive rip through the back, but his face had a massive smile. Dream sighed, he used to be so happy and naive. Even a year ago, he was so much happier. He would have done anything to go back to that and fix that path. Wait, was this the Tree of Feelings?

Someone wrapped their hand around little Dream’s wrist, making him jump. It was an old rat monster in a dark brown robe, one of the village elders. His claws dug into him, intentional or not. “Dream, we need your help. The High Elder is very sick. We need one of the gold apples to help him. You are the only person who can give a cure. His life is in your hands, and so will his blood if you don’t help. The village will crumble without a leader.”

No, oh stars no. Dream knew what was going to happen.

“Oh no, that’s horrible, sir! Excuse me, I’ll go grab an apple!” Dream stood up and left the flower crown behind. He ran over to the Tree of Feelings and picked out the shiniest gold apple on the tree. He was always too generous in giving those away. For a strange reason, Nightmare was nowhere to be seen. The current Dream knew why, he was beaten in another part of the village. The child didn’t know that, nor did he know how the village was going to treat him. Little Dream smiled as he skipped back to the elder with a golden apple.

The two walked through the village. As they traversed the quaint buildings and stores, several people talked to Dream. Talked was a generous word, it was more like they demanded things from them.

“Dream, can you harvest my crops?”

“Dream, my son is sick, can you help him?”

“Dream, can you reorganize the shop tomorrow morning?”

The little Dream looked nervous and waved to them. “I’m sorry, I’m busy right now, but I can help later! I can do it all!” Dream ran after the elder, holding the golden apple close. At the end of the village, there was a church. It was the largest building in the town and made of gray stones with a dark red roof. A dark gold bell glinted outside.

Dream walked inside the church with the elder. It was warm on the inside, thanks to the sun shining through the windows. The memory was so old that the details and walls were blurred. The designs on the windows, the texture on the benches, it was gone. Dream and Nightmare never officially attended the church. However, Nightmare found a secret passage one day to spy on the services. Despite his hate for the villagers, he was fascinated that they could become kind for a morning. Dream climbed up the stairs with the elder, leading to the room where the chief slept.

The High Elder was a very old human with leathery skin and a look that always seemed stern. Dream would never admit it, but the High Elder scared him. His face was pale and his breathing was ragged.

Dream straightened out his clothing before stepping over. He held the apple out to the villager, glowing with magic. The High Elder reached a bony hand out to take the apple.

“Dream . . . thank you for your service. If only that demon was as pure and good as you. You will be a great leader with proper instruction and those apples.” The other elder lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Nightmare isn’t a demon, he’s just shy. He’s a good person! Believe me-!” Dream jumped and looked out the window as a crack of lightning shot throughout the church. Dark clouds covered the sky. Dream dashed to the window and to his horror, the storm surrounded the Tree of Feelings. A crowd of villagers began to surround the tree. The current Dream looked away, but the younger Dream gasped. He almost dropped the apple as it glowed brighter. He pulled it away from the elders. “Nightmare! Oh no, he might be in trouble!”

The Guardian of Positivity tried to run, but he was held back by the elder grabbing his wrist again. Dream struggled to get away, breaking the rules he always followed, and dashed out of the church. He ran through the village, listening to screams of people dying. Someone fell backward with a bloody wound through his chest. Screaming, Dream tripped as he climbed up the mountain.

Dream hated this part. Little Dream regained his composure and pushed through the crowd. Nightmare screamed in pain as tendrils crawled out of his missing eye and broken back. Lightning cracked from the sky. The memory blurred, turning into messy pleads and cries. “Nightmare, please listen to me! Stop!”

The sludge monster that was once his beloved twin stared down at him. He threw his crown off his head. It clattered across the ground and bodies. Nightmare choked him with his tendrils. "Aw, what's the matter? They deserved this. Aren't you happy for me?"

Nightmare cast a spell and launched it at Dream, turning his limbs into stiff and cold stone. As the gray of the stone overtook his vision, the image turned white, signifying the memory was over. Dream stared in silence, closing his eyes and looking away. He didn’t understand why Nightmare wanted him to see this, especially now.

“I . . . I was a child, I didn’t know any better.” He finally said, tears springing in his eye sockets. “What did you want me to do? I could barely fend for myself, I couldn’t help you. It’s been five hundred years, accept it!”

The void didn’t fade, nor did the portal in front of him. Dream pinched himself in hopes of snapping out of the dream. It failed to work, but they remembered something Core taught them. They were learning spells like this once, before the mayhem occurred. Taking a deep breath, Dream waved their hand in a circle and tapped the black screen that appeared. They messed with the code and words without breaking concentration. Once the settings were to their liking, they clicked a white button, only to be met with bright red letters.

ACCESS RESTRICTED.

They rewrote some of the code.

ACCESS RESTRICTED.

“Oh, sweet monarch.” Dream cursed. He stepped away from the portal and adjusted his cape. His breathing hastened. What if this trap was meant to keep him here forever? It wasn’t.

An arrow shot Dream in the back of the head. Dream screamed and jumped back. Their right hand shot up to the injury, only to find nothing. The arrow faded into smoke. The dark figure in the distance dashed off.

“Wait! Come back! Talk to me!” Dream chased after the shadow. He couldn’t sense their aura. He pushed aside smoke and air to reach the person. He gritted his teeth and chased the silhouette. It turned around to him with a cold gray eye. The skeleton raised his hand in the air and summoned a portal for Dream to fall into. He couldn’t stop himself inside and entered a new memory.

Unlike the first memory, this one was more recent. It was from last year. Dream wanted to close his eye sockets, but he couldn’t look away. It was in a small AU called Twistfate. Ink joined him on his journey as they traversed the small AU. The sky was a strange blueish purple.

The two Star Sanses examined the strange purple weeping willows. It was the natural color of the trees, yes, but something was off. A deep purple and black covered the ground, trees, and even tainted the water. Ink poked the liquid from his paintbrush, trying to figure out what the strange liquid was.

“The heck . . . I thought Nightmare’s goop only lasted until he left an AU.” Ink exclaimed, poking at the sludge on the ground.

“It should. I don’t understand why it’s lasting longer.” Dream held gold magic over the dark spots. The emotions clashed and began to melt away. Or at least, they should’ve. The liquid lingered, only fizzing at Dream’s touch.

Ink stood straighter and glanced around. He flipped Broomie. “Something’s off. Nightmare changed the script or something. Come on, Dreamboat! We can figure out what’s going on here!”

Dream stood up, rubbing his arm. It hurt to see Ink as himself again. Curious and concerned, but determined and grinning. Ink and Dream followed the black sludge through the grass and darkness. Ink pushed through a heavy vine and cringed at the wet texture.

“Seriously? Why did the Creator of this AU have to make it a swamp? Ugh, sometimes these are pretty, but other times they’re a pain. There was this one AU that I can’t remember the name of, and it had these original bug creatures. They looked like tiny red butterflies, but they bit like mosquitos. My arms were burning and blistering for a week!”

“Oh, I remember that.” Dream laughed. He was used to listening to Ink’s rambles and he liked his passion. “Maybe it isn’t their fault and rather Nightmare’s.”

“Nah, the Creator designed the AU like this before he got here. I’ve been here before. is magic is making it twenty times w orse. Hopefully, the story is still going to plan because if it isn’t? We’re in trouble.” Ink leaped over a pile of black sludge. It smelt like a mix of apples and rot. It was as bad as the ammonia inside his mind.

Dream stopped and raised his hand. He sensed a disturbance and paused, trying to identify what it was. They found an arch and wandered into this AU’s version of the ruins, leaving the swamp behind. It was gray, dusty, yet also quite polished. The pillars holding up the place shimmered light silver. Dream pulled his hood up to hide his face. Ink tapped his chin and frowned as if he was judging the design.

“There.” Dream pointed at the still-spreading malice. Ink narrowed his eye sockets at it. He summoned a line of paint and attempted to paint over the black stains. It lingered for a moment before the malice absorbed it. Ink launched stronger paint and covered it up. Dream frowned, he had to figure it out. He prepared his healing magic in case someone needed help.

“Oh come on, Nightmare. What’s the point of any of this?” Ink huffed. “What would Nightmare’s thought process be? This AU has awesome character designs and story, but it’s not very popular. The island is a lot smaller. Why this out of all places?”

“That’s what we need to find out. We’ll make this place positive again. Dream’s head shot up at the sense of strong negativity. He looked at the house of Toriel, nestled into the wall. It was only noticeable due to the door and windows. But that only added to the quaint and cozy appeal.

Dream sensed three auras inside the building. One of them was a Toriel, but he couldn’t tell the other souls. Ink pressed his face and hand against the window. Dream knocked on the door. No one responded. He rang the doorbell, which made a pleasant ding sound. Ink stepped back from the window and adjusted his scarf to be presentable. Dream wished Blue was here. He would like to be on this mission. He decided to help with a construction project in the Omega Timeline.

Twistfate’s Toriel peeked out the door. She sighed at the recognition of the Star Sanses. “Oh, hello dears. Hello Ink. Is this about the strange sludge?”

Ink nodded. He blinked and question marks replaced his eye lights. “Yeah. Is everything alright here?”

She shook her head and let them inside. The inside smelt like fresh butterscotch and spice. A fire kept the inside warm. “No, Asriel is sick. He and Chara went on an adventure yesterday in Marshdin. They always do this. But Asriel came back . . . the poor child. He complained about a headache and feeling miserable. I assume he had allergies to some of the plants, but it kept getting worse. His soul is aching, please help him." Toriel stopped at a small bedroom and opened the door. There, a goat child lay in bed with a soaked rag on his forehead. Chara, a child in a white and green stripped sweater, held their paw.

Dream peered over at Asriel, shivering in bed. The small goat turned to look at him, blinking with confusion. His mouth leaked black liquid and his eyes matched. Looking back, Dream realized it was rather tame compared to the other cases. Especially the Birdtale ones. Dream crouched down and Ink tapped his foot against the ground. His left eye light flashed into an exclamation point. “Oh . . . that's not supposed to happen in this code. Hey little guy, hanging in there?"

Asriel looked up at Ink and coughed. He gave a weak smile with his raspy voice. "Yeah, I'm okay! It hurts a bit, but I can take it!" Their coughing got worse before they vomited black liquid. The negativity spiked.

"Stand back, I can fix this." Dream recast the healing spell he had planned before. He set it on top of Asriel's soul and began to cleanse it. Ink strikes up a conversation with the child that Dream didn't pay attention to. It kept him calm and the extra positivity from the laughs made it easier. This was when his magic was still simple to use and didn't drain him each time.

The black malice healed from Asriel's soul and purified into positivity. It glowed a faint gold from his touch and soon enough, he was better. Dream smiled. "There, does that feel better?"

Asriel sat up, rubbing his cheeks and noticing the lack of liquid. "A lot! It doesn't hurt anymore, how did you do that?"

"Many years of practice, young one." Dream said.

Toriel hugged her son, making Dream smile. Mother-son bonding always made him emotional. "Thank you for saving him. Dears, please let me give you some butterscotch cinnamon pie as a thank you. It's freshly baked."

Dream chuckled. "Oh, no thank you. It's a good offer, but we're just doing our jobs. Helping improve someone's day is a reward enoug-"

"Dream, shush. Of course we'll take some pie! Thanks a lot!" Ink responded. He winked at Dream and grabbed his hand. "You have to learn how to accept gifts. It's okay, the entire multiverse isn't going explode because of some pie."

"I guess you're right, sorry." Shaking his head with a smile, Dream shut the door and he and Ink left Asriel. The memory glitched. Rather than one memory like before, it flipped between several. Each was a new case, similar to Asriel. Black liquid entering a monster, a bit of positivity helped to cleanse it, and then they'd clear the AU. The problem was simple to handle, even if they didn't know why it happened. It wasn't until after Birdtale did the illness become more serious and violent. Then it flashed to the fateful night, the one were they all drank hot chocolate after ice skating. Knowing context, Dream understood why Ink fidgeted now. He knew why he kept checking the clock and left without a word.

Dream watched Ink run through a portal, never to return. Like before, the image faded to white. Dream stepped back, guilt eating at him. The second memory wasn’t as hard to watch, but it still made him hurt. He could've done more. They sighed and the air dropped colder.

“Exactly. Imagine an alternate multiverse where you caught this in the early stages. None of this would ever have happened and you would all be alive..” A voice muttered behind him. Dream flipped around before a hand wrapped around his neck and threw him down. Dream reacted as quickly and kicked them back. The other skeleton tripped and fell on his face, clutching his skull.

It took them a moment to process the skeleton and they stepped back. “I remember you . . . you were that alternate me that Nightmare made me hallucinate. What are you doing in my head?"

The darker Dream stood up and shook off his cape. “I am you, it shouldn't be that surprising I live in your head. Nightmare's magic just helped me talk to you. Your choices prove you're still as ignorant as the last time we talked."

"I am not ignorant! I've gone through hell over the last year! I'm trying my best!" Dream gritted his teeth. It could've been the ammonia or his untreated emotions, but his anger flared.

"You fell for the simplest trick in the book. You know Nightmare is dead, you watched him die. Even a mortal would know he lied." The dark reflection walked around Dream. Dream scowled and ran to attack, but he shoved them down. "If you didn't fall for his trick, you could've won the fight. Blue wouldn't be distracted trying to save you, Cross would still have his jaw, and Ink . . . well, he was always a lost cause. You gave in to your own selfish wants and that mistake doomed the multiverse."

"Selfish? SELFISH? I have done nothing but help others my whole life! I've sacrificed so much to give others joy. I lost count of every time I almost lost my life!"

"True. However, you're still focused on the idea you can bring Nightmare back and feed your savior complex. You want to save him so you can feel accomplished. Same with Ink. But Ribbon hasn't even taken a moment to consider that you want to help him." Dark Dream gestured with his hand. “Do you understand my point? It was never worth all the stress, pain, and pressure. That's what I've been trying to tell you since the beginning. Nightmare has a point, it's easier to be the predator than the prey."

Dream considered it. It wasn't true, he wanted Nightmare to be happy first. They couldn't change their lifestyle, not now. "Everyone expects too much of me, I can't change."

"You have to. You're even starting to look like me." They stomped onto the ground and a mirror came up. They held Dream's face up to it. Sure enough, both of their eye lights matched in shades of gray. Both eye sockets were darkened with heavy bags, and they were both angry. But how did he lose his eye? Dream didn't ask, he feared the answer. If this was the path Dream ended up on, he wouldn't mind anymore. Anything . . . he'd take anything to make the pain and stress stop.

"I believe you figured it out. We're going to talk again soon and finally get a break. We're going to be free, it'll be okay." His voice turned soft for a brief moment, but then he pressed a foot against Dream's back and shoved him into the ground. The flat ripped apart like old cloth beneath him.

Dream smashed through the floor. The stress and panic woke him and he balled his fists. His soul beat frantically in his chest. Cross, Epic, Core, and Blue shot up at the sudden movement. Dream grabbed their skull and held themself as they began to shake. They wanted to pass out for the stress, but dreaming was not in their interest.

“Dream,” Blue spoke with caution to keep from startling him, “are you okay? What did you see? We tried to wake you up but nothing was working. You were burning up.”

Dream cracked a weak smile, mostly for his sake. He wasn't too amused. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”

“No, your clothes are literally steaming.” Blue corrected. Dream looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, a trail of steam drifted off his cape and into the air. His circuit also smelt vaguely of smoke. “You would’ve died if you were in that curse for another minute.”

“How long was I in there for?”

“Around three minutes,” Epic said.

Dream rubbed his skull. Only three minutes? It couldn’t have been, it was so long, it felt at least like three hours. Could . . . no, they couldn’t be lying to him. Or could they? Dream didn’t know anymore.

Epic looked between Blue, Cross, Core, and Dream. It was only until then did Dream realize Error was missing. He couldn’t sense his aura anywhere. “Where’s Error?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Blue said, staring down the hallway. His aura was nervous. “While you were cursed, Nightmare came in here with Dust and Ribbon and took him. They dragged him off to the room over there and we haven’t see him since. This was about . . . twenty minutes ago. Error’s not even screaming. I hope he’s okay. Can you sense him?”

Dream focused and tried to find his aura. Cross looked like he wanted to speak. He groaned and slammed one arm into his forehead. Dream wished he knew what he tried to say. He didn’t like how miserable he looked, all of them. Blue drowned in guilt, Core stopped speaking entirely, Epic lost the sparkle in his eye.

“I-” Dream grit his teeth as they kept using their powers. It was too much. He needed to clear his head before thinking too much. It wasn’t the restraints. He knew since he felt Nightmare’s malice and Ribbon’s infectious joy. He thought about what the dark version of him said. A little longer and everything would be okay. He wanted it over as soon as possible.

“I can’t sense Error anymore."

Chapter Text

Nightmare didn’t waste any time as Dream’s eye lights glazed over and glowed. Cross grabbed the bars and tried to curse him without his voice. He shook his head for an effect that never came.

“Aw, something you want to say, Cross?” Nightmare leaned over in front of Cross’s cage. The latter attempted to punch him, but Nightmare swiftly dodged. He kept the same smooth smile the entire time, laughing at his failed attempt. “Dream is fine. Nothing will harm him physically. Now that he’s out of the way, I can move on to the main event.” Nightmare shape shifted one of his fingers into a key and walked over to Error’s cage.

The destroyer did not hold up well from torture. His turtleneck ripped, revealing the brand Nightmare gave him. His eye lights were bloodshot and despite his fear, his fighting spirit still thrived. He glared at Nightmare but before he could yell a curse or another slur, Nightmare waved his finger. He shot malice around his mouth and made a makeshift gag. Blue stopped looking at Dream to look at Error instead.

“Nightmare, what are you doing to Error? Get away from him!” His aura spiked with panic. Blue tried to snap his Anti-magic cuffs off to help Error. Nightmare saw a chance for an easy attack and almost slammed Blue against the wall. But then Ribbon set his hand on his cage in an attempt to calm him down. He whispered comforting words to him and gave his best puppy dog eyes.

“Shh, shh, don’t be mad. It’ll all be okay! Nightmare’s going to make things better! He promised he wouldn't hurt you!” Ribbon reached out to take his hand. Nightmare helped him calm Blue down.

“That’s what I thought. Nightmare picked a chain from the wall. He crouched down in front of Error. One raise of his tendrils made the destroyer cower back, terrified of more pain. Nightmare shook his head as he hooked the chain up to his handcuffs. How the mighty has fallen. He forced Error to stand up and yanked the chain. Error stumbled out of the cage after him.

“Ribbon, stand up. I need you to go upstairs, find Dust, and bring me the syringe on my desk. So you understand, my sweet little doll? Nightmare held a tight grip on Error as he tried to escape, screaming through his gag. He attempted to kick Nightmare, but he pulled the chain, making him trip instead. Then he wrapped his tendrils around him to keep him still.

Ribbon didn’t question it. He squeezed Blue’s hand to comfort him before standing up. “Yes, darling. Um, where would he be?”

Nightmare tilted his head to sense his aura. “He’s in the training room with Horror and Killer.” With that information, Ribbon dashed off.

The mention of the syringe caught Epic’s attention. He pondered while Nightmare and Ribbon talked. "Wait, bruh. You said before that you had his fate planned out or something like that. So guessing from your other attacks, I'm guessing you're either going to corrupt him or mind control him. Then you'll make him kill us, right?"

“Mmm . . . close enough." Nightmare shrugged. Epic's chin had a new scar. It looked nice with his eye socket scar.

Error's eyes widened in alarm. He tapped a finger against the bars to get his attention. “Aw, calm down, Error. It's going to be okay. Don't try and attack me, I thought we talked about this. Come along."

Nightmare ignored the chatter and confusion of the others as he dragged Error away. The guardian himself kicked and fought to get out of his grasp. Due to his power being greater, he managed to glitch through his cuffs. It wasn't strong enough to glitch away. Nightmare brought Error down the halls and into the room they used to punish Cross. Ribbon should've been here by now, hm.

Nightmare took his chains off and fastened him to the wall. He spread out Error's arms and legs with chains. His head hung down. The chains prevented his magic, though more glitches sparked from his fingers. Nightmare ripped the gag off his face and he panted.

Error frowned at Nightmare. "So, are you proud of yourself?"

Nightmare looked down at his hand and messed with his nails. "I am, very much so. It's a shame I had to do this to you. If only you hadn't betrayed me, then maybe we could've made an arrangement."

"An arrangement? That's all you ever do. Deals, contracts, schemes, that's how I agreed to work with you. Remember that? You always came to me. I don't remember what AU that was, but you wanted my help to stop Dream. Sure, you knew how to get inside my head with compliments and make me listen. I did your bidding, I helped you with favors, but I almost never needed you. Why did I ever agree to this . . . I should've killed you when I had the chance years ago. Would've made everything easier for everyone." Error growled.

Nightmare's tendrils swayed behind him as he looked at the door. "So impulsive. You know that would throw off the balance."

“And killing me and Ink isn't?"

"At this point, the effects counteract each other, at least if my theory is correct. The forces of creativity and destruction will still be in balance with nothing. The multiverse will be stagnant, but it won't matter. Does the balance truly matter any more? I win and rule over all. Let's see, what to do after this . . ." Nightmare tapped his foot on the ground, trying to draw it out to anger Error. "First would be corrupting the rest of those AUs. Did you think I didn't notice you destroyed some of them?"

"No, I know you would've figured it out. I wasn't even thinking about that part," Error muttered. He gave his chains another hard tug.

"Well, after that, I need a way to take care of the others. I'll keep Blue here for Ribbon to play with. Core and Dream need to be heavily supervised and forever removed as threats. Cross must suffer and Epic . . , I don't particularly care what happens to him, he's only here for helping Cross. Don't worry, dear destroyer." Nightmare tugged Error's cheek just to mock him.

Ribbon walked into the room with Dust. The doll tilted his head at seeing Error tied up against the wall. Dust carried the syringe, which made Nightmare smile. As Error continued to snuggle, he glanced down at Ribbon. He looked both frustrated and disappointed.

Dust stared at the dark liquid in the syringe, then looked back at Error. "Boss. If you're going to inject him, what am I doing;? What do you want me here for?"

“Simple, your task will be to clean whatever remains. If his clothing is still intact, I want to keep it. You can keep the remains, I'd be curious to see if you could experiment on a melted body." Nightmare said. He took the syringe from Dust.

"MELTED BODY? YOU'RE GOING TO WHAT?" Error held back from going into a crash. He thrashed and looked down at Ribbon, who stepped back from the screaming. “Ribbon! Help me out here! I'll be your friend if you do!"

Ribbon hesitated, but Nightmare stood in front of him. "Don't listen to him, Ribbon. He's not being honest. The second you let him go, he'll betray and attack us. You don't want to be hurt, do you?"

"I'm not the one lying, he's lying! He's going to murder me if you don't let me go! How are you this delusional?" Error shouted at Ribbon. Glitches tainted his eye sockets.

"You did leave me . . . and Nighty wouldn't lie to me." Ribbon hugged his shoulders. His aura grew with worry. This was exactly what Nightmare didn't want. It would've been a safer transfer if Ribbon was relaxed.

Error gritted his teeth in frustration, not believing a word Ribbon said. “Are. You. Kidding me. This entire plan was him lying to you so he could use you as a weapon and murder you! But you don't care. You would kill yourself if Nightmare told you to, wouldn’t you?”

Ribbon didn’t even need to think about it. “Of course. A doll is purposeless if its master doesn’t want it anymore. But Nightmare would never get rid of me, right?" He turned to him for support.

Nightmare nodded. His loyalty no longer impressed him, he expected it, but he was still touched. "I would never get rid of you. You've said enough, Error. Now, hold still and maybe we can make this easy on you. Thank you for all your service." Nightmare gestured toward Dust.

Dust looked up at Error, then at the syringe. While the two weren't close, they did know each other well. Dust's multicolored eye light glowed. "Sorry, Error."

Dust used his telekinesis to pull Error's glitching soul out of his chest. He injected the serum inside his soul. Error cried out in pain. His soul glitched.

For a moment, nothing happened. Nightmare worried. Did he make the poison incorrectly? No, he shouldn't have.

Error twitched. He began to pant and his soul glowed. His face appeared to sweat, but it was the same shade of black as his bones. It leaked over his eye socket, blinding his left socket. His fingers melted from his hands. His skull caved in at the top. Error gasped from the pain. His bones didn't snap since they turned to mush. Despite his position, he screamed and took advantage of his position. He shook his melted hands until they slipped from the chains. Puddles of black, red, and yellow liquid fell where his hands were. Error fell over as his ankles were still held down. Ribbon watched in horror and buried his face into Nightmare's shirt with a small whimper.

Error melted himself out of his ankle restraints. However, his ankles melted with them. He dragged himself toward the three members of the Villian Sans Squad.

His jaw melted as he stood up. His eye lights glitched and left his sockets hollow white voids. "NIGHTMARE!"

Error raised his hand and summoned a Gaster Blaster. The blaster looked wrong, distorted, and it melted in seconds. Error tried to summon another, but the same effect occurred. It seemed it wasn't until now did Error realize he was dying. He only had moments left to live, and he wanted to spend them killing Nightmare. Ribbon trembled.

He grabbed the melting strings off his face and shot them at Dust, who blocked them with a bone. Error swung his arm around to fire more strings and his arm flew off, splattering against the wall in a puddle of colorful liquid. The Guardian of Destruction attempted a scream, but his vocal cords melted away. He threw up liquid. His jaw melted until it passed his neck. His waist collapsed into itself and would've snapped if his bones didn't turn to mush. Error ran at Nightmare and reached his free hand out. Every step sunk him further into the ground until he collapsed, melting into a pile of black, blue, and red swirls. Only his soul remained intact as it flew out of his chest.

Dust reached out and took Error's soul in his hands. The glitches on his soul faded. The now white soul floated in a circle in Dust's hands. He tilted his head and gave it to Nightmare. "So . . . he's not goin' to be a guardian?"

"No, he won't have any of Error's powers. He'll still be his cute little self." Nightmare turned to look at Ribbon. He took the soul from Dust and offered it to him. "Go on, Ribbon. Put the soul inside your body and make it yours. Are you ready?"

"Ready . . ." Ribbon took the soul and with a deep breath, set it inside his body. His eyes shot open and flared with white light. He screamed in pain and held his head, a sound that set Nightmare off.

Nightmare wrapped his tendrils around Ribbon in a cradle. The light faded after a short while. "Shh, shh, don't worry my angel. I'm right here. I will not leave you. Aw, I know it hurts. Focus on being immortal again, I get to spend the rest of eternity with you. I never have to worry about you dying. You're going to be youthful, powerful, and beautiful for me forever. Shh, it's okay . . ." Nightmare laughed, bordering hysterical. Dust gave him a judgemental side-eye as he cleaned Error's melted remains.

Ribbon twitched his lilac eyes like any moment he would snap. But the shaking stopped, he went back to an innocent daze. He rubbed his head and looked up at Nightmare. "I feel weird . . . it's my emotions. It's like I can feel double as much! Owie, it hurts."

Nightmare's laughter reduced and he kissed Ribbon's head instead. "That's because you have a real soul. No need for your paints anymore, you can feel all by yourself. I wonder how much cuter you'll become now that you can feel in full. You have so many new chances with your soul. Oh Ribbon . . ."

Nightmare cuddled his wife, relieved she- he was okay. He wasn't certain why he thought of Ribbon as a girl for a brief moment. Yes, he hyper-feminized him for months, but this was different. He never made the slip-up. It didn't matter right now. Nightmare couldn't lose his doll again. He gave Ribbon all the affection and attention he needed before letting him go.

Ribbon pulled his string. "Better, I feel better, thanks."

Nightmare rubbed his head. Dust used his magic to fill his vials up with the liquid that was once Error. Nightmare picked up his worn clothes with his tendrils.

"Let's give them a surprise, shall we? Dust, you come too." Nightmare said. He took Ribbon by his side and walked back to the main dungeon. Dust followed close behind, shaking the vial of liquid in his hand. It was still warm. Nightmare tilted his head. "What do you plan to use it for?"

"Don't know. I could try and see if there's any power left in it and use it as a boost. I'll run some tests." Dust stated, pulling his hood more over his face. Ribbon glanced over at it with curiosity, but said nothing.

They returned to the main dungeon. Dream snapped out of his trance and argued with Blue. Nightmare was hoping for more pleading and crying out of him, but anger worked to. It all fed his powers in the end. Core stepped in occasionally and Epic tried to talk with Cross, who seemed zoned out and inside his own reality.

"I should've tried fighting from the start! It's all my fault we're in here in the first place!" Dream shouted at Blue. He turned to Nightmare as he walked into the room with Dust and Ribbon. His tired eye lights focused on the clothes in his tendrils. "Nightmare? I knew it. As soon as I couldn't sense Error . . ." Dream scoffed and curled into his knees. Meanwhile, Blue covered his mouth with horror.

Nightmare smiled. "Minor correction. It was the retraints and your failing powers that kept you from feeling Error. But yes, he's gone now." Nightmare tossed his clothing in the middle of the cages. Cross raised his brow bones in shock. Blue grabbed Error's scarf off the pile and looked at it. Epic scrunched his face.

Core gasped, shooting Nightmare an irritated look. "Have you realzed what you done? How did you kill your own ally?"

"He wasn't my ally at that point. He betrayed my trust one too many times. He signed his own death warrant."

Ribbon crouched down in front of Blue as he looked over Error's scarf. The doll reached his hand into the cage and stroked his cheek. "Blue, don't be upset, it's okay! Error was bad! I have a pretty soul now too!"

"He was my friend too! How am I not supposed to be upset?" Blue teared up and wiped it away. He shook as he stared at Ribbon, staring between the scarf and Ribbon. He moved away from him. His aura reeked of regret. Nightmare assumed his mind rang with sentences that began with should've.

Ribbon frowned and moved away from Blue's cage back to Nightmare. He lay his head on him and held where his soul was. He winced, rubbing over the spot. He whispered. "Night? Why does it hurt so much? I've felt sad before, but not like this. It kinda feels like when I drowned."

Nightmare opened his mouth to explain, but Dust beat him to the explanation. They talked as they pulled a tray out of Error's cage. "You haven't had a soul your whole life and now your body doesn't know what to do. Everythin' is more intense since all you had was some paints to make you feel thin's. Souls are much stronger in every way. Give it a few weeks, you'll live. I had my soul corrupted, it takes a while to get used to."

"Oh." Ribbon said. "That makes a lot of sense."

Nightmare focused his attention on Dream. Funny, both him and Cross leaned against the wall. They stayed silent for different reasons. "I see my spell worked well on you, I'll keep in mind that trauma trigger spell is very effective on you. I assume if they're curated, the others as well. Dream-"

"Don't talk to me. Leave me alone, please."

Nightmare shrugged, though the sudden bluntness still caught him off guard. He took Ribbon's soul out to play with it. "I know I said no more fighting and I will stand by it, but I wonder if it will affect your fighting at all. No new magic, but potentially new strengths. We can find out when we take down the Omega Timeline. Does that sound fun, my precious little doll?"

Ribbon gave an excited yet playful smile, Nightmare's favorite expression. He pulled his string. "Yeah! Can we go-"

"NO!" Core Frisk shouted. The child's black eyes widened and they fell into a panic. Though their people were in danger, so Nightmare understood. As always, he didn't care and fed off their alarm instead. "Stay away from the Omega Timeline and my people, you goopy octopus! You've messed with the multiverse balance enough! You can't destroy the hub!"

"It's my domain and I worked for five hundred years to control it. I'm going to do whatever I want." Nightmare smiled at Core Frisk. "But, to be fair, today was a very, very long day. I assume you all would like some time to . . . process Error's passing. Ribbon needs help to learn with his new soul." Nightmare touched Ribbon's chest and the soul floated out. It began to develop a pink glow already. His own personality mixed with the magic. Nightmare had seen it happen before, only not in this certain circumstance. It truly felt like his.

Core frowned at the soul. They stared at the floor as they decided whether to hit them or protect themself. Their eye twitched and they chose the wise choice of staying still. Epic stood up though as everyone else was down in one way or another. His spirit wouldn't break it seemed.

"Our time is up here, Ribbon. Let's get practicing with your soul." Nightmare turned around and brought Ribbon with him. He ignored the argument Epic and Dust had in the background and covered Ribbon's head. He didn't need to hear that.

Chapter Text

It was easy for Ribbon to get ready to go to the Omega Timeline. Put on his pretty pink dress, put on his beret, grab Blossom, and then let Nightmare do the rest. His new soul felt as weird as when he first got his porcelain body. His emotions felt a lot . . . clearer, like they were under a thick blanket until now. No more paints, that was going to take a while to get used to. His spine opening was useless now, but it wouldn’t kill him. That’s what Nightmare said at least.

Error’s screams of pain and pleas to help him still rang in Ribbon’s ears. The first night with the soul, he felt guilty. He still felt guilty! Error needed him, but he could’ve been using him . . . it was a lose-lose.

Speaking of, Ribbon almost put his ruby necklace on, but he stopped. He wore it when Error’s soul got transferred to him, tucking the charm under his dress. It didn’t fit with the rest of his outfit. It hurt almost as much as the soul transfer itself. So much happened at once that Ribbon didn’t want to tell Nightmare. He worried enough and it didn’t even leave a mark. He didn't need the necklace anymore and hid it in his drawer, saving it for a much better outfit.

Ribbon left his bedroom and looked for Nightmare to get ready for the mission. Wait, but he said no fighting . . . guess he would find out when he got there. All Nightmare said was that they were going to take over the Omega Timeline.

Killer stretched when he stepped out of his room, holding his knife in his left hand. Something about him seemed happier than usual. But then again, whenever he closed his eyes, he seemed happier. He didn’t have the scary black voids in place of his eye sockets. He opened one eye and peeked at Ribbon, who watched out of the doorway. Killer walked over to him. “You ready for this, Ribbon?”

Ribbon nodded, skipping to Killer’s side. Dust stepped out of his room not long after. He had been either there or in the medical lab. Ribbon walked in on him once, that was a bad mistake. He focused back on Killer, pulling his string. “Mm hm, I think I’m ready. Nightmare said he doesn’t want to fight anymore.”

“Probably stand there and look cute. Or establish yourself as queen of the multiverse.” Dust stated, adjusting his baseball cap.

Ribbon stepped closer to Killer. Even though he hadn’t operated on him in forever, Dust still scared him. Horror must’ve been down by Nightmare already because he was nowhere to be seen. Dust started walking down the hall and Killer followed him. Ribbon chased after, staying close behind Killer so he wouldn't be left behind.

They made it to the main hall. Horror stood up while Nightmare lounged on his throne. Instead of his normal suit, he wore a nice cape over his shoulders with what looked like leopard fur. His entire outfit gave off medieval king vibes. Horror was dressed the same and smiled up at the three. Ribbon beamed. Killer and Dust walked to Horror and Ribbon skipped to Nightmare. His tendrils pulled him onto his lap. He rubbed his cheek for a moment, laying a hand on his soul. "How is your new soul doing? Does it hurt? Is it starting to feel more natural?"

Ribbon nodded. "Mm hm, it doesn't have that weird heavy feeling anymore. I don't even notice it!"

"Excellent, that means Error's death was worth it." Nghtmare set his crown on his head before passing Ribbon his tiara. He stood up. “Let’s waste no time. This will be our most important mission yet. I would say it’s also our easiest, but the Omega Timeline has prepared itself in Core Frisk’s absence. Their guards prepared for us. I opened a portal in advance to view what we were in for.”

Ribbon got nervous and spun Blossom. If Nightmare said they were dangerous, then it must be awful. Nightmare sensed his fear and tightened his tendril around him, reminding him he had everything under control. “But it won’t be anything we won’t be able to handle, I doubt they’re even expecting us right now. I don’t want too many deaths. The key to this mission will be to establish our place and take over the Omega Central. We can corrupt the AU on the way. Steal and kill whoever and whatever you want, it no longer matters.”

Killer, Horror, and Dust cheered. Nightmare cackled as he opened the portal, still holding Ribbon. They fell from the sky and landed on the ground of the Omega Timeline.

Ribbon looked around the massive mismatched void. It looked a lot prettier when he wasn’t held captive here. The buildings were all mismatched with parts of other AUs. Even the clouds were different colors. White, pink, blue, and even purple. The sky looked darker, like it was sad because it knew the guardian of it was missing. Or maybe it was Core’s emotions affecting it? Ribbon didn’t know.

Nightmare waved his hands and cast his magic over the AU. Black sludge spread across the ground and toward the town. The few sad monsters roaming the streets noticed it and screamed. They ran off into their homes and shouted for defense. How many of these were refugees from AUs they corrupted? They screamed, grabbed weapons, and summoned their powers. Nightmare held on tight to Ribbon.

The guardian’s expression darkened at the Omega Central. He glanced down at Ribbon, then at Horror and Dust. Before he could say a word, he lashed his tendril out to block a gunshot.

The monsters and humans of the Omega Timeline gathered around with weapons and magic. Horror summoned a chain of bones and fired them. They wiped out the monsters charging at them with weapons. The bones were twice as tall as he was and stabbed through multiple citizens. It moved in a straight line like a massive serpent. A human with a green hood and red eyes teleported behind Horror and slashed him with red knives. Horror raised his hand and punched them across the face. That didn't make them quit though and instead, they sliced his hand to rip it off. Dust backed them off with a gunshot. Killer did all the defense work. He fired blasters toward attacks that got too close to Nightmare. But then he pulled a strange object out of his pocket: A flamethrower. Ribbon had never seen Killer with one, at least never paid attention, and he was glad he didn't. Killer shouted and laughed, burning down every building and tree close to him.

But that was nothing compared to Nightmare. He raised his hand and tendrils, creating a wave of corruption over the Omega Timeline. It wiped everyone in its path like a hurricane. A dark coating took over the AU. Nightmare shot into the air with his tendrils to balance, holding Ribbon close to his chest. Even though he knew he was safe in his arms, looking down scared him. All the people looked like little figures from up here. The clouds seemed a lot closer. Each building looked like a splotch of paint.

“My, my, what do you think, my queen? This entire AU, it belongs to us." Nightmare raised his left tendril and fired another negative beam. "These people shouldn't slow us down severely. I plan to shut down Garden of Doors, no need for anyone to get in or out besides us. Horror and I will destroy the Omega Central and then the Star Sanses base, wherever that is."

"Ooh! Ooh! I can destroy the base! I think I know where that is! I want to be useful to you, please?" Ribbon pleaded with puppy dog eyes. He didn't like feeling useless. His job was to serve, he had to serve!

Nightmare caressed his cheek, lowering back to the ground. “Ribbon, I love you with all my heart, but you're far too dumb to do a mission on your own. Especially for such an important task. But if you know and want to help, you need someone to watch over you. Killer! Get over here!"

Killer threw fire at a small house. It went into flames almost instantly. Killer teleported back to Nightmare and Ribbon. "Yeah, Boss? What do you need?"

"I need you and Ribbon to go find the Star Sanses base. Find anything useful or intriguing, especially possible battle plans or items from Dream. Once you're done, burn the place to the ground. I don't want it in my multiverse. Be sure to keep her safe from enemies and don't let her hurt herself during the task. Do it and I'll give you another AU to wipe out via arson, I know you enjoy that quite a bit."

Killer blinked, black goop stiffening on his face. The word arson got him excited. "Destroy the Star Sanses base and keep Ribbon safe? Easy. Come here, dollface."

Nightmare kissed Ribbon on the head before letting him go with Killer. The two began to run away from the action, Killer using bones to shield him from magic beams. They stayed away from the action in the city. Nightmare's words and kiss replayed in his head and Ribbon realized something was off. "Wait, why did Nightmare call me 'her'?"

Killer shrugged. "Nightmare kinda lost it after you two got married- who am I kidding, as soon as he fell in love with you. You haven't been able to tell?"

Ribbon shook his head. "No, not really. Sorry." The two kept walking. In the back of his mind, Ribbon knew where it the base was, but he didn't know why. Too blurry. He took the lead to take Killer on a special path until they made it to a white house splattered with rainbows. The paint peeled, no one had fixed it in a while. For some reason, his stomach churned at the sight of it.

Killer and Ribbon broke into the colorful house. Killer lock-picked the door with his knife. It seemed dusty, probably because there wasn't anyone living there right now. All the windows were covered with curtains. Ribbon shivered, It smelled almost sweet, like berries. Ribbon turned a light on. It kinda made him nostalgic.

“Alright, first or second floor? Nightmare wants me to keep an eye on you." Killer said. He summoned a knife and threw it at a lightbulb for fun, making it shatter across the ground.

"Um . . . first floor." Ribbon walked ahead and looked around at the decorations. He was careful. Sure this was the Stars' house, the bad guys, but it felt wrong to break anything. It was a nice building.

Killer had other ideas.

He fired mini blasters across the room and flipped furniture. He kicked a vase over and Ribbon yipped in surprise. Killer grinned up at Ribbon. "Come on, it's alright. Live a little! It's not like the Star Sanses are going to need it?"

"Yeah . . . they won't." Ribbon walked over to the window and pressed his face against it. If he squinted, he could see Nightmare standing on his two tendrils wrecking the town. Ribbon rested his head on his hand to watch. He couldn't see his face from here, but he bet Nightmare had that confident smile. The one that made him look so handsome and made his heart swoon.

Killer flicked his finger up and a photograph fell on the floor. Ribbon realized he should be helping him, that was the whole point of this. He knocked over another photograph, leaping over the glass. Killer ran down the hallway and opened the backdoor. The color pallete wasn't anywhere as nice as what Nightmare had. Mostly greens and blues like a lake. Ribbon chased after Killer. He lost sight of him and looked around, taking the chance to push down a clothes hanger.

Killer must've thrown open the back door. Out of curiosity, Ribbon peeked outside. The outside looked quite nice, though the grass was overgrown. A couple of pink flowers would make this place much nicer. It would cover up the creepy feeling too, helping the aching in his mechanical stomach. A Killer came back with a grunt and a bag on his shoulder. It was definitely stolen because Ribbon couldn't see why Killer would own a flowery white beach bag. Also, he didn't bring it.

"All the bedrooms are upstairs then because there's nothing down here. But I did find their training room and their wedding crash plan." He shook a rolled-up sheet of paper in front of Ribbon before bonking him on the head with it.

Ribbon blinked in confusion and Killer laughed. "You're way too easy to mess with. Anyways, let's get upstairs, get Dream's stuff, then blow this place to bits!"

Ribbon didn't resist when Killer grabbed his arm and brought him up the stairs. There were much less than the grand staircase at the castle. They made it to a hallway with doors on both sides and a round window at the end.

"Split up? I'll take the left side and you take the right." Killer jogged ahead. He dashed into a bathroom and destroyed something inside, a window from the sound of it. But he also ripped off the shower curtain, at least from the screech sound.

Ribbon took a breath to prepare himself. He looked at a mirror on the wall. It gave him the same icky feeling as seeing the place did. It looked so wrong. Ribbon raised Blossom and smacked it across the mirror, shattering the glass. A few pieces remained, the ones on his left eye, heart charm, splotch mark, and right shoulder. He stared for a moment before walking away. The doll ran down the hallway, wood creaking beneath his feet. As he looked around, he spotted a door on the ceiling. Killer wouldn't mind a little detour, right?

Ribbon hit the top of the door with Blossom until it opened. A ladder tumbled down and opened the entrance to an attic. Ribbon set Blossom on the side and climbed up the ladder. He coughed up dust as a cloud blew into his face. He hovered his hand around the air until he found a small chain. Pulling it, a lightbulb flicked on.

The whole place was tiny and covered in dirty boxes. Ribbon struggled to read the labels on them. The letters swam around like usual and looked dark even with the light. Sure he was stupid, but how could anyone read black marker in a dark room with brown boxes? His curiosity got the better of him and Ribbon reached ahead.

He grabbed a box nearby and used it to help himself up. Ribbon squinted at the label of the taped package. He decided to ignore it and just opened the lid instead. He had to hold the items to the light, but they made his eyes go wide. There were paints, photographs, art supplies, collectible statues, and clothes. Ribbon trembled, shaking with anxiety. The box became much easier to read.

Ink's Possessions.

"No . . . no, no, not this again! Erph!" Ribbon covered his head, dropping the photograph. It was of all the Star Sanses laughing around an AU they saved- destroyed, ruined. That wasn't him holding the camera with his tongue out while Dream danced under the stars, no! He wasn't like that! They weren' heroes. It was the same feeling as when he was in that creativity void all those months ago.

Cute doll, he had to think cute! He wasn't big and strong like this, he was little and had to be cared for! A housewife, a princess, not a fighter! This wasn't right. Ribbon reached into the box, digging around until he found some acrylic paint. He shook the bottle and poured it over the photo.

Fix it! Ribbon colored over it, using a paintbrush he found with it. He covered all the glass until there was no sign left of the picture. Seeing the blank image calmed him down. This whole thing was a mistake, but yet . . . it also hit a chord in his mind. Pink made everything better. It hid everything wrong. This place was going to be blown to bits within hours. The idea that had been building in his head hit him in the fullest color.

"A dollhouse . . . my very own dollhouse! It's perfect!" Ribbon lit up, shoving the thoughts out of his mind. He needed Nightmare's permission, but it would look so pretty! He promised It would get rid of this place too! He grabbed the paint and climbed down the ladder. Killer smashed a wood plank in one of the rooms. Ribbon walked into a bedroom, one he somehow knew would be empty. The more he thought about these ideas, the fuzzier they got, but it was still enough. Ribbon took a piece of old wood and painted the walls with pink details. The little brush made it hard, but he had a rough idea. What else could he do here? He could cover the whole place in bows and lace. Maybe Nightmare would let Blue live here too. His room had to stay intact. Yes, the whole plan was coming together!

Killer raided Dream's room. Crashing and shuffling came from the room before he came back out. Ribbon was too focused on his painting. He wanted every wall pink or white. Well, the blue in the kitchen looked nice, but it had to be pastel. Would Blue mind if he made his room pastel too? Hm, he wasn't sure. It would make everything cleaner and nicer. Nightmare's fixing might help him decide.

Killer walked back into the room and watched Ribbon paint. He took a double take. “Ribbon, what the hell are you doing? We're supposed to be destroying and raiding this place."

Ribbon blinked innocently from his spot on the floor. He pulled his string, getting pink paint on it by accident. "Um . . . I had an idea to fix this place up. Here me out!" Ribbon made a wide hand gesture toward the wall. "I could turn this place into one massive dollhouse! It's a good size, it's pretty outside, all it needs is some customizing! I can be more useful too! If you have enemies, you can bring them to me and I'll take care of them!"

“Doing . . . what exactly? A pink pastel house is the least scariest thing I can think of."

Ribbon hadn't thought that far. Typical for him. He twisted the paintbrush in his hand and looked up at Killer. A bunch of Dream's things were stuffed into his jacket pockets. He couldn't fit everything in his bag. Pens, small books, and the thing that caught Ribbon's attention, a stuffed bear. He pointed at it. "What's that?"

Killer took the bear out by the paw, chuckling. "This? Found it on Dream's bed. I can't believe he sleeps with a teddy bear. Boss is going to have a field day with this. Here, you can have it." He threw the bear at the doll.

Ribbon took the teddy and looked it over. It looked worn and used, but he still found it cute. He hugged it and set it in the corner of the room. What if he moved his extra plushie collections here? A stuffed animal room would be adorable. The bear stared at him with big black eyes. They looked like they stared through him into the other side of the room. Killer seemed to follow his gaze and stared at the bear too. The corner of his mouth began to twitch.

"Wait . . . . here me out. You're already a living toy, so what if your gimmick was that you made others into toys?" Killer thought out loud, setting a finger against his chin with a mischievous smile. "Boss has to have a spell for turning people into stuffed animals. If someone pisses us off, we send them here. They get distracted by the cute colors and I don't know, tea party you se up. You drug the tea with the spell and they start feeling sick. They scream in pain as they shrink and turn fluffy and helpless. Then you trap them in here, make one huge collection, just like the one Horror and I have. Except ya know, less blood and severed eyeballs."

Ribbon thought about that. He stared at the teddy bear, imagining what it would be It would be the best of both worlds, right? He got to help the team, they still got to do all the fighting, and Ribbon had a dollhouse. He squealed and clapped his hands. "That sounds like a great idea! When can we tell him?"

“As soon as we get back to Boss with all this. But one thing, if you're going to redesign, I'm destroying all this to clear it out. Then he can't complain about us not doing our jobs, right?"

"Deal!" Ribbon giggled. This was perfect. No more Ink.

Killer walked out of the room and Ribbon followed, grabbing Blossom from the floor. He stopped in front of the bedroom of Blue's room, taking a peek inside. He must be missing his room right now. Killer turned it into a mess, leaving his stuff scattered and ripped. There had to be something he could bring back to make Blue happy, especially because Error's death made him so upset . . .

Ribbon settled on a torn cyan scarf on the ground It was just a few holes and rips, no big deal! He could always sew it up too. It smelt like Blue did in the first few weeks.

The skeleton and the doll left the house. Ribbon looked at it from the outside, it would look much better with a solid white coat of paint. He needed roses and bunnies around this place too. Everything would look so cute in his house. He couldn't wait until he could put in action and Nightmare could see.

The Omega Timeline grew quiet, no sign of any more fighting. Killer held onto Ribbon's hand to keep him close. Ribbon carried the beach bag after a while to help him out. They walked through the empty main town. Ribbon clung to Killer. Bodies of injured and dead civilians lay around, others coughed up malice. Some watched them pass from their windows they quickly shut and hid inside. Did that mean they succeeded? Nightmare was okay?

"If I was Nightmare, where would I be . . ." Killer muttered to himself. He kept walking with Ribbon. They made it to a graveyard at the edge of town. The place was surrounded by a dark sharp fence made creepier by the dark sky. Mist flowed between both the monster and human gravestones. Ribbon trembled and Killer shushed him. A branch cracked in the distance, making Ribbon jump and scream.

"Calm . . . down." Horror mumbled, teleporting close ahead of them. Ribbon took a deep breath of relief. The murderer's red eye glowed and his body became more visible. He noticed the bag on Ribbon's arm and raised a browbone.

"Don't ask, I needed something to carry Dream's things in. I'm ninety-five percent sure this was his." Killer said before Horror could point it out. He looked behind himself for a moment before looking back at Horror. "So, how did the battle go between you vs the Omega? Did we win?"

Horror nodded, making Ribbon sigh in relief. "We did. Nightmare . . . sent them all running. He and Dust . . . up on the hill. Nightmare . . . destroyed some statue of Ink, could tell it was . . . him. He's looking for you. Looking . . . for Ribbon." He looked down at the doll as he said that. "C'mere."

Ribbon skipped after Horror, holding the bag close. As Horror walked up the hill, he spotted a golden statue torn to pieces on the top. The skull belonged to- nope, don't think about him. Think cute thoughts, not him.

The three walked for a while longer before finding Dust and Nightmare staring over . . . something. Ribbon squinted and realized it was ruins ripped from some AU, but this was different. Instead of the strange puzzles, this was a full-on maze, going on for miles. It was deep, dusky, and dark with a KEEP OUT sign in front of where Dust stood.

"Perfect, isn't it? I didn't even know this existed, though it's not out of the question." Nightmare stated as soon as they came up. He smiled at Ribbon. "I finally know what to do with the others. But that can wait. We have all the time in the multiverse. Now, is the Star Sanses' base destroyed?"

Ribbon and Killer went into an explanation of what happened at the house. Ribbon even explained the bit about him freaking out in the attic. They made it to the part about the renovation plan and that caught Nightmare's attention.

"A dollhouse? I can see the thought and congrats on your creativity, Killer." Nightmare tapped his foot on the ground once they finished explaining. Killer smirked at the compliment. Nightmare focused on Ribbon. "Will you stay safe?"

"Yep!"

"And do you understand that people are willing to manipulate you?"

"Yep! I'll be nice and careful. I'll call you as soon as something goes wrong."

He thought for a moment longer and let out a chuckle. "I need to run this experiment first, but if it works, then you can have your dollhouse. I'll be interested to see where it goes."

A week after the trip, Ribbon wrapped his arm around Nightmare’s and they walked back down to the dungeon. Nightmare hadn't told him much about this new plan, other than it was a mind trap in the maze. While the others finally accepted Error’s death, they weren’t . . . all that happy. Dream was the scariest. He used to be kinda nice, but now he was angry, always angry. But also empty. He scowled at him with hate in his eyes, but his voice was empty and monotone. Ribbon didn’t know what he did to make him so upset. Now, He curled up on the floor, covered in bruises. Cross punched his fist into the wall. Core sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to use their powers. Epic lay on his back, beaten and bored.

Ribbon almost walked toward them, but Nightmare held him back, gently shushing him. “No, no. Let’s give them more of a surprise, my little wife. I haven’t been giving my toys the proper stimulation they need. This will be the fix.”

Nightmare snapped his fingers. Blue tilted his head to listen. He stood back and tried to figure out what it was. “Uh . . . guys? Did you hear that?”

Nightmare flicked his wrists and portals opened, making them all fall in. They screamed as they fell into the maze. Ribbon ran over and tried to peer inside, but Nightmare shut the portal. He loomed over him with a small smile. “Don’t worry, Blue will be fine. This is going to be interesting.”

Chapter Text

Dream fell to the ground, and it was a miracle his bones didn’t break. His emaciated body trembled as he sat up and looked around. He tried to nap, but the portal opened beneath him snapped him out of it. They were in a hall made of gray bricks varying in shade. It seemed familiar, yet they couldn’t place why. He could’ve sworn the corridor was shifting, but that could’ve been his tired eye lights.

“Hell- hello? Core? Cross? Blue? Is anyone here?” Dream’s voice was raspy from lack of use and lack of water. His voice echoed through the corridor, but no one responded.

His body went cold like a coat of ice covered his body. Dream knew the feeling from anywhere, especially from the last month or so of torture. He looked down at the Anti-Magic cuffs on his wrists. They had been attached so long that they began to rub his wrists raw, leaving nasty wounds.

Nightmare’s smooth voice echoed through the space. “Welcome. welcome, my dear prisoners. I assume you have many questions about your current predicament. Let me explain. This is a challenge I came up with to deal with you. It’s a maze you must traverse to get to the other side. There is no time limit, so don't feel pressured to rush and hurt yourselves. The rules are simple, there are three. One, no magic allowed. However, you can have your weapons back.” The voice paused and Dream’s twin blades clattered down in front of them. They were useless as a bow since he had no arrows, magic or otherwise. 

“Two, you may team up with your friends if you see them. It’s not my fault nor the fault of anyone else if they’re . . . different. Three, the challenges will involve you challenging your moral compasses. Don’t be afraid to act a little selfish to survive. If you find your way out, you will be free to leave. If you don’t, you’ll still belong to me. Is that fair? Good. That’s what I assumed. Ta ta." The voice went silent, leaving Dream to only hear their own breathing.

“Nightmare . . . why.” Dream muttered. Sighing, he picked up the swords off the ground. He looked around for an exit but saw nothing. The only path was the corridor ahead. To freedom, to death, to better, or worse, Dream didn’t know. He didn’t have a choice. The hall was as cold as Nightmare’s soul. The walls were made of bricks tainted with purple. While his aura-sensing magic worked for a while since he was so powerful, it couldn’t anymore. They wished it did.

They watched for the others, cautious. He stopped and yelped as he felt something clench around his foot. He kicked and pulled it out of what appeared to be a large mouse trap. This place was booby-trapped. He still heard nothing of the others, no sign they were okay.

Dream walked a while longer until he came across a fork in the structure. Purple glitter shone on both paths, enchanting the maze. Dream’s gaze flipped between both paths. They feared one of them would lead him to a hole where he would fall to his death. Truthfully, compared to everything else, an eternity of falling through darkness sounded peaceful. Dream looked around and spotted some pebbles. He picked both of them up and threw them down the hall. They both bounced and made an equal amount of noise, equally safe, he wouldn't die yet. Dream hummed, taking the left path after a bit more thought.

What were these puzzles Nightmare spoke of? That's what worried Dream the most. He wasn't mentally prepared for the horrors his brother had up his sleeve. They had to get out, it may be their only way back home.

“I hate that octopus bruh . . .”

Epic trudged through the maze, muttering to himself. He squeezed his chicken to have something to do. The only thing to keep him interested was the hallways kept changing directions. He ignored the scuttles and creaks because he knew it was Nightmare trying to scare him. Or one of the Murder Time Trio members. Epic liked pranks, but those guys were just assholes. Was Nightmare serious about everyone being in here? Epic smirked. He wasn’t going to break, he told himself that a thousand times in his cell.

Two thuds caused him to turn. He didn’t see anything, he thought his nerves were taking over. Epic looked forward and footsteps ran up to him. When he turned around, no one was there. He could barely react before he accidentally stepped on a pressure plate and spikes ripped out of the ground, tearing into his coat and bones.

"Ow! What the heck?" Epic pulled his spiked and bleeding body from the trap. His clothes were all torn up and his jacket was shreds. He also bled from several bones. Epic shed the jacket off, it was useless now.

If it couldn't get any worse, ghosts surrounded him. They were pure black with purple eyes that looked so white. Epic squinted and felt sick. He recognized Alphy's tense and short figure anywhere. All these ghosts were the souls of the monsters Nightmare corrupted when he infected the AU. They muttered muddled words, either nonsense to disturb him or his final words.

You can make the guilt fade away, all you need to do is let your feelings go. A voice echoed through the hall, or maybe it was in his head. A sash appeared at his feet, melted from malice and whatever the floor was made of.

"What? I'm not doing that! Why would I blow up my dead friends? That'd make them double dead." Epic laughed and tried to make a joke, but it did affect him. The Omega Timeline was a great place to live, sure, but he missed his AU.

The shadows started to surround him, clawing at him and crying for his help. Epic pushed them aside. For some reason, his hand didn't go right through their bodies. It felt a solid surface, which made it worse when they could all grab and touch him, scratching up his bleeding body further. Epic kicked them aside, but it hurt since well, he knew these people. That was the guy he got drinks from every Tuesday. That was his coworker. That was his friend's girlfriend.

"Get off me! I tried to help you, but I couldn't save everyone! Leave me alone!" Epic looked at the grenades. That would only make him feel worse, right? Epic groaned and gave in, grabbing the sash and throwing a bomb at some shadows nearby. He squeezed his eye sockets shut so he wouldn't have to watch.

The shadow screamed way too humanly for his liking. He opened his eye sockets to notice he wasn't being attacked anymore. Epic looked around. The room went silent with only a shadow puddle where the bomb hit. He felt even guiltier than before. The malice that gave him the bomb sash before now summoned a white jacket with darker camo prints. It was even a trench coat like his old one with a new black turtleneck, how considerate! Epic switched out his clothes and noticed the ends of the sleeves at strange buttons on his palms. They were tiny black devices that reminded him of a web-slinger. The purple liquid with the drop sign on the bottom helped him figure out it was a poison blaster, one on each hand.

Epic stared down in one of the malice puddles and his hand slacked. His face had new scars across his nasal bridge and right cheek from the spikes. A teal swirl spun around inside, going right to his soul. Also going right to his soul was malice climbing up his body and eroding his soul. His worldview changed completely. As the voices said, all his feelings of guilt faded away. He wondered if he could finally sleep at night. Not a bad deal if he did say so himself.

He looked around and threw another bomb at some shadows. It screamed and ran away with a misty arm. Then he tried the poison blaster and stung one in the eyes with a yelp of pain. Epic began to laugh. Holy bruh, this was a lot of fun! He could wipe them out like one of the video games he used to play with Cross! He could even make fake points and have a score. Cross was going to love this, wherever he was.

Blue tried to keep his head up as he went through the maze. He was glad Nightmare let him keep his hammer. He kept it on his shoulder, swinging it slightly. He thought the maze switching around was fun if infuriating at times. It was more interesting than staring at the same gray stone walls every day. He held Error's scarf, which he started wearing after his murder. But he also found it weird he hadn’t seen anyone. Were the others okay?

“Dream! Cross! Epic! DREAM! Is anyone around?” Blue called into the darkness, but the only response he got was his echo. He worried about them. What if this was all a death trap? Blue had to watch his step to keep from setting off a spike trap or something else. He came across a gap in the middle of the floor and took a running jump. His left foot slipped, but he did make it over the edge. He accidentally stepped on a button and glass shot through his foot. He hissed, looking down at his red boot turning dark purple. How strong was that glass to break through his boots?

He paid more attention to the ground this time. He listened for any possible footsteps or screams. What if they were in danger? The knight tilted his head. He didn’t hear screams, but he did hear laughter.

Wait, laughter?

Blue cocked his head and walked faster. He traveled toward the sound until he came across a hallway. He walked through it, barely avoiding the malice crawling around on the floor.

He entered a palace so gray it was white. Blueish-white light shone through the windows. Queen Toriel sat on her throne, wearing a gold crown and a purple dress adorned with jewels. She held a sword across her lap. But that was only at the end of the massive hall. A long red rug lined the ground and barriers blocked off the side. Dozens of monsters stood and looked at him, expecting something. Blue squinted and noticed the banners lining the sides of the huge castle. The Deltarune sign? But that was only used in the royal guard ceremony! He knew this because he watched hundreds on TV when he was a babybones, dreaming he could be up there someday.

“Woah, a knighting ceremony? Home? But . . .” It was long gone. Blue knew that. His world was turned to dust by Error. Error kept him as a hostage, but grew attached. Thinking about Error made his soul ache, so he focused on the current moment.

Queen Toriel laughed. Blue hadn’t heard that sound in ages. She held a gloved hand out toward him. “Of course this is your home, this is your knighting ceremony. This is your moment, come here.”

“My knighting ceremony? Are you saying I got into the royal guard? Wowie . . ."

"Yes, you've proven yourself brave. Come here, hero."

Blue stepped a foot forward, but he hesitated. This could be one of those puzzles Nightmare talked about.

Stretch set his hand on his shoulder. Blue's older brother, he hadn't seen him in years and teared up. He still smoked and refused to get out of his orange hoodie. But Blue couldn't care less. “G’job, bro. You earned it. Go get yer reward, I'm here for you."

"Th- thanks." Blue stammered out. He took the chance and walked down the hall. No one seemed to mind he was a glitch with a mostly inverted color palette. When he made it to the end, he got down on one knee out of respect. Toriel laughed lightly and waved her finger. With magic, his unwashed old glitching armor turned into a fine set of royal guard gear. That . . . wasn't something she could do before, but oh well.

"I hereby knight Blue PopPrince as a member of the royal guard. You'll start tomorrow morning. You'll arrive each day at four in the morning, you'll train and fight from sunrise to sunset, you will never take the armor off, and you'll see your brother on holiday only. Most of all, you'll leave the Star Sanses. Your life is devoted to this cause alone. That's why it's an honor."

“Wait, what? This isn’t what I wanted!” Alarm bells went off in Blue's head, the ones trying to warn him earlier. That wasn't even right, he knew the guard guidebook by heart. He clawed at the armor, trying to pull it off, but it wouldn’t budge. It was like it was part of his bones. Blue screamed and kept trying to yank his gloves off, but it still didn’t do anything.

Toriel, or at least what he thought was Toriel, laughed the same laugh, but darker. "I thought it was. This is how the world works. Nothing is as we want. It's a miserable and cynical place, chasing our dreams will only lead to more heartbreak. You'll learn."

Toriel's face glitched into a spiral and malice crawled up his legs. It held him down and forced him to look. The malice that didn't restrain him swam into his soul and sucked the joy out of him. He still couldn't take the armor off.

As he stared into the teal swirl, Blue scrunched his face. It felt like weights pulling down his mouth and eyes and forcing his face into a permanent scowl. The strangest part was it felt . . . natural. He tried to look away, but something kept him looking. His friends and brother faded around him, including Toriel.

Blue blinked away the swirls now reflecting in his eye lights. His soul went cold and ached. He finally managed to look away. The room around him faded and he was back in the boring, dreary hallway. Blue scoffed at the walls. This place sucked. He still had the metal armor stuck on his body. Something in his head told him malice held it in place.

Cross paused at the sound of a scream, followed by a shifting a new hallway opening up. It had to be Epic, he could recognize his best friend’s voice from anywhere. Cross narrowed his gaze and bolted toward the hall. The halls shifted again and Cross focused on hearing in order to find him.

After Fresh and his home world, he wasn’t going to lose anyone else. Dream had already been falling mentally, along with himself. Cross jumped through a small opening and rolled on the floor. He finally spotted Epic on the floor, crouching with his hand covering his eye sockets.

Cross’s eye sockets darted around the room in case there were any traps. Coast was clear. He was expecting a torture chamber, but instead, it was a normal hall. Epic sat in the middle of it, scratching at his arms like he was covered in fleas. He didn't notice Cross at first, not even when he snapped his fingers to get his attention. Cross raised a browbone in suspicion. Just in case, he tightened his grip on his swords. Nightmare wouldn't let them find each other this easy, right? He hasn't even seen any of the 'puzzles' he boasted about.

Epic turned around and wiped his forehead with a dramatic sigh of relief. "Bruh! Finally! I was waiting for you to show up!

Cross relaxed when he spoke. It sounded like him, but something was still off. That wasn't Epic's normal jacket. He wore purple and black clothes, Cross had never seen him wear white camo in his life. Where did he even get it? Epic noticed his skepticism and laughed it off. "Got caught in some spikes and it ripped my coat to shreds. It's somewhere in that area." Cross gestured vaguely behind Cross. He looked back at where he pointed but saw nothing.

Epic picked up a sash from the ground. Shocking Cross, the whole thing was lined with grenades. "I got this too. Wanna see something cool? There are these shadow things around this area that are annoying as hell, but I figured out how to get rid of them. Watch and learn, Oreo."

Epic loaded a grenade and threw it up on a tripwire trap. Shadows of Epictale's citizens wandered around the place. Epic kicked the side of the wall. It set off a wire and the bomb rolled down onto the group of five creatures. It exploded and Epic covered the sides of his skull. Two of them flew against the wall and the others scattered and screamed, leaving what looked like Monster Kid to be charred. As Epic said, they disappeared.

"Bruh, their screams! They sound so desperate! It's one bomb, you're overreacting! Easy kill!" He braced himself on the wall to stop his laughter.

Cross wasn't as disturbed about the fact Epic blew up these . . . creatures, but his reaction. They've laughed at memes about dark humor or death, but directly someone's suffering? That was something Killer, Dust, and Horror would do. The confusion and disturbance must've shown on his face because Epic relaxed.

"Oh come on, that was a little funny. Live a little! I thought you liked my jokes!" Epic jabbed his elbow into Cross's side. Cross pushed him aside. Something was wrong with Epic, more than the clothes. Cross shook his head, making Epic roll his eye lights.

"Boring. Come on, one hit, give it a shot!" He held a bomb out for him. Cross pushed it away with gentle force. Epic frowned, dissatisfied. “Ooo, you still got your necklace! Maybe this will knock you out of your daze because I don't know bruh, but it's going to be fun." Epic pounced on Cross.

Cross tried to push him off, but Epic snuck around the back. He grabbed the necklace and dangled it in front of Cross to taunt him. "Aw, ya want this? Fetch!" He threw it far down the hallway.

Cross blinked in shock and grunted. He ran after and grabbed his locket as Epic laughed at him. He glared back at him, both out of anger and confusion. Nothing was broken. The pent-up rage mixed with the hope he could snap him out of it made him slap Epic in the face. It caught him off guard and made him clutch his cheekbone. Epic's eye lights lost the glaze for a brief moment and he looked scared. Then it turned cocky again, and Cross could tell he pissed him off.

"The hell is with you, bruh?" Epic asked. Cross got his act together and huffed, grabbing his friend by his collar and pulling him up.

Cross tried to explain he wanted to bring Epic out of there with hand gestures and sounds. Epic watched and shook his head, shoving him away. "I get whatcha trying to say, but no. What's the point? Not gonna lie, being this is a lot more fun than that rubber chicken I used. I betcha I could find better friends than you." He crossed his arms and slid down the wall, glaring at Cross. He stuck his tongue out at him.

Cross's eye socket twitched. He gave up on arguing, he wasn't listening like this. He planned to come back for Epic, but for now, he stormed off. He couldn't bring himself to leave him behind, even if he was acting like a complete prick for no reason. He had to snap back to his senses soon, Nightmare was inside his head. He wouldn't get inside his.

Nightmare nuzzled close to Ribbon as she cuddled into his lap, head leaning on his chest. Nightmare kissed her skull as he watched Cross leave Epic alone in the hall. Ribbon tilted her head with interest, taking a small handful of popcorn to eat. They sat in the fancy living room of his castle, relaxing on the black velvet couch on a dark wood floor.

He looked behind himself at the two souls strung up in black threads. They throbbed as liquid hatred covered them. One was a regular white monster soul and one was a black soul covered in glitches. Three more sets of threads hung empty. Killer poked Blue’s soul, Horror watched the footage with him and Ribbon, and Dust leaned against the wall. It was his idea to bring popcorn and treat the torment like a reality show. He believed that was what Dust called them. Nightmare never watched one.

“This is possibly the greatest idea I’ve ever had, don't you agree?” Nightmare inquired, enjoying watching them break and split from each other.

“Hey!” Ribbon argued.

“The second greatest idea I’ve ever had,” Nightmare corrected. He fed Ribbon another popcorn piece. He kept her under his jacket to use as a blanket. “You will always be my number one.”

Ribbon seemed satisfied with the answer and went back to watching the others suffer. Nightmare wrapped an arm around her. She seemed to enjoy the suffering as much as he was, what a perfect wife. He watched as Core tried to traverse their way through dirt, dust, and traps, Dream looked miserable, and Epic fell asleep. The traps were only there because he felt a little extra today. It sounded entertaining. He also decided to give them all new outfits. If they would be his toys, he decided how to use them.

Killer poked Blue’s soul again and this time, a screen appeared. Killer jumped back. “Shit! Boss? I think I broke it.”

Nightmare hummed and looked behind him. “Ah, you're fine. That’s simply a little extra spell I put on them so I can see through their eyes.” Nightmare snapped his fingers and one more appeared above Epic’s soul.

“Is it possible to get out? Or did you make it secretly the traps impossible to do?” Killer asked.

“It is possible. None of them have been smart enough to solve their puzzles though.” Nightmare smirked at the screen. “Which one do you think will make it out?”

“I’m betting twenty gold on Cross. He already doesn’t trust anyone, I bet he won’t get into his trap. He’s too smart for that.”

“None of them. You owe me and Horror twenty gold. each if he fails.” Dust muttered.

“Had hope for Blue but . . . not anymore." Horror added.

Nightmare looked down at Ribbon, curious for her answer. She just shrugged and lay her head back onto his chest. He didn’t need an answer. Ribbon’s comfort was enough to satisfy him. He looked back up at the screens and watched as the next prisoner fell to their trait.

Core Frisk figured out where they were a few steps after the announcement. (name) in the Omega Graveyard. It made them antsy. They were right there.

They squinted as they tried to see through Nightmare’s magic's block. If the negativity wasn’t enough, the Anti-Magic cuffs made their foresight useless. They didn’t care about that though. Their thoughts surrounded the Omega Timeline. The graveyard was only about five miles from the central and while they still had no clue what went down, it was bad. The second they got out of here, if they got out of here, they planned to rush back and save whoever was left.

Core was so lost in their thoughts about rescue and cooking Nightmare into sushi that they didn't notice the floor change. Instead of the dark stone, it was smooth, almost blue tile. The walls were the same texture. An archway with a sterile purple light glowed above them. Core walked onto a bridge and looked down, realizing where they were. It was pure white light, the color of the void. Undertale's CORE. They covered their mouth. The memories they tried to repress for decades. If this is what they thought it was, then they knew who was coming.

“Kid,” Sans said.

Core glanced to the side. They caught sight of their hands, which turned almost yellowish. Their sweater transformed from gray to blue and purple. They haven’t been in this position for a century, it was how they turned into an outcode. And when that happened, their mind stuffed this memory down as deep as possible. This trap made all those memories smack them in the face.

Sans kept his usual nonchalant smile as he walked onto the bridge. He kept his hands inside his blue jacket, but his look was different. Sans’ face was burned in Core’s mind, so they knew. His face blurred, like imagining a drawing but when it came time to put it on paper, it was confused.

“Sans?” Core asked. They took a step back. If this was what they thought it was, they had to get out of here.

"Heya, you've been causing a lot of problems, both for me and my friends. I hate to pick a bone with anyone, but this can't happen anymore. See ya." He raised his hand and blue magic surrounded Core. Sans' eye lit up blue and they threw Core into the white void below. They screamed and reached out as their body fell further and further into the abyss. As they fell through the top, their body stung like a million scissors cut into it.

Just as their hands faded, they woke right back up at the start of the maze. They blinked in confusion but ran across this time. Sans wrapped them up in blue magic. "Kid. You've been causing a lot of problems, both for me and my friends. I hate to pick a bone with anyone, but this can't happen anymore. See ya."

He threw Core Frisk back into the void, scattering their remains across time and space. It hurt as much and like before, they're right back to the start, clutching their arms. Black malice began to form from both sides of the bridge. Oh, now they figured out their puzzle.

Over and over, Core Frisk tried to make it across the bridge or fight, only to get the same results every time.

"You've been causing a lot of problems-"

Help, HELP!

"I hate to pick-"

Another scatter.

"This can't happen anymore. See ya."

Core's entire body stung and they panted.

It’s too much stress, isn’t it? It’s driving you mad. You can't handle it and want to cry and hide.

Core listened to the voice over the speaker in the corner. It didn't sound like Nightmare, but it was something he would say. They narrowed their eyes. No way in the multiverse were they going to do it. Especially not with the malice crawling around the floor. It threatened to eat their soul. Core narrowed their eyes and groaned. As they teleported back to the start, they knew they needed a new plan.

Give up. You're just a child. This is too much pressure for you.

"Shut up! I'm thinking!" Core shouted at nobody. They shut their eyes to avoid looking at the spirals appearing on the screens around the CORE. They didn't have much time before Sans came back in. Their eyes darted between the malice puddle growing on both sides. Their eyes set on the bridge itself. It wasn't that wide and there were pipes around it . . . they had an idea.

Sans walked back inside. "Kid. You've been causing a lot of problems, both for me and my friends. I hate to pick a bone with anyone, but this can't happen anymore. See ya." His eye flashed blue and he wrapped Core in his magic, throwing them into the abyss. Core wrapped one hand around the pipe and swung under it, holding on for dear life. The dust slipping from the boots fell into the void.

Core waited for Sans to leave, listening for his sigh and the slippers walking away. Their hands started to slip as they clung to the bottom pole of the bridge. Their shoes slid off the bars and they almost fell again, kicking dust into the void. Core summoned all their strength and pulled themself up. They rolled onto the bridge and took a deep breath. They kept an eye out for more malice or another trap, but there weren’t any. It all faded away when they solved the puzzle. The door in the back of the room opened. Core ran to it, but checked for traps before going through. There weren’t any.

They were safe for now and ran off. Their body turned back to monochrome, everything was good. Well, except their body stinging with pins from being soul scattered twelve times.

Dream walked through the hall, dead-eyed like a zombie. Glass and spikes ripped into his feet and boots, but he managed to ignore it.

He hadn’t seen another soul in this maze and it felt like he was wandering for hours. Did Nightmare lie? Or did the others escape? Or did they . . . no, he wouldn’t think about that. Stay positive. Hold onto that little bit of hope left in his heart.

He turned down another one of the hallways that never ended. They could’ve been searching in circles and he would never know. Maybe this was Nightmare’s punishment for him, dooming him to walk in a maze alone with no exit yet a desperate goal. Dream sighed, but then a sound caught their attention.

Grumbling.

They didn’t sound friendly, but Dream was desperate. “Hello! It’s me, Dream! Who’s there?”

“Dream?” Blue’s voice echoed clearer. Dream grinned when he came into view. However, something was off about him. His clothes, where did he get the suit of armor? His eye lights were dull, more white than blue, but that was natural for monsters in pain. More magic was used to keep them alive than to keep their soul bright.

Dream ran up to Blue and hugged him. For some reason, he didn’t hug him back. "Thank the stars, I thought you were dead or worse. We have to stay together. I'm worried about Cross. I've been hearing voices saying he could be in danger, come on. We have to find him and the others." They took his hand.

“Oh boo hoo hoo, your boyfriend is gone. We all lost people, get over it. You’re not special, Dream. You're the last one who needs pity.” Blue said his name with a sneer.

Dream blinked, trying to be sure he heard that correctly. He also had to be sure he didn’t see Blue’s eye lights flash with teal swirls. “I . . . I wasn’t saying I was special or deserved extra attention. I’m saying I’m worried about our friends! Blue, what’s going on with you? Did something happen? Where did you get the armor? I can try and help you, I'm not held back by a cage anymore."

Blue rolled his eyes lights. “You can’t help with anything! Even if you could, it would just get worse again. Everything always gets worse.”

“That’s not . . . well, it is true. Things have been getting worse, but we have to get out of this maze. We can get angry about it later." He gave him a questionable look. “Why are you talking like this? This isn’t you. The Blue I know would be finding an optimistic approach to this and never giving up. That's what you've done this whole time! Now when we need the support, you're stopping?"

“Optimistic?” Blue scoffed and turned away from him. “Why would I ever be an optimist? That’s just another word for naive and stupid.” He flicked the front piece of his guard helmet down over his face.

Dream was taken aback by his words. They brushed their fingers against his arm, which was cold and smooth. He reached out and took his soul in his hands. His white soul turned dark and appeared scorched in a fire, dappled with bits of teal. That wasn't Blue.

The Guardian of Positivity tried to use his magic to purify Blue's soul, but then he remembered the cuffs. He groaned in frustration and let it go. "Fine, if you're going to be miserable and not help, then figure this out on your own! I don't need you!"

"Good! I don't need you either, you pompous piece of shit!" Blue yelled. He rolled his eye lights and stormed away at the same time as Dream. Dream was almost too angry to feel bad for him. He nearly punched the wall, but his senses knew better. The injury wasn't worth it. He turned and walked away. This must've been what the maze did, turn them into evil caricatures of themselves. Oh, he hoped Cross wasn't affected. He worried what a twisted version of him would be.

Dream thought he was hallucinating, but it was Cross. His eye lights seemed less glazed than Blue's, in fact, none at all. His clothes were the same. Dream didn't run up to and hug him this time, he kept his distance. Cross sighed in relief at the sight of him and leaped over a tripwire. He pressed Dream against his body, using one hand to hold the back of his head. Dream melted in the comfort and hugged him back. Cross was still himself, this was real.

“Cookie, something happened to Blue. He’s acting weird. He was cold, angry, and almost heartless.” Dream shivered and spoke with a rasp. "Have you seen Epic? Or Core?"

Cross nodded at Epic and shook his head at Core. He frowned at the sound of his name and Dream assumed the worst, he was acting like Blue was. What was going on here? Core was likely infected with whatever this strain of the virus was too.

“Let's get out of here. If we can't save them, we have to save ourselves. I'll protect you, come on." The couple held hands as they worked their way through the maze. If it picked them off one by one, it should have a harder time when they were together.

The maze opened a fork as usual and they took the right at Cross's request. They took a few steps before the room went dark, near pitch black. Cross held Dream close with his daggers out. A light flashed in the distance and revealed a platform with three mini stairs. On top was a delicate piece of metal, a shiny steel. As if it was modeled to fit his skull, it was a lower jaw bone the perfect size to fit Cross. He walked toward it, but then the floor broke, separating Cross and Dream.

Cross wobbled as it separated them over two arm's length away. The light on the metal appeared to glow brighter. Dream could almost hear Nightmare's laughter, enjoying tearing them apart. He gasped as he advanced a hand toward it. It made his eye lights unfocus.

"Cookie dough, no! It's a trap! I promise that as soon as we leave, I'll find you a prosthetic or a spell! I know you want to talk again, but don't. Believe me, I will help." Dream reached their hand out.

Cross stared at him. Faint sounds Dream couldn't hear whispered around him, but they made Cross agitated. He gave in and took the lower jaw off the platform. He held it up to his own and attached it in place. It sealed on its own, digging into his jaw and leaving indents to fit. Cross yelled out. Dream held back from running to him.

Malice surrounded Cross's soul and made his eye lights flash. Dream ran to the exit, but his boyfriend jumped in front of him, blocking the path. He smiled down at him, but not his usual caring bashful grin. Dream didn't want to fight him, but he kept his swords out. "You're just going to leave me here? Dream, I got my voice back! I don't have to be fed with those tubes anymore. Why aren't you happy for me?"

Dream stepped back. Cross winced as the new jaw made a chain grow around his neck, locking tight. The end was a lock with the letters C + K engraved in it. Cross tried to remove it, but it wouldn't budge. Dream took his chance, wiping tears out of his eyes. He'd have to leave him behind too. Dream dashed for the exit, pushing Cross aside. But he was faster, the magic gave him a power-up, and he pinned Dream to the wall.

I thought you cared about me, you're going to leave me behind? Alright then, flower." Cross brought his dagger down in his eye socket and Dream screamed. Despite all the torture Nightmare put him through, not a single beating or electrocution compared to this. It burned and sent bolts of pain through his mind. He pulled it out and Dream clutched his eye socket, gold blood running between his fingers. They pulled it away and blinked it. It was dark. Cross blinded him.

Cross had no remorse. His scowl turned crueler if possible. Dream was frozen in shock, horror, and mind-numbing pain.

“Get up, it’s just an eye. Or are you too kind to do anything about it? Fight me! It was a mistake to be with you, I could've had a fun relationship with someone like Killer. But you? You're boring and pathetic.” Cross set a hand on his head as horns broke out the top, curving out. It reminded Dream too much of when he was infected in Birdtale.

“Cross, stop it! Snap out of it! I know you're not in control right now! Oh my stars . . . ow, ow!" Dream gasped in pain. Was this how Nightmare felt when he lost his eye to the corruption?

Cross ignored him. Instead, his hand brushed against his locket. He ripped it off, snapping the chain, and threw it at the ground. A crescent moon mark appeared on his cheekbone. "Don't need this anymore, don't know why I kept it."

Dream looked between his boyfriend and the other direction. He grabbed Cross’s locket and ran as fast as he could in his condition. His starved, exhausted, powerless condition couldn’t go far before tripping and skidding. He took a moment to catch his breath before moving. Cross didn't chase him, he lost interest.

Dream dragged himself through the corridor, clutching the locket in one hand and holding the wall with the other. He let go of the wall occasionally to put pressure on his bloody eye. Golden blood covered his gloves. Dream took deep breaths before collapsing to the ground again. This was torture in its purest form.

“Is this what you want, Nightmare? I have nothing left to lose, you won!” Dream looked around, expecting his corrupted twin to appear from the mist and mock him. The guardian wasn’t sure why he still had his soul. It should have been drained by now. Their gaze settled on a strange sight, a small cardinal. Where did it come from? Or was it another trap?

The bird chirped. Come on! I know a way to safety! Come, come! Quickly, before he gets back!

Dream didn't hesitate. He chased after the bird as it led him down a special path. He slipped between the walls of the maze, not quite a corridor, and entered a different room. They breathed in the smell of fresh grass and warm water. The bird landed on the grass beside the pond and grew to be twice as large as Dream in a spark of blue magic. Dream blinked in surprise. Sit down, let it out.

Dream did as the bird asked, crouching in front of it with one hand still on their eye socket. The bleeding failed to cease. The bird tilted his head and blinked at him. For a brief moment, its eyes flashed into spirals. Dream looked away, but it was long enough to stir something inside him. The negativity building up finally spilled.

“It’s not fair . . . IT’S NOT FAIR!” Dream screamed through his tears. “I work so hard to make everyone else happy, but my life keeps getting worse each time I do! My friends are gone, my boyfriend beat me, the multiverse is falling apart . . .” He sobbed, every word feeling like a bullet into his weakened soul. He was so tired, he just wanted to sit out of a fight or conflict for once. He wanted someone to let him rest and tell him everything was going to be fine, he was so sick of being strong . . .

Dream turned back to the cardinal. “I’m too nice, is that it? Everyone uses me as a doormat. None of this would've happened if I wasn't nice! Everything bad that has ever happened to me was my own fault. Blue was right."

The cardinal gently nudged their shoulder. It opened its beak, but instead of the squeaky voice he was expecting, it was a cold booming voice. That’s right, there’s no one left for you. Your friends, your boyfriend, your home, they all turned on you. Stop pretending you’re a hero when all you do is lose. You’re bitter and cold, and your heart knows it’s true.

Dream listened to those words with a conflicted heart. Part of him wanted to deny it, but the stronger bit believed it to be true, just as the words said. They had to urge to get revenge on the villagers, a wish they didn’t die so he could torture them. They felt like someone was going to hurt them and they had to fight first. The cardinal kept speaking in that same voice, the painful words telling him he was envious, bitter, angry, hateful, sadistic. If no one would respect him, fear would be a good replacement.

The bird's eyes flashed into spirals and Dream didn't bother to look away. An outfit melted out of the malice for Dream to try on. He recognized it from the variant of him in his visions. Dream tossed his gold cape off and replaced it with the dark gray one. He pulled the hood up and took the eye patch for his bloody eye.

Give up, give in. It would be so much easier since you’re too far gone to win.

Dream covered the sides of his skull as he continued to feel hate rip apart his soul. It shaped into something else. It fed faster due to the sheer amount of positivity. He could barely breathe and let himself embrace the malice. The blue crescent moon appeared on his cheekbone.

“Fine! If the multiverse won't let me be happy, then I won’t allow anyone else to be either!” Dream threw aside his gold circlet and replaced it with the black thorn crown.

Core ran through the maze, still shaking after that puzzle. They brought themself together and kept going. It was too silent, even by creepy labyrinth standards. They expected to see someone by this point, or at least hear running and traps. But nothing. Where was everyone else?

Their legs ached, but the rest of their body finally shook the stinging off. They held their left arm with their hand and walked down another hall. But the end of this one was different. Instead of a dark path, it was an arch carved with a black apple on the top. Core didn't hesitate and ran to it, jumping over for speed and jumping outside. They rolled on the soft dewy grass and looked around. It was dark outside and only crickets chirped, but who cares?

“I’m out . . . I’m out! WOO HOO!” Core shot their fist in the air and did a little happy dance in a circle. As they spun, they realized they were the only person there. Where were the others? They closed their eyes. Despite being outside, Nightmare’s magic still interfered with their foresight. But they had glimpses of the maze. Maybe there were multiple exits, or they were the first one? How long were they in there for-

“Well done, Core.”

Core turned their head around to the sound of slow clapping. Killer, Horror, and Dust stepped out of the shadows from behind them, clapping in sync. Killer and Horror grinned, Dust was apathetic. Core’s body went cold.

"Killer, you owe me twenty gold." Dust whispered to him. Killer sighed.

Nightmare walked out last, holding Ribbon’s hand as he bounced. Core scoffed. They couldn’t look any more different from each other with their clashing aesthetics. And they thought Nightmare had taste. Core stepped up. “Where are the four?”

Nightmare waved his hand and four bodies dropped from portals, hanging by ropes made of malice. It looked like it would snap any second. In order, Blue, Dream, Cross, and Epic hung unconscious from them. Their outfits were all darker and their souls were stained black. Their cheekbones glowed with blue moon marks.

Core covered their mouth. Nightmare laughed at their face, which was followed by the Murder Time Trio. Ribbon only smiled. “You’re the only one who escaped, you’re a smart cookie. I should've given you more credit. They all could have made it if they acted on logic rather than emotion. That was part of the challenge. They have no one to blame but themselves.” Nightmare walked around and placed his hand under Dream’s chin, grinning at Core. “I was honest when I said I would play fair.”

Core stomped on the ground. “Play fair? You . . . you just doomed the Doodlepshere and killed thousands. That's not fair, you-"

“Still, I didn’t break my rules.” Nightmare’s voice stayed nonchalant. His face looked extremely punchable right now. Core stared back up at their friends. "I should've mentioned one more rule, my apologies. If you want, you can exchange your life for one of theirs, choose wisely."

Core Frisk glanced between all four of them. If they saved Blue, he wasn't strong enough to take this on his own. If they saved Dream, he'd drown in guilt over the others. If they saved Cross, he'd want to get Dream or Epic back. And Epic wasn't experienced in multiverse combat enough, plus he'd try and save Cross. Core felt a pang of selfishness, just what Nightmare wanted. "None of them. I'll keep my life."

"Very well, congratulations. Now, you may go. I won't be after you unless you try and attack me first, sound fair?" Nightmare snapped his fingers and the cuffs broke off Core's wrists. Then he opened a portal behind them to the middle of the corrupted Omega Timeline. Core glared back at Nightmare, then up at their friends. They wanted to take Nightmare down right now and wipe the smug grins off the MTT's faces.

But Core wasn’t a fighter, they were a seer, a mentor. It would be suicide to attempt to fight. Instead, they balled their fist and looked at the necklace. Each soul charm glowed brighter the closer they got to their friends. They looked at Ribbon, remembering how they first met Ink. Core sensed a disturbance in the multiverse and found him zipping around AUs. He introduced himself and called himself the Protector and the rest is history. So was Ink's existence now.

Core glanced at the others and ran through the portal. Nightmare shut it as soon as they left. Ribbon bounced with cheer. "We did it! We did it! They won't hurt us anymore, right?"

Nightmare chuckled and brushed her chin. "No, of course not. If they do, I will protect you. The multiverse is ours. Oh, and before I forget, Killer, what do you think of your new boyfriend?" Nightmare lowered Cross's unconscious body. "He despises everyone and no longer has his loyalty, but I adjusted him to adore you and you alone. Well, and serve me and Ribbon. Dress him up however you like."

Killer set his hand on Cross's cheek, pressing his skull against it. He pulled on the chain collar around his neck. "I love him, boss. Hell, he's hotter like this. How much does he hate Dream and everyone else?"

“If I put them all in the same room while they’re active, they’d kill each other. But he will be loyal to you. I don’t want to lose my new toys in a bloodbath, at least not yet. Give me some time to test them out.” Nightmare stared Dream in the eyes. His naive, pathetic brother was finally on his level. He knew the perfect place to place him. He'd have him patrol the Omega Timeline while Nightmare was tending to the rest of the multiverse.

Everything he ever wanted, Nightmare had right here in the palms of his hands.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“Ribbon, we need to talk. There’s more than one reason I needed your help. Don’t forget the streamers.” Nightmare spoke as he handed the bag over.

Ribbon peered inside and took the bag of red and silver paper. He was in the middle of decorating the living room. He had the balloons and lace table mat up. Nightmare told him to help him with decorations. It was a surprise for Horror’s birthday. He waited until Nightmare’s tendril picked him up to pin the streamers to the wall. Dust, and Killer were keeping Horror distracted in a corrupted AU. As soon as the streamers were up, Ribbon asked Nightmare, “What is it?”

Nightmare set him down. He set up two bouquets of dark red flowers. He checked the checklist again before talking. The frayed edges and yellow paper made it look older than anything else in the room. Almost. “The baby. I want to have our heir. A year is enough time to prepare, correct?”

Ribbon paused as he stared at the pretty red petals. He guessed Nightmare was right. It had been over a year since they got married and they only ever talked about a baby. Nightmare reminded Ribbon that the process was just a spell, but it still scared him. It’d hurt. “Mm hm. I- I don’t think I’ll be good as a mom. And we have a lot of time! We have hundreds and thousands of years! I think so. Right?”

Nightmare removed a decorative skull sticker and set it on Ribbon’s nasal bone. He twitched it, making Nightmare smile and cup his chin. “Sweetie, I know, but I’ve been waiting so long. And I’d prefer to do it before Killer, Horror, and Dust’s mortal souls pass. I’ve given you so much time. It’s just one, for now. Could you please do this one little thing? For me?”

Ribbon blinked up at him. He looked at Nightmare’s fingers waving under the table, messing with his emotions. He did it so often that Ribbon didn’t mind. Nightmare’s grip tightened on his wrist. It was how his powers worked. “Okay . . . I guess we can have a baby. If you want it, I’m ready.”

Nightmare pat him on the head, lightly scratching the top. He looked at the room. “Well, we’ll create the soul tonight. The Murder Time will be back in about a half hour, be sure to have everything ready by then, okay? I’m going to pick up the cake.” He turned around and left Ribbon alone by the table.

Ribbon stared at the fireplace and hugged himself. Did he have any idea how to raise a kid? No, not at all. But Nightmare probably did. He would tell him what to do. Even if he didn’t want something, thinking about Nighty always made it better.

When the MTT came back from their mission and Nightmare came back with cake, the party started. Horror blew out the candles on his birthday cake. Nightmare chose to frost the brown cake with red and silver frosting. He inspired it after his ax. Ribbon kept glancing at Nightmare, hoping he did a good job. Nightmare noticed his gaze and kissed his forehead.

Cross pushed a box over as soon as Horror blew out the last candle. It was wrapped in red wrapping paper with silver tape. “Killer picked it out for you.”

Horror opened the box, tearing off the tape without even trying. Inside was a butcher kit in a case. He opened the clasp to four knives in different sizes. He touched the blade of the largest butcher knife. “Hm . . . thanks, Kills.”

“No problem!” Killer fell back onto Cross’ lap. He kissed the mind-controlled skeleton on the neck.

“Not again . . .” Dust buried his face in his hand with a groan. Ribbon couldn’t help but giggle. Nightmare shielded his eyes with a tendril.

“How pleasant.” He glanced down at Ribbon. His eye light glinted with anticipation. He leaned against him. “I want to start the process. Now. We can always come back after. It should only take . . . about a half hour.”

Ribbon looked up at his husband. He nodded, looking at Horror to see if he would notice. He didn’t give him his gift yet! Nightmare smiled with satisfaction as he stood up.

“Apologies for the late announcement. Ribbon and I have something to attend to. Don’t attempt to kill each other while we’re gone.”

Cross glared at Ribbon. His hand was laced with Killer’s. The doll wondered if he still hated him through the spell like Dream could. He hoped not, but he could always tell Nightmare if he was. He’d fix him!

Nightmare lead Ribbon away to his office. He shut the door behind the two. Ribbon sat down and watched Nightmare sit on the other side of his desk. He took Ribbon’s hand in his own, pressing a kiss on the knuckles. “This may put you to sleep. I’d rather have you unconscious than in pain. It’s a different process from other monsters or humans as we lack organs. Organic organs of course. It’s also more painful as it grows in the ribs. Skeletons combine their love and special attacks into a single soul. Now, take out your soul.”

Ribbon nodded, though it only made him more scared. He took his soul out of his chest and handed it over to him.

Nightmare took his soul and removed his black apple one. He pressed his soul against Ribbon’s and a shiver ran through his body.

Ribbon’s soul burned and he gasped. “Ow, ow! It hurts! Nighty!”

“Almost . . .” Nightmare glanced up. He held out his one remaining hand and set it on Ribbon’s head. Summoning sleep magic, he lured him to sleep.

Ribbon’s mind turned into a blur as he fell unconscious. Nightmare carried him and tucked him into his bed. Ribbon awoke with an aching in his chest. His head swam in circles as he opened his eyes, then looked down at E̶r̶r̶o̶r̶’̶s̶ his soul. Huh, nothing looked like it changed . . . He placed his soul back into his chest.

A faint glow at the edge of the room caught his attention. Ribbon sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. In Nightmare’s hand, a purple soul floated in place. Lavender, but close enough. It was smaller than his palms and much smaller than a regular soul. Nightmare had the soft smile he only ever gave to him. He pet the top and the soul shivered.

“Ooh . . . did it work?” Ribbon felt the question was obvious, but it still came out.

“It worked wonderfully. You did such a good job.” Nightmare flicked two of his fingers and Ribbon slipped off the bed. Nightmare caressed the soul again.

“Skeleton babies and human babies don't grow the same. They only take three months to develop compared to nine. It will be your job to tend to the soul in its youth. By the next month, we’ll learn if we’re having a son or a daughter. Would you like to hold it?” With his nod, Nightmare passed the soul onto Ribbon.

The soul twitched and tugged in his grip. Ribbon panicked. He was determined not to drop it. It wouldn’t be good for it or Nightmare. He struggled to hold the soul in one hand and pull his string with the other. “What do I have to do to take care of it?”

“You must keep it warm, keep it away from sharp surfaces, give it affection, and feed it liquid magic. I’ll get you some. This pillow isn't going to stay here either. I'll keep it in my room, I simply wanted to surprise you." Nightmare chuckled.

“Got it!” Ribbon took in all the rules and kissed Nightmare. It didn’t seem too difficult. He’s done harder things. Ribbon pet the soul. He could do this.

As soon as that first month passed and a soft hum began to play from the soul, they began work on the nursery. Apparently it meant it was a girl, but Ribbon had no idea how to tell the difference. That might’ve also been because he hadn’t had a soul until last year.

“What do you think?” Ribbon held the soul of his future daughter on a pillow and spun in a circle. Ribbon did all the wall painting, he chose a light blueish-purple. He didn’t know the name of the exact color. A crib rocked by the window with a mobile, colorful stars, the sun, and a moon.

The soul made another hum, so Ribbon took that as she liked it. Ribbon couldn’t wait to see what she’d look like born. Ribbon sat back on a wood rocking chair. He took the soft blue blanket that was behind it and wrapped the soul in it. The vibration and the hum told him she liked it.

“I wonder if you’re going to be more like me or more like Nighty . . .” Ribbon thought out loud. It didn’t twitch as much to one name or the other. He held it up and kissed the top, earning a loud hum in return. "Oh, are you hungry?"

Ribbon stood up and grabbed a bottle of glowing blue liquid from the white cabinet. He took a syringe too. The needle always freaked him out. Does it hurt? Would she even remember by the time he asked? Ribbon pressed the needle against the middle of the soul, pushing in gently. The soul glowed every few seconds as if swallowing.

"Good baby, good little soul!" Ribbon beamed. He couldn't tell if she liked the attention, but it seemed so.

The next two months were similar. Ribbon adjusted his routine so he spent a decent part of the day taking care of the future baby. It grew a little bigger every day, but not big enough to escape his single hand. Killer, Horror, and Dust sometimes checked in, played with, or even helped with the little soul. Cross didn't seem to care, or like it. But Nightmare was the most in love. He was the one who tenderly held Ribbon and rested his head against the crook of his neck. He was the one who put her to sleep when Ribbon was too tired. And he was the one planning every step of her future. He said he was going to homeschool her and teach her to be a powerful ruler like him. Ribbon didn't need friends to live, so why should she?

One morning, Ribbon woke up and noticed something changed. The pillow they usually kept the soul on grew twice as large. Nightmare never told him something like this would happen. What if it was sick?

"Come- oh, shoot. Come here." Ribbon fumbled with his pull-string, trying to pull it and pick the soul up at the same time. He dashed out of the room, looking around for his husband. He didn't have any meetings today, and he didn't have any missions that he knew of. Why would it be so early anyways? Why couldn't he sense where others were at all times too? The first place he decided to check was his office.

"Nightmare?" Ribbon opened the door. He wasn't at his desk. The soul twitched and kept trying to flee. Ribbon looked down at it. "Calm down, Mama's going to get you help!"

The doll left the room and continued to search. He ran into Killer, who was just walking through the gothic hallway.

"Easy, dollface! What's the matter?" Killer asked. He looked down at the heart in Ribbon's hands.

"Something's wrong with the baby! I need Nightmare!" Ribbon panicked. He worried that if he didn't get help in time, the soul would explode. Probably wouldn't happen, but he didn't know better. "Where is he?"

"Library last time I saw him. Shi- I mean, that doesn't look good. Come on." Killer gestured over his shoulder. Ribbon knew Nightmare hated it when anyone swore in front of his face. They dashed down the hallway. Ribbon whispered encouraging words to the soul to keep her steady. He couldn't mess it up now!

They found Nightmare in the library as Kille said. He stood on a ladder, dusting off one of the shelves and humming a song. Either hearing him walk in or sensing his aura, Nightmare looked over his shoulder and down at Ribbon. He seemed less pleased about Killer. “Good morning, my sweet little lamb. I wanted to complete some work since I had no other plans, which is why I let you sleep in.”

“Nightmare? Something wrong with the baby! What do I do?"

With a sudden look of concern, Nightmare climbed down the ladder. “How so?”

Ribbon held out the pillow and showed him the trembling lavender soul. “I don’t know how it got like this. I woke up and it started shaking! Is it bad? Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry!"

“Hmm . . .” The dark king’s fingers brushed against the soul. He flicked one toward him, but the soul didn’t stable. Nightmare tried harder and Ribbon tensed at the movement. The soul tried to hold onto him like a magnet.

“Fascinating,” Nightmare said to himself. “I can sense a strong amount of negative energy inside it. The baby is ready to be born."

The doll wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more anxious. Part of him assumed that could be the case. It still felt surreal. The build-up was there, but the payoff seemed like it would never happen. Killer scrunched his face. “And how is that supposed to work?

Nightmare took Ribbon's hand and sat them both down on the ground. “Well, I'll show you. I'll need your assistance. Bring me a bucket full of warm water, some blankets, and the pair of pajamas on Ribbon's nightstand. In my room, not his room."

Killer dashed off, not one to disobey Nightmare's orders. Nightmare turned to Ribbon. His tendril removed the arm

but wait here and allow me to check something.”

Ribbon cleared off the main table in the library, the one between the armchairs. He set the books and notepads aside. Nightmare used his tendrils to put everything back in its proper place. One of the books Ribbon picked up was on baby care. He flipped through the first few pages in case it was useful. As always, the words swam around and letters turned to mush. But the soul began to hum, almost a scream this time, so Ribbon grabbed it instead. He curled up into a little ball and held the soul close.

Nightmare paused in the middle of brushing off a shelf. He seemed pleased with Ribbon's instinct, though he stayed quiet. Killer made it back to the room with all the right items, yelling over his shoulder. "-shut up, Dust! It's for boss! You can see it in a minute!"

"Dust knows?" Nightmare walked back to the center by the table. He lay some of the blankets down and set the bucket on the floor. The pajamas lay next to the blankets.

"He knows. He was wondering why I was dragging in a giant bucket." Killer shook his hand off to help the feeling of the weight. "So, now what? Are you putting the soul in the water?"

"That would be correct. Stand back and be quiet, both of you. I've spent the last month researching this so every move is perfect." Nightmare took the shaking, squealing, growing soul and set it in the warm water.

Ribbon didn't want to be near the water in the first place. He sat on his knees on the armchair and looked down at the water. The soul glowed so bright it made the water look purple. A shell of bone overtook it and that bone stretched out. Two stubs on the sides became arms and two more stubs became legs. One stub cracked and grew out of the top, rounding out. Her soft small head. The baby covered up so much space that Ribbon had a harder time seeing. He looked as high as he could.

"What in the . . . look, I knew this was coming, but this is still so weird. I knew skeletons grew in test tubes, but not whatever this is." Killer's tone was a mix of disgust and extreme curiosity. He rested his head on his hand. The bucket began to shake. Ribbon tensed up. Oh no . . ."

"It's an odd process, that's for sure." Nightmare said. The bucket of water began to cry and splash. Water stained the carpet and the table and chairs. Ribbon jumped back in fear as a splash landed an inch away from his wrist. Nightmare picked him up with a tendril "Ribbon, it's okay. They're small splashes. Close your eyes for a moment if it makes you feel better, and to keep it a surprise."

"Okay! I just don't wanna get wet! I can't break." Ribbon did as he asked, squeezing his eyes shut. His soul beat with excitement and anxiety. It was happening, it was really happening! He listened as Nightmare removed something from the water and wrapped it in blankets.

The Lord of Negativity lowered him back down and now held a crying bundle of blankets in his arms. He stood in front of him, kissed his cheekbone, and handed them over. “You did so well, my little doll. Aurora is adorable.”

Ribbon lit up at the praise and looked down at the newborn skeleton, taking her in his arms. Her teeny tiny arms reached out and gripped the air. She wore the stiched button pajamas he made for her. Nightmare had to get him thr rough measures, but they seemed to fit well. Both of her eye lights were white. Her soul was a mix of lavender and pink. She blinked up at him and stopped crying. Ribbon tickled her neck and she clenched her fists around his finger. I made this thing. She’s perfect!

Nightmare smiled. “Aw, she seems to have a fond attachment to you. But that is expected. You’re the one who took care of her these last three months. Her soul learned you were her caretaker so she’ll want you by instinct."

The doll fumbled to grab his string as the baby in his arms blocked him. This might be easier than he thought if one of the only things he had to do was be there. He got it, and the baby tried to bite it at. “Oh . . . that’s neat! Did you say her name was ‘Aurora’? Hey, no biting!"

Nightmare rubbed the baby’s skull, pulling her away from the pullstring. “Correct. I named her after the aurora borealis. I can tell she will be powerful, the child of two guardians. It’s never happened before. There’s been offspring from one guardian, but never two. Even more interesting, you aren’t a true one.”

Ribbon looked back at their daughter. He felt a powerful protective urge over Aurora. He hugged her close to his chest like one of his teddy bears. He wanted to keep his little baby safe and happy. Nightmare was right, he was good at this. He was always right, why did he ever doubt him? "I love her! I love her so much!"

Killer watched as Ribbon snuggled with his new baby. He gave Nightmare a side glance; Ribbon recognized that look. "Quick question, what would happen if you left the soul shaking and didn't drown it in water?"

Nightmare smiled at him nonchalantly. "Miscarriage."

Ribbon fed Aurora her bottle. He rocked her in his lap, humming a slowed version of a song to make a lullaby. He couldn’t figure out where he heard the tune before, but it sounded familiar. Probably because a flute played it. He still played the flute, but not too much anymore. He did it for Nightmare. Aurora finally stopped crying after having some milk. Poor thing was hungry. Nightmare didn’t like listening to her cry, that wasn’t perfect like a daughter should be.

Her little hands gripped the plastic until it was all gone. Ribbon took a cloth and wiped off the remaining milk on her chin. He laid Aurora back in her crib and gave her her stuffed bunny. Ribbon made it out of a captured soul and it was white with a green stomach and stitching.

“Go to sleep, sweetie. Mama loves you.” Ribbon kissed her head. Now what to do after this . . . maybe dust out the library? Nightmare would like that. He yawned, exhausted from dealing with a needy baby, but he couldn’t nap. Nightmare wouldn’t like that, he needs his little doll! He shouldn’t be complaining in the first place, he was never asked much of. Ribbon began to walk out, but not before something caught his senses.

Aurora squirmed in her crib. Her hand wrapped around her crib bar, tangling up in her blankets. Her eyes narrowed. “Mm-a . . . ma . . .”

Ribbon gasped and turned back to Aurora. She babbled more noises and made grabby hands. Ribbon took one of her hands. “Come on, say mama!”

“Maw . . . ma . . . mawa . . .”

“Almost there!” Ribbon smiled. He wished Nightmare was here and not at his mafia meeting.

“Mamwa . . . mama.” Aurora looked pleased with herself. She squirmed in her blankets and cried, “Mama! Mama!”

Ribbon grinned and kissed her head. “Good girl! You did it! Aw! Mama is so proud of you! Now go on, take your nap. Papa is going to be so proud . . .”

Ribbon rocked Aurora’s cradle until she fell asleep, though his energy was right back. He waited until nightfall when Nightmare came back in. He had a hand pressed against his face. Ribbon pulled his string in excitement.

He spoke fast. “Hi, Nighty! I missed you! You never could’ve guessed what happened today! Aurora said her first word! She said mama!”

Nightmare’s stoic face softened. He looked Ribbon over and let out a quiet chuckle. “Is that so? Hopefully she can learn to say papa next.”

“She will. She’s going to be as smart as I am, I know it.” Nightmare smiled at the baby. Ribbon could tell from his gaze that he had a lot of plans for her.

Nightmare woke up in the middle of the night to a strong negative aura. It wasn’t a first. His team had frequent nightmares, especially when they started, about their previous trauma. Nightmare would then sit down and listen to them describe their dreams or traumas. Sometimes all they needed was a listening ear, sometimes sleep magic. Or sometimes they needed their negative emotions drained before they could rest again.

This aura was too small to be one of his boys though, in addition to Killer and Cross being on a trip. It left it to be only one of two souls. And one was more likely than the other.

He glanced over at Ribbon. The living doll was still asleep. If someone had told him a century ago that he would enjoy the domestic life, he’d scoff in their face. Perhaps even strangle them with a tendril. Pressing a kiss to her head, Nightmare slipped out of bed and crept through the hall.

He opened the door to his child's room and found the poor Aurora shivering in a ball. Her purple and blue blankets lay in messy piles across her bed. Her night light sent a white glow across the room. The designs were of several crescent moons. He turned on a lamp. He assumed he would need the extra light.

Nightmare crouched by her side and ran his hand down her skull. Aurora jumped and Nightmare had a glimpse of her dream. Aurora was trapped in the middle of a storm. Dark clouds covered the sky and lightning cracked in blinding light.

Corrupted swarmed in droves. Their faces and bodies melted and distorted, gazing with empty eyes. They fought against soldiers with silver armor and golden sun symbols. Unfortunately, Nightmare recognized some of them. The one in the front was the most stable. He held dual pistols, or more accurately, they melted into his hands. Aurora ran away, running in place until someone grabbed the back of her shirt. She screamed and kicked. The person holding her was Dream.

Dream turned around to block her from the war. “Please, listen to me. My name is Dream Joku, former Guardian of Positivity, leader of the Star Sanses, and your father’s brother. You need to help me and my friends. I don't have much time before I go back." Dream looked up as a growl sounded from the sky. A Corrupted tackled Dream, biting him on the shoulder and making him scream. He threw Aurora an unnatural distance, straight into a horde of amalgamations.

The creatures swarmed around her. Aurora stood up and tried to run, but she was shoved right back down. She wailed. "Mama! Papa! MAMA!"

Nightmare snapped out of the vision by pulling his hand away. It took several blinks to regain his focus. It was the first time he experienced her magic.

Aurora woke up completely, shaking. “Papa! I’m sorry! I had a bad dream!”

The dark king rubbed his eyelight, looking back down at his six-year-old daughter. He took her magic-suppressing bracelet off her nightstand and attached it to her. “It’s fine. You’re not the only one with nightmares in this castle. I’ve had to help everyone else at least once.”

Aurora’s shoulders relaxed. Nightmare looked at her with question and concern. “How often have you had this dream? And does it happen to feel . . . realistic? Plausible?”

“I’ve had it a-a few times, I don’t know, sometimes it feels real and sometimes it doesn’t. There’s this big battle and you and Mama always get hurt. Then the castle falls apart, then Uncle Dream rescues me before it falls on my head-”

“Your uncle isn’t like that, he doesn’t love you in the first place.” Nightmare snapped. He noticed Aurora’s flinch and sighed. “My apologies, I’m just worried about you, firefly. I’m still not sure how much of a guardian you are. I don’t know if your dreams are prophetic.”

“I don’t think so . . .” Aurora whispered. She hugged her stuffed bunny, remaining quiet. Nightmare was still proud of Ribbon for mastering that spell. “Um, Papa? Can I ask a question?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“How did you and Mama meet?”

Nightmare bit his lower jaw to hide his expression. It was unclear if Aurora had inherited the ability to sense emotions. She learned to control her illusion magic, but even then it wasn’t mastered.

Nightmare chose his words with caution. It would be difficult to say, I abducted, tortured, and brainwashed him to be perfect and lovable. He knew Ribbon’s fake backstory by heart now. “Well . . . I found your mother abandoned in an AU. I sensed her negativity and found her damaged, her AU was never finished and she was injured. I took pity on her and brought her to my castle where I healed her. She began to thrive and fight my cause. At one point, she was taken by your uncle and his teammate and tortured by them. I rescued her, but she's still shaken. That's why I'm so protective, I don't want her in battle where she could get hurt."

“That’s awful!” Aurora gasped. “They were called the Star Sanses, right?”

“Correct.”

“And if Mama was part of them . . . how did you get her out?”

Nightmare chuckled at her clueless tone. “I distracted them in a battle with help from your uncles. I took her back to the castle, cleaned her up, and started to work on her. The poor thing was a mess after a mere few weeks. I had to be gentle so as not to frighten her. It took work, but he healed and became the person she is today. I will admit, I made some foolish mistakes along the way, but for every fault, two more successes came out of it. For example, we made you.” He pet her head. “I became so much happier with her in my life. I wouldn’t want to change a thing.”

Aurora smiled, though she still looked scared. A thud from the hallway, a footstep, made her jump. Nightmare looked toward the door and saw Dust looking in. Aurora hid under her blanket, only with her purple eye lights peeking out.

Nightmare stood up. "Dust, what are you doing at this hour? I thought you overcame your insomnia a long time ago. Don't tell me you're experiencing nightmares too."

"I'm not, and I've over the insomnia. I was gettin' a glass of water because my nonexistent throat was dry." Dust rubbed the bridge between his eye sockets. The bags under his eyes never fully went away. "Bad dreams again?"

"Yes. Now she doesn't want to sleep because she's scared." He gestured to Aurora, who relaxed seeing it was Dust and not a monster. “Give your niece some advice on fighting. She’s afraid of being attacked. It's good for her to learn."

Dust groaned and sat on the bed, setting his water glass down. He looked down at the little girl. “Look. Your dad has control over the whole multiverse. You shouldn’t be scared of anythin’. But the trick is to go for their emotional weakspots. Break em' from the inside, your dad knows enough about that."

Nightmare hummed. "I agree with everything he said. Remember that you're the daughter of the God of Negativity. You have so much untapped power inside you. You can fight anyone. I'll keep you safe from anyone trying to manipulate your mind. Now, do you feel better?"

Aurora listened intently, absorbing all the information, then she nodded. Her eyes lit up with fire as if something clicked. "Yes, Papa. A lot better."

"Good, I'm goin' back to bed. Night." Dust half-heartedly waved and left. Nightmare shook his head with a partial smile. He tucked Aurora back into bed, fixing her messy blankets.

"You should go to bed too. Little princesses like you need their beauty rest." Nightmare kissed her head and pressed his palm against it. His magic helped guide her to sleep. He looked forward to when she was an adult and could rule properly. She could take Dream's place, or better yet, Core could break their truce and give Nightmare a reason to kill them.

And Aurora could take everything they built.

==============================================================================

Snow blew in the wind as Core ran across the rotten terrain, panting. They carried a massive black bag full of medical supplies over their shoulder. They had to move with caution so they didn’t step on the puddles of malice that covered every surface. This AU also had sharp emeralds embedded in the ground they had to keep from stabbing them in the foot. When was the last time they’ve seen a nice sunny day? The weather was always dreary, frostbiting, and miserable. Damn it, Nightmare! What do you have against sunlight?

Core paused and listened for sounds of movement or the growling the Corrupted was known for. Teleportation was too risky. They were already close to where they had to go and they didn’t want to teleport somewhere close to a Corrupted. It’s happened once before and they were left with a nasty scar across their forehead. They finally heard a scream close by and ran to it. Their ropes and gear were ready.

Core sent a team to rescue the survivors of an AU called Undergem as they’ve been for the last five years. Five years, four months, and twenty-one days to be exact. Rescue missions became common practice. They started sending out teams with magic because there were so many souls in need. They finally caught a distorted growl in the wind. Core Frisk touched the side of a tree and looked down from the ledge they stood on. Two Corrupted bit and snapped at the small rescue group they sent out. From looks alone, it looked like the shopkeeper and Undyne. Stage four from their best guess, their bones were definitely cracked and malformed. Blood and malice splattered the ground. They were hungry.

Core narrowed their gaze and dug through their bag as fast as possible. They pulled out two gold bottles, which they made with help from Underswap Undyne at camp. Positivity may have been what these things were attracted to, but it was also their key weakness. They figured that out the hard way; the memory made their head scar ache. They followed a path carved into the side of the rocks.

Core did their best to stay out of the monsters’ sight. Their pale blue cloak helped out as it covered everything but their face. Even that had a gray gas mask to keep from inhaling the sludge. Poppy, the head of the rescue group, fired her soul projectiles to fend one off. Her attack dug into the melted bones of the Undyne. It created a distraction so Fell fired a Gaster Blaster. The monster screamed and melted into a malice puddle. Core grinned and took their chance to throw one of the vials. Smashing against the storekeeper, he clutched his eye. The vial stained his eye with a nasty golden burn.

“Get out of here!” Core shooed them off with one of their arms. They looked at the group, scanning for injuries. The group of four turned into seven, so the rescue was successful. They weren’t too worried about Poppy. Both of their souls were too unstable for the corruption to thrive, making them immune. Core’s soul being shattered across space and time and Poppy’s being a doodle. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be hurt, weakened, or killed. “Is everyone okay? Did anyone get infected? Any stains, bites, or scratches?”

The group exchanged glances with each other. Fell checked something under his sleeve, catching Core’s attention. They approached the battered skeleton and stared him down. “Fell, show me. It could be life or death.”

The edgy skeleton tightened his grip on his arm, but then he gave up. He groaned and rolled up his black jacket sleeve. As they expected, a deep blueish-purple scratch bled across his entire forearm. The Undyne’s sharp claws were the most likely cause. The corruption made them as physically dangerous as it did mentally. Fell cringed at his own wound, but he hid it under a scoff. “Fucking thing scratched me when I wasn’t looking.”

“How long ago were you affected?” Core talked as they waved their hand and opened a portal. They didn’t pay attention, but they could hear the refugees fleeing. They stuffed their relief deep down, fearing the emotion would attract more monsters.

“I don’t know. Somewhere between two and five minutes before you got here?” Fell scowled, but his voice cracked at the end. He covered his cut back up. “Do you have to?”

“We do, we still have time. I don’t like it either.” Core looked through their bag and pulled out a roll of bandages. They kept their knife at their side in case they needed a quick attack, but they kept another one in their bag. The last thing an injury would need is a whole other infection in the wound. They rolled up Fell’s sleeve. He pulled back by instinct, but Core held him in place. The blackened scratch bubbled like boiling water. An eye opened sideways from inside, the parasite. “We have to make this quick. Three . . . two . . .”

Core sawed Fell’s arm with the knife, trying to make it as fast and painless as possible. The cries of pain always made them guilty. If only they had whatever the cure was. Fell’s arm fell off. Core pulled a toll of bandages from their bag and wrapped them around the bone.

Core pulled a lollipop from their bag, holding it to Fell. They kept them around to comfort young souls if they found them. “Want a treat?”

Fell scoffed, but he took the lollipop, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. He gazed into the portal. “Let’s get out of this hell hole.” He trudged over to it. Before he could enter, Core felt a vibration on their chest.

“Shoot. Stay behind me.” Core paused as their necklace glowed and buzzed. They created it with magic to sense the four fallen souls. The one good thing about Nightmare making them hate each other was that they would never attack at once. They held their necklace in their hand. Epic’s white and purple heart glowed. They hovered it around until the glow was the strongest, at a set of giant boulders. They cautiously stepped closer and spotted a tripwire extending between the two points. Core grabbed a rock and threw it on the wire, triggering the trap. A net sprung from the ground and tied itself at the top. “Found you, Epic. Again.”

“Oh come on, bruh! You’re no fun.” Epic teleported down and rolled his eye lights. Core stopped feeling sick whenever they saw them. They still didn’t know how to break Nightmare’s spell and no, slapping them really hard in the face didn’t work.

“I’m trying not to get people killed. There’s still approximately nineteen point-seven percent of the multiverse left. You’ve taken everyone else.” Core held the left flap of their cloak close to their body. “What does Nightmare want?”

Epic zoned out for a moment and his voice deepened in pitch. His brash smile turned into a cold scowl. “What I want is for you to stop sending these little ‘rescue missions’ into my AUs. I want you to stay out of them unless absolutely necessary.

“I’m not damaging your land or taking the souls you already have. I’m helping those who remain.” Core scrunched their face. Calling the Doodlesphere Nightmare’s always left a bad taste on their tongue.

Epic/Nightmare rolled his eyes lights. “I suppose you have a point. But you’re also you’re scaring my Ribbon. I will keep my deal as to not attack you directly, nor will I invade your citizens, wherever it is. As soon as you step over the line, I’ll make you watch everything you built burn down. You won’t be the first to die.”

Epic’s voice turned back to normal, or as normal as it could get when you’re mind-controlled. “Whatever he said, plus you’re pissing me off, bruh. I’m just screwing around and you’re getting stuck-up about it.” Epic took out his rubber chicken and squeezed it. Even after he developed a new fondness for grenades, he didn’t give up his weapon of choice.

“Stuck up? There’s a difference between pulling a prank and turning thousands of souls into zombies. There’s an even bigger difference between a prank and murder.”

“So?”

“I’m done.” Core waved their hand once more to form the portal home. They didn’t want to escalate a battle while Fell was missing an arm and in pain.

“How about I beat his ass before he scurries off again?” Fell rolled up his sleeve. His magic eyes flashed red.

“Bruh, you only have one arm left to use. I could wack you one time and you’re done for-”

Fell fired three Gaster Blasters at Epic. He dodged the first one, but the second caught his arm. Fell shot a bone to push Epic into the third blaster. When the light and dust cleared, Epic was half unconscious against a boulder. His rubber chicken, by some miracle, suffered no damage. Fell laughed, wincing at the pain the sudden movements caused. “Don’t need an arm to do that!”

Core Frisk crouched down to his body and hovered his soul out of his chest. Still black like a chocolate covering over a truffle. They hesitated to touch it. Their hand traveled to their belt and they uncorked another positivity bottle. Epic wasn’t corrupted normally like the other monsters were. It was only his soul. Could this work? Or would it kill him? Core poured a drop onto the soul.

A hiss sounded from his soul. Epic woke up from his stupor and screamed. The part they poured the soul on melted, sending panic through Core’s soul. “Dang it, dang it! Fell, we have to go. When he returns to his senses, he’ll want vengeance.”

“Ugh, fine.” Fell followed Core through the portal. They shut it quickly. The snow faded into a pure white sky, sandy ground, and a fair amount of trees. A giant chain-link fence with an extra layer of backing steel made a rectangle. As soon as they were stable, Fell walked up to the nearest storage bag and punched it with a yell. It drew the attention of monsters and humans walking and hanging around. A monster parent pulled their child closer.

Core crossed their arms behind their back and leaned forward, looking up at Fell. “Do you think your brother would like to see you this miserable and angry?”

Fell didn’t answer for a few moments. “No. He would say something like, ‘Sans, you lazybones! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get back to work!’ The corner of his mouth perked up before it fell once more. “But I don’t get it. Why does the shit stain the one who gets the happy ending? He got everything he wanted. Power, control, money, his castle, his family, his ‘wife’,” Fell punched the wall, “while we have to suffer! Never liked my bro that much, but when he became one of those things . . .”

Core stood on their tiptoes and patted his back. Fell didn’t like hugs, and they were honestly scared to try. He didn’t seem to hate the pat though. “I know, I don’t like it either. If I could beat him up, I would. We can’t directly attack each other because of our deal. But we can still try. It might take years, but I’ll find a cure for the corruption and bring the multiverse back to normal. Or I’m going to die trying.”

“Sure you will, kid.” He tried to whisper, but Core had good hearing after needing it to survive for years. Fell stormed off to join the remaining Underfell monsters. They seemed either shocked, bored, or laughed at his missing arm. He punched Underfell Mettaton in the face for mocking him. Core let out a quick laugh. Then the reminder that they were all doomed made them quiet.

They walked through the rest of the refugee camp. They had a population of two thousand, a fraction compared to the Omega Timeline. Beige tents lay in clumps and the spiked, electric, chain-link fence surrounded them. Core made a pocket AU so Nightmare couldn’t find them, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The storage bunker was in the northwest corner and the medbay was right next to the entrance. They waved at some of the monsters and humans they passed.

Core entered their tent. They had the largest of the encampment due to being the leader and head researcher. It was beige and separated into three rooms, heavy quotations on rooms. The one on the left was where they slept and stored personal items. The one on the right was a mini lab for testing corruption before handing it to the scientists. If it was too dangerous for them to handle, Core’s immunity would protect them so they’d know. And finally, the main tent was a little mix of everything. A Doodlesphere map lay on a chest beside the wall, marked with black and yellow squares, mostly black ones.

They fell back onto their mattress taking deep breaths and trying to relax. But how in the world were they meant to relax? The former royal guard swore a personal oath that he would protect them.

Epic/Nightmare never specified when they were supposed to meet him; they only had to be there. And it was going to be at night, his meetings were always in the evening. Nightmare was dramatic in that way. Core could rest and plan during that time.

They learned one thing today. Direct positivity on the soul didn't work.

In fact the more they thought about it, none of them ever seemed to die. They've watched other fighters attack the monsters hundreds of times at this point.

Where was Reaper? Where were any of the Reapertale gods? Core closed their eyes and focused. The lavish waterfalls and forests were still there, but puddles of malice coated it. Their powers flashed through different areas. They found the God of the Skies, an Asgore, along with a few others but some were missing. One of the missing happened to be Reaper. That wasn’t good . . .

Core Frisk hesitated as they tried to decide whether or not to enter the portal. They shut the portal, deciding against it. Common sense told them they needed a better plan before wandering into a corrupted zone unprepared.

They snapped their fingers and teleported their journal over. Yes, they stole the idea from Nightmare. Cross and Epic told them about it while they were in the dungeon together. Core used theirs more like a pseudo-research guide instead of a torture scrapbook. They crossed off the idea of spilling positivity on their souls. That was a no.

Soul drainage? Failed, only made the test subject weaker.

Hypnotizing music? It had a bit of an effect on Blue, but it didn't last long and he didn't snap out of it.

Hitting them in the head? Knocked Cross out, but no.

Kidnapping a Murder Time Trio Member, Ribbon, or their daughter? Too risky, especially the latter two. Yet some residents still wanted this idea to happen.

They had a few others, but they were starting to doubt themselves. No, they couldn't give up. There had to be some kind of loophole, another solution besides killing Nightmare. Core read through their list of ideas until they settled on a golden apple sketch. That was a plan to locate Dreamtale and take remains of the gold apples, or the tree bark. They had to have some magical properties that remained. The personal connection to Nightmare must be worth something too . . .

Well, what did they have left to lose? And the were too stressed and worked up to be tired. Core Frisk readjusted their cloak, grabbed a basket from near the door, and left the tent. They looked around for their second-in-command.

They found Poppy by the food supplies, looking into the dark bunker and taking notes. They heard their footsteps as soon as they approached. "Captain?"

Core Frisk waved. “Poppy, I need you to make sure the guard is armed and prepared for next week on the fifth. I won’t be here. I'll be in Dreamtale looking for golden apple remains. Can you do that?"

Poppy nodded with a determined smile. "I got it, captain! You can count on me. Also, we're starting to run low on water. Just thought you should know!"

"Thank you, Poppy. And I will refill stock." Core nodded, touching their sealed head scar. Something . . . something had to work. They'd get their friends back, save the Doodlesphere, and defeat Nightmare and Ribbon once and for all. And even if it took a century or more to find, they'd find a cure.