Chapter Text
Well…
He had to admit, it wasn't his most graceful moment.
Nor was it his most graceful landing, but did it really matter in the end?
By the way the Guardian, Dream, seemed to grunt and groan in pain from the landing, then maybe it did.
Ink grumbled as he shifted, eventually sliding himself slightly off the yellow skeleton, ignoring the resulting grunt of pain from the action.
His ear was still ringing, it was irritating, he let out a small tiny huff.
Honestly though, when had his life gotten so difficult? This was all Dream’s fault, why did he have to be such an intriguing character.
The tension slowly left their body the moment the Glitch’s scream seemed to stop echoing in his mind; the Destroyer's voice always seemed to leave his head with a pounding headache, especially when he was mad and grumpy, which was unfortunately a rather common occurrence.
Did that stop Ink from testing the limits of what he could get away with? No, it was funny, and the temporary pain was almost always worth it. After all, the Glitch was one of the very limited characters he could interact with regularly without consequences.
Minus the blood and carnage that always followed.
Despite his admittedly reckless attitude towards the Glitch, he really had come a bit too close to allowing Dream to be killed in the wrong place and at the wrong time.
Ink let out a relieved breath as he lay on his back in the tacky puddle of liquid that his magic produced, letting his eyelids slide closed.
He tiredly opened his right eye and blinked it slowly while the other remained loosely closed. The adrenaline was fading fast from his body and with it his energy, leaving him tired in a way he had never experienced. Numbly he stared up at the ceiling that was seemingly spinning.
Voices, he could hear them behind them, above them? Somewhere in the room, voices made their way to him, sparking some awareness back to his mind.
“-alley, I was trying to get in contact with– was this–... –horrible noise, then Ink appeared and he must have–” that sounded like Dream, he sounded… fine.
“-guys happened? The both–... shoot out of–... a bat out of hell, I don't even know how to explain–” and the Underswap Papyrus’s voice, looks like he did manage to go up the correct pipe, he was a genius.
The sound of their panicked talk above and around him helped to put his mind more at ease, and wasn't that a strange thought? When had he ever felt such a way about characters knowing of his existence?
It was wrong, it was unforgivable, it was like he was truly alive for the first time since–
Getting off track.
What mattered was he did it, despite the fog (that was quickly taking over his mind now that he had managed to evacuate the Guardian) he was able to reach the Guardian in time to stop them from being chopped in half and becoming dust in the wind.
Ink hummed lowly to himself.
That could have been disastrous, he didn't think he remembered how to go about resetting an outcode, it had been ages. They were tricky, unlike regular characters—especially ones like Yellow-whats-his-face—Yellow, what was it again? Ink had just been able to remember a moment ago—
Oh right, Dream. The other main character in Dreamtale. It was in the name.
Ugh… Memory issues again.
That was normal.
But blurry vision and sloppy movement that was hindering them wasn't. Something was wrong with their body, or at least as far as he could recall.
Anyway, whatever, he stopped the Guardian's destruction so that didn't matter now.
But still, how could he have let that situation even unfold? His normally sharp senses were muddy, and... floppy, like he was covered in hardening mud, which, he partly was, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the reason why he was so… disconnected, so floppy.
Now, however, knowing he had returned to the safe sanctuary they had found, he was struggling to remember the reason why he still needed to go back out into the rain and the cold when it was so toasty warm and nice-smelling where he lay…
A sharp pinch-like sensation tickled his spine, his right eye light flickering in response.
Oh, right, the Glitch was having a temper tantrum and taking their anger out on the area they had just left.
He should probably get on that, but did he really need to do it right away? It's not like he couldn't fix the damage later. Who cares if he takes a few selfish moments for himself? He certainly deserved a small rest after doing such a good job at protecting the yellow Guardian all this time. They would understand, right?
(‘No,’ the little voice in his head demanded, almost desperately, ‘it needs to be fixed right now.’)
mmmm... The voice did have a point.
Too bad he didn't really have the energy or the care to listen.
Besides, he needed to rest first to restore his motor functionality, and sleep was his body's answer to those problems.
How could anyone expect him to do his job properly without a break now and then?
As soon as he napped he would probably be in functional condition.
Besides, no matter his internal desire, it was becoming increasingly hard to resist the primal urge to roll over and just drift into an alcohol-fuelled daze.
If anyone was to ask, Dream overall felt a deep sense of disappointment at himself and a strange sense of dread about this whole situation. How could he have let this happen?
His fists tightened their grips on the towel wrapped around his body. Luckily, he was right that the raincoat seemed to have protected him not only from the rain but also from the ink he had tumbled out of—not completely, but mostly.
His bones felt cold now that the air conditioner was no longer pumping a consistent stream of warm, toasty air throughout the room, and the rain that had managed to slip past the plastic coat and soak into his clothes was rather uncomfortable against his bones.
He felt uncomfortably damp.
Dream suppressed the desire to sniffle.
If he did, he could always blame it on the situation he had gotten himself into…
What had he been thinking? Leaving Ink alone unsupervised was quite possibly the most insane action he had taken in many years.
How Dream had forgotten about the bottle of alcohol that was inside of Blue’s bag? He didn't know.
He certainly could still remember the gut-punching intensity of the steel bottle’s contents quite vividly, but after the rapid-fire of events, back to back, it had definitely slipped his mind.
And clearly, Blue was feeling that same sense of guilt if not tenfold for the lapse of memory.
He and Blue currently were both sitting on the carpet across from Stretch as he scolded them for their actions while their unintentional victim lay sprawled across the ruined carpet, making inky angels as he babbled senselessly to himself.
The room was overall not completely dark; the weak light from the sun was just strong enough to brighten the room just enough for everyone to see, though a human would have likely struggled.
On Dream's left, Blue was all but a moping pile of regret and guilt, reprimanding himself for sneaking alcohol into his travel bag, while Dream endured the finishing words from Stretch for risking his (and Ink's) safety without the others' knowledge.
He could almost see the stress and annoyance radiating off Stretch's skull as he paced, looking anything but the normally lazy and relaxed monster he usually was.
Dream had never had the chance to grow up in a household—it was just him and his brother, their mother a tree, dormant and seemingly unaware of the world passing by around her, leaving her two young sons to teach themselves about the world. But he had a feeling this must be what it feels like to be a young boy getting scolded by a parent after being caught red-handed with their hand in the cookie jar.
“I hope you guys understand why I'm feeling pretty frustrated,” Stretch sighed, having finished a full-length monologue, his head in his palm as he prepared to conclude his lecture. “Dream, you should have told us your plans. If we’re going to be working together on this, then you need to talk to us so we can help. Whatever happened back there was apparently enough to freak Ink out enough for him to do… that.” He groaned, gesturing towards the warzone of a room.
“And Blue—” the skeleton straightened up. “—Well, do I even need to explain anymore about why having a whole bottle’s worth of Fireball whiskey in a camping water bottle was a terrible idea?” Stretch asked as he crossed his arms, frowning down at the youngest in the group, but the worry was crystal clear in his voice.
“I do, I'm sorry Papy, I swear on my soul I won't do anything like that again,” he apologised, his expression downcast as he poked his forefingers together. “I honestly completely forgot I’d even packed it in there. I think I was hoping to save it for a quiet moment so I could share a drink with Dream and see his reaction, but—” he paused to look over at Ink, still drunk and still seemingly unbothered by the sudden darkness or tension in the room, “I didn’t think something like this could have happened,” Blue said with a whimper, one hand moving up to idly play with his bandana with an upset frown.
“So much has happened in such a short amount of time that it just slipped my mind,” he said, his voice muffled as he hid in the folds of the blue cloth.
“No, the blame is not all on you, my friend,” Dream made sure to add, placing a hand on his chest. “I knew about the bottle as well. I found it shortly after we were separated, just after I first found Ink. But I too forgot about its existence—there were far more important matters to attend to at the time,” he said, while Blue looked at him in surprise, wondering what had led to the discovery.
Not waiting for a reply, Dream continued, “Even if alcohol was involved in this or not, it was silly and reckless of me to leave Ink unsupervised for as long as I did. I should have known better,” he said, watching as Ink flopped over onto his stomach and began slowly and clumsily dragging himself towards them—maybe he was feeling lonely?
Blue grimaced, clearly not agreeing with the statement. “But you weren’t the one who packed a bottle of alcohol into my bag. I did that.”
It was his immaturity that had led to the current situation, and for that, he felt terrible.
The blue skeleton glanced over at Ink, who had long given up trying to stand while they were rightfully being lectured. The void dweller had gone from flopping around in the middle of the floor to sprawling himself against Dream, laying claim to his lap—seemingly unbothered by the damp towel in his way, not acting like a (probably) fully adult monster, but instead a lazy house cat.
Ink seemed unconcerned about his intoxicated state nor the lack of power in the building, apparently perfectly content to stay where he was and on the verge of falling asleep, if he wasn’t already.
Stretch coughed into his fist, drawing attention back to himself. “Well, I’m glad you two are owning up to your mistakes, and we’ve learned our lessons about smuggling alcohol and not sharing information with the group,” he gently lectured, glancing between the two regretful monsters who nodded shamefully.
“Yes,” Blue agreed, feeling deflated. “I never thought I, the marvellous Blue, would be the one on the receiving end of a scolding—it’s normally the other way around. I am ashamed for letting myself go,” Blue whined, his head hung with guilt and shame.
Stretch slumped a bit, as if exhausted. “...Yeah, feels wrong,” Stretch agreed, losing his frown in favour of a more neutral expression as he leaned back against the kitchen table, scratching his head as he shrugged. “Feels like I’m a schoolteacher or something. It’s weird.”
Dream hummed where he sat, absently patting Ink’s back, who snuggled more into his lap with a short, throaty whine—melting into the gentle warmth Dream radiated, chasing away the chill. He let out a rumbling hum as he seemed to finally settle.
Although he did not feel great about the situation, Dream had to admit he was secretly enjoying the guilty pleasure of indulging in snuggling with the normally guarded void dweller while he could. Who knew when the next opportunity would present itself?
“I never got the chance to go to school—” Dream murmured softly, almost absentmindedly, while he leaned down to pull down Ink’s shirt that had ridden halfway up his spine from his rolling, “—but is this what it feels like to be in detention?” he asked, causing Stretch to blink in surprise at the unexpected question.
“Um, maybe? Do you feel guilty about your actions?” Stretch asked, to which Dream nodded violently in agreement.
“Then probably not,” he shrugged.
“Oh,” the guardian said in surprise, not expecting that answer. “...What is it supposed to feel like?” he asked, now genuinely curious to know.
Stretch shrugged yet again, scratching his shoulder as he pushed himself away from the table. “Eh, boring mostly.”
With the scolding seemingly over, Dream let out a sigh of relief, glad he was no longer under fire for his mistake. With that over, it was about time they addressed the state of the room.
Fortunately, even with the blackout it was not overly hard to see. Despite the rolling clouds, sunlight shone through the window easily, even with the heavy storm clouds overhead, so the room was not in complete darkness—leaving enough light for them to see the catastrophe that had become of their rented space.
Ink’s black magic was staining almost everything. It looked like someone had grabbed a full bucket of paint and thrown its contents across the room, leaving a long splatter—the trail starting from the kitchen, crossing the lounge, and landing directly in the middle of the far wall, which was still slowly trailing down onto the couch.
And their only hope of fixing even half the mess was currently half asleep and probably moments away from being incapacitated.
Despite that, Dream gently rubbed Ink’s shoulder, who hummed sleepily in response, not bothering, however, to open his eyes.
“Ink, I am sorry, I know you are sleepy, but you need to stay awake for now, okay? Do you think you can fix the carpet and the wall? I would really appreciate it,” he asked in a slow and gentle voice, gesturing towards the mess they had made once he was able to convince the drunk monster to open his eyes and look up at him. Ink’s eyes sluggishly followed his finger as he pointed.
Ink blinked slowly, his brain processing the request for a few awkward moments before it finally registered.
Ink made a soft, mumbled noise and seemed to deem the request acceptable, letting out a yawn as he extended a hand in a lazy and rather sluggish manner towards the mess.
For a moment, the dark stains began to bubble up like a thick, boiling stew, before most of the liquid began to float up out of the ruined furniture in an almost hypnotic manner and began sluggishly making its way towards the monster’s extended hand—only for it to make it halfway across the room before it destabilised, falling back onto the ground with a splat, ultimately staining the room further.
Ink’s body jolted from a stomach-deep hiccup, producing a sound similar to that of a suction cup attaching to a smooth surface—the noise and sensation causing the unduly intoxicated monster to giggle in a manner only possible for someone who was blackout drunk.
Dream frowned in worry despite the other’s jovial expression, gently petting Ink’s head, who leaned in with a delighted rumble.
“Oh dear,” he mumbled, watching as Ink’s expression quickly changed to a frown of annoyance as his hiccups continued, apparently no longer finding enjoyment in his body’s involuntary action once the novelty had worn thin.
“You must be having trouble controlling your magic because of all the alcohol in your system,” he guessed—not that he had any clue if that was how alcohol worked with a monster’s magic. Despite his long life, he wasn’t keen on finding out what it felt like to lose his senses—especially if Nightmare caught wind of him being impaired.
Such an opportunity would likely make his corrupted brother froth at the mouth from pure excitement.
Gently lifting Ink up by his armpits, Dream manoeuvred him so he was instead leaning into his side, keeping him there with a secure but not restrictive hug. He chose to ignore Ink’s grumbled protests.
“Thank you for trying either way. You are a good friend,” he praised gently, glad that Ink had at least tried.
Ink side-eyed him with a mild glare, a muffled hiccup escaping him. He was acting like Dream was at fault for his hiccups—which, in a roundabout way, he partly was.
“I really hope he’s okay. He drank the whole bottle. I'm actually surprised he’s even awake right now…” Blue mumbled as he scooted closer to Dream’s side, his hands fidgeting in front of him as he watched on with rising anxiety, his aura radiating so much guilt that Dream had to suppress a shudder.
“Think he’s got alcohol poisoning?” Stretch asked, seemingly offhandedly, before realising that that very much could be the case.
“Ah, right. Full bottle of whiskey. Dumb question.”
“What are the symptoms?” Dream asked nervously.
“Um, might be remembering wrong, but confusion, trouble remaining conscious, um… vomiting, I think slow or irregular breathing, low body temperature, and possibly seizures,” he listed, continuing after a few moments, “Technically slurred speech, but… I don't think that applies here, considering. And I don't mean to alarm anyone, but worst-case scenario: coma and death.”
Blue felt like he could faint again if Stretch kept talking.
“Ink does seem to be showing a few of the symptoms…” Blue mumbled, sweating slightly.
Dream frowned as he pulled off a glove to feel along the void dweller’s neck and the back of his hand—he felt cold.
“Maybe if I can get him to vomit it back up, then it will leave his system sooner?” the guardian asked mostly to himself as he dragged the both of them to his feet, moving Ink’s dual-toned limb over his shoulder to keep him steady. At first, Dream made a motion to move towards the couch, only to remember that it was still currently a wet inky mess. And he couldn’t move them to the bedrooms either—it would just spread the mess further. Eventually, he settled on their last option.
Dream rubbed Ink’s shoulder a final time, giving it a small squeeze, before finally making his move—leaving behind the now damp towel abandoned on the floor and doing his best to lead the confused outcode to the bathroom, with the others following close behind with concerned looks shared between them.
Ink, for the most part, seemed relatively sturdy, if a little wobbly. Ink let out a small huff of complaint as Dream steered him out of the way of a door frame before he could accidentally bump headfirst into it.
That didn’t save Ink’s toes, however, causing Dream to wince in sympathy at the rather harsh-sounding thump. Ink, however, seemed indifferent—like he hadn’t even noticed the pain himself.
Okay, maybe he was in denial. Ink definitely wouldn’t be upright if Dream wasn’t holding him tightly against his side.
With the amount of alcohol Ink had drunk, maybe he truly hadn’t felt a thing.
“Um, yeah, that’s probably a bad idea,” Stretch spoke up to answer his question, as he opened the door for Dream to enter the bathroom, which was unfortunately much darker compared to the rest of the room due to the lack of power. “If he vomits, he might end up breathing it back in and choking, and um, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t trust this little shit not to,” he half-joked as his brother passed him—who didn’t appreciate the comment and frowned up at his brother in disapproval.
“You’re being rude, Papy! Now’s not the time for that kind of comment,” he scolded with a huff, but did turn to Dream with a look of worry. “But… he is right, Dream. We can’t force Ink to vomit, it’s far too dangerous,” he reluctantly agreed as he summoned a glowing blue bone to give the tiny room at least a little bit of light, casting it in an electric-blue glow.
“Then… what can we do?” Dream asked as he adjusted his hold on his charge, looking around the rather plain bathroom for somewhere to set Ink down—who had, at that point, snuggled further into his side, resting a tired head on his shoulder.
“Well… I suppose we could give him some water. He’s probably a bit dehydrated,” Blue suggested weakly as Dream sat Ink down on the toilet seat, unsure what else to suggest.
Dream placed his hands on Ink’s shoulders as he knelt down before him, supporting Ink’s swaying, uncooperative body with a worried frown. “I suppose that is a start.”
With no other idea on how else to help, Dream nodded at the idea, stretching over to the bathroom sink to fill a cup of water for the void dweller, once the other seemed able to balance himself without assistance.
The pipe rumbled for a few moments after he turned the handle, and the resulting water sputtered as it sluggishly filled the cup before suddenly trailing off to a weak dribble.
“Oh! What happened?” Blue wondered as Dream blinked down at the half-filled cup.
“I… suppose something must be wrong with the pipes. We can figure it out later,” Dream mumbled, feeling a little more worried compared to before, though he shook his head and turned his attention back to the void dweller.
“Here, Ink,” he gently cooed, handing over the half-filled cup to the drunk monster, who took it with a tilt of his head, his eyes blinking sluggishly before grabbing hold of the cup once Dream had guided his hands around it.
Ink appeared confused by the offering, squinting down at the cup in his hand, then back up at Dream like he’d just handed over a rock instead of a cup of water to drink.
“Mmmh,” Ink murmured, sloppily thrusting the cup back towards him, sloshing half the cups contents onto the floor, barely missing Dream by an inch.
“Ah—no, Ink, it’s for you,” he corrected, pushing back the offered cup gently. “You know, to drink? ...Please?” he said with an unsure, forced smile, which slowly faded as Ink continued to hold the cup at his face insistently.
“I assume that means no,” Dream sighed, defeated.
“Um, let me try,” Stretch said, leaning over Dream to grab hold of the cup from the other, drawing the group’s attention to him.
Like a mime, Dream, Blue, and Ink watched in confused interest as Stretch made an exaggerated show of sipping the water, while not actually drinking any of it—his teeth a good three inches from the rim.
He wasn’t a very good mime.
“Mmmh, see? I’m drinking water, like a normal adult. Soooo good,” he hummed sarcastically down at the tiny monster, who didn’t appear impressed by his show. If anything, it looked like Ink was looking through him, causing Stretch to sweat nervously at his rather intimidating stare down as he continued pretending to drink.
After a moment, Ink made an upwards slap, hitting the bottom of the cup and resulting in Stretch spilling water directly onto his face with a sputtering gasp.
Slowly, Stretch blinked owlishly down at the group, who all wore expressions of shock and barely suppressed humour at the sudden ‘attack’ once the initial shock wore off.
Dream had to cover a hand over his mouth to hide his barely suppressed smile—though the tiniest of peeps still escaped him however.
“...Welp. I tried,” Stretch sighed, wiping his face with his sleeve and pouring the remaining water down the sink, surprisingly not too upset by Ink’s action.
“Now what?” he asked the group with a bored tone, bringing everyone back to the reality of the situation. They all looked horribly lost about how to handle the situation, however they did not have the time to think more about the next step, they didn’t have time to think further, as they were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door.
“...Shiiit,” Stretch groaned, all parties looking panicked by the sound.
Everyone aside from Ink, that is, who simply huffed. He wanted to sleep, darn it. Why couldn’t any of these characters see that?
Dream looked between his two friends from where he was kneeling in front of Ink, too busy making sure Ink wouldn’t topple off the toilet seat as he swayed back and forth precariously.
He could only feel one presence beyond the door—not including their temporary neighbours. They seemed calm, but with an underline of stress that grew the longer the door went unanswered.
“Someone must have complained about the noise. What are we going to do?” Blue said in a panic, looking out the bathroom doorway towards the half-destroyed living room.
Another three knocks soon followed—this time, a little louder.
“We gotta answer the door,” Stretch suddenly said, pushing past his brother and beginning to make his way towards the door, stopping only when he felt someone grasping at the back of his hoodie in panic.
“But—! The room!” Blue whispered as loudly as he dared, his hands anxiously fidgeting with the orange cloth.
“I know. But if we don’t answer, they might think we’re not in here and open the door anyway. They probably have the spare key with them.”
Blue grimaced, knowing his brother was probably right.
“Hello? Is someone there?” a male voice called from beyond the door, followed by another series of knocks—apparently having heard them.
It was too late to back out now.
Ignoring the nervous hands still holding the back of his hoodie, Stretch opened the door halfway, using his large body to block the view of the room.
He was greeted by the sight of a young but rather tall-looking human with light brown skin and long shaggy black hair styled in a messy wolf cut. In his hand was what looked like a camping lantern, which helped to illuminate the otherwise pitch-black hallway.
“Oh—woah! Dude, you’re huge!” the human gasped out softly to himself, before blinking owlishly—apparently realising he’d said that out loud. “Ah, sorry, sir, that just slipped out. I haven’t met that many people taller than me, haha,” the young lad explained awkwardly, sounding genuinely apologetic about his outburst.
Stretch blinked in surprise before smiling back, rubbing the back of his skull self-consciously. “Nah, you’re good. I’m used to it,” he chuckled—just before he felt a gentle poke at his spine, his brother silently reminding him to figure out what the human wanted. “So um, can I help you?” he asked, doing his best to sound casual.
The human let out an “Ah, right!” before bending over and placing the lantern down, leaving both hands free to pick up two packages. One was a large pack of bottled water that Stretch hadn’t noticed sitting by their feet, the other being a much smaller cardboard box with a folded letter sticky-taped to its side, which the human had stacked directly on top of the waters.
“These are for you and your group,” the young human said, holding up the items with an awkward but polite smile, his arms shaking slightly from the items' combined weight.
At the tall skeleton’s look of confusion, the human elaborated, “You know, it’s water in case you guys run out, and candles for the blackout and stuff,” he explained. “Complimentary, of course—if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh—oh! Yeah, yeah, the blackout,” Stretch sputtered out, enveloping the box with blue magic, much to the amazement of the human, who 'Ooh'ed at the light.
The young man seemed to take him in for a moment before perking up. “Hey, wait! Are you the group of skeletons that were being harassed by those cops this morning?” he said, seeming rather excited.
Stretch didn’t know fully how to respond to the man’s sudden question, before settling on the truth. “Ah, yeah, that was us. You heard about that?”
“Dude, of course. Sorry if this sounds weird, but it’s been spreading like wildfire among the staff. I applaud you, good sir—really sticking it to the man!” he excitedly called, lightly punching Stretch’s shoulder playfully.
“Ah, geez, thanks dude. We didn’t really do anything though. If your boss—I’m assuming Mister Johnny or whatever his name was—didn’t step in, then it probably would’ve been talk of the town instead,” Stretch joked, lightly scratching his neck as he waved away the praise.
“Yeah, Mr John’s a real nice fella,” the human agreed. “Bit of a loose cannon from time to time, but he’s very passionate about helping people—a real trooper,” he said with a laugh laugh before pausing, thinking hard about something. After a moment, he seemed to have made up his mind.
“I know this is weird, but, um, you guys can have this.” The tall skeleton watched with increasing confusion as he watched the human dig into his pockets frantically before finding what he had been looking for, a strange red coloured tupe that looked similar to a spray can.
“Um, thanks… what is it?” he asked as the human happily held out the object with a pleased hum.
“Pepper spray,” the man stated as he presented the object forward.
“Pepper spray?” the large monster asked as he picked up the item, having never heard of the stuff.
The human, assuming he was asking him to elaborate, continued, “In case you and your family get into any more trouble again. Just be careful though—it’s pretty strong stuff. A quick spray in the eyes will send just about anything packing. People can be real racist assholes, and when that happens, you’ve gotta show ’em who’s boss,” he laughed, though it was laced with nervous awkwardness, seeming rather uncomfortable about the subject of racism, probably also familiar with the same kind of discrimination they had also faced themselves.
Papyrus eyed the strange canister curiously, turning the can left and right to view it at every angle before smiling back at the human.
“Dude, that’s real sweet of you. Thanks.”
“No problem, man. But if anyone asks, I didn’t give it to you,” the man continued, giving a small paranoid glance behind himself as if Johnny would suddenly manifest behind him and reprimand him. “Technically, you do need a permit to carry one, which I doubt you guys have—so best keep it hidden unless it’s an emergency.”
“Noted,” he said, slipping the strange spray can into his hoodie for safekeeping after giving it an experimental shake.
“Anything else you needed to talk to us about?” Stretch hesitantly asked, barely suppressing a sigh of relief when the young man simply shook his head.
“That’s everything. All the information you might need is in the letter,” he said, pointing towards the floating water bottles with a grin, taking a step back away from the door.
“Well, thanks man—appreciate it,” Stretch said, waving at the human, who gladly took the opportunity to retreat, waving goodbye himself as he moved on further down the hall, pulling a trolley behind him that was stacked with more boxes of candles and water—likely for the other people within the building.
“...Huh. Didn’t expect that,” Stretch said with a sigh, finally pushing the door completely open to grasp hold of the box once the man was out of sight, he lightly kicked the door shut behind him once he returned back inside .
“That was so kind of him,” Blue said, tension leaving his shoulders as he trailed behind his brother back down the hall. Curiously, he reached into Stretch’s pocket and retrieved the spray his brother had been gifted, reading the label on the side with interest.
“What a fascinating little contraption. I wonder if you could use it for cooking,” Blue murmured to himself, feeling tempted to press down the spray—if only to see just how bad it could possibly be.
After reading all the warnings, however, he decided that would be an extremely dumb idea. He slipped it into his own pocket, lest he suddenly became tempted.
His brother, unfazed and seemingly unbothered, continued the conversation with only a glance down at his small sibling. “Yeah, wonder what the note says,” the tall skeleton agreed, meeting Dream halfway down the hall, with Ink nowhere in sight behind him.
“Where’s the little menace?” he asked casually, stopping just before the Guardian.
“He is still in the bathroom. I moved him into the tub with all the towels for cushioning. I do not feel great about leaving him there, but it seemed like the safest place for now. I doubt he will be awake for much longer,” Dream answered, following Stretch alongside Blue as the tallest of them made his way to the living room in search of a more stable light source, placing the items down on the glass dining table.
“What is it?” Dream questioned with a curious head tilt, watching as Stretch removed the note to read it over.
“Supplies from Mister Johnny, apparently—for the blackout,” Blue said as Stretch read through the letter silently, opening the box of candles and placing one in the middle of the table, lighting it with a match that had been generously provided alongside the other items shoved in the box.
“So what does it say, Papy?” Blue asked as he watched his brother finish skimming through the contents of the note.
“It’s basically a ‘sorry for the inconvenience’ letter,” he explained, lowering the note down for everyone to read.
Dear Valued Guest(s),
As you are likely already aware, the building and surrounding structures are currently suffering from an unexpected power outage due to unforeseen circumstances.
We anticipate that power will be restored within the next few hours. In the meantime, our backup generator is in the process of being activated and is expected to be fully operational before the end of the day. We sincerely appreciate your patience and understanding as we work to resolve this issue.
Along with the sector-wide blackout, a water valve along the main road has been damaged, resulting in a water shortage to the surrounding area, which unfortunately includes our building. Currently, we do not have a known time or date on when this issue will be fixed, as it is dependent on the response time of the local council.
We deeply apologise for this major inconvenience during your stay with us, and we appreciate your understanding during this stressful situation we have all found ourselves in.
As a temporary measure, we will be passing out free bottled drinking water at regular intervals until this issue is resolved.
Please note that the amount of water you receive will be determined by the number of registered guests per room. Should you require additional bottled water, our friendly front desk staff will be more than happy to assist you with purchasing extra.
Again, we appreciate your understanding and patience during these stressful times, and if you have further questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to come and speak with us at the reception area.
—Management
“Jeez, that must be super stressful to deal with. Hope the other people staying here aren't going to give Mr J and the staff a hard time,” Stretch said with a sympathetic-sounding tsk as he placed the letter in the middle of the table before shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his orange hoodie.
“A power surge… and an issue with the water,” Dream mumbled to himself, picking up the letter himself as he carefully read it over once more.
“I can understand the storm causing the blackout, but… the part about the water confuses me. Can a storm really cause that sort of damage?” the blue skeleton wondered aloud.
“Maybe… a lightning strike?” Blue guessed, though he didn’t sound convinced by his own guess.
Dream shook his head, finally finishing reading the letter for himself. “No. If lightning was the cause, we would know. You would have heard it from here—the sound of lightning striking the earth echoes for miles,” he knew from experience.
“Um, I mean, I don’t know about you, but, ah, I have a pretty good feeling that we currently have the cause of at least one of those problems sitting in the tub down the hall,” Stretch said, using a thumb to point over his shoulder back down the hallway.
“You think Ink did this?” Blue asked, rather sceptical—but the worry in his voice was clear.
“I mean…” he began, rubbing his neck lazily as he shrugged. “I’m not saying he probably meant to, but, you know—” Stretch coughed, casually sweeping his hand towards the still-damaged sink, “—he’s probably somewhat connected.”
“…I see your point,” Blue mumbled, lightly toeing the sink faucet that lay by his foot, causing it to spin slowly before coming to a stop.
“Yeah, it’s definitely no coincidence,” Stretch continued, sounding a bit more confident, his finger tapping the paper in Dream’s hand for emphasis before continuing.
“I mean, if you think about it, there can’t be any other culprit. Isn’t he supposedly cursed or something? Like he makes bad stuff happen around him?” Stretch continued with further enthusiasm, crossing his arms as he continued. “Not even twenty-four hours after getting here—we get attacked by humans, the city’s water gets damaged, plus the blackout, and who knows what else. I’m starting to see a pattern personally. Maybe Doctor Dumbass has a point.”
Dream frowned up at him, both shocked and distressed by the taller skeleton’s conclusion. “I can understand your viewpoint, but we cannot jump to conclusions that quickly! The whole reason we are here is to learn why these things are happening…” he admittedly whined, before glancing away. “I… do agree, however, that Ink likely was the cause of the water problem—but if he did so, then it was while trying to protect me from an unseen danger.” he argued through a strained sounding voice, stress leaking out with each word.
Less passionately, he added, “And please, do not call Ink cursed.”
Stretch seemed to realise just how hot-headed he had sounded, uncrossing his arms and sheepishly waving his hands in front of him. “Hey, I’m not saying I agree with the guy—just saying maybe Ink really is actively causing this stuff to happen,” Stretch weakly defended, holding his hands up in surrender, not happy himself about sharing a point of view with the cruel scientist.
Dream maintained hard eye contact for only a few moments before lowering his gaze, slumping. “Although I do agree the situation is unfortunate, this alone would not count as an anomaly—the power and water issue, I mean. Although admittedly, there are correlations between destruction and Ink’s presence,” Dream reluctantly admitted.
And that was just the thing—how could he even prove that this wasn’t Ink’s doing at all? Ink was currently the sole connection they had between all the events they knew of. How could one person prove that Ink’s actions—or even existence—within a universe wasn’t the magnet or cause of anomalies and disaster? How could he, the failed Guardian of the Tree of Feelings, prove Ink wasn’t the evil that everyone seemed determined to make him out to be?
Dream tiredly sat down onto one of the five chairs surrounding the glass table, his arms holding his head up as he hid his face in his hands with an exhausted sigh.
“I need a moment to think,” he grumbled lowly to himself, feeling suddenly very tired.
Stretch let out a small, distressed sound as he tried to reassure the suddenly gloomy Guardian. “Ah geez, look man, I’m sorry. I just—it’s hard not to point out how screwed up everything seems to get when Ink’s around.” Dream only seemed to grow more discomposed the more he spoke.
Internally, Stretch cringed. Those definitely weren’t the best choice of words at this moment.
“Papyrus!” his brother quickly said with visibly forced cheer, moving between the two before his brother could say anything else to escalate the already tense atmosphere. “I think you should go check up on Ink,” he ushered, pushing his brother back towards the bathroom.
Reluctantly, Stretch slumped in agreement. “Um, okay. I guess I could go get little dude a blanket and pillow to make him more comfortable. I might try getting Ink to drink water another go while I’m at it. I’ll, ah—I’ll be back later.”
Grabbing a water bottle from the supply box they were given, along with a handful of candles, Stretch reluctantly began shuffling his way down the hall, looking over his shoulder every other step—awkwardness leaking off him in waves.
“…I’m sorry about my brother, Dream. He means well, really,” Blue mumbled once Stretch had entered the bedroom, sitting down at the table across from Dream, who sighed, blinking tiredly behind his hands.
“Do not be. Stretch is not wrong with his assessment of the current situation…” Dream said softly, lifting his head slightly so he could look out the window towards the storm. In the far distance, lightning could be seen dancing across the sky.
Even though he was admittedly a bit terrified of lightning, it was still beautiful.
The two short skeletons sat in silence for a few short but painfully long seconds before Dream spoke up once more.
“Blue, remember how I mentioned that the world resetting was an anomaly?” Dream began, adjusting his arms so he could turn to look his friend in the eyes. who nodded silently.
“I am sure you have already figured it out, but I suspect Ink was indeed the one responsible for it.”
Blue shuffled in his seat, feeling a little tense and awkward. “…Yes, we talked about it when you were getting Ink settled, but—that’s a good thing, right? That Ink saved all those people? Doesn’t this prove that Ink is a good guy?” the Underswap skeleton responded with a hopeful look.
“I am afraid it is a lot more complicated than that,” Dream sighed, looking away at the hurt look Blue sent him.
“But—”
“Blue, I am not saying this to be mean, but you do not understand the severity of such an ability being connected to an entity that does not belong to that universe,” Dream mumbled through yet another sigh, much to Blue’s confusion.
“That is not the issue, Blue,” he continued, shaking his head to help release some of the stress. “It is the fact that Ink even can that is.”
Blue seemed just as confused by the statement but didn’t voice it, only nodding slowly, encouraging him to continue.
“This is more than Ink being a magnet for trouble—or cursed, as Stretch put it. This means Ink’s connection to the anomalies that occur around him is very much real. It is no longer a question of whether he is or not.”
“But… that was only the one occasion we have found so far from what we’ve witnessed. I hate to reuse Doctor Fell’s own words here, but ‘Once An Accident, Twice A Coincidence, Three Times A Pattern’?” Blue protested, his fists clenched as he leaned forward. “We’ve only seen the one anomaly so far.”
“Two. There have now been two,” Dream admitted dully, finally removing his hands from his face, placing them flat on the table, while his right foot began to bounce nervously against the tiled floor.
“Okay, fine, two—but that still isn’t enough to call it a pattern,” Blue continued, before pausing. Taking a few moments to really take in what Dream had just stated.
“Two?” Blue questioned, cocking a brow. “But I thought you said that the blackout and the water didn’t count as one?” What was he missing? He tried thinking back on his time with Ink—trying to figure out what else, aside from the reset, would be considered an anomaly—but despite all of Ink’s weird antics and frankly the craziness they had experienced since taking guardianship of the void dweller, he couldn’t solidly pinpoint a second occurrence.
“In the alley I mentioned, right before Ink took us back, I believe another anomaly occurred,” Dream mumbled, once again shifting his arms so his elbows were resting on the table, letting his head fall to rest on his interlocked fingers, his eyelids falling closed as he recounted the recent memory.
“At the time I was simply too frazzled to explain the experience completely, but it has become very apparent that simply pretending it did not occur will help no one,” Dream said through a shudder, already dreading the task of explaining what happened in a way that would make sense.
“Before we appeared back here, in the alleyway I spoke about, a doorway of white light opened before me,” he began, enrapturing Blue’s attention.
“A doorway of light?” Blue almost whispered in awe. Dream frowned, however, at the tone, shaking his head.
“No, no—that description is too kind. It was not a bright glowing light. Beyond the doorway it was simply pure white. It was very similar to the Omega Timeline in that sense, but it almost looked like it lacked… dimension, and was barren of shadow, like it had never been touched by it,” he continued, struggling to find the right words to describe what his eyes had seen without sounding like he was going mad.
Maybe he was. He certainly felt like it.
“From beyond the doorway of white, I heard a voice—one I had at first thought to be Core’s—calling to me. Like a siren, they beckoned to me, calling for me to join them on the other side of the doorway,” Dream shuddered, finally opening his yellow eyes once more, but kept them facing down towards the table. His interlocked fingers tightened their hold, his shoulders growing tense.
“However, looking back, I know now—or at least I suspect—that the voice did not belong to them,” his frown grew deeper. “Core would never speak to me in the manner in which the voice spoke, nor did I see the speaker.” With a sigh, Dream raised a hand to rub at his forehead, idly fingering the cold metal of his crown, as if to make sure it was still in place.
“I, however, at the time did not question it. I would have entered, if not for Ink suddenly attacking me—knocking me onto the ground.”
“Ink attacked you?” Blue gasped, standing up from the shock. “Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” he asked worriedly, lifting a hand towards his friend. Causing The guardian to blink in surprise before letting out a small, if embarrassed-sounding, chuckle.
“Ah, no, I suppose I should not describe it as an attack. More like he tackled me to the ground and away from the doorway just before it seemingly vanished,” he explained, waving away the stress he had accidentally caused, making Blue slump back into his seat in relief.
“The events that followed are where the anomaly occurred,” the guardian explained, his voice returning to a more serious tone.
“The very moment after Ink tackled me to the floor, I heard something like a scream. At first it was just loud and sounded like it belonged to Core, but the voice that had seemed so similar to Core’s quickly morphed into a horrible ringing noise. I cannot find the words to describe it—it was alien and unnatural,” he shuddered, pausing a moment before continuing. “It reminded me actually of the sounds in Sci’s lab. Mechanical?”
Blue blinked slowly, thumbing his bandana. “That is certainly… an interesting and unexpected description.”
Dream didn’t comment on the choice of words, only continuing from where he had left off. “The doorway was gone. The scream was piercing. And the world—almost like it was sharing the voice’s pain—began… changing. It was like… a flicker. The world flickered.”
“An anomaly,” Blue concluded with understanding, with Dream nodding his agreement.
“Yes. But this time, the occurrence was not of Ink’s doing—or I suspect, at least.”
Blue hummed, frowning in thought. “I can certainly understand why you had trouble explaining everything now. I’ll be honest, I still am having a hard time understanding.”
“I suppose that makes the two of us,” Dream joked, though any humour he might have found in the comment was lacking.
“Two anomalies—one likely caused by Ink, the other by something that appeared during Ink’s presence in this alternate universe…” Dream huffed, finally moving his hands down and around himself, and although he wouldn’t normally indulge in such behaviour, he crossed his legs and carefully began to lean himself back in the chair, balancing it on its two back legs precisely.
“I am… unsure if this would even count, but this is actually the first time I have… failed to contact Core,” Dream continued after a moment’s thought. “It is maybe stretching, but could that in itself be seen as an anomaly?”
“Three would make it a pattern,” Blue said softly through a huff, pawing at his bandana as he turned his attention to the storm outside.
This whole mess was headache-inducing. This sort of mental gymnastics was far from his comfort zone. He didn’t like it one bit.
Blue scratched meekly at the table, unsure what he could say after hearing everything Dream had to say.
“It’s too bad Sci couldn’t join us,” he settled on. “I understand why he couldn’t, but he would have been able to make sense of this kind of thing.” He thought so, anyway. Sci was an awful lot smarter than him.
“I suppose it is just one step at a time,” Dream grumbled as he rocked himself back and forth. “We know more now than we did. Even though it is confusing, we are making progress. That is what matters.”
He hoped.
“That being said, this would be so much easier if Ink could simply talk to us,” Dream grumbled, for what felt like the tenth time.
“Maybe we should go check on them, make sure my brother isn’t teasing Ink. We should also tell Papy about everything he missed,” Blue huffed, getting up from his seat and slowly marching his way down the hallway, with Dream getting up to trai after him at a more lethargic pace.
“Brother!” Blue called, giving the door a knock before opening the door to the bathroom. “How is Ink? Is he… Brother?” Blue paused mid-sentence.
His brother wasn’t in the tiny bathroom. Nor was Ink.
“That’s probably not good,” he mumbled with a slight tingle of worry, a hand scratching his head in wonder. Maybe Papyrus had been responsible and moved Ink to a bed instead?
“Blue? Is something wrong?” Dream hurriedly asked as he rushed to his side, a hand on his shoulder and the other gripping the doorway as he peered past his friend.
Neither skeleton was in sight. The only sign of their existence being the still-lit candles, the pillows and blankets Stretch had collected, and the bathroom towels Dream had laid out for Ink—all of which were soaked completely in black ink.
“Not this again!” Dream practically yelled, physically slapping a hand to his forehead with enough force that it seemed to echo, much to Blue’s shock and horror.