Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sky was occluded by clouds of dust, stifling any light which might’ve filtered through the ruddy atmosphere if there hadn’t been an extensive fight in the arid AU. Ink, the Creator of Universes, had gathered new recruits and while they weren’t necessarily formidable opponents, they were worthwhile in their efforts to distract Nightmare’s team. Ink was the biggest inconvenience according to Error. Blue avoided targeting Error, being that he harbored a soft spot for the Destroyer, and Dream didn’t concern Error in the slightest. If anything, Dream was merely a nuisance for his accuracy with a bow and the plentiful positivity infused arrows he toted around. The Guardian of Positivity had an attitude like his negative guardian counterpart, but he didn’t have the raw intensity that Nightmare did when he fought. Dream was a strategist while Nightmare could rely on his ruthlessness, his lethal tentacles reliably leading him to his target’s weakest points.

Dream was at a disadvantage when his negative counterpart was involved, since Nightmare targeted Dream whenever the opportunity presented itself. The fight closed in an unfortunate, abrupt manner as Nightmare’s team and Error were caught off guard. Ink, used to Error’s style of combat, was able to keep up with him. He’d come prepared with an extra vial of red paint, which he popped open and downed as he approached his string wielding foe. Error could hold his own, but the Creator took on a manic edge when he ingested the contents of the red vial. Error loathed when the abominable paint was involved. Some of Ink’s specialized attacks would burn like a potent acid, stinging his bones when the acrid paint became tacky, adhering to them as it dried. It would bleach and thin out portions of his clothing as it hissed, giving him a good idea of what it was trying to do to his bones as it sizzled away.

The Destroyer made a few nicely timed attacks, and it seemed luck was on his side. Ink took a major cut to the side of his face, laying open the marrow underneath and causing his black, syrupy blood to drip down his face. Error took the opportunity to send out a torrent of strings in his direction, one of them cutting into the Creator’s sleeve as it nicked his shoulder. One aspect of Ink which disturbed Error was that the Creator didn’t lack intelligence, even with his near constant amnesia. It made Error hate him that much more, knowing that he could be bested by a guy who’d forget that he broke Error’s forearm and ask him ‘What happened’ and really and truly not know. Ink’s entire existence made no sense to Error, especially given his soullessness. Error, for all of his shortcomings, had some sense of humanity tucked away in that fractured shell of a thing he called a soul–he couldn’t say that same for the Creator.

Ink pressed a hand to his cheek, seeming to contemplate for a moment the black fluid now staining his scarf and the mint green fingers of his gloves. Already it had thoroughly soaking the material, probably permanently, but Ink was more focused on the throbbing of his wounds than his tarnished attire. He met Error’s gaze, his pinpoint eye lights taking on an ominous quality, before he swung his brush, a torrent of ink ejecting from the honed tip, traveling so quickly towards Error he had no time to react. It impacted Error’s sternum before he registered what had happened. His soul quaked behind his rib cage, the intensity of that attack inciting vertigo as he was thrown spine first into a decrepit, splintering husk of a tree. It split under his weight, resulting in shards of wood lodging between his joints.

The Creator, satisfied that he’d detained his opponent, called a retreat. Error was down for the count, at least until his vision righted itself. He was certain the terrain hadn’t been melding with the sky before he’d been cast aside like a rag doll. Nightmare looked absolutely unimpressed. His team reminded the Destroyer of haggard dogs–scuffed, bloodied, and grimacing as they checked each other over. It felt especially shitty, since Error swore he’d been on the up and up lately, but Ink had made sure to set him straight only moments ago. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning as the pain resonated all over his frame. He could hear the Guardian of Negativity’s footsteps as he made his way over. Judging from the dissatisfied hiss, Error surmised his business partner was unimpressed with him. ‘Big whoop’ he thought. ‘If he wants something that bad he should’ve been prepared to shoulder some of the weight.’ Error, even though powerful, had his limits. He’d already been pushing them lately, only to find out he’d underestimated Ink’s skills. Ink had done something right, apparently, and that didn’t sit well with him, but that was reality.

“Have you considered not being a simpering fool around him? Stars damn it, Error,” Nightmare growled, cyan eye light flaring with ire. While he wished it wasn’t the case, Error’s soul squeezed in his chest, twisted interest bubbling up like bile from the depths of his psyche. What was wrong with him? Something, surely, for finding this absolute piece of shit leader attractive. Error was ready to offer an eye roll and a middle phalange. Nightmare’s temperament was trying without being slammed into a tree trunk and treated like a pin cushion.

Error clicked his tongues. “Not even going to as-as-ask if I’m okay? Tch, alright, I get it,” Error grumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position far more slowly than he intended. Anguish blossomed through his lower spine as he attempted to straighten his back. Oh, that wasn’t a good sensation–not at all. His spine continued to twinge, then burn and he contemplated the fact that Ink may have wanted to leave him in two pieces by the end of their fight. His spinal column felt like it was one the verge of snapping. ‘Fuckin’ bastard squid.’

“Hey bud, yer lookin’ a little worse for wear,” Killer commented, sauntering over with his trademark smile coloring his features. Error could detect that he was in pain, but being so accustomed to pushing himself made Killer good at hiding his pain. His black tear tracks had increased during the clash, spilling over and creating something which looked like an oil spill all over his stylized sweatshirt. Error grunted.

“Observant, aren’t ya?” Error snapped, before chuckling dryly, then coughing as an immense wave of pain took hold of his back. He hoped his healing would kick in quickly for this one. He could see many sleepless nights ahead if this persisted.

Cross made up his mind, approaching Error to offer a hand if he wanted it. Error did–he didn’t want to have to admit that his back felt like it had been impaled with a hot poker. What, was he getting old or something? And when did Ink learn to play so dirty? He felt outdated.

“Thanks,” he said, genuinely meaning it. Cross offered a nod, giving him space. Error attempted to stand straight and regretted it. Ink was going to regret this big time, just as soon as Error was able to correct his posture. It shouldn’t take that long. He wasn’t a spring chicken, but he healed quickly enough.

“Oh, shit. Did you slip a disc or something?” Dust asked from behind Error. “That doesn't look too good, Glitchy…”

“I’m fine,” Error shot back, biting his tongues so as not to let out any utterance of pain as he whipped around to confront Dust. “Just…heh, bruised u-up. Nothing to worry about.”

“Dust’s right, bud,” Horror added. “We ain’t makin’ fun…of ya. You took a hard hit, Error.”

“So, tell me, are you done?” Nightmare growled, narrowing his eye at Error. “If you didn’t realize, this has been a complete waste of time. What an absolute shit show.”

“Okay, okay, so you want to fight Ink. Mr. Goop for Bones wants to go up against the Creator all by hims-self. I s-see. Well, he’s all your-your-yours next time,” Error spat.

“Have you seen your track record? I partnered with you because you promised excellence! You’re the fucking Destroyer, what gives?!”

“Do you think before you s-speak? Ever? You…you’re n-no partner,” Error snarled. “Partners don’t blame everyone but themselves. Why is it that you’re immune to criticism? The pristine, faul-fAuLttless leader bull-bullshit, right?” Error breathed hard, his spine twinging with the adrenaline pumping through his mana lines.

“When have I ever said I was pristine, Destroyer? Putting words in my mouth won’t get us anywhere,” the dark guardian responded.

Error snarled, hands over his eye sockets. He was so over this shit. He’d dealt with this pompous, ungrateful asshole for so long now he’d been sucked dry of any empathy he might’ve had for the wronged prince or whatever title he claimed to have. His fantasies of the tentacled god be damned, this wasn’t what he signed up for. “You kn-know what? There’s no winning with you. You fucking su-suck, Nightmare. Ever since I’ve been here, your team has been gr-gre-great, but you…just fuck you,” Error hissed. ‘I can do better’ he told himself.

‘But can you really?’ Error’s internal voices supplied, but he attempted to ignore them. Nightmare’s tentacles were close, the ends primed into points, and Error recognized the tension between them. The adrenaline swarming his aching bones was helping the pain and honestly, with his wounded pride, he could muster up some effort. He launched himself at Nightmare, catching him momentarily off guard.

Nightmare hadn’t been expecting the typically touch aversive outcode to suddenly come crashing into him. He was quick to respond, as was his team, but it wasn’t quick enough to thwart Error’s focused attack. Error opened a portal beneath them and they plummeted, the concerned shouts of Killer and Cross following them as they descended through time and space. Nightmare’s tentacles surrounded Error and he paid little attention to the way Error writhed, glitches popping up along his vibrant bones. There was a wild look in his eyes, something feral in Error’s demeanor that Nightmare couldn’t place. Maybe arousal wasn’t the correct emotion to have along with the anger which had coalesced in his chest, but nonetheless the Guardian of Negativity was feeling it. Error’s strings bit into the corruption coating his bones and Nightmare laughed dryly as they were flung into another AU, this one snow covered. The atmosphere had an ashy scent to it and somewhere in the distance, a chemical glow indicated that this AU in particular had a toxic environment.

“Are you finished with your tantrum?” Nightmare asked. Error shot him a glare fit to kill.

“Are you finished being a petulant little prick?”

“Tch. Maybe if you showed this amount of enthusiasm during battles you wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Nightmare jabbed, smiling as he incited a response from the Destroyer, until he felt Error’s teeth sinking into one of his tentacles. It was painful, sure, but it more so shocked him than hurt him. He flung the tentacle outward, dislodging Error’s teeth. Error spat the dark, goopy ecto into the snow covered ground, glowering at the corruption leftover in his mouth. “You fucking brat.”

“You're dis-disgusting,” Error snarled, using his strings to pull his opponent through another portal, then a series of portals. It was dizzying for him, so he was sure Nightmare was feeling the effect of being pulled repeatedly through the space time continuum. Error heard him grunt out a sound similar to needing to retch, and Error grinned maliciously. He would have continued smiling if not for the intense and increasing pressure on his soul, then his sternum, and thereafter his skull. He felt as though he was about to be ripped apart, atom by atom.

He decided enough was enough, intending to stop universe hopping, but the universe apparently didn’t get the memo. It wouldn’t stop. They were being hurled through the multiverse, the speed and frequency of it scrambling Error’s skull. His priorities made a 180 degree turn, and he began to grip Nightmare's sweatshirt sleeves in absolute terror. This hadn’t happened before–this wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d always been in control of teleportation and opening portals to other worlds. It hadn’t ever been a problem nor had it ever posed a challenge for him. This just didn’t happen.

“I don’t–I don’t know what’s happening!” Error screamed, barely aware of Nightmare’s hold tightening around his upper arms. He didn’t know if it was a conscious response or one born out of raw fear. He caught sight of the warped glow of Nightmare’s eye light and focused intently on it as he felt himself beginning to lose consciousness. It was too much, even for him…it wasn’t stopping. And then there was a void space, colors muted down to depressing tones of faded grays and beiges.

The sound was chilling, the sonorous quality off putting on a visceral level. It was there yet simultaneously, it wasn’t. It vibrated their bones on subsonic level, threatening to break them as they hung in the balance of the universe. They were in the unseen corner of time and space, so disconnected that Error knew that realistically, no one would be able to help them. Error attempted to call out, but he felt as though his entire being was in the process of breaking down. He clenched his trembling phalanges, hoping to find Nightmare’s tentacles or the material of his sweatshirt, but he found nothing. He was alone, and he was sure he was dying. He finally pushed the laws of the multiverse to their limits and he was paying for it. He succumbed to the fatigue settling in his skull.

Maybe he deserved an end like this…

~

Error was vaguely aware of a fluorescent light flickering somewhere above him. Sluggishly, he came to, shifting his limbs which ached from his strange positioning on the ground. The space was filled with empty cubicles, stains decorating the yellow tinted dividers. It reminded him of an AU that had been largely concerned with human ideals–the idea of working an office job was a commendable life achievement, and was looked upon as the path to happiness. The only difference was these offices had no furniture, no footsteps etched into the carpet, and no sign of ever having been used at all. He eased himself up off of the dusty floor, and his spine protested once again. Error warily began to explore the space, noting the infinite quality of the hallway separating the rows of offices. He took extra precautions as he glanced in the empty cubicles, moving on as soon as he made certain there was no one else there with him. He felt as though there should be someone there, but as far as he could see, he was alone.

He had this hope, this desperate, unrealistic anticipation, that he would stumble across Nightmare. The fact that he wanted to find Nightmare was strange, because he distinctly recalled being convinced he wanted to tear off one of his goopy tentacles. While he was still pissed at the dark guardian, he would give anything now not to be alone; he swore he’d been in more unsettling universes, but the fact that all he could hear was the eerie hum of the old lights was causing him to panic.

Occasionally, he’d get this wave of apprehension as he swore he heard something in the near distance, which provided him with ample imagery. Either it was Nightmare or something else–of course he’d prefer coming across his asshole of a business partner, but he didn’t have control over the situation, so he had no clue who or what he’d encounter.

He made the decision to take an alternate path off of the main hallway of the decrepit office building. He wasn’t sure if he’d made the correct decision, but so be it. He wasn’t about to stay in one place when he felt like he was being constantly watched. Error wasn’t willing to walk down a straight path forever, so the option to take the ominous corridor to his left was the next best thing. He frowned at the water stains on the wall, noting that nobody had seen the insides of this place in eons, which made him feel so great about being there.

What if no one found him?

Where the fuck was he?

Was this the afterlife? Had he died?

The dim tunnel transitioned into tile floors, walls, and ceilings. He entered a space which reminded him of a shower dimension gone haywire. He kept a hand solidly planted on a wall to support himself as he took in the peculiar space. It was absolutely ominous and extensive. Many open concept floors towered above while the central area contained a body of water. He wasn’t sure how deep it was and he had no intention of approaching the oversized pool to find out. The water extended further than he could see, since there were various bends and blind pots in the architecture. The culmination of the massive space reminded him of a decadent prison. He couldn’t deny it was creepy.

He walked for as long as he could. He wasn’t sure if it was the overwhelming ambience the generic, bathroom-pool area gave off, but he succumbed to anxious exhaustion rather quickly. He decided the next best step of action was making it his prerogative to access higher ground. He was almost certain that if there were others here, they’d be aware of his presence and possibly even looking for him. The slap of his flip-flops against the damp tile was driving him mad, and he despised the echoes of the water which seemed to follow him no matter where he traveled. The ever present sensation of being watched had him on edge. While he wasn’t certain the premonition was reliable, he couldn’t shake the paranoia clouding his skull. He wondered if he’d made any progress as far as finding a way out of this building or if he’d wound his way deeper into the labyrinthian landscape.

After making his way along the third floor walkway looking over the seemingly endless pool, he made the decision to seek out a place to lay low and rest. If he had the ability, he’d press on, but his joints were aching and the fatigue from being tossed like a ragdoll through the void left him feeling like he was on the verge of collapsing. With the last of his energy, he conjured his strings to support him as he scaled the wall, hoisting himself into an elevated alcove. It wasn’t anything special–it was a hollow in the structure where someone must have begun to dig out the space for storage purposes, but gave up halfway through the process. He nestled into the deepest point within the space, ignoring how the rough texture of the walls scraped against his aching bones. It would do for now. He fell into an extremely restless sleep, with his knees up to his sternum as he attempted to block out the intrusive thoughts plaguing him.

Error awoke to a sensation of absolute wrongness. He peered out of the alcove before deciding it was time to continue his trek through hell–no one else was going to do it for him, after all. He put his strings to use, descending the wall. He walked in the same direction he’d been going before his much needed break, hoping that this abominable place wasn’t as expansive as it seemed. Trying to remain positive, he thought of how his persistence would pay off if he kept moving.

He decided after walking for countless miles and hours of his spine prickling with apprehension to try something different. Various passageways had sprung up to his left, and up until now, he’d been ignoring them in favor of following the most well lit path. Since the tiled fever dream wasn’t ending, he decided to enter the dim passage closest to him, truly hoping he didn’t end up regretting it. After treading through the dimly lit corridor for a span of time, he observed the tunnel opening up into a room with incredibly high ceilings. Everything on the ground level before him was dilapidated. It seemed as though it hadn’t been touched in eons, much like the other spaces. He hesitantly entered, scanning the area for any sign of life. Nothing.

Anxiety occupied his skull, bringing with it a strong feeling of uneasiness. The silence left him imagining things, creating the sensation of being on the verge of either suffocating or imploding. He didn’t have any misconceptions–he was well aware he’d put himself in this situation. While he would’ve liked to feel less angry and more pragmatic, he had little to no control over how he was interpreting his surroundings. To be honest, he was fucking scared out of his mind.

He avoided stepping on the clutter lining the ground, as well as broken glass from the old freezer doors which had probably been looted at some point. He was glad to see that there wasn’t any perishable food left in the storage. It already smelled musty enough to turn his magic. He assumed the place used to be some kind of enormous indoor market. There were numerous aisles, some still stocked with products, which by now were all coated in a thick layer of dust. Walking across the cracked and colorful tiles of the flooring, he acknowledged how loud his footsteps were as he cautiously searched for an exit. Everything he did echoed and he despised it. He couldn’t be sure if he was hearing things, or if he was imagining another set of footsteps in the distance. He would pause to listen, sometimes for extended periods, just to confirm it was actually all in his head. What would he even do in that case? This place was a clusterfuck, he had no way of knowing if there was an exit or if he’d be looped around into another stupid maze.

He identified a putrid scent which had his nasal ridge crinkling. It was pungent and unlike anything he’d come across before. Vying for a distraction, he plucked a box from one of the shelves at eye level. The text and images on the box were warped, probably from excess moisture and the passage of time. Or maybe he was looking at a figment of the universe which hadn’t ever had a purpose to serve. Error grunted, sliding the item back into place. Error was hit by a wave of nausea as the scent intensified. He covered his nasal aperture with his scarf, hoping to chase away the moisture gathering in his eye sockets. ‘Holy shit…what the hell is that?’

He looked around, feeling acutely aware of how small he felt in the abandoned behemoth of a market. Being light on his feet, he approached the end of the aisle he was in, peering around the endcap. He didn’t dare leave the aisle as he felt the harrowing sensation of eyes on him.

I can hear you. A voice came from all around and nowhere at once. Was it inside of his skull? Or was it so resonant that it just felt as though it had permeated his thoughts? Your scent is strange…but pleasant, nonetheless. Where are you from, stranger?

Error pressed his spine against the shelving, desperately hoping to avoid whatever it was that had entered this vicinity with him. Or had it been following him the entire time? ‘Fuck fuck fuck!’ He gripped his scarf while sweat beaded up on his skull. The lights, albeit dim, flickered above, suddenly reminding Error of how much he didn’t want to be left in this space in the dark. No way, no how was he about to wait around for whatever it was to gain the upper hand. He heard the sound of something being dragged across the broken tiles and he swore he was on the verge of losing his composure.

It’s been so long since someone entered my domain. Don’t you know how to greet a new friend, stranger? Don’t be shy. The voice sent Error’s cervical vertebrae prickling with terror. He recognized the cadence of the question, but contrary to what was being said, it came off as disingenuous and sinister.

Error ever so cautiously slid along a row of decommissioned freezers, peering into the darkness of some of the intact glass to see his reflection staring back at him. He took his time, slowly peering down the aisles, resisting the urge to sprint for his life. That was probably what the thing wanted. He couldn’t play into its expectations.

Something shifted in his peripheral vision and Error froze. He’d seen that, actually seen it–he couldn’t place it, but something had definitely moved and it was close enough that he considered himself completely out of options. Panic gripped him as he surveyed the space, soul thudding frantically in his rib cage. He needed to get out. He pinpointed the passage he wanted to take. He didn’t hesitate, just went for it.

Error swore he was struck by solid steel. The air was knocked out of him as he was thrown to the side, his feet skidding, bone scraping painfully against the broken floor tiles. Whatever it was, it had flesh–sickly gray, pale flesh with a revoltingly slick texture. While the face had no distinguishable features, the thing’s body and limbs were horrific. It was far too lanky–it just didn’t make any sense. The long arms, the fingers tapered and sinewy and touching him–

Look at you. Trying to run, are we? We can’t have that now…

Error yelled as his face was gripped by a large, clawed hand, while the phalanges of the creature’s other hand toyed with his sternum through the fabric of his shirt. The grip was far too tight, and when the surface of Error’s face was cut in multiple places, he cursed aloud, internally begging for it to stop.

“Le-Et me go! Stop, st-stOp!” Error wheezed more than yelled, resorting to pleading aloud with his attacker as he tried to summon his magic. Nothing was cooperating with him, and while he could’ve put it down to being blindsided, he knew there was something very wrong.

It hurt, it hurt so badly, and he struggled with all of his energy to break the thing’s hold on him. Overcoming some of his panic, he lashed out with his strings, and attempted to teleport. The strings made an impact, but he had no luck teleporting anywhere. He only experienced the resulting vertigo from the inability to follow through with the actual teleportation. Growling in frustration and fear, Error bit down on the fingers closest to his mouth, making sure to clench his jaw until he heard a sickening crack. Vile, burning liquid doused his tongues as the creature let out a hideous wail and Error had his opening.

You-you disgraceful little bitch the slender monstrosity hissed, filling Error’s skull with static. The Destroyer didn’t look back, only pushed himself to run faster than he recalled ever going, his soul pattering at a rapid speed in his rib cage. He didn’t slow down until he’d clawed his way through the tunnel, tripping and stumbling his way to relative safety. Hacking and gagging, Error realized that biting the thing was an incredibly bad decision. It burned his bones, his tongues and it was coagulating and sticking to his jaw and cervical vertebrae. Attempting to get it out of his mouth was a losing battle.

The ceiling of the new space was made up of steel and glass, forming a canopy over the interior below it. The bone of his face ached fiercely and he felt it swelling from exposure to that caustic blood. Cursing under his breath, he attempted to stop his shaking, but to no avail. It was awful that he’d been correct about being watched. He didn’t want to be correct–he could deal with mental instability, but the fact that this was happening and very, very real…he couldn’t deal with that.

He didn’t want to go down any more hallways. He couldn’t deal with something else, couldn’t do it, not now (preferably not ever). He was lucky to get away from the last abomination. That was luck, he could clearly see that. He was absolutely fucked. Maybe if he stopped moving through the hellscape he’d have more of a chance at staying in one piece, but the thought of that thing discovering his whereabouts to finish what it started renewed his motivation.

He was painfully aware of how vulnerable he was like this. His pace had slowed and he wasn’t covering much ground now that fatigue was settling in. The ceiling eventually lessened in height, returning to a white cement or stucco texture. Everything morphed into a version of that texture. It was unsettling. It appeared as if he’d entered another “pool space”. ‘How shocking–more water.’ There were hulking columns forming an ominous, geometric space which might have been neat if it wasn’t actively imprisoning him. Error felt distinctly hopeless. He trudged along until he found a portion of elevated ground where some of the bleak walls met. It would work as a resting spot considering it was out of the way enough to not be glaringly obvious. He slumped down and brought his scarf up so that he could block out the sound of the water.

He couldn’t fucking stand that sound any longer.

Chapter Text

When Nightmare was first roused from unconsciousness, he found himself wondering if his moron of a business partner had actually managed to kill him. He remained face down on the floor as he gathered the wherewithal to actually begin to lift his sore frame from the ground. Wrinkling his nasal ridge, he uttered a sound of displeasure as he lifted his skull from the scratchy carpet. As far as he could tell, he was in an empty house devoid of furniture. Every basic thing one would need to live comfortably was absent, but it looked less abandoned and more staged. It set his soul on edge. He shakily got to his feet, his concern increasing as he took in his surroundings. This wasn’t natural, whatever it was. He was set on leaving the shell of a house immediately.

Upon exiting through the front door, he was confronted with replicas of the same house. Nightmare cautiously walked down the road, eyeing the rows of houses with distrust. Were they all empty and desolate like the one he’d woken up in? What was the point? Were they props of some sort? A lone street light flickered above, casting shadows on the cement as he walked. Nightmare lashed out with a tentacle, shattering the faulty bulb. At least one annoyance was taken care of. He continued on, analyzing his surroundings, looking for any slight differences in the surreal landscape of replicated homes. After a while, he was rewarded for his efforts.

One of the “houses” had a hole in its side, void-like and descending into who knows where. Nightmare didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth–he entered the ominous channel, thrown off suddenly by the splash of water as his shoes met a puddle. He cringed at the thought of murky water seeping into his socks and shoes. ‘Just another delightful aspect of this universe. Fucking gross.’ After what seemed like an excessive time to be in a sketchy passage, he was greeted by garishly bright colors and a distinct sensation of foreboding. There was a crackling ambient sound coming from everywhere and nowhere. For all he knew, it could be from slamming his skull into the ground. Maybe the side effects of being discarded like trash in a far corner of the void had only just begun to catch up with him. Patches of foliage erupted from the ground over time, cracking the cement and climbing skyward. There wasn’t any sunlight to speak of though, so he wasn’t sure why the plants had thrived in the uncanny space. ‘Strange.’ This place was inciting a primal fear inside of him, and he had a feeling it wasn’t only thanks to the obnoxious interior design.

His mind helpfully reminded him of the terror in Error’s voice before he disappeared from his grip. The glitch’s fear would’ve been amusing if it hadn’t meant they were both in imminent danger. He wondered if Error was alive. There was a part of him that genuinely wanted him to be, even after their spat. The possibility that he might find him was there, but he considered the chances of that happening slim to none. If somehow he happened to cross paths with a living Destroyer, however, he had some choice words for him.

His surroundings gradually morphed into a curving, multi-level interior with a body of water dividing the massive, weaving structure. After the passage of hours, he realized there was no foreseeable end to the white tiled space. While he’d been on this path for what seemed like hours, he didn’t feel as though he was making any progress. He scowled, turning to glance behind him at the way he’d come. Growling in frustration, he trudged onward.

It didn’t appear that the pool had a bottom. He peered over the cracked ledge into its depths and he hadn’t seen any hint of an end to them, even as he’d looked over periodically. He knew there must be, it wasn’t as if the thing was infinite, but the ominous aura of the water kept him constantly aware of his proximity to it. The sensation of absolute wrongness continued to escalate. A deep vibration rolled through the area, trembling the floor beneath his feet; it wasn’t loud, yet it could be felt distinctly throughout his whole person. It was as though it emanated from the walls themselves. Nightmare paused, not liking that sensation at all. When the strange phenomenon passed, he picked up his pace, not desiring to see what might have been the source of it.

He should’ve listened to his intuition. A mass emerged flopped up onto the tiles from the water. He’d heard it, but hadn’t noticed it at first because its “body” was primarily clear, flecked with coppery stains. The more of its body that slithered from the depths of the pool, he was able to observe the glassy, gelatinous flesh of the thing ripple and tense. The way it moved made it appear as though it was breathing, though nothing suggested it would need to. The creature was amorphous with no distinguishable features whatsoever. The only difference between it and the flora from the last ugly room was that this thing seemed to have a sense of direction and the ability to transport itself. Nightmare wasn’t expecting to see slick, veiny protrusions shoot out towards him along the tile, blossoming at the ends into a purply amalgamation of anatomical horror. Well, that was his cue to get the hell out of dodge.

It was far faster than Nightmare had given it credit for. He had assumed that its sluggish ascent from the pool meant that it wasn’t a direct threat to himself. The creature taught him not to assume anything in this abhorrent realm. The thing had quickly enveloped his shins in its gelatinous form and was steadily working to ascend upward, the tip of it sharpening as it aimed for his rib cage. Without taking a second more to think, Nightmare attacked the thing mercilessly with his tentacles, stabbing and gouging the jelly flesh. The portion of the thing that had pooled around his lower legs began to prickle and felt vaguely numb as he took the time to obliterate its upper half. It retreated quickly once it realized its attack had proven futile, hastily sliding back into the water, leaving behind coppery tracks on the tile. Nightmare took the opportunity to stagger away, noting that his tentacles had begun to feel the creeping numbness as well. ‘Fuck!’

He didn’t have a clue how much time elapsed since he’d come across the toxic blob. He’d passed through various spaces by now, each one uncanny and inescapable, and he was certain the multiverse was fucking with him. He should’ve been able to find some way out, nothing had the right to be this convoluted, surely. He trudged through the last of the corridor he’d entered, finding himself in another watery landscape. This one was outfitted with columns and seemingly impossible angles, the ceiling ascending to dizzying heights. After exploring the space for a while, he happened across a dark shape huddled into an alcove created by two intersecting geometric walls.

Warily, he approached, not entirely certain how close he wanted to get after his last encounter with one of the residents of this place. The shape seemed so out of place, which validated his very slow, cautious approach.

Upon closer inspection, and in total disbelief, he realized that he’d found the Destroyer. Error hadn’t heard him approach and Nightmare was somewhat thankful for that. He probably would’ve attacked if he’d seen the other move an inch. Nightmare wasn’t about to risk something else attacking him if he could help it. He sighed in annoyance and exasperation as he processed the distinct ache in his bones. He decided it was time to cut the Destroyer’s nap short.

“Error,” he spat, glaring at the one responsible for landing them here. “You bastard, wake up. Wake. Up.”

Error opened his eye sockets, glancing around dazedly. When his vision cleared and he caught sight of Nightmare’s silhouette, his eye sockets widened and he froze. Error opened his mouth before abruptly shutting it, unsure how to respond. He was hallucinating, he had to be, because there was no way Nightmare was actually there, looming over him. This was cruel hallucination. A chill ascended his spinal column as he waited for the image to fade as he fully came out of slumber. By some miracle, that didn’t happen.

The dark guardian grimaced in response to Error’s dazed expression. “Oh, wow. You look fucking awful,” Nightmare stated, sliding into a sitting position near the other. Error moved further away, glitches popping up all over his frame as he registered Nightmare, or something that had taken on his likeness, encroached on his space.

Nightmare noticed Error’s face was thoroughly cut up. The marrow which had flooded to fill the lacerations was now coagulated. His forearm bore similar wounds, the area around the cuts resembling a burn.

“You-you’re here?” Error croaked out disbelievingly. Nightmare continued staring at him with an impassive expression. If he wasn’t so damned tired, he might’ve tried harder to make Error pay for his transgressions, but it seemed like someone (or something) had already done the job of dishing it out.

“I thought that was clear,” Nightmare said. “You did a good job of fucking us over, glitch. It took me forever just to make it this far,” he growled.

Error looked genuinely unwell, his eye lights reflecting his anxiety as he asked, “Did you s-see anything?”

Nightmare nodded, before letting his skull fall back against the wall. “I don’t know what it was. It was gelatinous and vile. It tried to climb up into my damn diaphragm,” he said, grimacing. Error wrinkled his nasal ridge in disgust. “It left my bones and tentacles numb. Fucking gross alien piece of shit,” Nightmare muttered, the tips of his tentacles twitching in annoyance.

Error let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “It was ex-extremely tall and emaciated…and its limbs were too long. Its fingers cut my fa-face before it tried to pry into my rib cage, too.”

Nightmare grunted in acknowledgement, furrowing his brow. “How’d you get away?”

“I bit it,” Error stated, before scowling. “The blood was toxic–I c-can’t feel my tongues or ja-jaw…” Error trailed off, touching his jaw, which had since begun to feel dried out as he ran his phalanges over the surface. At least it wasn’t sticky any longer. He didn’t know how much longer he could’ve dealt with his lower jaw actively burning like it had been. He’d be thankful for the small things at this point.

Nightmare barked out a humorless laugh. “You Stars damned bastard. You wanted to fuck me over and here you are suffering because of your incompetence–take a good look at what you’ve done, Destroyer,” the Guardian of Negativity said accusingly.

Error furrowed his brow, sneering at Nightmare, who had since closed his eye socket. Sure, he was aware he’d gotten them into this mess, but the attitude didn’t help him retain empathy for the Guardian of Negativity. “I’m aware,” Error said, wallowing in his irritation. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know what he’d done. What was the point of pretending he wasn’t the impetus for their arrival in this fever dream? That didn’t mean that Nightmare’s comment didn’t affect him, though.

“I’m completely aware you didn’t mean to, which is grand, because if you pulled this stunt during a battle and sent Ink spiraling into this realm–shit, it’d be fantastic. You’d actually be useful for once.” Nightmare smirked at the thought. “But you’re you. You’re deplorable, you know that?”

“Hah, look at the pot call-calling the kettle black,” Error grumbled. “Here you go again; Nightmare doesn’t make the same mistakes as ev-everyone else. He ate some over-overrated fruit and now he-he’s paying monsters for company and pops a boner as people suffer.”

“Bravo, you’ve perfectly summed up my personality, haven’t you? I never claimed I was perfect, but considering the amount of times you’ve said it…do you believe I’m perfect?” Nightmare sneered, gazing at Error under his half-lidded eye light. “Do I fluster you, Destroyer?.”

“No–shut the fu-fuck up,” Error snarled. He tugged his scarf up to shield the lower half of his face before clutching his jacket closer to his bones. He looked away from Nightmare, feeling his face burn with shame at the comments made at his expense. The tentacled menace was a pain in the coccyx and a nuisance to deal with on the best of days. While he was fuming internally, Error felt at least a little better now that the other was there with him. It was something familiar, so he’d take it. Error positioned himself so that his temple rested on the cool wall, letting his mind wander as he pointedly ignored the other.

Nightmare drifted off to sleep in a remarkably short span of time. Snoring softly, he looked as peaceful as one could while sitting on the uncomfortable, unforgiving tiled floor. Error periodically looked over, watching as his sordid business partner snoozed. He looked almost pleasant when he wasn’t insulting him, Error decided. It felt wrong to think of him in such a positive light, especially considering not so long ago he’d thrown the guy through time and space with the intention of inflicting no small amount of damage. It was probably the fact that he was starving for some semblance of solace in this fucked up place. That had to be it. Error sighed, curling up once more. He’d indulge in a short nap and then they’d have to move. They couldn’t risk staying in one place too long unless they wanted to risk one of the abominations of this realm finding them.

Error awoke with a start. Sweat coated his bones and permeated his clothing, making him shiver. He was breathing fast, the sound of it wholly unpleasant as he attempted to calm down. Nightmare watched him from the other side of the small space, his expression neutral as he began to come to as well. It took a few minutes, but Error was eventually able to regain his composure. He readjusted and loosened his scarf so that there was space between the sticky material and his clammy bones.

“So, all good dreams I presume?”

“Shut the fu-uck up,” Error said, although there was no venom in his tone. He stretched his arms, the joints cracking as he released the built up stiffness in his joints. His spine offered a few cracks as well and a twinge for good measure. Error grunted before getting to his feet. “We need to move. I guarantee here’s m-more of those things, so the long-long-longer we’re here, the more likely it is tha-at they’ll find us.”

Nightmare sighed before standing as well. He flexed his sharpened phalanges and tested out his tentacles, coiling and sharpening the ends into honed points before letting them relax. Sensation was returning, and that was all he cared about at the moment. He wasn’t sure of the extent to which this place had impacted Error’s magic, so he needed some reliable form of protection. “Lead the way, since you seem to know what you’re doing. Look at the bright side–you can play the leader to your soul’s content.”

Error flashed him a glare, but refused to acknowledge the Guardian of Negativity’s taunts otherwise. He didn’t have the energy for it, nor did he feel like fueling the fire.

~

They passed through multiple different spaces and there wasn’t any sign of an exit that didn’t lead to another room. It seemed futile, all of it, and maybe that was exactly how they were supposed to feel. There were rooms which were absolutely barren, save for one nonsensical, stupid object which served no purpose whatsoever. Then there were others which had a sterile atmosphere with black, tarry water flowing in a perfectly rectangular pool set into the ground. Another area opened into a beige-walled, low lit chamber with faded curtains covering the various tunnels branching off into other parts of the dimension. Both Error and Nightmare took pause here, weighing their options. The unspoken goal between them remained to not retrace their steps. Entering new spaces seemed like a great solution considering all of the awful cards they’d been dealt.

“I don’t like this,” Error said softly, paranoia rising in his chest as he scanned the covered corridors. He scowled, pondering the identical entrances. How the fuck was he supposed to know which one to take? There was no sense of direction in this hell hole and when he thought he’d figured it out, it was a slap to the face when he realized he knew absolutely nothing.

“Hmm. Let’s take one of the right tunnels,” Nightmare stated. Error searched his expression.

“How ca-can you be so sure?”

Nightmare appeared distinctly unimpressed. “Do you have a better idea? Because if you do, spill the beans,” Nightmare snarled. “It’s not like these things come labeled. Do you have a better idea?”

“Okay, ok-kay, calm the fuck down,” Error snapped. He huffed, peering around at the covered openings. He contemplated the direction they’d been headed, running through the possibilities of ending up in a room they’d already traversed. He couldn’t deal with ending back at the market where that thing was probably still prowling around. He supposed Nightmare’s proposal was as good as any. “Right then. Let’s take one of the ri-ight ones.”

“See? Not so hard, is it?” The tentacled guardian strode forward, taking the lead in their journey onward. Error narrowed his eye sockets at his retreating form. Biting his tongues, he followed close behind, unwilling to give Nightmare the gratification of knowing he’d riled him up.

The room they entered into was brightly lit with vivid, contrasting shapes of all dimensions rising from the stark floor. The ceiling was nonexistent, extending into a chasm. It reminded Error of the sky of his Antivoid. Error detected the sound of water echoing somewhere in the distance. He wondered if he was actually hearing it or if he had been cursed to hear the sound of moving water from here on out. Nightmare scanned the space, not taking the chance of overlooking a sign of danger. He learned not to assume anything about this place.

Both Nightmare and Error froze as a snapping sound ricocheted off the walls. Error’s cervical vertebrae prickled with fear. Nightmare locked eyes with Error before glancing in the direction they’d heard the sound emanating from. It occurred again, ending with a sickening ‘pop’. Nightmare’s tentacles twitched, the tips sharpening into honed points at the suggestion of danger. Error felt as though he was about to be sick.

“I’m not r-ready to deal with this again,” Error said, his voice stifled by the terror threatening to burst from his chest.

“Quiet. Stay quiet,” Nightmare hissed, watching the area they’d heard the sound as he moved steadily to one of the hulking geometric structures to give himself some cover as he investigated. Error remained close, his aching jaw and sore bones reminding him of why he shouldn’t ever be caught alone with one of these things again. Nevermind his general dislike of unsolicited contact, he’d glue himself to the guardian if it meant he wouldn’t be alone to face whatever it was which had been cued into their arrival. Error’s hands trembled as he settled down next to Nightmare in a crouching position, keeping a lookout. “There it is again. You heard it?”

Error nodded, biting at his numb lower jaw. It was strange, not being able to feel it. The creature’s blood did a great job at deadening his nerves. ‘How considerate.’ He hoped it wasn’t like the one he’d contended with in the market. Fuck, he already had enough nightmare fuel to last him the rest of his life, he didn’t need more!

Nightmare watched as objects began to subtly shift in the distance. If he wasn’t looking for it, he would’ve missed it, but considering he was actively searching, he saw the figures clearly. They were so thin, yet their stature was tall from what he could make out. The way they ambled along on their gangly limbs reminded him of mutated spiders with strangely malleable, lean torsos. The way they moved in general was disturbing–twitching and occasionally lilting to the side as they approached. Taking a quick glance down at Error informed him that the other had seen the creatures as well. Error appeared far paler than usual and was visibly trembling.

As the things came closer, Nightmare observed that they had no identifiable facial features. There were, however, very thin, fingered feelers protruding from their faces. The feelers tapped around their surroundings as though collecting the scent of whatever they came across. Error had scooted back, the fear of being seen outweighing any discomfort he might receive from making contact with Nightmare. It was a strange feeling to have the touch-phobic skeleton trembling against his leg, but Nightmare didn’t pay him any mind. He was mentally structuring their escape plan.

“What do we do?” Error whispered, the fear evident in his voice. Nightmare focused on the creatures coming ever closer. Soon they’d be close enough to detect them, and he wasn’t about to sit complacently and wait for that to happen. The sound of the things’ bony feet against the solid floors alerted them to the pressing urgency of making a decision. It incited the feeling of nausea in Nightmare’s core.

“The legs don’t look very sturdy,” Nightmare whispered. “If you can use your strings to take them down, I’ll take care of the backlash. Think you can do that?”

Taking a steadying breath, Error replied, “Yeah, I think so. They work-worked on the last freak, so hopefully they’ll work now.”

“Alright, we need to move. We need the element of surprise in our court, got it?” Nightmare hissed out in a whisper. “Are you ready?”

“As-as I’ll ever be,” Error said. The Destroyer slipped his glasses out of his jacket, which bore a crack in the right lens and placed them on his nasal ridge. He wasn’t taking any chances with his aim when it came to the creatures. He slipped out from his hiding spot, warily approaching the impending threat from the side. For having no visible eyes, the creatures recognized his presence quickly. The sounds they made were akin to pained voices, and unlike the first creature he encountered, there was no distinguishable speech in the utterances. The way their bodies shifted as they walked was wholly unsettling. The Destroyer wasn’t about to wait until the abominations gained any more ground. His sent strings out in multitudes, swarming the things’ knobby legs with blue threads until he was certain there were more than enough to detain his targets. He wrenched the strings back towards himself, and practically laughed out loud when the creatures toppled over like horrifying, gangly dominos. Not even their incessant, ugly wails could dampen his spirits as he wrapped them in more strings, tying their gruesome anatomy as tightly as he could before severing the threads from his face. His sudden burst of triumphant excitement was cut short as he observed with sheer horror the blank faces of the things splitting open into something resembling a deformed maw.

Ooze bled steadily from the creatures’ splitting heads. The way he made sense of the scene unfolding in front of him was that the abominations were essentially eviscerating themselves via the “mouth”. Error’s confidence in his ability to defeat these things, whatever they were, died in an instant. ‘That…this wasn’t part of the plan.’

The Guardian of Negativity’s momentary satisfaction fell away as he watched the incarnation of all that was detestable spill from the bodies of the creatures. As much as he was upset with the Destroyer for landing them in this cursed nowhereland, he wasn’t about to let him die. That didn’t sit right with the guardian, and he’d analyze that emotional feedback fully later on. Nightmare was there beside Error in an instant, cyan eye light wide at the very sentient, coagulating viscera of the fallen creatures.

“Oh fu-fuck this,” Error said. He asked himself what he’d done in his long life to deserve this. Why him? “Nightmare–”

“Error, fuck–fucking dodge!” Nightmare barked, tearing Error away from being in the direct path of viscous, violet substance which one of the creatures had so generously spewed at him. It sizzled as it made contact with the ground, corroding the surface as it bubbled. Nightmare’s eye socket widened as he watched the creatures winding up to do it again. “Move, move, move!”

The area they’d previously been was doused in an ample shower of putrid fluids. Error’s spine flared up and he acknowledged just how perfect the timing was. “Oh stars…o-oh shit,” he uttered, thankful for the oversized geometric shape or whatever it was shielding them temporarily. Nightmare’s expression reflected concern as he looked Error over.

“Did it hit you? Where?” He asked, eye light searing in his skull. Error shook his head ‘no’.

“My back, it’s from before,” he admitted, feeling weaker than he ever had. He was the Destroyer and here he was succumbing to back pain. Whoop de doo. What had he done to earn this? He’d been launched by Ink before, and while it wasn’t a walk in the park, he’d never been so incapacitated by one of Ink’s attacks. “Damn it,” he muttered, gathering strings from his zygomatic bones as he watched two deformed shadows nearing their refuge.

“Why didn’t you say something? You said you were fine, ” Nightmare hissed, ire building up within him. He growled. “Nevermind, just get the fuck behind me.”

Error did, not even questioning Nightmare’s logic. It had been sound logic thus far, and Error would give credit where it was due. Nightmare was pulling his weight (and his own at the moment). Error observed as the Guardian of Negativity’s tentacles sharpened before launching in the direction of danger. He let out an intense grunt, but focused his energy on the task at hand. He didn’t expect for the viscera to adhere to his corruption and begin to encapsulate two of his tentacles. Error watched in horror as the viscera steadily advanced. He made a split second decision, his spine very unappreciative of the impromptu movement as he gathered handfuls of strings from his face.

He caught Nightmare’s tentacles where the sentient gore hadn’t yet engulfed the corruption with his blue strings and pulled with all of his strength. His spine was on fire, but he persisted until the infected halves of the two tentacles severed from the viable halves. The two tentacle halves hit the ground with a wet ‘thud’ as they succumbed to the animated viscera. Nightmare howled in agony, reeling back as a portion of his corruption was severed from his anatomy. Error felt his soul clench, an emotion he wasn’t too familiar with leaving him filled with…something hollow. It kind of hurt, but only in his soul. Filing that away for later (or never), he recognized they needed to make a hasty retreat.

Error caught sight of an exit a ways up–it was an entrance with a jagged outcropping. He hadn’t seen it earlier thanks to the entirety of the space being completely white aside from the weird structures on ground level. He took Nightmare’s hands in his own before wrapping them around his midriff. “Hold on. Don’t you dare let go.”

Nightmare got the message as his intact tentacles coiled tightly around Error’s middle to secure himself. Error felt glitches creeping up his bones as he slung his strings skyward. Error made contact with the distant outcropping. It took effort to get them airborne, but the Destroyer was able to elevate them so that they were out of reach of their attackers. The downside of the equation was that Error wasn’t accustomed to the extra weight of someone else and he misjudged the landing. Nightmare grabbed onto the ledge, his magic fluctuating with the instinct to fight or escape. Error, on the other hand, heard rather than felt his rib cage make impact with the outcropping’s edge.

The pain was a second delayed, but when it hit, it radiated through his injury with a vengeance. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch his breath as he remained clinging to the precarious ledge. Error decided that it was settled–he was an idiot, no, an absolute fucking moron. For more than half of his existence, he’d been using his strings. This was a rookie mistake.

Nightmare took matters into his own hands as glitches and error messages overwhelmed the other. He manhandled Error the rest of the way up onto the ledge, aware that the Destroyer was incapacitated. While he was in more than a little pain as well due to his two halved tentacles, he knew they had to act fast. They could lick their wounds when they were safe. Right now wasn’t the time, and while Error’s gasps of discomfort were jarring, they didn’t have the grace to wait it out. He hoisted Error up with his remaining tentacles and proceeded to make haste through the awaiting passage.

After a while of actively traveling as far away from the all white space as possible, Nightmare set Error down. The Destroyer kept pace with him. Error was regretting not having thought about the implications of this dimension on his strength and coordination. That should’ve been something that occurred to him before smacking himself into the edge of a balcony. This place really took the finesse right out of him. That nagging feeling returned, leaving him aching and regretful. He looked over at Nightmare.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Error said, guilt seeping into his tired voice.

The Guardian of Negativity looked surprised, before he narrowed his steely, cyan eye. “Hm. Are you sure? You would have jumped at the opportunity to tear my tentacles from my being in the past, I’m certain of it,” Nightmare said. Error’s expression fell. While it was technically the truth, that was before they were lost and truly struggling.

“I didn’t wan-want to,” Error admitted. Nightmare glanced over at him, observing him quizzically. Error cleared his “throat”. “You…had a good plan, by the wa-ay,” Error said quietly. That caught Nightmare’s attention.

“No way did I just hear a compliment from you. Pft, did you hit your skull on that ledge?” Nightmare asked, chuckling darkly. An unpleasant wave of heat rushed up Error’s spinal column.

“You know what? For-forget it,” the Destroyer growled, tugging his scarf up to hide the uninvited blush on his face.

“Tch, don’t be so sensitive,” Nightmare replied in a cutting tone. He took a pause, before saying, “For what it’s worth, you pulled your weight as well.” Error’s expression reflected shock before it morphed back into one of forced indifference. “You made the right decision. That situation wasn’t salvageable, no matter how much I don’t like to admit it.”

“I know,” Error said, defeat evident in his voice. “If I’d seen another way, I would have g-gone with it. This place…it’s made me weak.”

“I’m feeling the effects, too. This place is set on dusting us, but we can’t let it. We won’t let it.” Nightmare said. Error chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s some wishful thin-thinking. We know noth-noth-nothing about this dimension other than it has no ev-evident way out,” Error stated. “How long do you really think we’ll be here?” The Destroyer asked. It was partially a joke, but he didn’t have much hope as far as long term survival. If their magic was weakening, they’d be at the mercy of the residents. He didn’t like the thought of that.

Nightmare considered the question. “It’s hard to say. Maybe a month, possibly a couple…I’m not sure how we’d determine the passage of time. If you figure out a way to do so, let me know.”

When they happened across an elevated space which promised safety from any ground dwelling enemies, they painstakingly scaled the wall’s surface to access it. Once they were inside the space, Error was incapable of finding a position that didn’t aggravate his injuries. He groaned loudly in irritation.

Nightmare’s vision began blurring periodically. Being low on negativity tended to have undesirable effects on his anatomy. He was well aware that without access to his typical influx of negativity, he was at risk of weakening to a point that he actively avoided thinking about. If he didn’t handle this, he’d be extremely vulnerable. At best he’d be dead weight. He was hesitant to ask for assistance–in fact he loathed the idea–but he had to suck it up or deal with dire consequences.

“Error.”

“Nightmare?”

“Right now I’m actively bleeding negativity. I can’t replenish it the way I did back in our universe.”

Error was suddenly very aware of the implications of that statement. Sure, Nightmare could be a downright pain in the coccyx, but he couldn’t manage being alone in this place again. He refused to be left alone. He made up his mind and asked, “What do you ne-eed?”

“To manually extract negativity,” he replied, pointedly looking away from Error. He recognized how it sounded–it sounded fucking filthy. He just needed to replenish his energy, damn it. The multiverse wasn’t exactly considerate when giving him options for sustenance. “I need you close to me to feed. I’m well aware it’s not ideal–”

“What other choice do w3 ha-ave? I won’t be left al-al-alone here, I—no,” Error said resolutely, attempting to calm his glitching. He stood up, resisting the urge to whimper as his wounds made themselves known. He knelt in front of the other, trying to ignore the fact that he was blushing fiercely. It made Error’s soul feel as though it was flipping in his rib cage. It was an anxious, yet exhilarating sensation. He tamped down the idea of being taken advantage of–he knew Nightmare’s claim was legitimate. He looked worse for wear, especially after losing half of two of his tentacles. Error released a steadying breath, before settling in. It was necessary. This touch was controlled. He could do this.

“I’m going to touch you now. Alright?” Nightmare asked, looking for permission. Error nodded.

“You can. G-go ahead. Do it.”

The two fully intact tentacles wrapped gently around Error’s spinal column. They continued their exploration, slipping in between his ribs and encircling his clavicles. Error sucked in a breath. That hurt. His ribs were especially tender from his earlier slip up. Nightmare apologized, his voice slightly unsteady. He was obviously focused on being considerate of Error’s fractured ribs, and Error was thankful for it. He placed his hands on Nightmare’s shoulders to ground himself.

“I haven’t fed this way in centuries. My memories of the last time I did so are hazy,” Nightmare explained. Sweet relief began to settle in his soul as sustaining, negativity-laced magic was transferred into his being. “Are you comfortable enough?”

Error considered whether to be honest or not. He was hurting badly, yet his pride resisted actually admitting to being in pain. After a moment, he decided it was worth it. “I’m in a l-lot of pain. Can…can I le-ean against you?”

“Go ahead,” the guardian said. Error settled in against the sweatshirt covering Nightmare’s clavicle and shoulder. It was awkward, but it beat the throbbing, persistent ache in his spine and diaphragm. He eased himself into the pressure of Nightmare’s tentacles, enjoying the steady weight on his bones. He never expected to want to feel pressure of any kind on his bones. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was the most secure he’d felt in a long, long time.

“How’s your pain?” Nightmare asked softly.

“…less intense,” Error hummed, being lulled by the fluctuation of Nightmare’s soul. ‘Hold on, what?’ What the fuck was wrong with him? His cranium felt lighter, like his skull had been infused with something soft and soothing. The Destroyer should’ve been more upset at the strange turn of his thoughts, but he was all but melting into Nightmare. There was no way he’d be moving from this position.

“Tired?” Nightmare asked, although he was certain he already knew the answer. Error nodded groggily against him, his eyelids feeling heavy. He completely slumped against the Guardian of Negativity, giving up on any efforts to remain alert. It was becoming an impossible task at this point.

“Damn, Destroyer, you’re practically a feast. You’re the gift that just keeps on giving, aren’t you?” Nightmare crooned, feeling pleasantly buzzed. This was some heady magic for sure. The negativity was ample and satisfying, especially after the stress of losing a significant portion of corruption. “I knew you had a significant amount of negativity but this–this is quite the surprise.”

Error wasn’t certain if he was hearing things or if Nightmare had hummed in contentment. The Destroyer’s soul stuttered as another vocalization was emitted by the guardian while Nightmare’s soul thudded contentedly. Nightmare chuckled.

“You poor, tortured soul,” Nightmare said. It was spoken so gently that Error’s cervical vertebrae prickled along his spine. That voice…was really nice right now. Error shivered lightly. “I’ve heard recounts of this process being euphoric…for those who survived, that is.” One of Nightmare’s hands strayed to Error’s cervical vertebrae. “That was cruel of me, wasn’t it? Don’t fret, Destroyer. I’d never. I should have more tact, shouldn’t I?” Nightmare observed Error’s relaxed expression, listening to his slowed breathing. Nightmare leaned back against the rough wall, resting his hands against Error’s back. “Are you feeling high? You look so serene right now…”

Error never responded. Nightmare remained half awake to assess their surroundings. This was far better than braving the elements of the never ending rooms alone. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but the weight of Error’s frame atop his own was extremely comforting. He slowed his intake of negativity and let his mind wander as his energy was rekindled.

Chapter Text

Error awoke slowly, his consciousness taking its sweet time to bring him to the point of clarity. It took him a while to recognize that he was essentially cocooned in Nightmare’s remaining tentacles, resting with the full weight of his frame on the other’s sternum. Nightmare caught onto the fact that Error was returning to the land of the living, and he loosened his hold on him.

“I figured you’d need a shield if anything were to find us. Thank you, by the way,” the Guardian of Negativity said. Error felt the blush as it crept uninvited up his cervical vertebrae. That experience had been far more intimate than anything he could recall experiencing in his colorful past. He wasn’t sure if he should be ashamed of the fact that a little bodily contact had him so worked up. He had no frame of reference, because, well, he didn’t do this. Ever.

“Sure. I me-Ean, you ne-needed it, after all,” Error responded, shrugging even though his face felt like it was searing.

“Still. It’s appreciated,” Nightmare said curtly. Error untangled himself from the pleasant warmth of the other’s tentacles and stood up.

“I need to wa-ash these,” Error said, tugging at his stained shirt and jacket. “What do you think the cha-chances are of us finding a clean, safe pool?”

Nightmare snorted. “Little to none, but I should be doing the same. I’m sure we’ve gone nose blind by this point. Let’s give it a shot.”

Operation: Find a Safe Pool commenced. Edging on the side of caution, they spent a good chunk of time inspecting streams, glorified puddles, and pools as they traversed the unpredictable terrain of the Rooms (they didn’t know what else to call the place they were trapped in and it was an accurate description of the labyrinthian dimension). Their objective was to find a closed-off area of water with no intersecting passageways within its depths. They preferred it to have visible, shallow depths, and clear water. Thus far, nothing had met the criteria.

When they finally happened across a water source that met their standards, it was an immense relief. It was a fair distance from their last resting point, and while they could have kept on walking if necessary, the fact they didn’t have to was a relief. Error was acutely aware that he’d be nude in front of his business partner as he washed, but he needed it badly–his bones felt like they had a layer of grime coating them. He envied the fact that Nightmare had corruption he was able to manipulate to hide his nakedness. At least he had some way of disguising the fact that he was stripping down to his birthday suit.

Reluctantly, Error disrobed, leaving his scarf on the dry ledge. He stepped into the water, slowly immersing himself and his armful of clothing into the translucent ripples. Nightmare snuck a cautious glance over at the Destroyer and wondered if he was the first individual to see Error in such a vulnerable state. The other’s rib cage was discolored and swollen where he’d made an impact with the ledge, and his face still bore the evidence of his first encounter with one of the residents of this place. The light from his soul refracted off of the water as it flickered through the gaps in his crimson diaphragm. Nightmare tore his gaze away, suddenly very aware his glance had been more of a stare. The last thing he wanted was to be caught watching the other bathe.

Nightmare stripped his own clothing and stepped into the pool, finding the water to be tepid and inoffensive. He rinsed his sweatshirt, watching as the gore from past encounters tainted the water. Error was shivering as he rinsed his rib cage. Nightmare stole inconspicuous glances as the Destroyer methodically cleansed himself and his garments. He couldn’t have told anyone what was so interesting about Error doing something so menial, but every time he’d look away, his attention would inevitably be drawn back to the other side of the ledge.

Nightmare wrung the water from his sweatshirt before hanging it to dry over an outcropping. Error slunk over to the cavernous area they’d decided to bunk in, his scarf fashioned around his pelvis like a sad excuse for a skirt. He grunted upon taking a seat, his bones clattering as he shivered. Nightmare raised a brow.

“Wha-at-at? Why are you m-ma-making that face at me?” Error asked, feeling defensive as most of his bones were on display for the others to see. Nightmare found himself lighting up as the Destroyer was further flustered by his facial expression.

“Oh, nothing,” Nightmare said, crossing his legs as he made himself as comfortable as the tiled space would allow. Error narrowed his eye sockets.

“Uh huh.” Error muttered something under his breath, then grumbled ‘Fuckin’ weirdo’ just loud enough for the other to hear. Nightmare chuckled.

“Surely it’s not that cold, is it?” Nightmare asked teasingly.

“Says the guy who has in-insulation,” Error snapped.

“Is that a weight-related joke or a request for me to share my corruption?” Nightmare asked, tilting his skull. “I’m not against it. You could say I owe you for donating negativity,” Nightmare said matter-of-factly.

Error shot him an incredulous look. “Yeah, no. I’m good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Nightmare said and shrugged. “The offer still stands.”

Error huffed, looking off to the side. His body ached in ways he hadn’t experienced, and it worried him. His mortality wasn’t something that he worried about until they became trapped in the Rooms. He must’ve been looking more dismal than he thought because Nightmare caught his attention.

“When did you realize you despised Ink?” Nightmare asked. Error sighed at the subject of the question, but was internally thankful for the distraction.

“When he began to inter-interfere with my affairs. He claimed he wanted to be friends.” Error scoffed. “I told him to get lo-Ost. As you can see, that worked like a charm.”

Nightmare chuckled. “Of course. What was it you were doing?”

“Cleaning up,” Error responded, as though the Guardian of Negativity should’ve known. “Universes expire and s-som-some were never meant to exIst at all. I gave them a merciful ending...a better alternative.”

“And Ink didn’t agree with it.”

“Heh, no, of cour-ourse not. He acts like he’s the multiverse’s hero, the-en creates universes that are destined from the beginning to suffer. It makes no damn s-sense,” Error growled. “I’m tired of dealing with his constant creation…but it’s point-pointless to try to talk to him about any of it,” he muttered, his voice trailing off.

They fell into silence, the echo of water gently lapping at the tiles. Nightmare popped his arm joints, before moving onto his phalanges. He glanced at Error, asking, “So you think he noticed your absence?”

Error’s grunted. “Void if I know. He’s pr-probably caught on by now. Do you think Dream noticed yours?”

Hearing the Guardian of Positivity’s name left a bitter taste in Nightmare’s mouth. “Most definitely.” Error let out a glitchy, dry chuckle. “The thought of his distress delights me.”

“You’re such an angsty prick,” Error stated, his mirth reaching his eye lights. “What’s your deal with him anyhow?”

“My past with him doesn’t matter. We were once on good terms and because of his actions, we no longer see eye to eye. He wants peace in the multiverse,” Nightmare said, using a mocking tone to imitate the Positive Guardian. “He’s gotten worse since the Creator took him under his wing.”

“How shocking,” Error bit out, drawing his legs closer to his body to cover them with his scarf. “Ink is mentally unstable.”

“And you’re not?” Nightmare retorted, causing Error to tense and glare in response.

“Fuck. You,” Error hissed. Nightmare smirked.

“Don’t we all eventually succumb to madness?” Nightmare asked, relaxing against the gritty wall behind him. “I mean, come on–you’re how many eons old–and you’re telling me you don’t have some emotional trauma that scarred you irrevocably?”

Error narrowed his eye sockets at the other. “And why would I tell you of all Guardians wha-a-at plagues me?”

Nightmare grinned, the color of his teeth a reminder that he was once a being without corruption. “We could roleplay the psychiatrist and the hopelessly tortured soul. What do you think?”

Error blinked at him with an unreadable expression before uttering, “No.”

“Your loss.”

It took a considerable amount of time shivering, but eventually, Error’s stubbornness wore thin. He sighed before standing up and trudging over to Nightmare, practically pouting as he plopped himself down and leaned back against him. This wasn’t normal, not for him at least, but he couldn’t bring himself to genuinely care about it. This place instilled fear in him so intensely that he felt as though he was on the verge of being sick almost constantly. Contemplating the anxiety and helplessness welling up in his soul, he decided to speak up. “Are you hungry?”

Nightmare tipped his skull. “Slightly. Why do you ask?”

“I–” Error didn’t have an answer, so he replied, “I’m just curious is all.”

Nightmare huffed. “I’m sure that’s not the case. You can’t lie to me.” He considered for a moment that Error’s pride was a factor in this equation. He scoffed before saying, “I could feed, if that’s what you’re hoping to hear–”

Error was quick to turn around, sitting in Nightmare’s lap as he situated himself into the most comfortable position. He leaned into the other’s clavicle and shoulder, noting how different it felt without the sweatshirt cushioning his skull. Nightmare was startled by the suddenness, but not opposed to the lap full of prickly Destroyer. It was just new. It was ironic to him how his mindset had changed since they’d entered this hellhole. He couldn’t imagine this happening anywhere outside of this cursed place.

Error paused, overthinking–he wondered if he’d misjudged the situation. “Is this t-too much? I can move if it is-is,” Error said, suddenly very unsure if this was appropriate. This was definitely crossing a line. Fuck, he was practically nude, save for the scarf, and what did that really leave to the imagination? “I can go–”

“No, stay.” Nightmare carefully draped his tentacles over Error’s upper back. “Quit being so indecisive. Now that you’ve given me the option, I’m actually quite hungry. Or were you intending to tease me?”

Error huffed, but relaxed as his shivering tapered off in response to the warmth radiating off of the dark guardian. This time, he didn’t fall asleep. He was keenly aware of how it felt to be in such close proximity to Nightmare. It was conflicting. It felt almost too nice, and for once Nightmare wasn’t being an intolerable prick. Stranger yet, Error was getting the feeling that Nightmare seemed to enjoy the contact outside of the context of gaining energy from him. It could have been his imagination, or maybe he was overthinking things (which he definitely had a habit of doing). Maybe it had to do with mutual trauma and coping with the terrifying elements of the unknown. In a way, he could consider this therapy, or at the least a temporary respite from this new reality. He focused on the scent of cinnamon, firewood, and citrus, the blend so comforting he hardly recognized himself drifting into a light slumber.

~

Days, weeks, months could have passed, and they wouldn’t have known. How could they? Their circadian rhythms were so far out of whack by now that Error wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep reliably even if they stepped out of the Rooms immediately. Not to mention he’d been having increasingly strange dreams.

Nightmare seemed to be more on edge, and while his cautiousness increased, he stayed closer to Error. The Destroyer didn’t mind the tentacles brushing against him here and there, though they could stir up some glitches if he was feeling particularly jumpy. Nightmare’s severed tentacles had begun to repair themselves, slowly but surely. Error’s back pain decreased as well as they somehow remained under the radar of the things lurking about. They still heard the creatures and there had been many times that slumber had been disturbed by a disturbing wail or moan from one of the abominations. Error was well aware that Nightmare had saved them from being attacked on more than one occasion by securing a tentacle over Error’s mouth before he could yell out in his sleep. For that, the Destroyer felt that he owed him. He remembered the last time it happened vividly.

His soul felt fit to burst as an unholy wail vibrated through the small alcove. Error was certain he’d been caught by one of the amalgamations roaming this dimension and was about to experience a drawn-out, pain-filled end. His eye lights landed on a dim aqua light before his vision too was taken away. He hadn’t expected to be restrained and held close by the unshakeable, yet surprisingly soft binds as someone leaned close enough for their breath to ghost the side of his skull.

“You’re okay,” Nightmare whispered against his temple, “But that could have gone very, very badly. I’m going to hold you until you calm down. Your eye lights are too bright and they’re a liability right now. Something is close by, but it’s not going to find us, because I won’t let it.” Error nodded, realizing that he was wrapped in the corruption of Nightmare’s tentacles. He gripped the silky, flowing surface of the limbs and squeezed to communicate to the Guardian that he heard him. “I’ll let you go very soon.” Error gave another squeeze to the tentacle closest to his phalanges. Nightmare suddenly fell silent, stepping back to press them into the back corner of the space. Error’s soul twisted with terror as footsteps neared the opening; time stood still as there was a complete absence of sound, before the footsteps became less intense, eventually fading off into the distance. Error didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed by the fact he was shaking like a leaf. The fact that he could have drawn that thing right to their location chilled him to the core.

Nightmare’s tentacles loosened their grip on the Destroyer, who moved to Nightmare’s side in an instant. “I-I…I almost…” Error stumbled over his words, unable to vocalize that he felt incapable of keeping them safe. He was a liability. He would have been the cause of their demise. He choked on his words, utterly terrified as he shook, not knowing how to handle the fact that they could have dusted.

“Shhh,” Nightmare cooed, his voice surprisingly soothing as he asked, “Can I touch you? Do you want me to?” He asked his voice like warm tea on a bitter winter morning. Error nodded before gripping the material of Nightmare’s sweatshirt in his fists. “You’re alright. You’re doing just fine,” the Guardian of Negativity stated, his voice a pleasant rumble as he hugged one of the multiverse’s most formidable beings against his sternum.

He’d half expected Nightmare to comment about the events that had taken place, but he never did. The comforting words, the hug–it all left the Destroyer reeling. It left an aching sensation in his chest that didn’t fade with time. If anything, it became more intense, especially when he’d inch closer to the other when he felt most vulnerable, and Nightmare’s tentacles would tug him closer (like he belonged). He wasn’t sure if it was a subconscious reaction or not, but regardless, it brought a wave of shame creeping up his spine in his waking hours. He should have detested him…but realistically, he couldn’t. At least not any longer.

“Something is on your mind. I can tell,” Nightmare said.

Error grunted. “No…really?” Error responded in a sarcastic tone.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Nightmare asked, ducking into a hallway that declined sharply. His teal eye light offered some light in the space, easing his nerves. Error grunted, but remained quiet otherwise as he followed close behind the negative guardian. “Alright, well, I’ll talk for the both of us then.”

“I miss my library and my team’s antics. I’ve been spoiled by Axe’s cooking. I never thought I’d miss food this much,” Nightmare stated. “My spine aches and my tentacles healing is taking eons.”

“You have a li-library?” Error asked, his tone hinting at his sour mood.

“Indeed. It’s located around and above my office,” the Guardian of Negativity responded.

“I miss chocolate,” Error said, wishing he could have the delectable flavor as a distraction from the mind-fuckery this place supplied them with.

Nightmare was silent for a moment before he said, “Error, I’d like to say that I’m confident in our ability to survive here…but I can’t. It would be a straight-up lie.” The sound of their bare feet disrupting the water was the only sound as they continued. Nightmare released a frustrated sigh. “I shouldn’t have to drain negativity from your soul and recycle it back to you for you to heal–you never needed that before.”

“We weren’t trapped in a dan-dangerous, rogue dimension before. We’re playing by its rules, not the other way around,” Error grumbled.

“You aren’t healing correctly. It’s nothing to make light of,” Nightmare growled. Error flashed him a callous glare.

“I know…you think I don’t fucking know tha-at?” Error scoffed. “Tch. You’re making it sound like you having your tentacles severed was insignificant.”

“It’s something I can deal with. Typically I can regenerate them almost instantly, but that’s with a healthy flow of negativity.” There was silence for a moment before Nightmare commented, “My team is probably losing their heads.”

“No, Nightmare, they are losing their heads having to thin-think for themselves for the first time ever,” Error said.

“You little shit,” Nightmare chided.

“Pft, is that an insult? And why shouldn’t I be honest?” Error asked. “You bitch about them all of the t-time.”

“That’s different.”

“Literally how?” Error asked, chuckling at the hypocrisy of the claim. He felt slightly lightheaded as they traveled into a spacious area with fluorescent light filtering past stark white columns.

“Oh, you know–I only house, feed, and employ them, nothing considerable.”

“So they’re your p-pets,” Error snarked. Nightmare’s expression reflected mischief and it made Error feel giddy.

“You’re feeling bold, aren’t you, Destroyer?”

“I’m just tell-telling you how it is,” Error said. Nightmare scoffed.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really really,” Error replied.

Nightmare looked around, wanting to get a better feel for the space before saying, “So, about the route, we have various options–” he turned to get Error’s input, only to find empty space. The Guardian of Negativity froze, his rib cage tensing in sudden panic. “Error?” He called, just loud enough for his deep voice to echo through the vast space. When there was no response, dread settled in his soul like a lead weight. He took a few steps forward, looking around himself for his missing counterpart. He should have been more attentive. This place was too unpredictable, and immediately he assumed the worst. “Error?!”

“Pst.”

Nightmare whirled around to see the other peeking around a column, his vivid bones a stark contrast to the chalky white structure. Nightmare became dizzy at the rush of emotions that flooded his frame–relief and irritation were predominant. “What the fuck…”

Error disappeared behind the column and Nightmare was there in an instant, only to be met with a lack of the Destroyer. He scowled, before looking around wildly. He caught a glimpse of dark bones disappearing behind a column, and launched into action, reaching out only to grasp at empty air.

“Error,” Nightmare snapped, his soul twisting with a mixture of excitement and paranoia. “This is childish. Come out. Now.”

There was a glitchy chuckle from somewhere close by, before he received his response. “Ma-a-Ake me.”

“Fine, if that’s the way you want to play,” Nightmare growled, lurking around to survey his surroundings. “Have it your way.” The guardian moved silently, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement. From where he was, he spied a shadow cast by the fluorescent lights hovering above them. Nightmare smirked as he soundlessly approached. ‘Brat’ he thought as he closed in, set on catching the Destroyer off guard.

He struck, his tentacles entrapping the one intent on hiding from him before he even cleared the column. Error looked thoroughly spooked, which was highly satisfying after he’d given the dark guardian the scare he did. “Oh, look who it is,” Nightmare purred, lifting Error up to meet him at eye level. “A little sneak.”

“Oh, no, I’ve been c-caught,” Error said sarcastically. “What’s the big bad Nightmare going to do to me?” He squinted his eye sockets in mirth, his smile equally snarky and alluring. Time seemed to slow as Nightmare reveled in the relief of having the other close once again.

“Give a guy some warning next time,” he said, noting the intricacies of Error’s eye lights. They were so vibrant in the all-white environment. It was stirring something within him and he wasn’t sure how to interpret it. “Seriously.”

“Okay,” Error replied, his confidence deflating slightly. Error looked away before saying, “I’ll give you a he-he-heads up next time.”

Nightmare released him, and Error swayed slightly on his feet. The Destroyer was battling the heat forming in his bones at being restrained and lifted off of the ground. He liked that in a way he couldn’t put into words–he wasn’t sure he should ever put it into words. He reached out to place a hand against the column to balance himself, before looking back at Nightmare.

"So, about the route," he said, hoping to distract himself from the fact that his soul felt tight in response to Nightmare's attention. He released a long breath before straightening up, dusting off his jacket to get rid of any grit from the column. "What wa-a-as it you were saying?" The edges of Nightmare's mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly.

~

They traveled through vague paths and eerily quiet areas with stagnant pools. Nightmare pretended not to notice when the Destroyer took one of his tentacles when they began traversing a particularly dim area. His tentacle curled around Error's phalanges and he blushed in response to the gentle squeeze. Error supposed he'd been caught, but the tentacle didn't pull away from him, so he allowed himself to relax. If Nightmare had a problem with it, he would have retracted the limb immediately, he was sure of it. Their frames ached from their trek, so upon finding a room with a door, they decided to take the opportunity to rest.

Error settled against Nightmare without saying a word and sighed as he felt tentacles move fluidly over his bones. Nightmare didn't take much-he was more focused on maintaining his negativity while recycling some of his own magic for Error to burn through. The Destroyer would keel over before admitting that he needed energy, so Nightmare took matters into his own hands.

“You–wow, this feels strange,” Error said.

“How so?”

“It’s like my skull is be-being opened up…but pleasantly. I can’t think straight.” Error shifted slightly, leaning more of his weight into Nightmare.

“Speaking of not thinking straight, I have a question for you.”

“Okay,” Error said. "Ask away."

“Have you ever been involved with someone else?” Nightmare asked. Error was quiet for a moment.

Error grunted. “No. N3ver.”

“Have you ever wanted to be?” Nightmare pressed, leaning his skull back against the wall they were sitting against. When Error didn’t respond for a longer period of time, he wondered if he’d drifted off. Maybe this wasn’t something the Destroyer wanted to think about.

“Being with me…would be a mis-mistake,” Error replied, his voice somewhat solemn. Nightmare scowled.

“Why do you say that?”

“Why do you think?” Error responded more harshly than he meant to. Nightmare contemplated. From what he could tell, aside from being headstrong, he couldn’t rationalize why the other hadn’t been involved with someone else before, romantically or otherwise. He shrugged.

“You’re a crafty, code-manipulating enigma with a shit ton of power. It isn’t something you come across often,” Nightmare stated, before commenting, “If ever. The only one I know who can touch AU codes is you.”

“I’m aware,” Error pointed out. Nightmare furrowed his brow.

“So, what’s holding you back then?” The Guardian of Negativity asked.

“I could a-ask you the same,” Error remarked.

“But we’re talking about you,” Nightmare countered, waiting for the response he wanted to hear.

Error grunted. “Why? What’s so shock-shocking about me not ge-getting down and dirty with somebody? Does it really surprise you?”

“Well, I’d think you’d see that you have a lot going for you. Or are you being purposefully obtuse with me right now?” Nightmare asked.

“I don’t know what you-you’re going on about…” Error trailed off, rolling his eye lights.

“There are people who would jump at the chance to hook up with the Destroyer,” Nightmare said in a teasing tone which Error wasn’t familiar with. Error wrinkled his nasal ridge at the notion.

“Do you think I want t-to be used? Fetishized? Oh, yes, I’d lo-love to be a tool for someone on a power trip. Sounds sexy,” Error remarked.

“Alright, I can see your point,” Nightmare said. The humor was gone from his voice.

“No one ca-cares who I am, not really. They see my title, and that’s it. I don-don’t feel like being a bucket list item to check off for someone who’s kinky enough to wa-ant to sleep with me,” Error said, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“That’s fair,” Nightmare said, his voice uncharacteristically empathetic.

“Sure is. Now it’s your turn, big, bad ten-tentacle man. Where’s your side piece?” Error asked.

“You caught me, I don’t have one. I haven’t found anyone compatible,” Nightmare said. “I’m not willing to stoop for someone who isn’t worth my time. I've fooled around enough to know what I don't want.”

“Fa-air enough,” Error said.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not interested in finding someone who can handle my expectations,” Nightmare stated. Error snorted.

“Good luck with that,” Error snarked. Despite the comment, Nightmare laughed as well. It felt nice to banter, especially in a non-hostile scenario. This was the calmest the Guardian had been since becoming entrapped in this realm.

“Touché,” Nightmare grumbled, suppressing a smile that had no business being present at this time. Sure, he might be holding the multiverse’s Destroyer in his lap and asking about his love life (or lack thereof) but that didn’t change the fact that they were strictly business partners. At least that was what he told himself.

~

As they progressed, they inevitably became more adept at communicating in intense situations. While they’d become better at steering clear of the Rooms’ residents, it wasn’t realistic to expect that they’d never come across any of them again. They became well acquainted with their strengths and weaknesses, using them to their advantage in the event that they did need to fight. One downside of not having his designated AUs close meant Nightmare needed to feed often, and Error didn’t mind–in fact, he craved it. It was strange since he’d never let anyone so physically close to him, but now that he had, it had awoken a desire for contact. To be concise, he wanted physical contact solely with Nightmare at this point in time, but that was information the Destroyer would keep guarded. He still was wary as far as touch went in other circumstances, but with the communication barriers between himself and the guardian falling away, he was comfortable allowing Nightmare in.

They’d entered into a series of rooms that emulated the inside of a skyscraper. Looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the two were met with a vivid, ominous pink sky littered with clouds. Tilting their skulls downward gave them no idea how far up into the atmosphere they were located–any suggestion of the ground was occluded by a thick fog. Once again, the realm lacked any straightforward landmarks or distinguishing features. They walked through hallways, peered into desolate offices, and took time to listen for any sign of life as they made their way through the seemingly infinite structure.

Nightmare decided to propose a game–it would distract them from the impossibility of escape for the time being. Occasionally, he’d catch sight of items that had been left behind–by who, they’d probably never know. The game’s rules were simple: find interesting, useful items, and tally points (which never really happened). The one who collected the most would win…well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Games aside, he recognized that keeping up morale between them was important to keeping motivation alive, so he’d come up with whatever he could.

Error was the first to come across an item. He secured it with his strings, drawing the foreign object from its hiding spot and into his palm. He squinted at it, turning it around in his hands. ‘The hell?’ He tugged at the solid object and when nothing happened, he felt along the sides with the tips of his phalanges. He found a square projection and messed around with it until he heard a click. A blade slid out. He blinked in surprise, thinking about how that could have gone badly if his hand had been over the end the blade projected out from. “Huh. Well then,” Error muttered, considering whether he should keep it or throw it back.

Nightmare cocked his head. “Leave it to you to find…whatever that is,” Nightmare commented. Error flipped the strange pocket knife over, searching for a way to sheath the blade inside it once more. Finding the projection again, he pressed down, sliding it back until the blade retreated back into the housing.

“Eh, I’ll hold onto it,” Error said, slipping the weapon into his jacket pocket. He and Nightmare stuck close together as they traveled through dimly lit corridors, listening for any telltale signs of danger. The silence didn’t help to assuage the creeping sensation of foreboding. Error glanced around at the occasional closed door, and debated whether opening one of them would be a regrettable decision. He could never tell with this place. The idea of something potentially threatening on the other side dissuaded him from attempting to open any of them.

Nightmare came across a flashlight with dead batteries and a roll of medical tape. He’d shrugged, pocketing the medical tape and disregarding the flashlight. The chance of coming across batteries here was slim to none. What was especially strange about this particular area they were trekking through was the ability to glimpse the outside through the windows as they gradually descended the floors of the structure. For all they knew, it was a simulation made to look like the sky. Nightmare came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t matter if it was real or not; likely there was no way to access the outside from this cluster of rooms. It was all an illusion meant to inspire false hope.

They continued through hallways and abandoned office spaces until they reached what looked like a breakroom with multiple suites surrounding it. There were a few items, including a dusty table, a stray lamp, and a barren desk. This space would work well as a rest area. Error went to inspect the desk, placing his hands on it as he tested its integrity. Nightmare seemed to have the same idea, using a tentacle to lightly shift the table. He looked over at Error.

“We could barricade the main door with these. How about we scope out the rooms?”

“Soun-sounds good. I’ll check these out. Let me know how the others look,” Error said, entering the first of the suites with a healthy dose of caution. It was alright, although the stain on one of the walls reminded him of blood splatter. That was a no-go. The next seemed promising. He walked around the perimeter, scanning for any signs of compromised structure or other issues. He didn’t spot any. Just to make certain there wasn’t another viable option, he checked the last one on his side of the space. It was smaller, but it seemed alright. Personally, he preferred the previous option, but he’d let Nightmare take a look around as well.

“There’s a good one o-over here. Any good options on your side?” Error asked.

“There’s one that’s alright. Let's see the top contender on your side,” Nightmare said, meeting him at the entrance to the room. They walked the perimeter again, Nightmare taking time to scrutinize the room as well. After a thorough inspection, the guardian approved it. “Good eye, Error. Let’s get this door secured.”

Nightmare’s tentacles were able to transport the items with relative ease. Error was thankful for the fact that the other’s severed extra limbs were regenerating. He’d feared for a little while that this place would impede their healing abilities completely, but it seemed the Destroyer was being impacted the most out of the two of them. Error helped stack and press stray furniture against the door. For good measure, he locked the handle of the door as well.

Error eased into Nightmare’s lap, groaning as his spine cracked loudly. He’d become much less shy about positioning himself the way he liked while the other replenished his energy. He loosely draped his arms around Nightmare’s shoulders. Error did his damnedest to ignore the thought of what it was going to feel like when this wouldn’t be acceptable to do any longer. It was a stupid, unrealistic expectation to ask Nightmare to let him do this outside of this realm. There wouldn’t be any point to do so. It was a ridiculous idea, one that he wasn’t pleased to be obsessing over. It was an arrangement made out of desperation–Nightmare needed negativity to survive and Error had ample to spare. So why did it feel like his soul was being hollowed out when he contemplated losing this? He wasn’t entitled to it–hell, he’d never been willing to be this close to anyone physically before. He felt immature and weak as he began to get choked up over something so arbitrary. While he would have normally felt mortified at showing emotional weakness in front of his business partner…were they partners any longer?

“You know, while I enjoy eating my fill, you’re emitting loads of negativity. Would you like to key me into what’s going on?” Nightmare asked. Error wilted internally. Nightmare’s voice sounded so soothing and concerned when he spoke. Error fought back tears, unwilling to speak for fear of sobbing. “You don’t have to talk about it. I know it helps to share the burden sometimes. I’m just saying I’m willing to listen.”

Error sucked in a sharp breath. “Why?” He croaked out. Nightmare suddenly looked confused.

“Why what?”

“Why are you…you’re ac-acting like you...just why?” Error asked. Aggravation and hurt were evident in his voice. There was no point in trying to hide it. He felt (and probably looked) like shit.

Nightmare was silent. He observed Error’s downtrodden expression and contemplated the emotions laced with the negativity he was feeding on. He wasn’t sure he had an answer for that. Did he care? He certainly didn’t want the other out of his sight. He didn’t know what he’d do if he was suddenly alone once more. He didn’t want to admit it, but Error’s presence had helped him immensely, beyond his consistent donations of negativity. “I...care.” The words felt foreign in his mouth as he spoke them. Error looked at him with an unreadable expression before scowling.

“That’s n-not funny,” Error said quietly. The negativity thickened, taking on a more intense edge as Nightmare absorbed it.

“Alright, let me rephrase that–I can care,” Nightmare said insistently. His tentacles tightened slightly before he caught himself tensing and he pointedly relaxed his hold on Error’s midsection. “I can. I do.”

“Just stop,” Error said as he wiped at his eye sockets, a few stray tears spilling over. He looked away from the Guardian, ashamed that the only one around was seeing him at his weakest. This was pathetic and Error felt shame gripping him. Nightmare was probably disgusted, laughing at him internally and celebrating the fact that the Destroyer had been reduced to this. He didn’t have the soul to blame him at the moment, either. The stress of their situation finally seemed to dawn on him fully as he contemplated the “after” if there ever was an after at this point in their lives.

“Error.” Nightmare didn’t like the fact that he was becoming high off of this level of anguish. It felt so wrong; Error was at his breaking point and Nightmare was feeling an inappropriate rush of euphoria. It wasn’t only the negativity, though. Seeking comfort wasn’t a foreign concept to him–it just rarely occurred. He could be a source of solace and comfort if Error wanted him to be. He could be that, even though at his core, he was a being who thrived on pain and suffering. ‘I can care’ he repeated. The idea filled his cranium with imagery of how and where he would begin.

“Y-yeah?” Error responded, sitting up slightly to meet Nightmare’s gaze. He wiped at his damp eye sockets, his jaw trembling as more tears replaced the ones which had just been cleared.

Nightmare nodded, his eye taking in the intricate markings adorning Error’s face. “I’d like to kiss you,” he said softly. Error was stunned into silence.

“Because you p-pity me. Is that it?” The Destroyer asked, his expression pinched. Nightmare clicked his tongue.

“Did I say I pitied you?” Nightmare asked, and Error huffed in response.

“You actually wa-ant to?” Error asked, unsure as to where this came from. His soul stuttered. “Don’t play around, asshole, I swear-”

“I want to, yes,” Nightmare confirmed, waiting for a reply. Error felt uncertainty invade his rib cage, but he focused instead on the urge to comply.

“Okay.” He nodded and watched as Nightmare leaned forward, his face mere centimeters from his own. There was a hand cupping his jaw as their lips tentatively met. Error was immersed in the feeling of the warmth of Nightmare’s lips. It was a heady experience, causing his soul to shiver with enthusiasm. Nightmare responded to Error’s eagerness with passion, deciphering the pleasant, distinct flavor of Error’s magic. He sat back offering Error a moment of reprieve.

“Nightmare.” Error breathed heavily, his face flushed with magic. “I need tha-at to happen again.”

Nightmare complied. Error felt like putty in his hands as he relaxed into the guardian’s embrace. Nightmare wasn’t immune to base urges and the heavy petting was going right to his core. He broke away again. “Error.” He swallowed, the haziness in his skull creating a blissed-out sensation far beyond what he’d ever experienced. He assumed it was due to feeding off of a magical powerhouse like Error. “I’m feeling the effects of your magic.”

“Yeah? Is tha-at a good thing?” Error asked. Nightmare was tempted to kiss him again, but he halted that thought while he answered the other’s question.

“Well, I’m feeling high. So yes, it’s pleasant, very much so, but I don’t want to cross any boundaries,” Nightmare explained, drawn in by Error’s vivid eye lights. “You’re making me very horny,” he said, in case Error hadn’t caught his drift.

Realization dawned on Error and his face was searing with heat. He was feeling the effects of the kissing and sensual touching as well. While he wasn’t sure about full-on sex, he wasn’t opposed to becoming a bit more handsy. “Um, m-me, too. H-heh.” Error looked away a moment before stating, “I’m not ready, uh-”

“It’s fine, I understand,” Nightmare was quick to reassure him. Error was quick to jump in again to clarify.

“But I’m not opposed to touching,” he said, flushing brightly as the words left his mouth. Nightmare chuckled lightly, before offering a tipsy smile. “Are you alright with that?”

“More than alright,” Nightmare said, his voice gaining a husky element to it as he became more turned on. “Do you want to set the pace? Or would you feel better if I did?”

Error appreciated the questions. It helped to ease his nerves immensely. Excitement thrummed throughout his soul as he contemplated. “Do you m-mind taking the lead? I can jump in, but it’s been longer than I can rem-remember,” Error said, his voice tapering off as he finished speaking.

“That’s not a problem,” Nightmare said reassuringly. “We’re going to take this slow, alright? Do you want to summon something for me?” He asked.

Error focused his intention, allowing blue magic to pool into his pelvis. He felt the magic coalesce into a soft mound with plush folds and a slick opening. While part of him wondered what the other was thinking, he was well aware of what he preferred. When he was alone with his phalanges, this was what he summoned, pressing his two middle digits in and out of himself rhythmically. Occasionally he’d formed a dick, but never without a hole to accompany it. “You can t-touch me,” Error urged.

Nightmare slid his hands down, grazing Error’s pussy through his pants. He twitched, eager to feel those phalanges directly against his summoned parts. He took Nightmare’s hand and slipped his pants down to manage ease of access. Nightmare watched hungrily, his own soul thudding behind his rib cage as he ran two digits along the slit formed by the plush blue lips of Error’s pussy. He pressed up with a little more pressure, teasing the others' clit. He massaged the protrusion in gentle circles, reveling in the way Error squirmed against his hand. Error ground into the touch, making sounds Nightmare never could have imagined leaving the Destroyer’s mouth. Yet here he was, the direct cause of them.

“Good boy,” Nightmare crooned, his middle digit straying lower to dip into the damp entrance. Error’s breath caught as he enthusiastically took the others’ phalange inside of him. “Look at you, being so good for me.”

“Nightmare,” Error said, voice trembling as he steadied himself using the others’ shoulders. “More inside me. Can you add m-more, please?”

“Of course,” Nightmare smiled facetiously, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Error gasped as two more digits joined the first. Nightmare curled his phalanges inside of him, brushing and pressing into the most sensitive parts of his ecto. Error gripped Nightmare’s shoulders harder, his breath catching as he began to tense. “N-fuck, fuck, yeah, don’t stop. Y-yeah, please–”

“You deserve to let go. I want to feel you cum on my fingers,” Nightmare said, the baritone qualities of his voice coaxing the Destroyer along. Error moaned brokenly, fluids dripping past Nightmare’s phalanges and onto his lap. It was so much, so intense, and a fan-fucking-tastic orgasm. For a moment Error was left in the dark as his vision rebooted. He blinked, taking in Nightmare’s satisfied expression. He looked down and had the decency to feel embarrassed.

“Oh, shit. Fuck…sorry,” Error rasped, realizing he’d doused the guardian’s lap.

“Pft, I’m not,” Nightmare declared. Error blushed fiercely. Error observed the tent in the others’ shorts and looked at Nightmare for permission.

“Can I,” Error began, feeling his face heat up again, before continuing with, “Can I suck you o-off?” He asked, recognizing that he was probably glowing like a lightbulb.

“Be my guest,” the Guardian of Negativity purred. Error wasn’t sure where to begin, but he decided that starting anywhere was a good step forward. He touched Nightmare through his pants as the other had done to him. Nightmare released a sonorous, breathy sound in response, his eye light watching the other with keen interest. Error liked that–he liked that a lot. He moved on, reaching past the waist of Nightmare’s shorts, exposing a cyan cock. It was fitting; the tip was slightly pointed while the shaft had a nice girth and a bulge near the bottom. It felt weighty and warm in his hands. Error was intrigued and found himself turned on once more at the sight.

“You’re full of surprises,” Error said, making himself comfortable. His mouth watered at the idea of what the other might taste like. He never knew if he’d gain the confidence to give head, but here he was. He wanted to. Badly. Using one hand to grip Nightmare’s cock, he laid another reassuringly on his left femur.

“That I am,” Nightmare replied, paying rapt attention to the sight between his legs. Error bent down, and not one, but three azure tongues enveloped the head of his dick. Nightmare was in awe. After paying attention to the sensitive tip, Error took him fully into his mouth and sucked, then swallowed. Nightmare groaned, his dick twitching in the tantalizing cavern of Error’s mouth. Sure, he’d received a blowjob before. They got his rocks off. Error was putting on a show and he didn’t even know it. Or maybe he did, purposefully keeping eye contact as he released a glitchy moan. ‘What a fucking tease.’

Error pulled off of his cock, hollowing out his cheeks to create a ‘pop’ as he did so. Taking a moment to assess the situation, the Destroyer wore an awkward smile. “Fe-feeling good?”

“Mhm. You’re going to continue, right?” He asked, his dick throbbing in Error’s hand. Error smiled, squeezing the cyan shaft, and Nightmare’s cock responded by twitching in his grip.

“Just check-checking in. If you need me t-to stop, let me know,” Error said before resuming sucking him off. That mouth was brilliant–or maybe Error himself was brilliant. Nightmare had never fed then fucked before, but it was definitely going to be a repeat event. The guardian’s hands attempted to find purchase on the ground, but only ended up shredding the dilapidated carpet. He was so close–it had been so long, and Error hummed as he took him to the root.

“E-Error, I’m going to cum. I–you should–oh, fuck, yes,” Nightmare groaned, bones tensing as he released inside of Error’s mouth. The Destroyer furrowed his brow before swallowing, humming as he sucked him dry. Sensitivity set in, and Nightmare lightly deterred Error from paying any more attention to his aching dick. “Holy fuck.”

Error looked satiated as he stripped his shirt off and began wiping down Nightmare’s lap. Nightmare watched with no small amount of appreciation as the evidence of their activities was contained. After tossing his sticky shirt to the side, he settled himself in Nightmare’s lap. “That…that was re-eally nice.”

“I agree...I didn’t realize how badly I needed that,” Nightmare said softly, his entire body relaxed. Error leaned his skull against Nightmare’s shoulder. Error felt guilt gripping his soul and he was suddenly compelled to speak up before drifting off.

“Nightmare.”

“Error,” Nightmare said, his voice conveying his fatigue.

“I’m inc-incredibly sorry for putting us through this.” He inhaled and let out a long, steadying breath. “That’s all.”

“Me too,” Nightmare responded. “I could’ve done more. I could’ve been less disdainful. Truly.”

Error was silent, before stating, “Thank you.”

“You’re alright. We’re alright,” Nightmare hummed, placing a reassuring hand on Error’s spine. Error let his eyes fall shut, embracing the other as he drifted into the land of dreams.

~

Upon waking up, Error felt like he’d crossed a line. He sat up, aware of Nightmare’s unresponsiveness. He must’ve been especially worn out, considering they’d traveled a far distance and then proceeded to fool around. Error blushed at the reminder of what they’d done. It was conflicting, the idea that he had let Nightmare finger him and then swallowed him down like he was straight out of Underlust. Yet…he didn’t have any feelings of regret. In fact, he felt good. That felt good, it felt amazing, in fact. Having only used his fingers or toys before, feeling Nightmare knuckles deep inside of him was delicious.

He was late to notice that Nightmare had been roused by his movement and was looking at him through his half-lidded eye light. Error felt like a deer in a headlight. “Good morning…or, uh, afternoon,” Error stated, chuckling nervously. “Or evening.” He caught the suggestion of a smile in Nightmare’s expression and it put him at ease.

“How are you feeling?” Nightmare said softly. Error’s brow furrowed.

“I’m fine. And you?” He asked, slightly concerned that Nightmare wasn’t being completely forthcoming.

“I feel better than I have in a long time,” he admitted. Error felt relief rush through him. He stood up, grabbing his dirty shirt before balling it up until it was small enough to fit into a pocket. Nightmare snorted and Error gave him a look.

“Listen, I’m n-not about to leave my only shirt just c-cause there’s jizz on it,” Error said pointedly.

“I didn’t say anything,” Nightmare said, laughing at the reaction he inspired.

“You were think-thinking it, though,” Error muttered.

Nightmare looked at Error and couldn’t help but chuckle. This was a side of him he’d never seen and it was refreshing. Error was someone he wanted to get to know, layer by layer. He wouldn’t tell him that, though. It could potentially foil his plan to familiarize himself with the Destroyer, knowing how flighty Error was.

Their time consisted of reaching the lower levels of the building before proceeding to the basement. Taking time to rest along the way, they discovered that this building truly possessed what appeared to be never-ending depths. The rooms went on and on, and while the basement levels weren’t horrifying, they weren’t comforting in the least. When they’d gone as deep as possible only to be met with an ominous dead end, they began retracing their steps, aware that they must have missed something along the way.

After backtracking for some time, they found the single infernal corridor leading into another set of rooms. The climb back from the lowest levels was arduous, especially considering everything look the same everywhere they went. The two were at their limit. Trekking through a long passageway, Error reached out for one of Nightmare’s tentacles; it wasn’t hard to locate, since the guardian tended to spread the appendages to explore the space as they walked. The tentacle responded by coiling its tip around his hand and squeezing. The gesture meant more than Error could express and without hesitation, he squeezed back. He might have imagined it, but he thought he caught Nightmare smiling. It was probably his imagination.

The scenery morphed into a dim street lined with overhead lights and identical houses. Nightmare assumed this would happen at some point, but it didn’t make it any less disappointing that he was now back where he’d started. Error didn’t seem to recognize the terrain, though. He kept a hold of his tentacle, scanning the environment for any sign of danger. As far as Nightmare knew, they were in the clear in this section of the Rooms but he would rather retain a healthy sense of caution. They walked down the unending road, the silence of the space aside from the buzz of the street lamps causing a prickling sensation along the Guardian’s spine.

He searched for the entrance he took to get out of this area, but it was fruitless. Time passed slowly and their patience began waning after exhaustion set in. Nightmare decided it would be best to inspect one of the homes to find a suitable area to hide out while they recuperated. Peering in through the windows, they scrutinized the interiors. It took a while, but after they came across an accessible and fairly normal-looking house, they decided to take a chance and entered. They remained on guard as they closed and locked the front door.

Error entered the kitchen area silently, his glasses perched on his nasal ridge as he scanned his surroundings for signs of activity. When no red flags presented themselves, he proceeded to the dining room. Nightmare scouted the living room and the upstairs bedrooms, relieved when he found nothing concerning. He checked that the back door was secured, jiggling the handle as he tested the durability of the locks. Error was busy opening a few of the cupboards, scrounging around the dusty spaces for anything useful. The Destroyer had been more dedicated to keeping up with Nightmare’s game than the Guardian himself. Error plucked a few items from the shelves and set them on the counter, looking pleased with himself. A few tins, a couple of small jars, and what appeared to be a meat tenderizer. Resting his elbows on the counter, Error looked over his spoils, cracking open one of the tins.

Nightmare felt fatigue clouding his cranium and weighing down his frame, so he turned to the carpeted area to find a corner to snooze in while Error fiddled with kitchen instruments. He didn’t want to interrupt the Destroyer and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the other alone in the lower level of the uncanny house. Settling against the surprisingly smooth wall, he let his skull fall back and closed his eye sockets.

Error snorted, holding the meat tenderizer in his hands as he got a feel for the weighty object. While it wasn’t large, it would come in handy when they inevitably crossed paths with another resident of the Rooms. “He-ey, Nightmare-” he began, looking around for his counterpart only to find him absent. Backing away from the countertop, he felt relief flood him as he took in the sleeping silhouette of the other. He knew the Guardian needed rest, so he decided that his comment could wait until later–if he remember it, that was. He pocketed the metal mallet and entered a room with a window seat that offered a view of the darkness extending into the uneventful backyard. He sat down, tugging some threads from his face before creating weaving his digits together to create a complex Cat's Cradle string pattern. His eye sockets felt heavy as he took a moment to sit idly. Being continuously on guard meant that when he crashed, he crashed hard. Within minutes, he’d nodded off, his shoulders slouching as he drifted to sleep.

A loud, tapping sound roused Error from his slumber only for it to stop, leading him to believe that the source of the noise had been his imagination. His eye sockets drifted shut once again only for his frame to jolt as the tapping sound emanated from directly next to him. Momentarily frozen with fear, Error remembered exactly where he was–anything could see him, he was perched in the window seat, and he’d fallen asleep there like a fool. Biting the bullet, he opened his eye sockets and turned to the window pane. He regretted it immediately.

Staring back at him was a figure with voids where its eyes should have been, the side of its face sporting a stain that stood out from its gray complexion. Its fingers were horrifically long, the tips stained black and smearing whatever vile substance they were coated with onto the window’s exterior. Error was further taken aback by the shapes becoming visible in the too-wide eye sockets, the creature’s face splitting to reveal a jagged lip line as it grinned maliciously at him. Its jaw unhinged, revealing a set of teeth, which led into more teeth–there were rows upon rows of dental disfiguration, continuing down into the thing’s esophagus. Error couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t process what he was seeing. He stared wide-eyed into the abyss, certain he was about to be consumed by it.

‘Error’ he heard it speak within his skull, its voice multilayered and somehow familiar. ‘You can’t hide forever.’

Error didn’t know when he’d begun to scream. The meat tenderizer had fallen out of his jacket, denting the floor and urging Nightmare to move that much faster on his way to assist his distressed partner. The Destroyer was tugged away from the windows by the firm grip of a tentacle. Seeing the shape of something outside was enough to prompt the Guardian of Negativity to ascend the stairs at a break-neck speed with Error clutched against him, not stopping until there were more locked doors and furniture between them and whatever had caused the Destroyer to release that soul-splitting shriek. Breathing heavily, Nightmare held Error steady, checking him over. He didn’t think the thing had gotten in, but he couldn’t be too careful.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, loosening his hold in case he was adding to the other’s panic. Error shook his skull. “Did it try to get in?”

“I-I dunno,” Error admitted, the panic evident in his voice. “It was wa-watching me, tapping on the window, I don’t know how long it was there for–”

“Shit.” Nightmare pulled Error closer, glancing back at the closed door. There weren’t any sounds suggesting the thing had tried to get in, which he was immensely thankful for. That could have gone very badly. “Let’s steer clear of windows from now on.”

“Yeah, I know, not my b-brightest moment,” Error said. “I didn’t mean to. Fuck.”

“I reckoned that was the case. You’re not bleeding at all, are you? Did it touch you?”

“No. It-it didn’t. It didn’t break the glass,” Error explained, recalling the thing’s haunting visage. “It just t-tapped...and watched.” He shivered at the very recent memory.

“Holy shit,” Nightmare uttered before releasing a long breath. “We’re okay,” he said, gathering Error’s hands in his own. “We’re fine. Right?”

Error nodded, his eye lights feverishly bright. “We-e-e’re okay. Yeah…”

“Was it like any of the others we’ve seen?” The Guardian asked softly. Error’s phalanges tightened and glitches skittered over his bones as he shook his skull.

“It…it looked a lot like…Ink,” Error stated, his soul feeling on the verge of contorting. “I don’t know why, but it even had the-the…” Error motioned around the side of his face where the Creator’s bone marking was located. “You know what I mean.”

Nightmare appeared disturbed as he took in that information. “Did it speak? Or was it a silent one?”

“It knew my name,” Error said, his voice shaking. “S-said I couldn’t hide forever.”

“This place is going to try and get to you,” the Guardian of Negativity stated. “It’ll try to break us down, but we won’t let it. We can’t. Look at me,” Nightmare demanded. “We’re partners. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. Fuck this place.”

Error smirked even though his soul felt heavy with anxiety and hopelessness. “Fuck the Rooms,” he said. “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep again af-af-after that.”

“I can help with that,” the Guardian commented. “If you’d like a distraction from our glorious situation, that is. What do you say?”

Error mulled it over before shrugging. “A distraction would be nice. What do you have in mind?”

“Close your eyes,” Nightmare said, his voice smooth and alluring. Error did. When he felt teeth graze his cervical vertebra, he released a sharp breath before leaning into the Guardian. “Is this alright?” Error nodded, awaiting the next sensation. He threw himself wholeheartedly into concentrating on the nuances of Nightmare’s voice and the tentacles curling around his phalanges.

~

The nearly empty, generic home became their base for a while. Nightmare wasn’t about to risk meeting the thing outside–not yet, at least. While he didn’t want to see it, he felt like familiarizing himself with the unholy lifeform might help him figure out a way to stave it off if they ran into it when they did depart. Error was content with the decision. It meant that they could plan and possibly catch up on rest. Possibly, being the key word, since Error had awoken multiple times in a cold sweat with his soul attempting to escape his rib cage.

Nightmare’s thoughts drifted to the ramifications of being in the Rooms long-term. It made him feel small, the only comfort being that he wouldn’t suffer alone. He pondered if Error would want to continue their strange, blossoming kinship outside of this setting. He would like it if it did, but relationships were built on many aspects and took dedication. He would understand if the Destroyer didn’t see him as more than a source of comfort in this unfortunate situation. Some part of him craved Error’s full attention; he couldn’t pinpoint when it had begun exactly, but the desire was now in full swing.

He approached the preoccupied Destroyer, looking over his shoulder at the meat tenderizer he held in his hand.. He caught himself thinking about touching his shoulder, but resisted for the time being. He didn’t want to cross a line or make the other uncomfortable. “Hey,” Nightmare said. Error turned his skull.

“Hey,” Error said. “What’s u-up?” Error asked. Nightmare leaned close until he was level with Error’s temple.

“Absolutely fucking nothing,” he said softly. Error snorted.

“What a shock-shocker,” Error remarked. Nightmare chuckled.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to polish it. I think it’s com-coming along,” the Destroyer said, turning the tool in his hands. “Can’t you see how impor-portant this is?” Error asked sarcastically. When Nightmare rolled his eye light, Error scoffed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Error sighed, cracking his elbow joints. “Well, you see, I’m making it pretty,” the Destroyer stated, smirking, “and then, I’m gonna ma-a-ake it dirty.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re going to get yourself off with a meat tenderizer?” Nightmare asked in a deadpan voice, before adding, “Huh, well, to each their own I guess.”

Error looked at Nightmare for a moment before looking down at the metallic, studded mallet. “How would that even…” he began, furrowing his brow. “You know wha-at?” Error stood up, focusing his attention on the Guardian rather than the tenderizer. “I’ve been curious.”

Nightmare’s interest was piqued as Error stepped closer, a glint his his multicolored eye lights. “How about you cue me into this curiosity of yours?” Nightmare asked, coming up with his own conclusions as to what it might entail. In response, Error reached around to caress one of Nightmare’s intact tentacles. It was velvety and so very alive, responding to his touch like it was an entity of its own. He wondered how it felt for Nightmare. He pulled the corruption-based limb towards himself, finding the end after letting it slide fluidly over his palm and through his forearm bones.

“I’ve come to truly-ly-ly enjoy these,” Error said, toying with the tip of the responsive tentacle. “It’s truly a shame I had-had to sever two of them…” the Destroyer trailed off, gripping a thicker portion of the tentacle as he watched it slither. “I was thinking you might be ab-able to help me out. Or am I asking too much?”

Nightmare watched him with rapt attention, eager to see where this led. His frame felt like a live wire as Error fondled his corruption like it was something to be revered. “Are we on the same page here?” He asked. Error locked eye lights with him as he guided the tentacle between his thighs, pressing the dexterous tip against his clothed ecto. ‘Oh, I can do that’ Nightmare thought, imagining how Error would look spread on his tentacle. “Don’t tease me, Destroyer,” the Guardian rumbled, mouth practically watering as he became more turned on.

“Who, me? Teasing you? I would ne-never.” Error slid his pants past his hip bones, letting them pool at his ankles before stepping out of them. Tugging Nightmare towards the kitchen using his tentacle, he wasted no time in supporting himself against the counter as he introduced the tip of the tendril to the wet entrance between his formed thighs. Nightmare took initiative, barely dipping the tip inside, moving it in a way that he thought would feel pleasurable to the other. He was rewarded by Error’s breathy sounds of appreciation as the Guardian took the time to spread him slowly. He began to insert the appendage deeper and judging by Error’s reaction, the action was well received. Error had resorted to leaning back against the counter, his bones beginning to tremble slightly with the steadily increasing pleasure.

“You can go d-deeper,” Error said breathily, his face glowing as he watched and felt Nightmare stretch him. Soon the tentacle was meeting some resistance, and Error moaned as he felt it squirm inside of him. He felt weak in the knees as his legs decided it was time to begin losing sensation. “I’m slip-slipping, Nightmare, I need–”

Nightmare lifted him up and settled him on the granite countertop. He had a front row seat to the beautiful sight of his tentacle thoroughly stretching the Destroyer’s pussy. He was overcome with the craving to taste him and he made it known. “Can I eat you out?”

Error’s expression conveyed clear interest. “Please,” he replied, eye lights bright as he watched Nightmare lower his skull until he was level with his cunt. He lapped at the swollen azure clit, sucking at it lightly and listening to Error’s voice as it turned breathy and strained. Retracting his tentacle slightly, he licked inside of him, eliciting encouraging moans and pleas. Withdrawing the tentacle, he pressed his cyan tongue inside of Error. He felt almost drunk as he ate him out, developing a rhythm that had the Destroyer grinding against his face. Nightmare hummed, and Error nearly lost it.

“N-Night, I’m s-so close,” he uttered, feeling as though he was on the verge of tears. It felt so good, it nearly ached–he didn’t want it to stop. He nearly convulsed at the sensations as they intensified. “Yes,” Error gasped out, tensing up and moaning as Nightmare worked him through his climax. Nightmare smirked, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth before pressing a kiss to Error’s thigh. Error twitched, the sensitivity setting in now that he’d come down from orgasm.

“How’s your curiosity?” Nightmare asked.

“Still...need…future demonstrations,” Error teasingly remarked, glad for Nightmare’s perceptiveness as he helped him off of the counter. Error’s legs trembled and he leaned into the other for support. “What about you?”

Nightmare was still turned on, but he wasn’t too concerned about taking care of it. While it was tempting to seek reciprocation, he didn’t need it. He was preoccupied with Error and how he was processing their activities. “I can take care of myself.”

They began to ascend the stairs to the upper floor, and Error gripped the railing tightly. His legs were beginning to function like they were intended, but the hunger for touch hadn’t faded, and neither had his ecto. The fabric of his pants against his clit only stimulated him further.

“I can help,” Error proposed, not skipping a beat. He was sensitive, but there was something thrilling about continuing to touch himself even after it began to ache. It hurt so good, the bliss with the edge of pain addictive in its own right. Nightmare glanced over at him, his expression unreadable.

“You don’t have to,” Nightmare said firmly. Error scoffed.

“I’m aware,” Error shot back. “I want to.”

They entered the master suite. It was carpeted, and like most other places in the realm, it was devoid of furniture. Nightmare closed and locked the door, and found an area away from the windows inside of the spacious walk in closet. There were a few items in there, nothing extraordinary; he was more interested in Error, who had followed him in and shut the closet door. Shedding his pants once more, Error settled himself in Nightmare’s lap as the guardian sat down. Nightmare tucked his skull between Error’s jaw and shoulder, nuzzling into his cervical vertebrae. He smelled delectable. Gently, Nightmare mouthed at the crimson bone, drawing a shaky breath from the other. Error ground the palm of his hand against Nightmare’s straining erection through his shorts and he rewarded Error with a low groan.

“Tell me what you want,” Nightmare hummed, before running his tongue along the vibrant bones of Error’s neck. He had a pleasant taste which added to Nightmare’s arousal; it satisfied a carnal desire he hadn’t paid attention to in eons.

“I want you t-to fuck me,” Error said, his voice cracking as Nightmare paid special attention to his neck.

“I’ll fuck you,” Nightmare growled. “Do you want to touch me?” He asked, his voice strained. Error obliged, his hands reaching past the waistband of Nightmare’s shorts to grip his rigid shaft. “That’s it,” the Guardian of Negativity praised, his dick throbbing in Error’s hand.

“Can I–” Error began and Nightmare nodded, nibbling lightly at Error’s clavicle. Lining Nightmare’s cock up with his entrance, he swept the head over the outside, coating it with lubricant. Nightmare bit at his neck harder, and Error made a choked sound. He applied pressure, taking the tip inside of him. Error whimpered, taking more of the length inside savoring the sensation as he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” Nightmare uttered, his hands gripping at Error’s hips to steady himself. “You feel so good around me.”

Error lifted himself, before taking the length more quickly, the texture of Nightmare’s cock divine as he began to ride him slowly. Nightmare watched as his girth moved in and out of Error’s entrance, his desire for the other reaching a fever pitch as Error very nearly took the thicker base of his dick as well. The Guardian gave a few shallow thrusts as Error took him back inside and he was rewarded with a sound that sent electric sensations up his spinal column.

Error whined, moving to encircle Nightmare’s neck with his arms. “Gods…yeah, do-on’t ever stop–”

Nightmare chuckled and groaned, asking, “Not ever?”

“F-fucking never,” Error moaned out. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold out for–he felt everything so intensely. Nightmare thrusting upward into him was eliciting blissful sensations and Error caught himself wanting to take his whole shaft, including the bulb which slapped against his full opening each time Error sank back down on the other’s cock. Error doubled down, grinding against the thick base of Nightmare’s dick, excitement prickling his spinal column as he felt it stretch him. Nightmare cursed, gripping Error’s hips tighter as he attempted to lodge the entirety of the appendage inside of him. He could do it, he just needed to stretch a bit more and relax–

Error yelped in surprise as the girthiest, swollen portion popped inside of him, adding fuel to his lust as it burned pleasantly. Nightmare’s voice caught, his typically steady, deep tone cracking as he groaned loudly. Error suddenly felt more pressure and registered that Nightmare was coming, his cock throbbing as he was hilted in Error's pelvis. The Destroyer felt a sense of victory as Nightmare tensed. The Guardian's grip on his hips secured them, along with the base of his dick, which had swollen to take up Error's pleasantly aching core. As Nightmare came down from his sudden and intense orgasm, he chuckled.

“I didn’t expect that,” Nightmare said. “You could’ve told me you wanted me to knot you, you know.”

It was Error’s turn to smile mischievously. “Where’s the f-fun in that?” Nightmare rolled his eye light.

“Maybe give me a little warning next time. I can’t exactly pull out at the moment...heh, or dispel my magic.”

“What if I wa-anted to milk you dry?” Error asked, feigning ignorance and causing Nightmare to click his tongue.

“Look at you, talking dirty–where’d the sudden confidence come from?” Nightmare teased.

“Tch. Your dick, I g-guess.” Error looked at Nightmare, who looked back with a neutral expression–that was until he couldn’t maintain it any longer. He cracked up.

“Shut up. You know what, give me that. You’ve lost your dick privileges–”

Error pointedly ground down, his walls contracting around Nightmare’s shaft. The Guardian of Negativity barely swallowed the strangled noise which threatened to leave his lips. He glared at Error.

“I don-on’t think so,” Error hissed, cupping Nightmare’s jaw. “I’m still using it.”

“Is someone feeling greedy?” Nightmare asked. Error scowled.

“I’m going to cum on your c-cock,” Error stated, reaching down to play with his very puffy clit. “And maybe you ca-can fill me up again if you're feeling generous.”

“Again?” Nightmare asked. “I don’t think I can go again–”

“Alright. Watch me, then.”

Error became a mess soon after he began to massage his tender clit in earnest. Sweat coated his bones, highlighted by the very dim light entering the crack of the closet door. Nightmare was entranced, encouraging and praising him as he neared completion again and again. Error teetered on the edge of orgasm, becoming frustrated at his inability to finish. Nightmare distracted him momentarily, kissing him deeply before adding one of his hands to the mix.

“You poor thing,” he said so softly, Error wondered if he had imagined it. “Focus on my fingers against you.” Error’s breath caught, and Nightmare stole another kiss, running his tongue along Error’s teeth. “There you go, you’re so good. Are you going to cum for me?”

“Nightmare, I-I, fuck, I can’t,” Error said, whimpering as Nightmare thumbed his swollen clit in gentle motions, grazing the most sensitive areas of the nub. “Oh, fuck...”

“Does that feel good?” Nightmare asked, his voice sending chills down Error’s cervical vertebrae. That voice, Nightmare’s voice–could be downright handsome when he wanted it to be. Error nodded, cursing under his breath as he felt his core tightening. “Focus on the sensation of my cock inside of you, my phalanges against your ecto,” Nightmare rumbled. “I’ll fuck you full, Destroyer, again and again –”

Error made a broken sound, tensing in Nightmare’s embrace. He breathed heavily, eye lights rolling back into his skull as his body spasmed with pleasure. It was a long orgasm, longer than he’d experienced alone, for sure. He was left feeling drained, yet extremely satisfied as he leaned in to kiss Nightmare once the blissful sensation had passed.

“I like…when you t-t-talk to me like that,” Error said, exhaustion permeating his voice. Nightmare regarded him with a serene expression.

“I thought so. Are you finally satisfied?” Nightmare asked, a feeling of fondness radiating within his soul. He was still lodged deep within Error’s cunt, aware that it could take a while to dispel his magic after knotting his partner. Error nodded sleepily.

Nightmare never realized how much he enjoyed just being in the presence of another…or maybe it was just Error. After the sexual activities passed, he still felt the intensity surrounding their touch, the emotional fluctuations that occurred hearing Error snore softly against his chest. He felt like he should know better than to let himself feel like this, to become so vulnerable around another, but it felt so good when everything else was so fucked up. He knew the passionate, jealousy-ridden, and possessive emotions rising to the surface weren’t meaningless. He was growing fond of the other, but even more so–he was starting to want the Destroyer to want him, too.

Chapter Text

After some time passed, Error and Nightmare made the decision to leave the temporary safety of the house. While the lingering fear of what was outside caused a bad taste in Error’s mouth, he knew it was imperative that they kept moving. Their lives were hanging in the balance and it was truly remarkable that he hadn’t seen more creatures lurking about. Maybe it was because he pointedly avoided looking out the windows. Then again, Nightmare wasn’t shy about keeping a lookout and he never mentioned seeing activity. Error knew that the Guardian was likely not telling him if he did see something to keep him calm which was–well, interesting. Nightmare had never been shy about announcing Error’s shortcomings. It seemed the tides were changing and Error wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

The Destroyer took a deep breath as they exited the safety of the structure. He was greeted by the flicker of street lights, the bulbs appearing like eyes watching their cautious journey along the pavement. Error felt a queasiness fill him as he registered a strange substance dripping from the covers of the street lamps, plopping wetly to the ground, filling in the cracks in the sidewalks. He frowned as the sound seemed to become more intense as he focused upon the leaking lights. He squeezed his eye sockets shut before accidentally colliding with Nightmare.

Sweat beaded up on Error’s skull, the sensation of it trickling along his cranium unsettling as he looked into parts of the darkness that the street lamp’s illumination didn’t touch. It was as though time slowed, the fibers of time and space crossing momentarily to produce a sensation so wrong it left the Destroyer frozen in place. He could see it.

The thing.

It was there in the darkness, he knew it was. Its eyes were so similar to the Creator’s, yet so completely wrong simultaneously. It was Ink, but it wasn’t–it was a copy. A fraud. Error despised the Creator, through and through. While this thing had borrowed traits from him, it distinctly wasn’t him. It was trying to mimic his behaviors, his eccentricities, but it was like it was doing them in a twitchy, unintentional way. Error could only stare into the darkness as he contemplated his next move.

The Destroyer wasn’t sure when he’d retrieved strings from his face. The air around him felt thick, like it had transformed into a liquid and he’d never gotten the memo. His larger eye light fuzzed up with glitches as he noticed the thing moving. He felt baser instincts engage as he tracked the creature steadily advancing, far too fast and yet so, so slow.

Nightmare was shoved behind Error so quickly it left the Guardian’s cervical vertebrae aching. Before he could think things through completely, his strings engulfed the hulking, sinewy silhouette before not-Ink effectively dragged him down the street. Nightmare winced at the sound of Error’s frame being ground against the pavement as he fought the thing, disappearing from the street lights and into the abyss. The Guardian was dumbfounded and shaken as he was able to decipher Error’s vocals above the surreal screams of the abomination. He sprinted in the direction of the action, grimacing as the air seemed to tense in response to his urge to help the Destroyer. Frustration culminated within his soul, that tarry bundle that held his past, present and future–he lashed out with his tentacles and felt thin tendrils snapping as he was released from something intent on keeping him away from his partner.

“No,” Nightmare snarled, his eye light searing in his skull as he tore through the last of the binds that kept him from advancing forward. ‘No–no, it’s fine, fucking hold on, Error.’ The Guardian followed the disembodied voices just out of sight. It was just a little further. He was so close. Nightmare felt dread pooling in his chest–he would help his partner, even if he had to tear this room apart. “I said no motherfucker!”

Error felt his cervical vertebrae prickle uncomfortable as time began to crawl. It’s dialogue sometimes sounded like the Creator, which pushed Error to the verge of panic. What were the chances that Ink had found his way here? How could he have? The bigger question plaguing the Destroyer was why did this abomination look so uncannily similar to his enemy?

Error put his energy into attempting to secure the creature in strings. It muttered while Error writhed, only happening to disentangle himself from his blue threads after being carted down the pavement for what felt like a mile. Rolling over and picking himself up, he realized the back of his jacket was now threadbare. He felt a wave of fury roll through him as he registered the breeze permeating his clothes and chilling his spine. ‘Fuck that.’

“E-eEnough!” He yelled, strings entrapping the forearms of the imposter as he lashed out. The creature growled, its uncanny eyes reflecting an indistinguishable emotion as Error approached, his phalanges itching with the temptation to snap the thing’s forearms from its body. With a smile filled with fear malice, he glared at the abomination, wishing that some force of the multiverse would take the initiative to strike it down where it stood. He had no such luck.

Error’s skull felt like it was ringing. Maybe it was from hitting himself in the face as he was dragged unceremoniously down the street. It could have been some sort of interference from the creature. He frankly couldn’t begin to distinguish why it was happening–all he knew was he hated it. It reminded him of the voices. They were a reminder of his past, an unpleasant one at that. He still heard them sometimes…sometimes.

The thing’s face began to move and Error froze. He hadn’t expected that–no, he despised that. It looked more like the Creator, sounded more like Ink, even. The Destroyer’s hands trembled as emotion overtook him.

You have no power here. You’re nothing. The thing’s face split into a vitriolic grin. You’re going to fade into the ether. No one will remember you.

“Shu-U-ut up,” Error bit out, tightening the threads to the point where the impostor’s forearms began to shake. The Destroyer knew his strings were capable of severing the creature’s limbs from its wretched form, so what was he waiting for?

“You’re not the Creator,” Error snarled. “So why the hell do you l-look-look like him?”

The thing made a gritty, wheezing sound which seemed to be a mimicry of laughter. It took everything within the Destroyer not to recoil. You could say we’re phenomenal accidents. Kind of like you, Error. A trail of black liquid slipped out from between the far too perfect teeth. You could say the Creator and I are related. The multiverse demands sacrifices, you know. Error couldn’t take his eye lights off of Not-Ink, even as the impostor stepped forward, closing the distance between them. I have his memories. I know you. He could reach out and touch the thing if he wanted. He could hear its joints move in between its bones. I can break you so easily…it would be a delicious experience.

Error wrenched the thing’s forearms from its frame, the sinews of its otherworldly form snapping as it forfeited limb segments. It released a harrowing, rage-filled wail, and Error put space between them as he noticed the creature lunging for him. In an instant, he had more strings conjured, fully prepared to separate another piece of this abomination. It was far faster than Error had given it credit for. Not-Ink was in his face, the bleeding stumps of his arms smearing oozing fluids onto Error’s shirt. The thing’s expression gave off an air of mania as it bared its teeth at him.

‘The Creator admires your uniqueness. Although he does despise your proclivity for violence. I’m sure you know that.’ The thing ground its halved arms into the Creator’s rib cage, the building pressure threatening to fracture it. It leaned in closer to the side of his skull, so close that he could feel its hot breath on his cranium. ‘He still thinks about you.’

Error’s eye sockets widened as not-Ink pulled him closer, their sternums pressed flush with one another and triggering his glitches to skitter along his body. He felt like he was on the verge of crashing. He was done for–this thing had tripped him up and gotten close, yet he never remembered it closing the proximity between them. He would’ve lashed out if not for the inability to do so. He was staring at the shoulder blades and intricate spinal system of the abomination that would be his end. This was a fucking unfortunate way to die. He didn’t want to die yet…

The sensation of the pavement against his tailbone was abrupt, as was the lack of the impostor holding him in place. He stood up, gathering strings as he got his bearings. Nightmare had effectively coiled his tentacles around the thing, his eye light a teal, fluorescent bulb in the darkness. The corruption along his frame seemed to prickle and fuzz out, as though static energy had been infused into his anatomy. Error was caught off guard as he watched the Guardian bring the thing close to his face, eye to eye with it as he sneered in its face. He said something low and unintelligible before the two undamaged tentacles separated Not-Ink’s pelvis from his torso, the torn spine spilling dark viscera onto the pavement with a sickening splash. Error, letting his strings fall aside, approached dazedly, blown away by the display of raw strength from his partner. Where that had come from, he didn’t know, but he was ever thankful for the Guardian’s quick response.

As he neared the scene, he could see the force that was exerted on the creature’s frame from Nightmare’s tentacles. Bones were cracked and warped and the spine was deformed by the pressure used to rip its body in half. Error was awestruck. “Night-”

The ominous eye light was now focused on him, dimming slightly as the Guardian recognized he’d extinguished the threat. Moving swiftly forward, Nightmare wrapped him in a hug. His whole frame trembled as he stated, “Are you okay?”

“F-fine.”

“Don’t leave my side,” Nightmare instructed, working hard to catch his breath. Error nodded.

“I won’t.”

~

Nightmare tracked down a different exit from the suburban horror show, which allowed for relief, even if it was brief. Error began scrutinizing each of the tunnels they took. If it was a dud that connected to a space they’d already been in, they would backtrack and try another. They were aware of the risks and deemed it worth it to do this kind of in-depth exploration since their chances of actually finding a loophole were limited by keeping to the areas they’d already traversed.

They pushed for longer exploration times, save for the instances they ran into issues. Error had resorted to demolishing creatures on sight. The first time he’d done it, Nightmare had flinched, looking from the thoroughly decimated things before glancing over at Error. The Destroyer looked shaken, a flash of fear crossing his features as he assessed his handiwork. When the thing didn’t begin to move again or regenerate, he breathed a sigh of relief. Nightmare offered a tentacle, which was promptly squeezed by the other, who was clearly upset.

“I hate this pla-place,” Error told him, a deep scowl etched into his facial features.

“Me too,” Nightmare said, sighing. “Fuck this place.”

They entered areas that resembled mansion suites merging with one another, then industrial interior design meshing with some bizarre mid-century modern designs scattered here and there. The rooms there felt heavy, the details standing out and taking up space. Error’s grip would’ve snapped bone if it had been anyone else but him, the Guardian was certain. His tentacle braved the Destroyer’s solid grasp. Nightmare was thankful his corruption was durable, because his damaged tentacles were taking their sweet time regenerating. Error was extra jumpy today, resulting in many objects being decorated in blue strings. Part of Nightmare feared that someone or something might use the discarded threads to track their whereabouts, but he didn’t voice it. Error was already on edge, there was no reason to feed into the overwhelmingly prominent emotion.

Nightmare wasn’t sure how many days had passed, but he was aware that the Destroyer had been struggling to sleep. It wasn’t something he was happy about, but it wasn’t as if Error could help it. Maybe after feeding, he could siphon some of his own magic to Error. With Error healing at a snail’s pace, he wasn’t about to risk him expiring thanks to insomnia. The Guardian was familiar with filtering dreams, which could help the Destroyer if his sleeplessness was due to mental unrest. That was invasive, though, and while he’d done it aplenty, Error deserved to know what he was signing up for before Nightmare dove into the sanctity of his mind.

The pools became more elaborate. They were deceptively clear and part of him thought they would feel nice against his aching bones, but Nightmare wouldn’t be fooled by a pretty image. If he had the time to analyze the space to bits, maybe he’d be more comfortable, but that wasn’t what they’d planned for today. The structure’s ceiling was domed in some places, and in others, it seemed to ascend for miles. He caught Error looking skyward, admiring the sight of the infrastructure. He could clearly pick out the dark circles under the Destroyer’s eyes, and the dimmer quality of his eye lights. Eventually, he’d have to sleep, Nightmare rationalized. Error looked over at him, smiling softly.

Time passed, and the ceiling lowered to a less extreme height, while the interior morphed to fit the characteristics of a mall or some multi-level open market. Nightmare began searching for a place to stop, but Error insisted they kept going. The Guardian of Negativity knew that wasn’t a good decision–he wasn’t sure if the Destroyer saw it or not, but he was unsteady on his feet.

“I’m fine, wha-a-at do you mean?” Error asked defensively. Nightmare sighed. He wished the other could see that rest would help them both cover more ground in the long run, but he couldn’t blame him–at least not all of the way. Error was very sleep deprived at this point.

“If we rest up, we’ll be able to make more progress. You’ve gone without sleep, it’s really wearing on you. Come on, it’s not worth fighting over–”

“Have you ev-ever tried sleeping in the Antivoid?” Error asked. He searched the Guardian’s face, already knowing the answer to his question. “No? Well, news-newsflash–this is how it usually is for me. I don’t sle-eep well. Haven’t ever slept well.”

“Can you at least try to rest?” Nightmare asked, keenly aware of Error’s frustration. Error scoffed.

“It’s like you just completely disregarded wha-at I just said. What part of “I can’t” di-didn’t you understand?” Error snapped. Not even a second after it left his mouth, he cringed, then grimaced, adding, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m being an ass-asshole, I’m aware.”

“Can I try something? If it doesn’t work, I’ll let it go, but I’m certain I can offer some sort of relief,” Nightmare said. “I could explain the process and you could decide if you want to go through with it. Is that alright?”

Error debated it for a moment. His mood was shot, but if Nightmare had a viable solution, he’d take it. The lack of sleep was wearing on him, and he’d do just about anything to sleep as deeply as he had when Nightmare first found him here.

“Fine. But if it does-doesn’t work, you’re going to drop it,” Error said sternly. Nightmare put his hands up.

“Deal.”

They ambled along at Error’s insistence for a while more after he pointed out that he was attacked in a space with a very similar vibe to the market they’d happened across. They didn’t go far, just far enough to reach a change in scenery. They traveled through some surprisingly well lit corridors, meandering away from the main path to find somewhere more secluded and preferably lockable. It took longer than Nightmare would have preferred, but he was all too familiar with the risks that came with being too lenient in finding a resting spot.

“Are you this in-insistent with your team, or am I the lucky one?” Error asked, his tone less bitter than before. He might’ve felt slightly guilty about snapping at the Guardian. Nightmare was more at ease now that the other wasn’t expecting an argument.

“I look after their well being, yes,” Nightmare replied. “I wasn’t aiming to upset you, you know?”

Error sighed. “I’m sure you weren’t.” He peeked around a corner into a room with its door ajar. It wasn’t anything impressive, plus the knob was crushed. Lovely. “I’m used t-to just powering through sleeplessness…it’s just gen-generally shitty, if I’m being honest.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Nightmare said. “Perhaps we can try to find a solution for you–if that’s something that you’d like to do, that is.”

Error looked at Nightmare quizzically. Nightmare looked back, wondering if he was missing a piece of the equation. “Lay it all out for m-me and maybe I’ll consider it,” Error said.

After continuing down the path of unimpressive room choices, they happened across one which looked as though it stood a chance. There was a deadbolt intact and the space looked clean. There were a few marks on the walls, but it wasn’t anything to fuss about. Error slid down onto the floor, grumbling about something or another as Nightmare secured the locks. No matter where they went, there was always a lingering, ominous sensation in the atmosphere. Error supposed it had to do with being on guard 24/7.

“When we get out of he-here,” Error began, creating a sad excuse for a pillow with his scarf, “What are you most looking forward to?”

Nightmare settled down next to Error, leaning back against the wall and contemplating. He’d be appreciative of countless things outside of this place. His mind was keen on what he was looking forward to escaping. “Not having to worry about the unknown. At least going back, I know what to expect from the fucking Stars–it’s predictable. Here, it feels as though the rules are changed on a whim, and suddenly we’re back at square one.” Nightmare sighed. “How about you?”

Now that he was being asked, his mind was empty. He fished around for something to say. “Uh, nor-normalcy…consistency. Familiarity. I agree with what you’ve said.”

Error’s expression contorted into one of solemnity as he thought about the possibility that they wouldn’t ever get out. It was a glaring, unpleasant reality for them, and as much as he preferred to hold onto the hope that they would find a way, he couldn’t deny that they could be doing this all in vain.

“Fuck,” Error uttered, the weight of his thoughts settling into his consciousness. “Ink is the ba-ane of my existence and I’m dead tired of dealing with Dream, but…compared to this, tho-ose problems are menial. Heh.”

“I agree. I’ve never thought I’d want to be in my office conducting AU research and formatting battle schematics. Dealing with my team is a headache at times, but I miss the ordinary qualities of it all,” the Guardian commented, envisioning what his group of misfits was doing at the moment. Cross was probably doing all he could to keep some semblance of order around the castle. Horror, the self-sufficient guy he was, was most likely focused on maintaining his cooking schedule. Killer, while a smart ass and a pro at contradicting the Guardian’s orders, was steadfastly loyal to Nightmare. In events where Nightmare had taken a few days to address business on a solo trip, his second in command had kept up with paperwork and kept Nightmare’s communication logs afloat.

Dust, while reserved and quiet most of the time, was known for stepping in to keep Big H from running himself ragged. Nightmare had witnessed Dust chewing him out when Big H attempted to deny his request for the meticulous chef to rest. Needless to say, Dust won that tiff, leading the taller to his bedroom where he stayed to make certain the stubborn skeleton actually slept. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Nightmare’s mouth as he thought of his team. He missed their presence.

“It’s strange, be-because I don’t think I’ll know when we’re actually free of this place’s influence,” Error said. Nightmare was drawn back to the present by his comment.

“What do you mean by that?” Nightmare asked.

“What I me-mean is, what if we think we’re out–things look and feel familiar, right? The legitimacy is there.” Error looked back at Nightmare from his supine position on the ground. “Then, you begin to not-not-notice discrepancies, little things start to pop up. Sure, it seems nit picky, but from what we’ve seen here, you know it-it’s not.” Error swallowed, his mouth feeling dry as he spoke his thoughts aloud. “I’m worried it’ll be too good to be true…getting back home and all.”

Nightmare remained silent for a moment, letting that sink in. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. He hadn’t yet contemplated the extent to which this place could permeate beyond what they’d already witnessed. The idea left a bad taste in his mouth. “I supposed we wouldn’t know, would we?” He responded, wishing he had a more positive answer than that. “Approaching situations with caution is important. If something feels off, trust your intuition will be key.”

Error nodded. “You said you wan-wanted to try something earlier. Is that still a possibility?”

“Yes. I’d still like to see if it works for you.” Nightmare patted his femur and said, “I need you closer though. You can lean against me, or I can come down to you. Which would you prefer?”

“Would you come down here? My ba-ack is feeling sore lately,” Error said. Nightmare took off his sweater, bunching it up so he’d have a headrest as well. He invited Error to lean his skull on it, since it was cushier than his scarf. The Destroyer seemed to like his suggestions as he scooted closer to the guardian, settling his head into the fabric of Nightmare’s hoodie.

“Comfortable?” Nightmare asked. Error shrugged.

“As I’m going to g-get. How about you brief me on what’s ab-about to go down, huh?”

“My corruption has granted me abilities outside of forming physical manifestations. I’m able to enter something I like to call the Dreamscape. Essentially, I’m capable of permeating and manifesting in this plane so that I can tangibly affect the surroundings of dreams,” Nightmare explained. “I’ve also used it to read into memories and decipher the plans of enemies, but that is neither here nor there. I wouldn’t do anything outside of what we agreed to.”

“So you ca-an really fuck me up, is what you’re telling me,” Error responded.

“Well, technically I could, but I never would. My intention with this is to act as a filter for you so you’d be able to sleep. I understand if this isn’t something you’re comfortable with.”

Error debated whether it was worth letting him inside his skull. Would it hurt? What were the ramifications of someone poking around his cranium? “You won’t hurt me…not now. You wouldn’t, right?”

“You have my word,” Nightmare replied, his tone reflecting his seriousness. Error thought about how strange Nightmare feeding from him felt and recalled how anxious he was before the first time. The guardian was just laying all the cards on the table–it could help, he’d said it himself. For all of his past distrust towards the Guardian of Negativity, he could decipher the genuine intent in his words.

“Will it hurt?” He asked, curious as to how it would feel as the dream puppeteer traversed the landscape of his mind. Nightmare chuckled.

“Not at all. You’ll retain awareness of my presence, but it’s more of a psychological awareness than anything else,” Nightmare said. “Is that what is bothering you the most?”

Error chewed at the inside of his mouth. “No, uh, no it’s not. I’m…not sure you’ll want to see the-the things I dre-eam about,” he admitted, face flushing in what Nightmare understood as shame. Nightmare lifted Error’s chin with a tentacle so that he could see his eye lights.

“Error, I promise your dreams couldn’t be worse than the things I’ve seen. I’ve seen dreams which have made me question the sanity of those who consider themselves “heroes”. Part of me wishes you could’ve seen them too,” he said, chuckling. “Again, we don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable. We can just…” he shrugged, caressing Error’s upper arms. “Chat.”

“I know, I know,” Error said. He inhaled and held it before exhaling, attempting to calm down. “I’d like to try this. It’ll be a nice change of pa-ace”

Nightmare nodded, waiting for the other to prepare himself before commencing with his planned activity. He wasn’t in any rush, and scaring the Destroyer by moving fast wasn’t productive. The urge to provide reassurance was strong and Nightmare decided to give in, albeit carefully. He sought out Error’s hand before lacing their phalanges together. He gave their intertwined digits a squeeze. Error reciprocated the action.

“I-” Error began, hesitantly, before gathering the courage for what he was about to say. “I’m glad you-you’re here with m3,” he said softly. “I want to find a wa-a-ay out, but…at the same time, I don’t. Isn’t that f-fuck-fuckin’ stupid? Heheh.”

“It’s alright. You can tell me,” Nightmare coaxed, understanding the other was struggling as his face lit up in a bright blush. He squeezed his hand once more, patiently waiting for Error to gather his thoughts.

“I don’t want to go ba-ack to being alone,” Error said, his voice wavering with emotion. There was moisture in his eye sockets, and he felt ridiculous, but it was true. It hurt to think about. He had a taste of what it was like to be close to someone, even just temporarily, and he didn’t want to let go. “I don’t want to leave this behind,” he said, squeezing Nightmare’s hand back. This wasn’t what the Guardian was expecting, but nonetheless, it made his soul feel lighter in his chest.

“We don’t have to,” he said, cradling Error’s face with the tip of a tentacle. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. We don’t have to forget this. It doesn’t have to end.”

Error nodded disbelievingly, moving in closer to bury his face in Nightmare’s shoulder. The glitches sporadically popping up on the Destroyer’s bones tickled slightly, but it didn’t bother Nightmare. He traced the protrusions of Error’s spine through his tattered jacket, drawing patterns around and between the vertebrae. Error’s breath was warm against his neck, pleasantly soothing as he repeated the calming motions along Error’s back. The Destroyer’s breath seemed to speed up slightly and he shivered.

“Be-before doing the mind thing,” Error said, securing Nightmare’s attention. “Can we fuck?”

Nightmare leaned forward, kissing the other deeply and languidly. He wanted him calm and pliant, completely at ease in his hold. Error was eager to reciprocate, his tongues tangling with Nightmare’s as he closed his eyes. Error supposed he had his answer, as his frame heated up with the attention to his mouth and Nightmare’s hand gradually caressing lower along his hip. Time ceased to matter, as did their surroundings as Error allowed the other to steal his breath away, the kiss making him lightheaded despite not needing to breathe. Error didn’t know when he’d reached up to cup the side of Nightmare’s face where he was missing an eye light. The corruption obscured the socket completely–it was as though it had scarred over, recognizing the need to protect such a vulnerable space. Nightmare made a pleased rumble, leaning into Error’s touch. Error’s soul clenched as strong emotions curled within his rib cage.

“Let me take care of you,” Nightmare purred, the inclination to leave marks on Error’s vibrant bones and lap at his core until he was incapable of uttering an intelligible sound overpowering any other thought. “I’ve got you,” Nightmare said, his voice husky with want.

He mouthed at Error’s lower ribs, careful of the ones which had recently healed. Error whimpered, the area was definitely an erogenous one for him. A moan caught in his throat as Nightmare sucked at a smaller floating rib, the sensation like nothing he’d ever felt before. He trembled, squeaking out a sound that he should’ve been ashamed of, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

“n-Night–” Error stuttered, canting his hips to garner some friction as his magic pooled in his abdomen and pelvis. Nightmare smiled wickedly, kissing and licking the ecto flesh below the Destroyer’s ribs. ‘He’s so pretty. How didn’t I notice?’ Nightmare sucked and kissed at Error’s abdomen, the soft ecto wonderfully plushy against his tongue and teeth. If he bit down, his canines would pierce the azure flesh, marking it up for others to see. They hadn’t discussed that, though–perhaps later. Error was holding his skull, squirming as he left hickeys along his stomach, moving down to his delectable hips and thighs. Nightmare took his sweet time, aiming to destress the other and indulge a little bit himself.

“Are you going to be good for me?” Nightmare asked, nuzzling the Destroyer’s right hip. Error nodded, his breath stuttering as Nightmare bit lightly where he could feel Error’s hip bone pressing against his ecto.

“Y-yes! Yes, please, I’ll be good. I want you,” Error said, so very ready now that he envisioned Nightmare overtop of him, thrusting into him ruthlessly. He needed it.

“You’ll have me. Patience,” Nightmare cooed, his heated breath teasing Error’s core. Nightmare’s own arousal had begun to distract him, the bulge between his femurs stiff with lust. “Just let me taste you, then I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember your name.”

Error bit his knuckles as Nightmare began to passionately eat him out. It was so much and yet nowhere near enough. Molten pleasure coiled within his lower body, yet it pooled without going further, his core becoming steadily wetter as Nightmare practically made out with his pussy. The Guardian of Negativity must have been feeling impatient as well, though, since he was soon over Error, grinning wickedly. Error’s mouth fell open as Nightmare prodded at his opening before sliding inside, the stretch wonderfully satisfying. Error whined, hooking his legs around Nightmare’s back as he shallowly thrust into his counterpart.

“Stars…fucking hell, Error, you make me want…nnngh, oh yessss,” Nightmare groaned, lengthening his thrusts, his dick lodging deeper inside Error as he did so. “You turn me on so much and you don’t even have to try. Ngh, fuck.”

Hearing Nightmare’s deep voice punctuating his thrusts had Error tensing up almost immediately–the Guardian said he turned him on–when had that started? He was torn between wanting to ask and craving to feel, to live within the boundaries of their fantasy. Maybe the Guardian of Negativity was indulging in a role, speaking the way he craved to speak to someone else (not necessarily him). Error could dream, though–he wanted it to be him. Fuck, let it be him…

He felt as though Nightmare wanted to knot him again, especially as the Guardian began to practically hump him in earnest–Error placed a hand against Nightmare’s sternum, and with a huff, the other backed off momentarily. Error positioned himself so that his backside was positioned for Nightmare to admire, his core on display while his upper body rested on his forearms atop Nightmare’s hoodie. Nightmare purred in admiration, the sound so foreign to Error that he was unsure what it was when he first heard it.

“I want to fill you up,” Nightmare growled, the sound almost otherworldly as he uttered it. Error shook his hips tantalizingly, offering a growl of his own. He wasn’t exactly feeling patient. “What do you think? Stuff you with my cum, keep you plugged up. Hm?”

“Fuck, ju-ust do it,” Error replied, his voice strained. Nightmare gripped his waist, his shaft sliding to bump against Error’s opening once again before he slid all of the way inside. This angle somehow felt deeper–Error keened, his sass forgotten in lieu of the intense sensation blossoming in his pelvis. “Oh–oh fu-hucking–” Error whimpered, uttering Nightmare’s name as he was forcefully humped. Nightmare’s phalanges dug into his ecto, adding to the pleasure trip Error was succumbing to. Widening his thighs, he canted his pelvis to angle himself to accept the thickest portion of the other’s cock more efficiently. He wanted it and he was ready to beg for it.

“I want you to stay with me, be there for me to fuck and satisfy your every need. You’d–n-nggh never be lonely, I’d fucking worship the ground you walked on,” Nightmare hissed, slamming into his submissive partner. He was so close, yet he wanted this to be for Error. Error hadn’t cum yet, he should make sure he did before he finished. “What do you need from me?”

“Kn-knot me, pl-please!” Error pleaded. The squelch of their activities had Error panting, waiting for Nightmare to lock them together. He wasn’t prepared for the other to flip him over, kissing him deeply as he pounded into his core with abandon. His tentacles secured him in place as the guardian pressed deeper and deeper with each thrust, finally slipping past the resistance with a satisfyingly wet ‘pop’. Error threw his skull back, seeing stars behind his eyelids as he came. He heard Nightmare’s praises and it fueled the fire, contributing to the intensity of his orgasm. He cried out, the sensation of fullness so perfectly overwhelming and appreciated as he came down from his blissful state.

Nightmare stilled, not wanting to overstimulate Error, knowing how sensitive he himself became after cumming. Error kissed along Nightmare’s jaw, and the guardian felt a pleasant chill run up his spine. He pressed a gentle kiss against Error’s nasal ridge.

“You didn’t cum,” Error noted, his hands exploring the other’s corruption coated bones as he did so. Nightmare shrugged.

“Didn’t want to overstimulate you,” he responded. Error tilted his skull.

“Did I say I wanted you to stop?” Error smirked, tightening his legs around Nightmare’s waist. “It felt so good last time you came in-inside me this deeply.”

Nightmare began a rhythmic grind, causing the knot to tug at Error’s walls. The Destroyer hissed before moaning, clenching down hard where they were connected. “Well then, my apologies. How about I make it up to you?”

Error was preoccupied with the other’s attractive shoulders and neck. Nightmare hummed, caressing Error’s abdomen. Error pressed a few kisses and nibbles along the Guardian’s neck, before hesitating, wondering if Nightmare was into that kind of thing. It didn’t take long for his partner to notice.

“Go ahead,” he urged, his voice reflecting his interest. Error wasn’t well versed in giving pleasure, but he supposed a little experimentation wouldn’t hurt. He licked at the corruption-stained bones, finding that he enjoyed the texture and distinct taste of the other’s magic. It lingered on his tongue. The substance was less wet and more velvety than he’d assumed. Nightmare grinding into him while he paid special attention to the Guardian’s dark vertebrae and shoulder reignited the molten sensation within Error’s belly. He barely pressed his teeth against the black bones, and Nightmare shivered.

“Using teeth, are we?” Nightmare purred. “You can bite me. Don’t be shy.”

Error applied more pressure this time at the juncture of Nightmare’s neck and shoulder. He groaned, and Error distinctly felt his dick throb inside of him.

“Come on, Destroyer, you won’t break me,” Nightmare said playfully, and Error bit down considerably harder, feeling corruption and bone creak under his teeth. Nightmare tensed up, his voice catching as he gripped Error’s hips with a vengeance. His vision narrowed and then he was cumming, his vision whiting out as pleasure rushed through him. Error was pulled through another, shorter orgasm. The idea that he had this significant effect on Nightmare was extremely appealing. He’d never seen himself as a sexual being, but hell, he felt like he had potential. What would the old version of him have thought seeing him now?

Nightmare shifted to his side, holding Error close so as not to hurt him. He draped his tentacles over and around them, knowing very well now that the Destroyer ran cold most of the time. He sighed contentedly, focusing on Error’s scent and the way their magic fluctuated in tandem. It was extremely soothing.

“Are you ready for me to help you sleep now? Or do you think you can manage on your own?” Nightmare asked. Error nodded, finding the other’s hand to squeeze.

“No, I want to try it. I’m ready.”

~

Error made choices. He wasn’t always a great decision-maker. He carried his trauma in a bottled-up, denial laden safe somewhere in his soul. He had a past of being spiteful. He knew he’d lost something, someone–multiple someones, he was sure, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He was suffering when he made the decision to steal the Swaptale Sans from his universe before closing his brother in the desolate landscape that used to be their home.

Blue became his favorite abomination. He took him off guard, showing him kindness after he’d caused him pain and suffering. Blue quickly found out Error’s distrust of everyone, which made him insistent upon befriending the Destroyer. What was everyone’s deal with wanting to become friends? Error had predictably flipped his lid. Many times in fact. At some point, he heard Blue out, which led him to the first-ever friendship he could recall having in his current role as the Destroyer. He couldn’t explain it. He supposed Blue fit the mold of a friend.

“Life could be so much easier for you, Error. You do realize that, right?” Blue asked, his normally vibrant eye lights steely as he regarded Error with an air of annoyance. The Destroyer didn’t like when the other took this tone with him, but it was happening more often than not. He missed the Blue that was awestruck at his success at befriending him, the one who was sensitive to others’ feelings and wholly unique.

“Hm. Because you know all ab-about how my job affects the multiverse, right? Let me guess–you’ve been around him again. Heh, the fucking unreliable fool with mem-mem-memory issues.” Error rolled his eyes before the other could answer. He already knew Blue received a lot of his multiversal education from Ink and the Guardian of Positivity.

“Okay, so what if I did? Maybe if you took a different approach, you’d have better luck. I consider you a friend and–”

“You’re not a good influence on him,” the sound of Ink’s voice overrode Blue’s statement. Error scowled, the scene of Outertale in the background distracting him from Ink’s imposing presence. “Don’t you think it’s time to reconsider? Because you can. He would be happy to see you on our side.”

Before he could retort, Error was whisked away to the scene of an AU he had been in the middle of dismantling, at least until the Creator had decided to step in. “What part of don’t touch my AUs didn’t you understand?” Ink asked, one of his eye lights the shape of crimson crosshairs. “I thought I was clear when I told you these were off limits, Error. Apparently, you need a reminder.”

Rolling his eyes, Error scanned the area, catching sight of Nightmare and his team gathering to assist in whatever was about to go down. Error’s attention was on the Guardian of Negativity–the imposing, dexterous quality of his tentacles, the way he carried himself, and the intensity of his presence were enough to stir something within him. Ink began to say something, but his voice was replaced by the sound of the wind. It was unimportant anyhow. Nightmare’s existence shook Error to his core and he couldn’t decipher why. He was an abomination, yet…he was exquisitely lethal, like a machine oiled and primed for destruction. Error wanted to know him.

Error looked around, the shadows surrounding Nightmare’s isolated realm highlighting the sheer size of his looming castle. Perhaps the voices he’d heard had been the wind all along. Error wouldn’t deny that he’d heard voices before, even in waking. It was part of being an outcode, he’d been told. Susceptibility to hearing the voices of the living, the dead, the in between–it was a part of life. He shrugged, approaching the entrance of the fortress. One of the skeletal servants was there to welcome him inside. Error could hear the voices of the residents, namely Killer, who had a naturally loud voice, and who put no effort into trying to be quiet. He was too cocky for that. Error walked past the immense kitchen, where Horror busied himself chopping vegetables and filleting something or another. He offered a wave in the Destroyer’s direction before shifting his attention back to the task at hand. Dust was perched on a chair in the living room, whittling an object that was too blurry for Error to make out. He didn’t bat an eye at Error’s presence–it was a typical reaction. Killer was joking around with Cross, who rolled his eye lights before spotting Error. He began to say something, but it came out as garbled and indecipherable. Error frowned, walking closer in an attempt to understand what the other was saying.

It was no use. Cross tilted his skull, as though confused as to why Error wasn’t responding and Killer’s smile faltered slightly. Becoming aggravated at his inability to gather information on what was going on, Error huffed, rubbing at his temples. Confusion gripped him as the scenery around him shifted, rearranging itself to form an office space with a multi-story library above. Purple and gold accents around the space, along with the collection of plants around the Gothic-style windows provided him with an idea of where he was. Nightmare was very particular about his office setup, after all.

“My apologies, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.” A familiar, deep voice caught Error’s attention. He turned around to find the Guardian himself and he could understand him. He’d be thankful for the little things.

“It’s okay. I didn’t even re-remember we were doing this,” Error said, looking around at what he now recognized as what must be a dream. “This feels so vivid. I don-don’t think I typically dream like this.”

“You do have a striking memory of my office, I have to say. It could definitely fool me at first glance,” Nightmare said, looking upwards at his fuzzy, half-rendered collection of literature. “It almost feels homey…”

“Alright, you were right, your-your mind magic works,” Error grumbled, finding the chair he usually sat in when they had their meetings together. Nightmare’s expression shifted into something less serene. “I mean, I am asleep, right?”

Nightmare nodded. “Yes, you’re sleeping,” he said, taking a seat at his desk in the dream. “I didn’t know you dream about the team. Does that occur often?”

Error shrugged. “Not sure. Sle-eep is so fleeting that I don’t typically recall my dreams. At least most of the time, I don’t think I do.”

“Maybe we can change that.” Nightmare’s tentacles explored the surface of the desk idly. Dreams were strange–their tangibility was unpredictable.

“If it meant I could sleep–like, ac-ac-actually sleep, I’d appreciate it,” Error said. Error chuckled, contemplating how strange it was to be having a conversation with the other while unconscious. “You’re a strange guy, you know tha-at?”

Nightmare offered a sly smile. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re here, in a realm cre-created by my unconscious mind, just casually passing time chatting with me, while in the physical realm I’m sleeping next to you. That’s weird-weird-weird,” Error stated.

“Actually, you’re draped over me at this point in time. But yes, it is strange to contemplate.”

Their attention was drawn to the door of Nightmare’s office where a knock became more insistent. Sighing, Nightmare responded. “Enter.”

One of his servants approached, his shirt torn down the front and missing a full sleeve. “My King, there was a break-in on the lower level. I identified one of the trespassers, but there may be more.”

“Who?” Nightmare asked, glancing over at Error as if he had the answer. The Destroyer looked just as clueless as he watched the scene unfold. Error never claimed to have any modicum of control over the workings of his sleep-deprived mind. This was a wild trip for him, too.

“The Creator, my Lord, and the Guardian as well.”

Error’s face scrunched up with distaste as he learned that the insufferable moron had infiltrated the sanctity of his sleep. Even if he was a product of Error’s mind, he’d rather not see Ink when he was attempting to recuperate. “So be it. I cou-could use some stress relief. Fucking Cre-e-eator, sticking his face in ev-ev-everything,” he grumbled under his breath.

Nightmare began to say something, but Error had already slunk out the door and into the hallway. The Guardian was quick to follow suit, striding down the upstairs corridors towards the sound of conflict. His corruption prickled at the sensation of overwhelming positivity leaking from the direction of his first floor. His tentacles twitched and coiled in preparation for whatever he would witness. Stepping from the staircase he was met with disorder. He caught sight of the Creator as he was herded into a corner of the living room by Dust and Killer. Ink’s brush was hanging from the immense ceiling of the space by a web of blue strings as was Dream, who was strung up like a puppet. The Guardian of Positivity looked less than pleased, but not necessarily concerned. He looked as though he’d been inconvenienced at most. Nightmare felt his presence, but he wasn’t sure why. The nature of the Dreamscape wasn’t always predictable–for all he knew, it was the Rooms interfering with his abilities and providing a tactile hallucination. He bristled, ready to grab the idiot from the air and launch him through the nearest window when the other noticed his presence.

“Nightmare,” Dream called, oddly relieved to see his enemy. Error’s dream had taken a strange turn, it seemed. Speaking of the Destroyer, he was guarding Dream like he was a recent kill, scrutinizing him from his swing fashioned from his threads. “Error, this isn’t a threat, just–” Dream growled, shooting a glare at Nightmare. “Call them off.”

“And why would I do that? You’re trespassing. Give me one reason I should show mercy,” Nightmare said, regarding the other with distaste. Dream struggled, aiming to kick his bow loose from the strings which bound it. He had no such luck.

“You haven’t entered this plane in eons–you’ve been missing for years! I don’t know how this time was any different from our last attempts, but maybe it has to do with you and me both being present the Dreamscape at the same time–”

“Enough!” Nightmare’s voice boomed. “Fall back.” His team did so, albeit with no small amount of confusion. Error was confused as well. What happened to his stress relief session? He was having a little bit of fun. “Error, come here. You,” he snagged Dream with a tentacle, snapping the blue strings as he pulled him down from where he hung, “And you,” he glared pointedly at Ink. “Talk before I lose the remainder of my patience.”

Error dropped down gracefully from his strings, arms crossed stiffly over his sternum as he regarded the two invaders of his dream. What was so significant about the frauds? Why was Nightmare giving them the opportunity to speak? This was his dream, didn’t he have a say in how the imbeciles were handled? Regardless, he bit his tongues for a moment as Dream piped up.

“Alright. Firstly, I don’t know how this worked out in our favor this time. I’ve been scouring the multiverse for any sign of your existence since you two disappeared. To put it kindly, everyone thinks you’re dead,” Dream explained, stress and something else evident in the tone of his voice. The Creator had moved to join the conversation, looking longingly up at his bound brush, before taking a turn to speak.

“He’s right. No matter what we’ve done, we haven’t been able to touch the universe you’re in. I actually can’t believe this is actually happening right now,” Ink said, releasing a strained chuckle.

Error backed up as Ink approached, the atmosphere of his dream becoming tenser as he recalled the Ink impostor that had taken him completely by surprise. He barely suppressed a shiver. Providing himself with a distraction, he furrowed his brow and glanced over at Nightmare. The Guardian looked conflicted, yet slightly hopeful. “So you’re actually here? Right now, you’re in this plane? Who’re you using?” Nightmare asked.

“Ink offered this time. We’ve had Blue help as well, but we weren’t able to reach as far. He’s less practiced. I’m not sure how time lines up with our universe where you are located,” Dream said, a scowl twisting his features.

“This doesn’t ma-ake sense,” Error said. “It’s not logical, the impossibility of this hap-happening is enough to disprove it. How would you have access to another, completely separate dimension?” Error snapped.

“I didn’t believe it at first either, but it’s happened,” Ink insisted. “Listen, I need to say something, alright? Can I have a moment?”

Error glowered at him but motioned for him to do so with a haphazard flick of his hand. Nightmare’s tentacles flicked and coiled with irritation, but he remained stoic and outwardly attentive.

“I didn’t believe your concerns were valid. You knew that, though,” Ink said. He looked guilty as he stated, “I was gullible enough to believe there weren’t any consequences. I didn’t stop when you left…it took me seeing the result of not having your ability to decipher errant code for me to wake the fuck up.” He shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation at hand. “AUs began to deviate in ways I’ve never seen before. It was like there was an infection, spreading throughout entire AUs–and I can’t do anything about it.” Ink grimaced. “I messed up, Error. I fucked up very, very badly.”

“As did I,” Dream admitted, looking just as uncomfortable as he was forced to confront his ignorance. Error hadn’t expected this outcome and he was searching his mind for how to respond. He opened, then closed his mouth, before glancing over at Nightmare.

“It’s a little late for this, isn’t it?” The Guardian of Negativity pointed out. “Sure, it’s a relief to know that you fools have realized that the multiverse has needs outside of positivity and haphazard creation. It would have been far more helpful if you would’ve caught onto that simple fact a while back. You could have saved us all time and energy,” Nightmare growled. “That being said, we’ve been searching for a way to return since the moment we became stranded here. There’s no guarantee there’s a way out. It’s been a fruitless endeavor trying to find an exit.”

“Don’t say that,” Dream shot back, fear present in his eye lights. “Of course there’s a way out. We-we connected this way, didn’t we? We’ll find a way.”

“If there is-is-is then it’s going to take outside interference. Our magic is made practically ineffective by this dimension. We’re extremely limited he-ere,” Error pointed out. Ink looked almost despondent. It made Error distinctly uncomfortable.

“I don’t need your forgiveness,” the Creator said. “But I do need you to hold on for a while longer. I’m–we’re going to make things right. We’re in contact with your team, Nightmare–we’ll let them know that we got in touch with you. They’ll be ecstatic to hear that we reached you.”

The Guardian was genuinely surprised. “You met with them?” He asked. Dream nodded, rubbing the back of his cervical vertebrae.

“It wasn’t easy at first…understandably. Cross and Killer were the most receptive to working together to locate you two. Since then, the others have gotten on board. Our prerogative was finding you both and bringing you back. Now that we’ve accomplished this much, we need to establish a way to connect with you again so we can collaborate,” Dream said.

“We have no way to track time here,” Nightmare responded, doubtful that they could coordinate successfully on their end even if he and Error really tried. Ink chewed at his lower lip in concentration and Dream held a hand to his chin as he thought of an alternative.

“We’ll take care of planning, then. We can enter multiple times a day and night and try meeting up. We’ll come to you. We did it once, we can do it again,” Dream insisted. Ink nodded.

“We won’t catch you every time, but it’s worth it if we’re able to communicate with you even if it's only periodically,” the Creator stated. Error looked between them, and then back to Nightmare.

“That…could work.” Error felt a surge of hope permeate his soul. They could actually stand a chance with information being relayed to them from the outside. Dream had said they’d been gone for years. Years had passed, at least on the outside…it was harrowing.

“It could,” Nightmare agreed. “It’s a plan. We’ll return as often as is safe. Where we’re located, we need to move locations frequently to avoid detection. We will be back, even if we’re not here the first few times you return.”

“As will we,” Dream confirmed, looking upwards at his bow. “Um, would you mind–my bow and-”

The items were swiped down by one of Nightmare’s tentacles, sending them clattering against the floor. The sound had Error whirling around in the dream, causing his entire body to violently flinch.

Error shot up, breathing hard as he glanced around frantically. Looking down, he could see Nightmare’s cyan eye light observing him coolly. He looked like he’d been roused by Error’s unpleasant awakening.

“That…that really happened, right?” Error asked, terrified that it had all been a hallucination or cruel trick.

“It did,” he said, not quite believing the series of events himself. “I guess this means we have a fighting chance.”

Error nodded, excitement and anxiety fueling his body’s trembling. “I guess so.” He swallowed, shifting off of Nightmare to gather his things. “We should get mov-moving.”

The events of his dream replayed in his thoughts as they traveled. With a method of communication somewhat secured, there was a real possibility that they could overcome this. The main factor was time; he had no idea how long they’d have to wait to finally be free of this place. As much as he wanted the others to figure it out now, it wasn’t a realistic expectation.

Nightmare was fiercely attentive to their surroundings, allowing Error to settle into relative ease. He was still jumpy, but not as much on edge as he’d been previously. The tediousness of following the new paths, avoiding the ones they’d already taken, while simultaneously watching out for any other living beings aiming to give them a bad time wore heavily on them both. Nonetheless, they pressed onward.

~

Core Multiverse

Dream and Ink were ecstatic. They told Blue first. His eye lights morphed into stars at the realization that Error was alive. He and the Destroyer had parted ways on a less-than-stellar note, and Blue had blamed himself for it. When suspicions turned to Nightmare and Error being gone for good, he was beside himself with regret. Hearing that the two were all right replenished the determination in his soul. He was proud of Dream’s persistence and change in prerogative. It was progress.

They soon arrived at the doorstep of Nightmare’s castle, alerting the inhabitants to their presence. Horror was at the door in an instant, ushering them inside. He was aware of the excitement among the group and it made him think there might be some good news on the way. The others caught onto the Stars’ arrival and when everyone was in the same room, Dream broke the news.

“We made contact with Nightmare and Error.”

Killer raised a brow as he regarded the positive guardian. “Hold on, you’re being dead serious, you actually made contact?”

“We did,” Ink insisted, and Blue couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his features. Dust, Cross, and Horror moved in closer, their eagerness to know about the event overpowering their patience.

“Are they okay?” Cross asked, concern evident in his body language.

“They’re alright–Error and Nightmare are scuffed up, but they’ve been keeping up with their injuries, from what it looks like,” Dream responded. Cross didn’t quite look convinced.

“Can you take one of us with you next time?” Dust asked. Dream paused, contemplating it. It wasn’t a straightforward answer. He didn’t want to take any of them until he knew they wouldn’t be put under strain. It was different with Ink, who had magic resources to rely on and immortality to boot. He didn’t want to irreparably injure one of Nightmare’s team members.

“I’ll look into it for you. I want to make sure it wouldn’t pose a risk to your well-being first,” Dream pointed out. “If we can manage it, we’ll bring you.”

Dust released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He nodded, giving the Guardian of Positivity space as stepped back a few paces and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. Horror observed the Stars critically, feeling his soul clench at the idea of having the full team together again.

“How likely…is it that we can…get them back?” He asked, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer. Dream looked at Ink, scowling as he searched for an answer that would be acceptable. He sighed.

“I don’t know yet. We have high hopes. We’re going to enter the Dreamscape multiple times over every twenty four hour period so we have a greater chance of meeting up with them. While we don’t know a lot yet, we’re going to plan and learn as much as we can about the place they're trapped in. I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you,” Dream said. Horror nodded, not satisfied with the answer, but knowing it was all that Dream had to give at the moment.

“What can we do to help?” Blue asked, catching the attention of Nightmare’s crew and his own. There was silence, before Dust offered a response.

“There’s not much ya can do right now. It’s a waiting game.”

“Not what I meant,” Blue said. “I can cook. I know a lot of recipes that can easily be doubled and tripled. When’s the last time you guys had help around here?” He asked, hands planted firmly on his hips.

They looked at him like he’d sprouted another eye socket in the middle of his forehead. “You cook?” Big H asked, tilting his skull in interest. Blue nodded.

“Yep! It’s my favorite hobby, in fact. I suppose you do, too?” Blue replied, approaching the much larger skeleton. Big H nodded, beckoning towards the kitchen.

“We could…combine a recipe…if you’re up for a challenge,” he proposed, and Blue beamed.

“Yes! I, uh, I was thinking the very same thing.” He chuckled, and the rest of the group watched Blue follow after the much taller, bulkier Big H unsure how to proceed. Dream and Ink hadn’t been aware of Blue’s intention of offering assistance, but they weren’t about to leave him behind at the castle without assistance. Dream cleared his throat, before contributing.

“I can…help organize and refine weaponry if you’re comfortable with that,” he offered.

“Yeah. We can work with that,” Cross stated, beckoning Dream with a wave. Ink watched them go and felt as though he should be following to avoid awkward conversations resulting from being left alone. Killer snorted and Dust rolled his eyes at the second in command.

“Are you going to be helpful?” Killer asked. Ink couldn’t help the slight smile which pulled at his lips.

“Oh, I dunno,” Ink muttered sarcastically. “What are we talking about here? I can probably manage it.”

~

Blue and Horror filled the kitchen with appetizing scents which began to waft around the castle. Blue was working on a vegetable sauté with a vibrant seasoning, and Horror was using a brush to coat the lamb cuts before laying them out on the heat of a skillet. Collaborating wasn’t as uncomfortable as Horror had suspected it might be. Blue was polite, had a good sense of humor, and he’d even go so far as to say he was pleasant to be around.

Dream busied himself polishing the metal of knives and repairing the grips on those that needed it. Cross was working alongside him, watching the Guardian of Positivity as he paid attention to detailing the weaponry.

“Thank you for coming so soon after connecting with them,” Cross said, re-wrapping the leather grip on one of Killer’s favorite knives. Dream looked up, his expression softening at the statement.

“Of course. You guys deserved to hear it more than anyone,” he said.

“How did they react upon seeing you?” Cross asked.

Dream chuckled. Cross could detect the stress behind it. “Error was first to show up. Unsurprisingly, he strung me up immediately. Nightmare came by soon after and he didn’t look pleased to see us. Once I began explaining, though, Night grabbed me down. He and Error actually looked considerably relieved after we covered all of the bases.”

Cross scoffed. “Be glad the boss isn’t here to hear you call him that.” Dream blushed lightly, thinking of the nickname he used to call his…well, ex-friend. “I’m glad it went over well for the most part. I miss them. It’s not the same without Nightmare here and Error…he’d fit well within the team if he gave it a chance.”

Dream nodded, understanding the sentiment. While he and the Guardian of Negativity hadn’t seen eye to eye in years, he was concerned and missed the friendship they used to have. There was a great deal of guilt weighing down upon him as he contemplated how things could’ve been different. “I can’t even imagine,” Dream said softly, choosing not to equate his past friendship with the strong bond Nightmare’s team members had with him.

Cross tilted his skull. “I’m sure you have an idea. I’m not ignorant of the past you guys shared.”

Dream shrugged, looking at the knife in his hands as he wiped away the imperfections from the blade. “It was a long time ago. I wouldn’t compare that to your relationship with him currently. I can tell he cares for all of you immensely.”

Cross scowled. “He’s angry and he feels betrayed, sure, but give him time. As awful as this situation is…it puts a lot into perspective,” Cross said. “I’d rather not have the boss missing, but it’s out of our hands. I think when they return, things will begin to improve. Even if they do so very, very slowly.”

“I think you may be right,” Dream said, clearing his voice as a tightness developed in his chest. “It took a little too long for my liking…to realize I- we …we were wrong.”

“That may be so, but you’ve bridged the gap between our teams. You’ve admitted where you’ve fallen short. In my opinion, you’re doing alright,” Cross said, offering a smile. Dream swallowed hard, looking down as he blushed fiercely.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

~

Dust and Killer were on a roll. Ink’s shots had been downed, and the others found it funny how frustrated the Creator had become when he realized he finished off his rounds. When Ink made a comment about not even feeling anything yet, Dust and Killer cackled.

Dust’s laughter was rekindled at the face Ink was pulling. Killer snorted. “What’s wrong? We thought you were enjoying yourself there,” Killer commented.

“Well, yes, but…it feels wrong to be enjoying things right now,” Ink grumbled. “Don’t you think?”

“Eh, you just need more to drink. Come “help” us out more often and you’ll grow accustomed to the feeling of guilt,” Dust said. “Consider it self-medicating.”

“Hmmm, I dunno,” the Creator said.

“You’re new to it. Branch out a little, why don’t ya? What d’ya say?” Killer asked, his smarmy expression fueling Ink’s craving for emotion-rendering substances.

“Deal,” Ink responded, taking another full cup in hand before downing half of it. The room moved and swayed, and for all it was worth, Ink felt like he was on the verge of hallucinating. He decided to give in and finished off the drink. Maybe he could think up a better excuse for what he’d done to the multiverse while he lost his marbles.

~

Nightmare and Error had pushed through a few rough areas in order to reach another set of rooms with locks, only to find there was no way in. Exhaustion was setting in heavily for Error to the point where he could feel the ache in his teeth. Nightmare was tempted to force the door open, but the damage to the locks and the noise it would make deterred him from further attempts to get inside. The Guardian sighed in irritation.

“So. We have some choices to make,” Nightmare muttered, wiping away the corruption-based sweat prickling his brow. “We go forward or we retreat to the elevated holes in the wall back near the stream intersection and the arches.”

“I can’t get us up there,” Error grumbled, hating how lethargic he felt. He’d shoved his hands in his pocket to hide the tremors. It was becoming persistent at this point. “Let’s go for-forward.”

An unreadable expression crossed Nightmare’s features before it disappeared just as quickly. “Okay. Let’s go slow to reserve energy.” Error nodded in response. He could get behind moving slow–he didn’t think he could move swiftly even if he wanted to.

Error couldn’t help but reflect on the Ink impostor. Its words echoed in his consciousness, leading him to wonder if the thing could have actually contained a piece of the Creator. When it voiced Ink’s supposed admiration for him, conveying that he thought of him outside of their feuds, it stumped him. Why would the Creator be thinking of him? The statement of admiration was a manipulation tactic, surely. It was laughable to consider Ink harboring any emotion regarding the Destroyer’s existence aside from annoyance. He was Ink’s antithesis, the reason he had to expend energy doing anything other than participating in his sprees of excess creation.

Ink had apologized, though. Even if it didn’t scratch the surface of the issues he’d inflicted upon the multiverse, it was something that Error hadn’t been expecting. He didn’t like the feeling of anxiety that was bubbling up in response to the vivid memory of not-Ink clanking their sternums together and regarding him with that feral, uncanny expression. He didn’t know what would have happened if Nightmare wasn’t close behind. The fear incited a rush of heat to his core, which caught him completely off guard and caused his skull to swim with conflicting emotions. What the fuck was wrong with him?

It was his luck that when he felt out of sorts the universe would throw a wrench in the gears. He was ripped harshly from his troubled thoughts into the present as he heard a subsonic rumble that devolved into a distorted vocalization. It sounded like voices overlaid with one another, intertwined and harrowing as it ricocheted off of the immense space. Error looked to Nightmare who had his tentacles sharpened and primed to skewer whatever had decided to intercept their travels.

“Now? Really?” Error asked, his voice glitching as he gathered strings from his face.

“Is it ever convenient for these fuckers to show up?” Nightmare asked jokingly, although his voice reflected the tension in his frame. He scanned the area for any sign of movement. Error caught a glimpse of off-white and honed in on the area which gradually revealed a surprisingly skeletal figure. Its eyes were hollowed out and there was fluid dripping from them like spilled oil, cascading down over the uncanny structure of its diaphragm. There was just something so off about it–like there were extra bones where there shouldn’t be. It was entirely unsettling, horrific, and it left Error feeling defeated even before it was fully out from behind the bland structure separating this room from the next. It was tall, sinewy, and distinctly similar to the first creature he’d met in the Rooms, albeit bonier.

And just because the dimension was in a mega asshole mood today, the thing was also fast.

“Newcomers,” the thing spoke, causing the inside of Error’s skull to buzz sharply with the strange, multi-layered speech. “Don’t be a stranger. Let’s get acquainted.”

Error bound one of the thing’s hands the instant it began to move towards them. He dodged a swipe from its free hand, narrowly avoiding sharpened phalanges as he did so. He attempted to keep the lanky creature occupied as Nightmare prepared to attack from behind. It was a gamble knowing if the creature had caustic qualities like some of the other residents had. Error wasn’t about to take a chance after only very recently gaining feeling back in his lower jaw.

Error wasn’t expecting his strings to be used against him, but he found out how they could be as he was whipped through the air, his frame slamming into the unforgiving tile wall. He was effectively laid out, the wind stolen from him as he took in the strength behind that attack. ‘Stars damn it.’ Rolling over was an arduous task, but a necessary one, and the Destroyer forced himself up. Nightmare had taken to keeping the thing at a tentacle’s length, pushing it back and away from Error as he got his wits together. Error rejoined his partner, his ire spurring him on as he shot a swarm of strings the creature’s way.

“I’ll make you pa-a-ay for that,” he snarled, catching both of the thing’s wrists and its cervical vertebrae in his threads. He tightened them, before sending out another wave of strings, grinning as the abomination turned its attention to him once again. “Get bent,” Error hissed, cinching the strings tightly enough that the thing’s bones creaked in protest. It let out a hair raising wail as it lost an arm to Error’s attack and narrowly escaped being beheaded. Error grimaced, cursing its durable anatomy as he took in the fracture in its neck. He needed a better grip, possibly some external force from another angle–

A wet, tearing sound echoed through the space as vein-like, dark tendrils exploded from the socket where the thing’s arm used to be. Error’s eye sockets widened as his strings were snapped by the mutation, the creature’s own abysmal, empty sockets narrowing as it narrowed its focus on Error. Nightmare was quick to plunge one of his tentacles into the creature’s rib cage, which gave the Destroyer hope that they still had this situation under control. That was until Nightmare grunted, attempting to pull back and away from the thing, but to no avail. His teal eye light widened in panic as he was drawn towards the monstrosity, its veiny-purplish tendrils surrounding his tentacle and reeling him in. It snapped its head towards him, its face cracking to reveal a sneering mouth.

“You’ll do just fine,” it said, the menacing quality of its voice inciting sheer terror in Error as he watched the scene unfold, his strings not seeming to deter the creature at all. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Error, fucking run! Go!” Nightmare shouted, attempting to dislodge himself from the slimy grip of the tendrils overwhelming his corruption. “Dammit all, go now!”

“No, I’m not leav-leaving you!” Error shot back, adding more strings to the mix as he worked to free the Guardian. The thing wasn’t convinced by his efforts, though, especially as Nightmare was drawn in close enough to stare the creature in the face. He snarled, spitting corruption into his attacker’s face as the tendrils restraining his frame and tentacles tightened further, digging into his corruption as though it was trying to become one with him. His soul turned as he felt the tips of the veiny protrusions entering his tentacles like needles, slithering through his ribs and winding their way around his spine. Nightmare let out a pained yell before gritting his teeth and whipping his skull around to face Error.

“Damn you! Go! Guuhfm,” Nightmare commanded, his voice warping as he was effectively absorbed by the creature. Error was stock still as he watched his partner, the only reason he was still alive in this living hell, was stolen from him. Sensation left his frame as he was overwhelmed with despair and he found himself on his knees watching helplessly as the thing’s form shifted.

‘No…no, give him back…give him back.’ Error’s eye sockets stung as his vision blurred. ‘My fault…fucking useless.’ Tears streaming down his face, he observed the thing’s frame morph, jet black tentacles sprouting from its back and a teal eye light filling one of its empty sockets. Its bones darkened as corruption covered them. It sneered at him.

“Error.” Nightmare’s voice was prominent among the others. “No, no, he isn’t going to run, silly. He’ll let us kill him before he does that.” The creature chuckled as it took a step forward. “He has so much fight in him, but he’s so very tired.”

The Destroyer numbly got to his feet, swallowing his anguish as he prepared to face this new reality. Maybe he could reach Nightmare–it was evident he was in there. Even if he wasn’t at the forefront of this thing’s mind, he was an active part of it judging from the conversation happening in front of him. Wiping his eye sockets, Error retrieved strings from his face and took on a fighting stance. He gritted his teeth as he took in the body snatcher. He’d get his partner back or die trying. Nightmare needed him.

“I’m not done he-ere yet,” Error spat, emotion welling up in his chest. “Fuck you.”

The creature was a blur as it moved and Error was met with a tentacle connecting with his midsection, launching him through the air. He secured the tentacle before it could escape his reach and avoided his earlier fate of being slammed into a wall. He landed roughly on his feet, skidding a ways back before tightening his strings and taking on a fighting stance. Snarling, he lashed out with even more blue threads, shooting them towards the creature with punishing speed. The thing was at his side in an instant, a hand shooting out faster than he could have ever thought possible to grab his cervical vertebrae, lifting him to the creature’s eye level. It pressed him back into a wall, causing him to knock his skull against the rough, vertical surface. Gathering more strings, he sent them out to deter his partner the creature. To his dismay, it snagged the threads, shedding them with its now reinforced tendrils, growling in response to Error’s attempted attack.

The grip on his neck bones tightened and Error momentarily went limp. His hands found their way to the creature’s phalanges and he tried his darnedest to pry the digits from his throat. “N-Night,” he rasped, desperation setting in as the grip intensified further, causing his cervical vertebrae to creak. “I’m sorry,” Error choked out, reaching for the thing’s face. The teal eye light focused on his tri-color phalanges, and while he was looking death in the face, all Error could see was the Guardian behind the thing’s features. “You deserve to ge-get out of here…I wanted to see you get out,” Error said, registering that the amalgamation had leaned forward so that the Destroyer’s hand was touching its face.

“He is begging us not to kill you,” the creature informed him, seemingly transfixed by Error as he leaned in closer. “But it would be quick,” it said, eyeing him critically. “You could give in, it would be so easy. Don’t you want to rest?”

Error let out a shaky breath as the grip on his neck lessened slightly. Their faces were inches apart. Was that even a question? Of course he wanted to rest. He’d been wanting to rest since the moment he realized the multiverse was irrevocably fucked over because no one would listen to him. He felt himself smiling as fatigue hit him like a freight train. He had to try, but he had no stamina left. He’d used it up trying so damn hard and it had gotten him here, to this point. If he was going out, he was going to make sure the Guardian heard him before he expired.

“Nightmare. Listen to me. I know you ca-a-an hear me,” Error said, watching as black spots began to encroach steadily from the edges of his vision. “I failed you. Heh, I…I wish we’d made it out…because I care. I re-really care,” Error said, choking up as grief overwhelmed him. “I can be…we can be-”

With the last of his energy, the Destroyer took the thing’s face in his hands and kissed it. If this was the closest he could get to Nightmare before succumbing to death in this fucked up place, he was going to do it on his terms. The thing let out a strange rumble, its mouth moving with his as Error gave himself over. He gave in to the sensation of unconsciousness tugging him under, his eye lights rolling back into his skull as his frame finally slumped. The Destroyer’s skull lolled back, knocking into the wall as he reached his physical limit.

Nightmare snapped.

The thing wasn’t ready for the all out attack as the Guardian’s corruption swarmed its mind life force, effectively snuffing out the creature’s consciousness. As he overtook control of his frame, he released the Destroyer’s cervical vertebrae, terror overwhelming him as Error fell limply to the ground. Scooping him up, Nightmare backtracked to the elevated spaces in the wall faster than he ever recalled moving.

He needed energy and with the life source of the thing dwindling, the Guardian was intent on siphoning what was left to the Destroyer. “Come on, come on,” Nightmare pleaded, his voice sounding foreign and strained as he wrapped Error’s frame within his tentacles. Settling against a wall, he held the other close as he focused on dispersing energy reserves toward Error’s soul. “Wake up,” the Guardian said, caressing Error’s skull as exhaustion settled into his own bones. “Error, please. Please wake up…please.”

When Error came to, he was in a dark space confronted by the teal glow of Nightmare’s eye light. He gasped, the past events rushing back to him in an instant. “I’m-where…?”

“Safe. We’re safe,” Nightmare said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. He knew he sounded strange. He’d worry about that later. Error was momentarily stunned into silence.

“You’re still–how are you…” the Destroyer trailed off, trying to comprehend what he was seeing in the dim light of the hideout. “You’re you?”

“I’m me,” the Guardian responded. “You didn’t fail me,” Nightmare said, cupping Error’s jaw with care. He felt out of control in his new frame. He didn’t know the limits of his strength. “I thought I was about to watch you die, that I wouldn’t be able to stop it-”

Error threw himself into Nightmare’s chest, wrapping his arms around his torso. “No, I-I thought you were gone and then you weren’t but…shit, I’m sor-sorry.”

Nightmare hugged him back, a hollow sensation blossoming in his chest. They were silent, just enjoying the relative peace of the moment as they regained their senses. Nightmare didn’t mention that he knew Error was crying. A few stray tears slipped from his own socket as he thought of what could have been if he hadn’t taken control when he did.

“I don’t know if this will be reversible,” Nightmare stated, breaking the silence. Error nodded, before reaching out to run the back of his hand along the Guardian’s jaw. He explored the planes of his face with his phalanges, finding the softer bone of Nightmare’s lips.

“You’re still you. I see you…s-saw you the entire time, actually,” Error said, taking one of Nightmare’s hands in his own.

The Guardian nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fend it off. It isn’t alright that it happened,” Nightmare said solemnly. “The thing is gone. I absorbed it. It won’t be back.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Error said tiredly, grounding himself by tracing the knuckles of the other’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re he-3-ere with me…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nightmare responded, lacing their fingers together. Error’s hand seemed small against his hand now, and some part of the Guardian felt a heady wave of possessiveness flood his soul. This was a good thing–he had taken on formidable qualities from the creature, blending his own magic and anatomy with its own until he became this. He was more compatible with the Rooms this way. He had a fighting chance with the additions of his new form. He just had to get over the apprehension that came with the metamorphosis. That would be the real challenge. “I do have a question.”

Error looked up to meet his gaze. “And wha-at is that?”

“Why didn’t you run?”

Error felt his chest tighten with emotions he couldn’t place, a hollowness like nothing else leaving him on the verge of breaking. “You’re an idiot if you th-think you’re calling the shots now,” he said, a smirk creeping up on him as he put his effort into chasing the heavy emotions away. “I wasn’t leaving you, no matter what. Get us-us-used to it.”

“Your stubbornness could have been your end, you do realize,” Nightmare stated, clearly not impressed. Error rolled his eye lights and settled against the Guardian’s chest.

“I wouldn’t be miss-missing anything, trust me.”

Nightmare felt heat blossom throughout his rib cage, cervical vertebrae and face as he blushed. That hadn’t happened in quite a while.

~

They took a while to rest. Error sometimes sat close to the edge of the hideout, peering out into the unknown before eventually retreating back to Nightmare’s side. After the ordeal, the Guardian had become sluggish, and Error let him rest. When Nightmare was barely stirring from sleep, Error began to suspect he needed help.

Error attempted to get close, possibly to entice the other into feeding, but Nightmare would freeze up. Error could read a room enough to tell the other wasn’t in the mood or wasn’t hungry. He tried not to take it personally, even though he knew that the Guardian would need to feed eventually. It stung slightly, but Error wouldn’t admit when his pride was wounded–he’d sulk. He sulked and sulked and definitely didn’t think about Nightmare’s changed form and what might have changed that wasn’t normally visible. Was the Destroyer terrible? Certainly. His mind was probably succumbing to the subliminal forces of the dimension, rotting away while he remained oblivious and slowly transforming him into an emotionless shell.

Error huffed. He was pent up and concerned. He needed an outlet.

Nightmare was asleep and Error felt guilty at the idea of waking him, so he slid down the wall opposite and let his legs fall open. His phalanges explored his pelvis, dipping into the cradle to glide up his spine. He shivered, his mouth watering at the touch as he watched the other sleep. He felt like a freak. He sighed as he felt his magic stir in interest, the light sensation of his phalanges enhancing his arousal. He bit down on his lower lip as his ecto filled his pelvis, the glow of the blue flesh crafting an ideal outlet for his digits to slip into.

The Destroyer’s breath caught as he stretched himself with three phalanges, his other hand making its way up under his rib cage to graze his soul. The distinct sound of fingering the slit between his legs caused him to blush, but Nightmare wasn’t stirring. Even if he did, Error was eager to cum, so he wasn’t about to pause the plunge of his phalanges into his waiting core. He began to tremble as he neared completion, before realizing he wasn’t moving any closer to actually climaxing

Huffing, he doubled down on his efforts, fondling his soul as he massaged his sensitive insides. When he didn’t come any closer to orgasm–he came to the conclusion that this place was affecting him enough to make him unable to get off whatsoever. ‘Fuck this.’ He took his digits out, feeling incapable as ever, and approached his partner.

He gently reached out to touch the Guardian’s skull and received no response. Fear culminated within him as all possibilities presented themselves at once, and Error nudged Nightmare in an attempt to rouse him. He received a half-hearted grunt in response. The Destroyer was becoming concerned.

“Nightmare. Wake up,” he urged, steadying the other’s face in his hands. “Come on, you’ve slep-slept for eons.”

“...rror…nmm…” Nightmare uttered, his tentacles sluggishly moving twitching as Error closed the distance between them. The Destroyer had a bad feeling and he wasn’t about to ignore it.

“It’s time for you to fe-eed. No excuses.”

“Mmm. I’m fine…” Nightmare voiced, his eye light barely open. “Error, I’m fine.”

“Stop. Stop it right now, I know you’re no-o-ot fine. You’re going to feed. Now.”

Nightmare narrowed his eye light before looking to the side. “I can’t lift my tentacles,” the Guardian admitted. Error growled as he settled into the larger skeleton’s lap, huffing as he gathered the limp tentacles and draped them over and around his shoulders like a weighty feather boa. Sweat prickled at his skull as he sought out Nightmare’s hands. He flushed as he took in the sharp phalanges, the large surface of the Guardian’s palms making his own hands look small in comparison. Error swallowed roughly, grounding himself with the sensation of the tentacles tightening instinctively around his shoulders. “Error, wait-”

“Nightmare,” Error responded sternly, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t be difficult.” The Guardian’s eye light flitted over Error’s face, searching for reassurance. When the Destroyer didn’t receive an answer, he scowled.

“I’m afraid,” Nightmare admitted, his fatigue and concern evident in his voice. “I’m not used to my body any longer. I don’t want to risk hurting you.”

Error leaned forward until he was inches away from Nightmare’s face. “You will feed. You will not le-e-eave me here alone–I won’t let you,” Error said sharply, glitches flickering along his skull. “Please,” he said in a much softer tone, the overwhelming atmosphere pressing in on him. He wanted the Guardian to just take the energy he needed and then he could rest easy. “I’m scared, too, but no-ot of you. I don’t want to lose you.”

Nightmare sighed. “You tell me if there’s any pain at all,” Nightmare stated. “Promise me.”

“Of course, yes, I prom-promise,” Error insisted, guiding the Guardian’s hands to his formed hips. He leaned into Nightmare’s sternum, sighing as he relaxed into the touch. He busied himself with nibbling at his dark cervical vertebrae. “I’m waiting,” the Destroyer hummed, lapping at the Guardian’s neck bones.

Nightmare allowed himself to give into hunger. It was a gradual release of control, his intentions to not injure the other his number one priority. Nightmare released a groan as Error bit down harder, soothing the ache with his multiple tongues before nuzzling into his jaw.

“There’s no pain, Night. Come on, let go,” Error pleaded. He canted his hips so he could grind gently into Nightmare’s pelvis. The Destroyer shivered at the sensation of his ecto against the other’s firm bones. It was as though a dam had been breached as Error was greeted with the tug of his soul and the tingling in his mana lines. Nightmare was feeding and it took Error’s breath away–it was more intense than before, but not at all painful. He released a soft whimper as he allowed himself to focus on the powerful sensation of his negative energy being siphoned.

It was rapturous tasting the Destroyer’s negativity after fasting the way he had. He’d been a fool he decided, as he allowed himself to replenish his reserves. Error was grinding against him, the pleasure from energy sharing going straight to his mind and the slick area between his thighs. Nightmare wasn’t immune, the headiness of the negativity quickly increasing his own arousal as sweet relief flooded his system. While he hadn’t trusted himself in his newly transformed state, he was experiencing a craving for Error in ways that had his ecto pooling in his pelvis forming a thick, throbbing shaft.

“Error,” he purred, finding the Destroyer’s face before connecting their lips. He ground up against Error’s ecto-lined pelvis, encouraging his erotic movements as he pressed the other’s hips down against his straining bulge. “How are you doing?”

“So good,” Error bit out, his phalanxes finding purchase as they secured themselves around the Guardian’s shoulder blades. “I want-want you so badly…”

“I couldn’t tell,” Nightmare quipped, smirking as he shifted to release his erection. Error took in the sight of something more monstrous in nature, yet there was evidence that Nightmare’s magic surged within the ecto in front of him. The tip was sharper and the tentacle-like member continued down into a thick, knot-like bulb that made Error’s mouth water. The wriggling, twisting motions of the shaft mesmerized the Destroyer as he contemplated what that would feel like inside of him. He wanted to find out.

“Can I?” Error asked sweetly, his thighs trembling as he maneuvered himself so that he could handle the enhanced and intriguing part of the other’s anatomy. Nightmare nodded, the fatigue disappearing and being steadily replaced with the pleasurable effects of ingesting loads of negativity all at once. The Guardian’s canines caught Error’s attention and he moved to suck at Nightmare’s lip, then tongue as he took hold of the dick, which decided to grab him back as he lined it up with his opening. “Oh, fuck,” he uttered, the sensation of the tip barely spreading him sending sharp pleasure skittering up his spinal column. “Night, l-look at me,” he instructed, accepting more of the girth inside of him. His jaw opened in rapture as it squirmed inside of him, drawing a lewd whine from his mouth.

Nightmare was entranced by the Destroyer’s expressions. He gripped his hips, groaning as the other took his shaft inside of him, ecto gripping his dick like a vice as Error rolled his pelvis forward. Error’s skull fell back as he whined, one of his hands covering his mouth to inhibit himself from getting any louder. Nightmare hummed in appreciation as he thrust deeper into the other’s accommodating pelvis.

“Error,” the Guardian purred, pacing himself as he created a leisure rhythm of grinding up into his partner. As energy returned to his frame, he explored the intricacies of Error’s spine, delving into the spaces between ribs and piercing ecto along the way. Error grunted, his own phalanges digging into the undersides of the Guardian’s shoulder blades as he processed the pain and pleasure simultaneously. “Too much?” Nightmare asked, worried that he might’ve taken things too far. Error shook his skull insistently, pointedly sinking back down on the other’s member, groaning despite biting down on his knuckles. His eye lights rolled back as he lost himself to masochistic delight, the ache of Nightmare phalanges stinging his ecto so perfectly while his dick slid sensually against his insides. Error released a pleading sound that he hadn’t expected to ever utter in his existence as an ominous outcode, and it startled him.

He could tell when Nightmare began to feel the effects of energy flooding back into his system. He was more responsive and their dynamic changed significantly as Nightmare nipped at his neck, snarling as he drove himself into a lust induced haze as he indulged in Error’s scent. It was alluring and everything he needed–he wanted to fill him up and continue to fill him up until all Error could do was sleep against his sternum, too tired to remain conscious.

“You're perfect,” Nightmare groaned, thrusting up sharply as he clutched Error to his diaphragm. “Don’t want to share you,” he stated, the intent behind his statement resonating with the Destroyer as he took the Guardian’s dick.

Error scoffed. “Not perfect,” he snapped. “D-don’t then. F-fuck, keep me,” Error insisted. He whimpered as the thrusts became somehow deeper, biting down on his phalanges as his iliac crests creaked under the Guardian’s grip. Error felt his insides clench as he began to come undone. Nightmare sped up, gritting his teeth as pleasure coiled deep within his core. Error’s bones were coated in a layer of sweat and the red of his eye lights held flitting glitches as his grip on the Guardian’s shoulders intensified further as a cry broke from between his teeth.

“That’s it,” Nightmare groaned, his vision tunneling as his own pleasure hit its peak. He snapped his hips upward, forcing Error’s ecto to stretch over his shaft, just shy of taking the thicker base of his dick. His mouth watered at the idea of the Destroyer being spread by the knot, but he wasn’t about to hurt him. They’d need time if they wanted to experiment with the increased girth. Until then, he’d have to be satisfied with Error choking on his moans and attempting to stifle his higher pitched vocalizations. “You’re so good to me…taking me so well, even now,” Nightmare purred, his praises not lost upon Error, who’d begun to tremble with over-stimulation.

“–too much,” Error uttered, twitching as his partner gradually stilled his movements. Nightmare’s tentacles coiled loosely around the Destroyer’s bones, holding him close as he relaxed into the rough texture of the wall behind him. He sought out Error’s mouth, kissing him languidly as they basked in the afterglow of their activities. The echo of some water source off in the distance kept them on edge, but it couldn’t touch them here. Here, the king of shadows held the only individual keeping him sane. He adored this moment, his tongue tangling with Error’s myriad of tongues, the warmth of their embrace keeping them at a comfortable temperature as they whispered to each other.

“I don’t want you to le-eave me,” Error said softly, his eye sockets half-lidded and emanating a rosy glow. Nightmare nibbled the Destroyer’s cheekbone before releasing a sigh against his temple.

“And so I won’t.”

Chapter Text

The inner workings of Not-Ink’s mind had survived his physical obliteration. His recollection of being brutally squeezed by the tentacled skeleton until his bones broke like twigs was a memory he’d file away in his collection of many deaths. The sensation of his consciousness dwindling before his eyes as he watched the only thing that mattered fade was tragic and in a way, humorous.

Error was a delightful being. Not-Ink recognized that when he first viewed him from afar. Granted, he could have viewed him up close eons ago, but he was enjoying observing his target at distances that wouldn’t risk his immediate discovery by the two bygone travelers. Error was the most exciting thing that had happened to him. He smirked at the mental image of the Creator, the being he’d never met, but whom he frequently hallucinated about, dreamt about, and shared memories with. He could tell he was meant to exist, because even after being broken, he just kept on existing. He died and eventually regained consciousness after his physical being mended itself back together. Currently, he was still missing the lower halves of his limbs and a few ribs had yet to catch up in the healing process, but he knew he’d be on his feet soon enough.

He’d heard his voice even when he’d been a disembodied psyche. He recognized the glitchy quality as the other was in the throes of pleasure. Error made not-Ink wish he had a name just so he could hear the Destroyer say it. He wondered what it would sound like being uttered by his wonderfully strange voice. He shivered at the pleasurable thought.

Not-Ink was an echo of someone else, an amalgamation of disrupted time and space, and arguably an accident wrought upon the universe. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be, but he still had urges, a conscience, and a desire to find purpose. In the visions he had of the Creator, he could taste the overwhelming desire to help Error, which translated into selfish reasons oriented towards winning the Destroyer over. This was paired with the skepticism that Error could actually be rehabilitated into a decent being without destructive tendencies. His mouth watered at the thought of this Destroyer which he hadn’t formed a relationship with yet–he’d made contact with him and now he wanted more. He’d never be satisfied. Ink himself had an obsessive fixation upon creating and his mistake inherited that trait. Not-Ink could feel his phalanges beginning to reform and it delighted him. It reminded him of when he’d come across the Destroyer asleep, only a dusty pane of glass separating them. It was an impulsive decision to tap the glass, as he knew it would disturb him, but it was so satisfying to see those vibrant eye sockets widen in fear.

He grunted as the bones of his forearms abruptly erupted from the damp stumps of his aching humeri, followed by a gush of dark, immortality-sustaining fluid. It was kind of like breaking in reverse, not-Ink thought, attempting to distract himself from the discomfort of the process.

If he found the Creator, he’d flay him alive for this cursed existence he had to contend with. He wished he could have known why or what he existed for, but he knew he’d never receive an answer to that question. He’d probably been here the longest, since the dawn of Ink’s manic creation, bound to exist in the unforgiving ether for all eternity. He grunted as his shin bones formed, a splitting ache crescendo into sublime numbness. He heaved as the accursed parts of him became whole once again, reminding him of the empty existence ahead of him. His interest piqued, he could fixate on Error for the time being. He’d taste the Destroyer’s bones if it killed him again and again…he chuckled through the pain, groaning as his pelvis finished mending itself. For once, a purpose presented itself and he wasn’t about to ignore it–especially when it sounded so pretty echoing throughout the eternal wasteland.

The spaces morphed into unsettling settings with structures that seemed to defy the laws of physics. It left the Destroyer feeling as though he had an increasingly tenuous grasp on reality. Not only that, but the sensation of being watched was near constant. Error had begun to itch at his cervical vertebrae incessantly, which wasn’t pleasant, but the alternative was the phantom sensation of things skittering between and around his joints. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than the pain was soothing and familiar and he could deal with pain. He was used to some level of pain existing in his life, even before the Rooms. He’d like to go back to that familiar degree of discomfort rather than this. He’d give almost anything to go back…to disappear. But that would leave Nightmare and that wouldn’t do. Not now.

When Nightmare caught him obsessively scratching, one of his tentacles snatched the offending hand away, earning him a harsh glare from Error that quickly softened. The expression morphed into one of shame and Error looked away from his, retracting his caught hand. The Guardian was well aware now that Error’s credibility had been doubted in the past because of his mental health issues. Now that they were resurfacing, he found the Destroyer trying to distance himself. He wouldn’t let him withdraw further–not when he’d seen a glimpse of personality hidden behind Error’s layers of distrust and anxiety.

“Now look what you’ve done–made yourself bleed again,” Nightmare stated, his multi-layered voice melding more with his original tone as he adjusted his altered vocal range. “Shit, you’ve really cut yourself up this time,” he remarked, holding Error’s hand away from his wounded neck. Error wilted slightly before huffing, avoiding eye contact as he was tugged into an alcove by his counterpart.

“You don’t have to ba-b-baby me you know,” Error commented, feeling inferior as he pondered on how he must look to the other. The embarrassment caused sweat to gather on his skull. Error was beginning to feel like a burden and he despised it. ‘You’re dead weight’ his mind supplied unhelpfully. He didn’t like the isolation his own mind could inspire. He’d rather never have to be completely alone with his thoughts ever again if he could help it.

When the bleeding didn’t cease, Nightmare grumbled to himself. “I can do what I like,” the Guardian stated, tilting Error’s skull so that he could get a better look at the wound. He clicked his tongue, before stilling as he processed a sudden, strong urge to lick the bleeding vertebra. That was new–and uncannily similar to something Horror would say about a fresh bundle of raw meat. As much as his rational mind argued that he’d freak Error out if he dove head first into his newly begotten wound, he was more focused on the urge morphing into a compulsion. He leaned in to lap at the surfacing marrow before covering the afflicted area with his mouth, careful not to apply pressure with his teeth. Error twitched in surprise and hissed, the sensation of the Guardian’s mouth encasing his overly sensitive, stinging vertebra an entirely bizarre feeling.

“N-Night?” He asked, his phalanges closing around a tentacle which had slithered into his lap. “I thought-ah–” he shivered, the ache dwindling as the Guardian dragged his tongue over the area. This was incredibly strange, but all he could focus on was the soothing sensation of the Guardian mouthing his neck. Error’s brows relaxed, the pain and tension seeming to flow out through the laceration. Error gasped, tensing as pleasure skittered up his spinal column.

“Mhm?” The Guardian responded, sitting up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Nightmare felt a little hazy, his eye socket half-lidded and a slight teal glow to his face. Error didn’t know what to make of it. He felt his own face heating up as he processed what had just occurred. The Guardian’s teal tongue made an appearance behind his canines. Error’s soul clenched in response.

“What the fuck was tha-at?” The Destroyer asked in a small voice.

“To be honest, I have no clue,” Nightmare said, his brows pinching together as he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, but, uh…did that not taste vile to you?” Error asked, genuine confusion plaguing him as he lifted his hand to tentatively touch the damp area of his cervical vertebrae. Nightmare blinked as he contemplated.

Nightmare opened his mouth to speak before pausing, blinking through the haze before stating, “I was thinking about it and then it just sort of happened. I didn’t really consider how it tasted, to be honest…but thinking back on it, it wasn’t bad. I quite enjoyed it, actually.”

“Uh huh.” Error paused. “That’s it?”

”That’s it,” Nightmare responded, a slight flush to his face. “I’m sorry if that was…crossing any boundaries?”

“I-it’s fine, really, you just ca-caught me off guard,” Error muttered, his face burning as he felt magic flowing into his pelvis. He was tempted to let his ecto take form, but he was overthinking things. Getting off to Nightmare lapping at the spilled blood on his neck was gross, right? Right? Maybe he was more of a freak than he realized. He fidgeted, before stating, “We-e-e should keep moving. I think it feels bet-better in a way. Less itchy.” Error chuckled before slipping out from the alcove and scanning their surroundings. His tattered scarf fluttered as the airflow in the space increased. Nightmare detected an acrid scent somewhere among the statuesque shapes. He scowled.

“Good idea.”

The stability of the structures sometimes changed drastically. It wasn’t predictable, which meant that the duo were on their toes constantly. The lighting altered between fluorescent and palpable darkness, rarely ever putting forth a comfortable medium. In the darkness, Error felt his soul gripped by trepidation. It helped to hold onto one of the Guardian’s sturdy, regrowing tentacles, the sensation of it weighty and grounding. It offered him something to focus on when they were the most vulnerable.

Nightmare had explained that he was able to see better in complete lack of light, which gave Error some hope that they wouldn’t be sitting ducks if a Room’s resident decided to attack them. The Guardian’s insistence that Error stayed close to his side even in the brightest of spaces. The one they currently entered seemed to stretch on for eons, the fluorescent horizon connecting with the off-white floor somewhere they couldn’t see. There were bent and disfigured pieces of furniture randomly placed, no rhyme or reason to where they’d been left. There was a cool breeze rustling through their battered attire as they cautiously explored the expanse.

“This feels like we’ve entered the end of the dimension,” Nightmare stated, squinting as he observed the hazy horizon line. “Makes me think that if we went far enough we’d reach the edge of the plane–maybe a cliff or fractured scenery.”

Error grunted. “Given our luck, it wou-would be the edge that led straight into a se-se-second, far worse edition of what we’ve already been through.”

The Guardian’s tentacles flicked at the idea of entering into something worse. He’d like to think that they wouldn’t encounter anything more destructive than what they’d already met, but he didn’t know if that was realistic or simply hopeful. “So, how do you feel about heading towards the horizon?”

Error’s face screwed into an uneasy expression before he closed his eye sockets and released a lengthy exhale. “Hell. It’s either go back and l-look for a different path or move forward.” He tapped at the part of his jaw that still hadn’t regained sensation, contemplating the risks of both options. After a few moments, he stated, “The horizon. At least we have light here.”

Nightmare offered a nod and closed the short distance between them by tugging Error with his tentacles so that he could offer the Destroyer some warmth. The Guardian ran hot these days and if he could keep Error’s energy levels up, it was for the best.

Error was on edge. He’d see flickers of a silhouette out of the corners of his vision, but when he’d look in the direction, there was no one. Nothing. Just endless white. He appreciated the squeeze of Nightmare’s tentacles when he’d sense Error’s distress and paranoia. It was a welcome distraction to the foreboding feeling of being stalked by something he couldn’t see. Error would’ve liked to compare the sightings of this mystery being to the voices he’d hear sometimes, but he’d never experienced visual hallucinations before. He was entirely out of his element and it was eating him up inside. Was he on the verge of snapping? What if this was the beginning of the end, his decline into a madness that he wouldn’t awake from? Nightmare would be left with a husk of the Destroyer and that idea frightened Error. His mouth felt dry, like at some point he’d taken a mouthful of sand and let it sit on his tongues.

Nightmare swore he could detect the disquietude emanating from Error in the air around them. The horizon didn’t feel any closer than it had hours ago, although there was a large, pearly structure in the distance beginning to take shape, the architecture rounded in some areas and sharply defined in others. It was ominous, seeming sentient as it became more visible, its hulking form watching them as they approached. They traveled in silence for a while, the comfort of contact enough to keep them motivated and focused upon reaching the building. Error would be caught off guard occasionally by something only he could see, and the Guardian attributed it to the recent traumatic events that had taken place. He wanted to offer some form of comfort, but their safety took priority. He could make him feel good later, show him how much he was still in control (even though in reality they had none) and pretend they were still gods among men (what a joke). The thought of clutching Error’s body close to his as he bit into his shoulder bones was enticing–he looked forward to the possibility of losing himself in pleasure for as long as he could muster.

The building towered over them, extending into the fluorescent skies. Error imagined eyes everywhere, scrutinizing their every move. He felt like an insect under a spyglass, the ferocity of the concentrated light being transferred through the lens biting into his sensitive joints. Fatigue was settling onto his shoulders, exacerbated by the chill that clung to his bones. They were so close to the building and yet it felt as though they were making no progress at all. It made him want to scream.

“We should rest,” Nightmare expressed, putting into words what they both knew they needed. Error nodded, squeezing one of the Guardian’s tentacles. “Let’s head inside.”

Inside felt like it was eons away and continued to feel that way until they were crossing the threshold from the white wasteland into the dim, spacious interior. The eerie silence was punctuated by the sound of electricity still thrumming behind the walls, surely powering something (what that was, Error wasn’t sure). The scenery was off putting and ethereal enough to be considered dream-like. The Destroyer wasn’t a fan–not at all. Turning to speak to the Guardian, Error was floored when he didn’t see him beside him. He whipped his skull the other way before whirling around to look behind him, a cold sweat overtaking him when he realized that he was alone. Horror filled him as he retraced his steps, icy panic gripping his diaphragm as the Destroyer’s breaths came in quick succession. Dark splotches encroached on the edges of his vision as he frantically searched, yet he came up with no evidence that Nightmare had actually entered the building with him.

Nightmare was beside himself with worry and bitter distress upon Error’s disappearance. He’d been there and the next moment, he wasn’t–it didn’t make sense. The Destroyer had been touching him, holding tightly onto one of his right tentacles, and there hadn’t been any suggestion that he’d let go. The phantom sensation of Error’s hand on him still lingered, and that was almost worse than not feeling anything, because it cemented in Nightmare’s mind that there was nothing rational about this situation. He debated whether to search for his counterpart or to remain where he was. Error was most likely doing the same. He held out as long as he could, hoping fruitlessly that Error would jump out and admit that he’d duped the Guardian, but he never did. There were no footsteps, no suggestion that Error was ever there with him, only the buzz of the inner workings of the building. Nightmare began his search.

Error had his back pressed into a corner with an overhang, probably a modern, built-in desk of some sort, he didn’t know. It offered him a place to freak the fuck out without being immediately discover-able by unknown monstrosities possibly lurking about the place. His phalanges infiltrated his rib cage, gripping the red bones until they creaked in protest as he lost his cool. He gasped and shook for what felt like forever until he calmed down enough to produce a loosely compiled plan of action. He stood up unsteadily, his wide eyes scanning the unfamiliar interior as he determined which way to begin his solo journey. There was no time to delay–he’d wasted enough time as it was. Swiping his phalanges down his cheeks, he gathered strings in case he gained unexpected company. Silently, he padded through the hallways and strange, empty rooms hoping more than anything that he’d find Nightmare along the way.

Error traversed through tunnels, waterlogged floors with white tiles, and other environments that felt like flashes from past locations packed into a randomly placed, industrial building. The Destroyer was beyond tired, but he didn’t feel safe enough to rest even when he spotted potentially promising ledges and alcoves. He felt as though he was dragging himself along, the sound of shallow water sloshing as he walked a reminder that he was actually moving. This wasn’t a dream. He was actually lost, alone, and would probably take irreparable damage if he met one of the residents by himself. Nightmare would need to be fed. His determination to find him increased as he came to the realization that if they didn’t find each other, they would both meet their ends. He refused to humor the idea that this was the end. It wasn’t. He wouldn’t let it be.

He was being followed–there had been something tracking him, and it was here in the enclosed space of the building with him. He caught glimpses of it, but it was proficient at remaining unseen, especially when the Destroyer was looking for it. Error, despite his exhaustion, began to run. He didn’t have another option–it had seen him, it was more familiar with the building than he was, and he couldn’t shake it. This was his last resort. He couldn’t fight something he couldn’t see, so attempting an escape was the next best thing.

Error’s soul quaked when he was grabbed, and inevitably tripped, landing in the foot and a half of clear water covering the floors. He scrambled for purchase, finding none on the slippery tile, and opted for rolling over, lashing out at his attacker. Through the water in his eye sockets, he could see the silhouette and glowing eyes of a creature which he swore had been crushed until it expired. Shaking his skull, and grabbing handfuls of strings, he staggered back and away from the visage of Not-Ink. ‘No, no, hell no-’

“What a surprise,” he uttered, his smirk revealing glinting, sharp teeth. “The Destroyer, all alone. Where’s your friend?” He asked, tilting his skull until it was approaching a right angle.

“You-you’re dead!” Error barked out, overwhelming fear culminating within him as he recalled his last encounter with the abomination. “He killed you, I wit-wit-witnessed you die.”

The laughter that erupted from Not-Ink was wholly disjointed and disturbing. “So you did. It seems you expected me to stay that way. Sorry to shatter your expectations, but that isn’t how things work, Destroyer.”

“You’re not the Creator,” Error snarled. “So why the hell do you l-look-look like him?” The thing made a gritty, wheezing sound which seemed to be a mimicry of laughter. It took everything within the Destroyer not to recoil.

“You could say we’re phenomenal accidents. Kind of like you, Error.” A trail of black liquid slipped out from between his teeth. “You could say the Creator and I are related. The multiverse demands sacrifices, you know.” Error couldn’t take his eye lights off of not-Ink, even as the impostor stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I have his memories. I know you.” He could reach out and touch the thing if he wanted. He could hear its joints move in between its bones. “I can break you so easily…it would be a delicious experience.”

Error felt a chill creep up his spine in response to the memory and he shivered in response. “What the fuck do you wa-ant?” Error snarled, already tired of hearing the thing’s voice. It somehow looked even more like Ink than before. The eye lights mimicked the shift of the Creator’s and if he squinted, he could reasonably mistake this being for Ink, save for the tattered excuse for clothes the creature donned.

I want you resonated around Error’s skull, instigating a ricocheting wave of vertigo. He planted his hands on his knees, the temptation to heave making itself known at both the sudden dizziness and the implication of the words still echoing in his head. Spitting off to the side in an attempt to rid his mouth of the thick, fuzzy sensation the voice produced, he grit his teeth and glared at his stalker.

“Fuck that,” Error snarled. “You d-don’t get me. I’m not an ob-object to be owned.”

“Humor me,” Not-Ink growled, his voice warping into a sound that sent trepidation shooting up the Destroyer’s spine. “I’m linked with the Creator through an accursed neural connection,” he explained, taking a few gliding steps towards Error before pausing. “He’s had carnal fantasies about you. I have tapped into them before.” The creature’s clawed hands flexed as his posture changed from stiff to slightly more limber. He reminded Error of a predatory animal preparing to pounce. “It was a delectable experience. Don’t you want to know what he’s seen? I’m an open book, Destroyer.”

“Sta-stay away from me,” Error said, his voice glitching and wavering as he backed away. His arms felt like they were going numb. “I don’t want anything like that–I don’t want you an-an-any closer to me, fucker!”

“You haven’t even offered me a chance,” he responded, his voice taking on a multifaceted quality that made him sound eerily like the Ink the Destroyer was familiar with. Not-Ink approached in long strides, causing Error to shuffle back through the water. When he turned to run into the neighboring room, slipped on the tiles. He was fully expecting Not-Ink to grab him, so as he did, Error dug his phalanges into the other’s face, hoping to dissuade him from continuing with his attack. He felt bone give under his digits as he ruthlessly scratched into the layers of the creature’s face. Then Not-Ink’s hands were on either side of his face and he was dragged forward, encompassed by stilted, haunting laughter and the shift of the creature’s left eye light filling his field of vision. The Destroyer’s right eye socket was pressed flush with Not-Ink’s left socket, the magic transfer commencing just as the resident of the Rooms expected it to. Error went limp as he was subjected to sharing magic against his will.

Ink sat in a room lined with staggered candles, a stone floor and vibrant red vines climbing the cavernous space, disappearing into the void where the light didn’t permeate. He was working upon an especially large canvas, his eye lights tight, white pinpricks focused solely upon the art he was crafting with his palette and thin brush. The form of Error had taken shape, his jacket draped over his legs as he stitched the damaged material of his beloved jacket, the bruising and injuries to his bare upper body indicating that he’d recently been in a fight. Ink had intended it to be life-like and he was incredibly pleased with his progress. Error looked as though he would look up from the canvas and snap at Ink for staring.

“Perfect,” Ink hummed, plopping his paintbrush into a bowl of water.

Ink despised the unsettling expanse of the Anti-Void, but he’d visit regardless if it meant he could observe Error. He gathered information and indulged his curiosity, becoming privy to the personal developments of Error’s life. There was hope for Error, he believed, and if he could get close to him, maybe he could pull him out of the life of destruction he’d become known for. He’d seen Error after he’d decimated an alternate universe, high off of the increased magic he’d gain. He’d also watched as Error went through unimaginable pain as he lost touch with reality, curling up where he thought no one could see him so he could release sounds of despair. Error had a soul. Error couldn’t just decide not to drink paints if he didn’t want to deal with the complexity of certain emotions. The Destroyer had baggage that tore him up inside, and while Ink felt a phantom tug in his diaphragm, he knew it was just the lingering effect of his blue paint. Sometimes Error would bite his hand as he fingered himself, tears brimming in his eye sockets. Hours could pass by and Ink never tired of observing his enemy.

The Creator just was content to watch.

Ink hung the paintings around what had slowly evolved into a sanctuary for his future plans to become closer to Error. In the meantime, it had become more difficult to focus on why they were fighting. Ink crafted a bed for himself in the cavernous studio, and would often arrive there after fighting with the Destroyer, the sweat and blood from their battles freshly shed. Ink gazed upon his favorite of the paintings, in which Error was depicted pleasuring himself. The scene had seared itself into the Creator’s mind when he’d observed it in person, albeit hidden, and he couldn’t help but recreate it using magic and paint. Edging himself for hours, he imagined how it would feel to touch Error, to go further and actually fuck his rival and enemy. Mouth watering, his phalanges wrapped tightly around his straining dick, Ink looked at the painting with half-lidded eyes, primed to come undone at the drop of a pin.

Ink’s scowl was the predominant feature in the scene. He was on a rocky outcropping, his caramel colored scarf blowing in the wind. Stars dotted the skies above and below the cliff, cuing Error into the fact that this was in fact his favorite AU, Outertale. The Creator looked up at the constellations above before his attention was drawn downward where the light never touched. After a few minutes of stillness and far away voices, Ink pushed himself forward, slipping off of the edge of the outcropping. His scarf caught the wind as he plummeted into the abyss below, not uttering a sound as he left the safety of the rocks.

The sickening crunch of bones, joint matter and magic coalescing after being shed created a horrific audial experience for Error. He was trapped in a plane wherein he was witnessing a skeleton monster after death, yet they weren’t dead apparently–they twitched, agonizing moans and groans emanating from their pulverized form as their damaged body moved unnaturally. Error’s jaw fell slack as the scene continued, the ambiance becoming more grotesque by the second as the individual released pained vocalizations. It had him trembling with anxiety and asking anyone willing to listen for the torturous scene to end. The broken skeleton’s eyes opened, marrow trickling from the newly mended sockets, and the only word uttered was ‘Error’.

Ink’s face was in his hands as he sat in a corner of the Doodlesphere that starkly contrasted the rest of the monumental, golden space. In front of him, a grotesque, hulking accumulation of muddied colors, that dripped, fluctuated, and grew minutely yet steadily. The Creator was muttering something, too soft for the words to be deciphered. His hands fell into his lap and Ink stared unblinkingly at the decaying abomination that had come to inhabit his sacred space. Error wasn’t sure, but it looked like Ink had mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to no one in particular. Error debated if he was ever truly meant to see this.

Error sucked in a harsh breath, his diaphragm spasming as he was released from the vivid visions produced by Not-Ink’s void-like eye socket. Disoriented, in pain and beside himself with terror, he launched himself at the creature, grabbing for the meat tenderizer at his hip. The tool connected with the left side of the other’s rib cage and the sound of breaking bones filled the watery space. Not-Ink wailed, the sound reverberating through Error’s frame as he attempted to wrench the deeply lodged tenderizer from the sunken portion of the diaphragm. He had no such luck.

Not-Ink retaliated, his claws drawing marrow as he gripped Error’s lower ribs. He twisted as Error, whose eyesight hadn’t yet recovered from the mental manipulation, attempted to snap his attacker’s skull from his cervical vertebra. Error groaned as his floating ribs creaked, his own grip faltering slightly as pain blossomed like a heady toxin in his chest.

“Let go of me you fu-ucking–” Error was interrupted by the wail that forced its way out of him as his bottom ribs were torn from his frame. He was seeing red, the amount of pain he was in more intense than anything he could recall. He gagged as his voice became hoarse, the shock of it all bringing on a sensation similar to ice being injected into his mana lines. Then, as if it wasn’t enough that the creature had literally broken off pieces of his body, Not-Ink forced his hand in between the narrow space dividing two of Error’s larger ribs causing them to crack. As he pulled his limb back, his hand remained, tethering itself to multiple ribs as it emitted sharp, squirming bristles. Error’s eye sockets widened as he realized the dismembered hand’s protrusions were digging their way into his bones. He wasn’t sure where the sudden boost of energy came from, but he slammed his hands on both sides of Not-Ink’s skull and twisted it 90 degrees so quickly that a resounding crack echoed throughout the tiled space. Not-Ink’s face remained frozen in a sneer before gradually loosening into a slouched, dead-eyed expression. Error breathed heavily, noting that he was bleeding from multiple points now, coloring the once clear water with plumes of violet. He forced himself to stand, hissing as his spinal column protested. He limped off towards the next room, desperate to find Nightmare.

He had to act fast. The right side of his chest was burning, the sensation spreading outward as the thing dug its roots deeper into his bones. Error decided in a split second to wrap either side of the cursed abomination with his strings, making sure to surround the portion of his rib cage area that had become darkened with pulsing, inky veins. Inhaling a shaky breath, he mentally convinced himself, trying not to think too hard about the agony that he was about to subject himself to. He forcefully jerked his hands apart, severing the infected area from the still viable parts of his bones. The chunk of organic material and red rib amalgamation splashed as it met the water and Error yelled out as white hot pain lanced through him. At this point, he just wanted to find his companion so he could pass out without fearing for his life. Not-Ink was going to be back and he didn’t want to be helpless when the creature resurrected (or whatever it did). He’d rather his self-mutilation have served a purpose.

Nightmare was gripped with panic upon hearing Error’s pained cry. He ran in the direction that he’d heard it emanating from, utilizing his tentacles to scale obstacles in his path. The Guardian stilled for a moment, hoping for a sign. For a second he contemplated the possibility of being overtired–maybe he’d hallucinated the whole event. His soul ached at the idea and he felt his eye socket burning despite his strong resolve.

“Night! F-fuck, Nightmare,” Error choked out, his vision swimming as he attempted to stay upright. He sloshed over to a white-tiled wall, the surface pebbled with moisture. He could hear his soul fluctuations in his cranium. “Help me!”

The Guardian perked up instantly, headed in the direction of his counterpart’s voice. “Error! Error I’m here, keep talking!”

“He-ere!” Error yelled, his voice breaking as pain lanced through him. “Here! Night, I’m here, I…I need your help!”

“I’m coming!” Nightmare responded. “Come on, Error, don’t go quiet on me! Talk to me!”

“I’m bleeding,” Error stated, the volume of his voice quieted as he grew more tired. “Where’d you go? Heh, whe-ere’d we go?” Error asked with effort, his voice echoing around the watery space. “Dunno what hap-happened to us. This place just keeps…getting better, does-doesn’t it?” He laughed humorlessly, his soul contracting at the sound of the Guardian entering the space via a dark tunnel. Error stumbled toward him, sucking in air as he braved the growing pain in his bones. “Fuck–I thought–I’m going to pass out,” he informed the Guardian.

Nightmare picked him up in his tentacles, careful to avoid the obviously damaged bones. As Error had predicted, he did pass out. His sudden blood loss and rapid magic expenditure left no reserves for him to fall back on. As soon as Nightmare sought out a safe hideaway, he’d patch up the Destroyer’s wounds and siphon magic to him. Scanning their surroundings, he jogged back through the tunnel, headed for a dry, elevated space with a door between themselves and the outside.

Once they were inside a safe place with a sturdy lock, Nightmare shoved any idle furniture he could find against the door, just in case they were unlucky enough to have the locks fail. He was focused on assessing Error’s injuries, keeping his touch light and clinical as he inspected the damage. Whatever Error had run into, its touch had left what appeared to be scorch marks on his rib cage. Aside from the bottom most floating ribs being torn clean off, there was a sizable hole in the right side of his rib cage which steadily oozed marrow. Nightmare grimaced. “I’m going to tend to this,” he informed the unconscious Destroyer. Speaking aloud helped him settle his own nerves and focus. “I’ll be gentle,” the Guardian said, taking one of Error’s hands in his own to offer a reassuring squeeze. The Destroyer’s hand twitched, yet his eye sockets were still riddled with error signs.

Nightmare retrieved a strip of fabric from his hoodie, hastily tearing a large enough piece that he’d be able to wrap Error’s injuries. He narrated his actions as he coated the damaged bones with the soft material. He was afraid of the especially damaged areas snapping due to the lack of stability. At least this way he had more confidence in them healing without Error having to regenerate full sections of bone with his impaired magic. He wasn’t even sure if that was possible in this realm. It would put him at a huge disadvantage to have a gaping hole leading to his soul.

“I know it’s not comfortable, but you’re doing so well. Tonight you can use my hoodie. We’ll bundle you up, make you warm and-and-” Nightmare rambled, sweat beading up on his skull. “We’ll get through this,” he said, unsure as to whether Error could actually hear him, but he continued to talk nonetheless. When he felt as though he had stabilized the other’s ribs as much as possible, he squeezed Error’s hand once more. There was a light squeeze in return. Nightmare sighed as relief washed over him.

Error returned to the land of the living abruptly, jerking awake and groaning in discomfort as his injuries flared up in response. “Slow down. Take it slow, Err,” the Guardian commanded, his teal eye light illuminating where they sat in the darkness. Nightmare had restrained him lightly with a tentacle, ensuring that he didn’t do more damage, and the Destroyer was thankful for that. Lightheaded and clammy, he distracted himself by caressing the tentacle in his lap.

Nightmare felt a distinct amount of guilt gnawing at his consciousness. He leaned into the back left corner of the room, using his tentacles to support himself. He situated Error so that he was leaning on his uninjured side against Nightmare’s chest. He covered him in his soft hoodie, spreading it out over Error’s frame.

“We need to see if we can connect with Dream and the others. Are you alright with that?” Nightmare asked, one of his hands caressing the Destroyer’s skull.

Error nodded. “I want to be the-ere as well,” Error said softly. “Fuck, it hurts.” The Destroyer’s brows were furrowed in pain.

“I know it does. I’m sorry, I truly don’t know how we got separated.”

“Don’t be,” Error said a little louder this time. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Neither of us saw it coming,” he said. “This place s-sucks.”

The Guardian hummed and Error could tell he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll do everything in my power to stop this from happening again,” Nightmare promised. He slipped his hand into Error’s and squeezed. “Are you ready to meet up with the others?”

“I’m ready,” Error said, letting his eyes fall shut. He soon began to feel his pain alleviate considerably, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Stars for Nightmare’s abilities.

Nightmare glanced around a space similar to the conference room in the lower levels of his home. The Guardian of Negativity was fascinated by the fact that Error’s dreams often brought them to spaces modeled after his castle, which the Destroyer always complained of being far too ‘over the top’. Maybe he secretly liked Nightmare’s home more than he liked to admit.

Instead of coming across Dream and Ink as they’d expected, the two were met by Dream, Blue, and Killer. Their expressions reflected shock as they took in the approaching silhouettes. It seemed strange to Error until he glanced over to see that even in the ethereal plane, Nightmare’s form remained in its altered state and his own frame looked worse for wear after his unfortunate encounter with Not-Ink. That explained a lot.

“Boss?” Killer voiced, his smile wavering slightly. “That, uh…what the fuck happened to you?”

Nightmare sighed. “A lot has happened. Long story short, we had a run in with an unsavory resident of the dimension and I took the brunt of the attack. This is now my burden to bear.” Nightmare’s tentacles instinctively reached for Error, before he consciously restrained himself, allowing the tentacles to relax. “I wasn’t expecting a visit from my second hand man. This is a very pleasant surprise.”

Dream’s expression conveyed his awe and concern for his ex-companion. His ability to speak was stolen from him as he processed the other Guardian, who appeared truly menacing after his forced metamorphosis. “You…you’re both pulling through, though, correct?” He asked. Nightmare’s eye light flared momentarily before narrowing.

“We’ve been better,” he insisted. Dream didn’t appear convinced, but he let it slide. The way Nightmare was eyeing him cued him into the tumultuous emotions brewing within him. “It’s better that I’ve changed. There are undeniable benefits to this form,” he stated. “It levels the playing field against the residents of this realm.”

As Blue took in the physical state of Nightmare and Error, he was appalled. His brows knitted together and he took a deep breath, before releasing it. “You’re wounded,” he said, taking in Error’s fresh injuries. It seemed the Dreamscape didn’t hide a thing as far as physical appearance. Looking down, the Destroyer scowled at the mess Not-Ink had made of his damaged rib cage.

“I am,” Error replied, not sure what else to say. It wasn’t as if he could deflect while looking like he did.

“Error? You are okay, right?” Blue asked, looking genuinely shocked at the sight before him. He approached with some apprehension, reaching out with one of his gloved hands before letting his arm drop. “Is that really you? This is all so strange…”

Error scoffed lightly before nodding, looking away from his old companion. “It’s ac-actually me. I know it’s a mind-mind fuck, isn’t it?”

Blue’s smile wavered. “Um, I’d like to say how glad I am to see you both alive,” he stated. “Error, c-could I have a word with you? It’ll only take a moment. I understand if you don’t want to-”

Error nodded before walking away from the group. Blue fell into step behind Error. He felt eyes on their backs, but he expected as much. He’d heard from Dream that Nightmare had become increasingly protective of Error. The Destroyer waited, the bloody stain permeating his faded shirt distracting as Blue gathered his thoughts.

“I wanted to apologize.” He scowled, tempted to look away, but he didn’t. This wasn’t about him. “Nothing can excuse my ignorance and callousness. You tried to reason with me on multiple occasions, but I acted like an ass to you.” Blue cleared his throat as he began to choke up a bit. “I didn’t know if I’d get a chance to say sorry for how I acted. I hope one day you might be able to forgive me.”

It took a moment for Error to process what the guardsman said. He blinked, ruminating over the words, the meaning arriving a while after it was spoken. He wasn’t expecting that at all. It was nice to hear, especially from Blue. He’d missed spending time with him. It was bittersweet, since he and Blue hadn’t gotten along in what felt like eons. This gave him the hope that things might improve–if they found a way out of the cursed dimension, maybe he’d be able to cultivate a friendship like they’d once had.

“I really appreciate that,” the Destroyer admitted quietly. Blue’s posture became less rigid and he offered a slight smile. “Thank you, Blue.”

“No, thank you,” Blue said, his posture becoming more relaxed. “I’ve missed your company.”

“Same,” the Destroyer responded. He looked back at the group and met Nightmare’s gaze. “We should head back. They’re itch-itching to talk business.”

“Thank you,” Blue said to the group, before looking to Dream and Killer for direction.

“We’re working day n’ night on getting ya out, ya know.” Killer swallowed, gathering his thoughts. “Gonna be real with you right now–I feel fuckin’ useless,” he expressed, clenching his hands into fists at his sides.

“I relate,” Blue said, horrified at the state of them both and the situation overall. “Do you recall any of the pathways you took to get to where you’re at currently?”

Error shook his skull. “There were fa-ar too many paths. I recall the first few-ew, but that’s it,” Error admitted. He listed the couple that he could actively recall, and Dream took a mental note.

“What is the layout like? As far as the environment is concerned, what are the most prominent features?” Dream asked.

Nightmare tapped his chin, his resting mind still sluggish after his and Error’s amorous activities not long ago. “Rooms. Everything is interconnected. The place is a hellish maze that makes no sense whatsoever,” Nightmare growled. “We crossed a barren wasteland and found a building with yet more ludicrous rooms. Shocking, I know.”

“There’s no tell-telling our exact location,” Error added. “It’s honestly a toss up where we e-e-end up. It’s a complete clusterfuck in there,” he said. Killer frowned, unsure how to proceed with that information. If there was no reliable way of tracing their location, how would they be found? He glanced over to Dream, who was deep in thought.

The positive Guardian contemplated who was able to traverse the multiverse as skillfully as Error. After a few moments, someone did come to mind, and it had the Guardian of Positivity asking himself why he hadn’t thought of him sooner. Fresh, the radical parasite inhabiting a skeletal body, was a talented tracker and a well-versed traveler of the multiverse. He had to be, since he didn’t settle for just any life form to inhabit. While Dream didn’t approve of his methods of surviving and thriving, he wasn’t in any place to stop him. Fresh was crafty and he rarely stayed in one place. If the guy didn’t encroach on the core universes, he wasn’t their problem. Ink had maintained far too much control over the happenings of the multiverse. It was time to let the natural processes happen the way they were intended to.

“Hold on, wait a minute–Fresh. You’re aware of his capabilities. He’s familiar with multiversal travel, right?” Dream asked, looking pointedly at Error. The Destroyer shrugged.

“I mean, yeah…the guy gets ar-around the multiverse. Why?”

“Maybe he’ll be able to track you. Think about it–if he’s able to establish where in the cosmos you are, we’d actually stand a chance at saving you,” the Guardian of Positivity pointed out.

Blue furrowed his brow. “While he is good at what he does, is there something we can do to provide a starting point for him?”

“I can bring him into the Dreamscape. If there’s a way for him to navigate here, that would be ideal. Other than scoping things out in this realm, I’m uncertain what we’ll be up against in the physical multiverse.”

“It’s a start,” Nightmare pointed out. “Did you end up connecting with my team as you mentioned before?” He asked.

“Oh, yes we did! They’re aware of the developments so far and extremely thankful you two are alive,” Dream said, smiling. Nightmare wasn’t impressed with the overly enthusiastic announcement, but he supposed it would do. His team knowing that they were trying to get back was what was important to him.

“We stayed a while to help with food prep and chores. I had the opportunity to learn about Horror’s culinary expertise. He is really quite talented in the kitchen,” Blue said, recalling the experience he had with the other.

“Wait, you stayed around? At my castle?” Nightmare asked, not quite believing the two teams could exist peacefully around one another. Dream nodded. Killer appeared uncomfortable with this line of dialogue, expecting that the Guardian of Negativity wouldn’t take it as a helpful gesture, but one born out of ill intent.

“Yes, Blue, Ink, and I remained for a while after discussing things. I assisted Cross with weapon upkeep and Ink went with Killer and Dust.”

“Unexpected as it was, it was extremely reassuring for everyone. They’re practically sick with worry over your absence,” Blue said, his tone empathetic. Nightmare appeared to be deep in thought. Error spoke up in an attempt to break the silence.

“What is Ink occupying his at-attention with now? Wasn’t he supposed to be making progress finding a way to in-infiltrate this place?” Error asked.

“He’s busy negotiating with the Creator’s Council to halt the development of new AUs,” Dream replied. “So Blue is here as his replacement.”

“Uh huh, alright, I’ll ta-take your word for it,” Error said. “Blue should be his perm-permanent stand in,” the Destroyer muttered.

“By the way, Nightmare, other members of your team have shown interest in visiting the Dreamscape, but I wanted to make sure the conditions were suitable before going ahead with inviting more guests along,” Dream stated. “Since Blue and Killer made it without any roadblocks, I’m certain the others will have no problem navigating.”

“Mhmm.” Nightmare squinted at his ex-friend before saying, “I’d like a word with you–alone.”

The Positive Guardian stilled before responding with, “Very well.” Dream followed the other to the far end of the conference room. Blue sat down at the table to chat with Error while they sorted things out. Killer followed suit, pulling out a chair before plopping down to wait out the conversation between Guardians. Concern roiled in his soul, but he could feel the vexation in Nightmare’s aura. His boss wasn’t known for his subtlety. If anything, being trapped and exposed to whatever was in the cursed dimension only added to his quick-tempered nature.

“What do you think you’re doing mingling with my team?” Nightmare asked in a humorless tone. Dream’s expression morphed into one of confusion before shifting into a tired exasperation.

“We’re working tirelessly on a plan to get you and Error out of this place. What else do you honestly believe I’m doing?” He snapped. Nightmare narrowed his eye socket.

“Well, considering your team would’ve taken an opening like this to use to your advantage, can you blame me for being cautious?” Nightmare hissed. “What do you expect me to do? How could I expect complete transparency from you? It’s a ludicrous idea.”

Dream inhaled before releasing his breath slowly. The both of them had temperaments to be reckoned with. Dream wasn’t interested in arguing, so he kept his tone as neutral as possible. “Nightmare. This is larger than our feud, don’t you think? While I can see what you are saying, my intention is not to undermine you. Whatever happens after finding a way out for you two is a future matter.”

Nightmare scowled. “It isn’t merely you I am thinking of. Ink is a loose canon at the best of times, so what makes you think he’s out there actually trying to convince his devotees? Also, let’s say your meticulous planning actually results in our escape from this hell–you know, pleasantly surprise me and prove there are no ulterior motives. Why are you doing this, Dream? A history of war and unrest isn’t forgotten overnight, so what gives?”

Dream pinched his nasal ridge. He leveled Nightmare with a terse glare. “I am doing this of my own volition. If the others break away, so be it. I’ll say it–was wrong to trust Ink. That is a true statement. I am coming to your aid, because even though we have fought–” Dream’s breath caught as he contemplated his own failings. “I owe you more than I can apologize for. I don’t expect forgiveness, but I’d appreciate your compliance so I can make sure you both survive this.”

Nightmare eyed him critically, but there was a genuine quality to Dream’s insistence. “Gods help me, if my team isn’t in perfect health when I’m released from here, I swear–”

“They’re being cared for, Nightmare,” Dream cut him off. “I’m looking out for your team’s wellness. They’re still yours–I’m a short-lived substitute. Please, try to have a little faith in me,” Dream pleaded, suddenly looking very tired. “I’m no longer a part of the Stars. If you’d like, I’ll go through an official surrender following this ordeal. Just let me do what I need to, alright?”

Nightmare was silent, his expression softening slightly. He sighed. “Fine.” The Guardian of Negativity massaged his right temple, which had begun to ache during the disagreement. “Error isn’t doing well after the last encounter…if you can, bring healing items which can survive in the Dreamscape.” He glanced over at Error, who was rolling his eye lights at whatever Blue was prattling on about. Killer had a smarmy expression plastered on his face. “It’s gotten bad. He isn’t healing here the way he does back home. It’s extremely worrying.”

Dream nodded, offering sympathy as he said, “I’ll do what I can. I should be able to whip something up fairly quickly. Make sure to keep all wounds clean and if you can, isolate in a safe area for as long as you can,” Dream said. “It won’t be long. As soon as I can locate Fresh , I’ll return with him.”

“We’ll be expecting you,” Nightmare replied, before turning on his heel and heading back towards Error and Blue. Blue was chuckling at something Error had said and Nightmare experienced a sharp pang in his chest. When Error offered a gentle smile, the jealousy blossomed ten fold.

Error felt relatively at ease with Blue talking on and on about what had been occurring outside of the Rooms. It made him nostalgic, reminding him of when times were less tense; he and Blue used to hang out often. They used to genuinely enjoy each other's company. Then, far too suddenly, the empathetic guardsman had been wrapped up in Ink’s elaborate song and dance about how he’d tried to befriend Error and failed. He framed Error as someone who needed to be reformed. There was no nuance, the Creator simply expressed that “Error is evil and can’t be reasoned with” before rounding his statement off with “Unless I can get through to him.”

Error gave Blue a surface level anatomy session on corrupted and fragmenting AUs and how they impacted the rest of the multiverse. Blue listened, or at least Error had been under the impression he’d been listening. As emotionally keen as Blue was, he was subjected to Ink’s convincing diatribes, and Error lost sway with his companion. The once caring, bubbly, and courageous Blue insisted that Error gave Ink a chance. Error had cut him off after he realized that Blue’s ultimatum was that he humor Ink. Since Error wasn’t willing to budge, their friendly encounters came to an abrupt end.

He couldn’t place full blame on Blue. He understood the allure of powerful beings; they had charm, especially in the eyes of mortals. Ink was a fascinating spectacle to many. Error had simply lost patience for him long ago–he no longer cared for Ink’s antics or his self-serving personality. He might’ve considered an alliance with the Creator at one point, but that ship had long since sailed.

“ –it’s crazy, because I never would’ve known about Horror’s passion regarding the culinary arts if I hadn’t made that impromptu decision. Plus he’s got a wonderful sense of humor,” Blue said, his smile reflecting his excitement.

“Oh no, I’ve lo-lost-ost my hard-earned title as the top comedian,” Error replied, feigning hurt as he placed a hand over his face, eliciting a snort from Blue.

“No, no, you just now share the title with another worthy comic,” Blue declared. “Oh! Also, H wants to bake! As in from scratch–no boxed ingredients, all fresh, locally sourced foods from a friend’s AU. I’m so excited, I don’t know what to do in the meantime. Heheh, it’s taking over my thoughts. If you can’t tell, I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s great, Blue. Never knew som-someone could be as passionate as you when it ca-ca-ame to cooking,” Error said. Seeing Blue gush over Horror’s talents warmed Destroyer’s soul. Error smirked and glanced over at Killer, who reflected an equally amused expression. “It sounds like you like him lots, Blue.”

The guardsman was suddenly blushing, his face a vibrant blue. “He-He’s good company, that’s all! I have a lot to learn from him. I never saw us being amicable is all…”

“So, what you’re say-say-saying is, my boy Horror really knows how to turn up the heat,” Killer teased, and Blue looked about ready to hit him. There was no guarantee the other wouldn’t hit him later on.

“That was absolutely terrible. I expected better from you,” Blue said playfully. Looking back at Error, his expression fell. “Please take care of yourself. I mean it, I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you…you deserved a far better pal than I was.” Blue scratched at his cervical vertebrae nervously. “Maybe we can get together once you're out? I’ve been collecting specialty chocolates…the good ones, you know. There were some limited edition releases in that chocolatier in Underfell a while back.”

Error’s nodded. “Ye-eah. I’d like that a lot. You take care, t-too.”

Error was wrenched from the Dreamscape as the damaged side of his rib cage ached suddenly and violently. He hissed, not wanting to touch the injury, but uncertain how to otherwise manage it. Nightmare had also begun to wake up, watching through his heavily lidded eye as the Destroyer inspected his makeshift bandages. Nightmare was silent, not wanting to spook Error as he delicately scrutinized his covered ribs. The Destroyer flinched, retracting his hand as raw, lancing pain traveled through his diaphragm causing spots to dance in his peripheral vision. Nightmare felt his soul wince, not liking the fact that Error appeared slightly paler than usual, and was coated in a layer of sweat. Error re-settled himself for the time being, careful to avoid placing any weight on his wounds.

Nightmare didn’t like the fact that his team was seeing the potentially positive aspects of their enemy. It left him with an especially acrid taste in his mouth. He felt conflicted by Dream’s honesty and separation from the Stars. It didn’t sit well within him, and it began to accumulate as annoyance.

“Nightmare,” Error said, and Nightmare’s eye opened to see the Destroyer sitting up. He flicked a tentacle which rested in the other’s hand. “Is there a reason why-why didn’t you want to include me in the rest of the discussion?” He asked, a hint of hurt evident in his voice.

Nightmare’s annoyance flared, spreading through his mana lines quickly. “It didn’t concern you,” he replied. “I mean, you spoke to Blue privately. It seemed like that's none of my concern,” the Guardian pointed out. “Anyhow, I didn’t see a point in arguing with Dream in front of everyone. It didn’t concern the group as a whole, so why make it bigger than it is?”

Error’s brows furrowed. That stung. “Nightmare–we’ve been he-here together. It does concern a-all of us. What does chatting with Blue have to do with it? You could hear us from whe-ere you were. It was an apology, nothing secretive,” Error muttered.

Nightmare looked at the other. He tried to separate his anger from his other emotions–it didn’t quite work. He’d focused hard on creating a perfect platform for the meeting and while he’d done so, his sleep was compromised. Then Dream let him know that he was playing mother hen to his team. It wasn’t an ideal situation for cultivating a good mood. “You were preoccupied. Again, it was a personal matter.”

Error grunted, painstakingly getting to his feet before heading into the other room. He wasn't about to deal with the guardian being a dick because he didn’t like his question. Nightmare watched him go, feeling hollow as Error very quietly whimpered in response to the pain he was experiencing.

“Error? Where are you going?” Nightmare asked.

“I’m…” Error paused, nasal ridge crinkling with the ache of his torso. “I’m taking a mo-moment to myself. Ho-ope that’s not a problem.” Error’s eye lights conveyed his discontent. Nightmare realized that he could have handled the situation far better than he had.

Taking a seat on the scratchy carpet of the desolate space, Error lifted some of the bandages to get a peek of his injury. He kind of regretted it–-it was bad. His soul tightened and at the sight of his bones.

He wanted Nightmare to get over whatever was . Error just wanted to be aware of the realities of their condition–had Dream known that they wouldn’t get out? What if he’d known, and disclosed that fact, and Nightmare wasn’t telling him? He sniffled as moisture collected in his eye sockets and nasal aperture. He peered down at his dilapidated jacket forlornly. If he had access to sewing needles here, he would’ve patched up the tears and cared for the frayed portions accordingly. Error’s curiosity got the better of him as he crawled towards the singular, ominous window in the office space. He peered through the glass. Dark, empty windows looked back at him in the near distance. He looked away quickly, the idea of someone else (or something else) looking back at him making his soul coil with discomfort and fear.

Nightmare had the feeling that if he’d been forthcoming that he would’ve saved them a lot of stress. He’s been feeling petty, though, so now the Destroyer had enough. He couldn’t blame him. Nightmare left the closet space and settled relatively close to Error, while still giving him enough space as to not crowd him. “I’m not exactly pleased that we have to rely on our enemies so heavily. It’s also not pleasant to hear that Dream has welcomed himself into my abode and is overseeing my team,” he said.

Error looked over at him, his full attention on the conversation. Error sighed. “I agree. Ink may-may-may be sorry, but it’s going to take more than that to repair the damage he’s inflicted,” he grumbled. “I’m not even sure I can completely fi-fix what he’s done,” Error reluctantly stated.

“I’m sorry. It was unnecessary of me to complicate such a simple situation,” the Guardian admitted. Error sighed.

“I appreciate that,” Error said.

Nightmare frowned. “I refuse to let us be separated again.”

Error grunted in response. As much as he wanted to believe in Nightmare’s abilities, he wouldn’t fault him for what he couldn’t control. It was wishful thinking that they wouldn’t ever be separated again. “While I’m not happy about the situation any more than you are, it cou-could be far worse. We’ll find out if Dreamy stays true to his wor-wor-word when we’re out, right?” Error said, relaxing against the wall before stiffening once more upon recalling his injuries.

Nightmare looked fondly at the other before abruptly sputtering. “Stars, don’t call him that. That sounds too much like a pet name for my taste.” He shivered.

Error chuckled. Nightmare gently prodded the Destroyer’s shoulder with a tentacle. “Alright, for real, though–what will this Fresh guy actually be able to do for us?”

“Well, he’s adept at universe hopping and he’s got a few methods I’m less fam-familiar with. Heh, he freaks me the hell out sometimes, but…he’s reliable. I think he’s got what it takes,” Error responded.

“Alright, that’s reassuring. Now why would he agree to help?”

“He pinpoints AUs for new hosts. He’s a par-parasite–he inhabits the skull and feeds on the soul for as long as he ca-an,” Error said. Nightmare’s eye widened a fraction as he contemplated that. Error chuckled softly.

“Oh wow, that’s absolutely fucking haunting,” Nightmare commented. “He’s literally the antithesis of what the Stars stand for, why do they interact with him?”

“Dunno,” Error remarked. “He likes pop-popping into the Antivoid to bug me. He thinks it’s hilarious that he puts me on e-edge. He joins me for Undernovela sometimes and bri-ings rainbow, fruity candy.”

“Have I seen him before?” Nightmare asked, tilting his skull.

“Most likely. He wears sunglasses, obnoxiously bright clothing, has strange lingo–he’s something to behold, that’s for sure.” When he thought about it, Nightmare recalled a fiercely glowing amethyst eye and a freakishly wide smile sporting a golden tooth. “He’s been around for a long whi-ile,” Error said. “He’s been around for as long as I can remember. He probably realized something is off by now with my ab-absence in the Antivoid.”

“Has he ever actually tried anything–you know, as far as trying to possess you? I mean, that’s what he does, right?” Nightmare asked.

“No, he hasn’t. He’s made weird jokes, but tha-a-at’s just Fresh’s style. He’s never threatened or attempted anything like that,” Error said. “He’s a fuck-fucking strange guy, but I won’t lie–I’ve been close to him for a while.”

“Oh. You have?” Nightmare asked, the mental image of this guy a terrifying one. He supposed he would be the fellow to get them out of here, if anyone actually could.

“I suppose Dream will ha-ave to bargain with him. He should know what he’s in for,” Error said, thinking about Fresh’s maniacally happy mask and the darkness looming underneath.

“Do you trust the one from Swaptale?” Nightmare asked.

“You me-ean Blue?” Error shrugged. “It’s complicated. He’s remained reliable, ev-even when…well, he began to idolize the Creator for a while,” Error muttered. “He’s funny and eas-easy to talk to. I wish he never became involved with the Stars, though.”

Nightmare tilted his skull. “Didn’t you kidnap him from his timeline?”

“Yes. In hind-hindsight, it wasn’t the best decision. He took it shockingly well,” Error replied.

Nightmare snorted. “So then why did you do it?”

“Oh, you know,” Error hummed, smirking, “Enter-entertainment. I released him when he became too much to handle. He was so stup-stupidly determined to befriend me.” Error sighed, and wilted slightly. “He still is.”

A comfortable silence commenced. They weren’t in a rush to leave the room at this moment in time. Error needed time to rest and Nightmare was aware that the rooms didn’t cease creating dangers just because they were in a compromised position. There wasn’t a better option at the moment, so they waited.

Nightmare moved a bit closer to the Destroyer. Error turned his skull, watching him with a spark of interest. Hesitating, Nightmare asked, “Is it alright if I touch you? I’ll be gentle,” he said reassuringly. Error nodded, his zygomatic bones heating up as Nightmare’s sternum and pelvis were slotted up against his spinal column. Nightmare pressed his nasal aperture against Error’s shoulder, and the Destroyer shivered. The heat of Nightmare’s tongue against his neck had him relaxing even further. He felt the Guardian of Negativity smile, his canines brushing against his sensitive neck joints.

“Do you want to lean back against me?” Nightmare asked, his baritone voice lovely to Error, especially as it was spoken against his skull. “If you want to. How is your pain?”

“It’s manageable,” the Destroyer supplied, more interested in ignoring his pain than bringing attention to it. “You’ve asked me a lot a-about my past. How about you tell me a st-tory to make up for being crabby?”

Nightmare huffed sarcastically, before commenting, “Will I ever not be indebted to you? You ask so much of me.”

“Hmm…I think not. This is wha-a-at you signed up for, Dark Prince,” Error responded, warmth blooming in his chest at the fond gleam in Nightmare’s eye light.

They weren’t able to connect with the others for some time. The Dreamscape became a form of entertainment outside of their waking life in the Rooms. Error liked to push boundaries in the intangible plane, completing physical feats that he no longer was capable of. Sparring which turned into fucking translated into further amorous activities when they were awake and aware.

They’d arrived in a retro, lifeless mall with a monumental, domed canopy constructed from what seemed to be glass. Thus far there hadn’t been any sign of new residents, but they took initiative to find an area with a closing door, walls and windows surrounding them before partaking in their sexual escapism.

Error sunk back against his companion, canting his hips to press his backside into Nightmare’s pelvis. The Destroyer’s chest hadn’t healed much, but progress had been made as far as the bleeding and pain. He turned his skull to the side, engaging in a heated kiss with the Guardian. Nightmare lit a flame within his core, and he had his ecto summoned in his pelvis in no time at all. He summoned dual genitals, a hard dick and opening beneath. He’d done it before, but never had he done it in front of someone else. Nightmare made a sound of appreciation as he caught sight of the attractive length between Error’s thighs.

“Mmh, okay, Error. What’s the occasion?” Nightmare asked, his voice reflecting satisfaction as he reached down across the uninjured half of Error’s rib cage to trail a phalanx over the tip. Error twitched in response to his touch. “Look at you. I bet you don’t do this often, hm?” Nightmare hummed in admiration before stating, “I’ve never seen such a pretty dick.”

Error moaned before snapping, “Sh-shut up.” There was no venom behind his words, though.

Nightmare chuckled. “Is my boy needy?” He rumbled, taking the blue length in hand. Error wasn’t large, but calling his dick small didn’t accurately describe it, either. He was decently girthy and the texture of his shaft was pleasant and weighty against Nightmare’s hand. “You poor thing. So hard, aren’t you?”

“Nightmare,” Error breathed, his hips stuttering as the other squeezed the base of his dick. “Oh-ohhh, that feels so–Night, please–”

“You’re delectable, aren’t you? I can swallow you down if you ask nicely,” he said, a wicked smile splayed across his face. Error’s shaft twitched in Nightmare’s grasp.

“Please?” He pleaded. “Stars, ple-ease,” Error begged. Nightmare chuckled lightly, before kneeling in front of Error, playfully licking his summoned abdomen. Peering up at Error’s blushing expression, Nightmare smirked, lapping teasingly at the tip of the Destroyer’s length. He was dribbling precum as he watched the Guardian with interest. Nightmare proceeded to run his tongue along the underside of Error’s rigid dick. Without much warning, he enveloped the head with his dark lips and swallowed. Error’s breath hitched and he had to be thankful there was a ledge behind him he could lean against.

Phalanges slipped inside of his entrance while he was being sucked, curling and twisting deliciously. Error nearly sobbed as a particularly sensitive spot inside of him was brushed. Trembling, he begged for Nightmare not to stop. He wanted to be fucked–he wanted to be fucked more than anything right now. He hoped the Guardian would go further with him this time. He’d been reluctant to get too hot and heavy after Error’s run in with Not-Ink, but the Destroyer was convinced he needed it.

“Night,” Error said, securing the other’s attention. “Please fuck me. Please.”

Nightmare stood up, resting his hands on Error’s hips before pressing a kiss to his mouth. “That’s not a good idea. Not after what happened. You haven’t healed yet.”

Error felt the sting of rejection. He knew it was reasonable for Nightmare to not want to aggravate his injuries, but it didn’t make it any less upsetting. “Nightmare, I’ll let you know if I’m in pain. I really, really wan-want you to fuck me. Please?”

Nightmare scowled, his handsome face reflecting his conflicted emotions. He opened his mouth, before closing it, looking at Error with that intense cyan eye light of his. “We’ll go slow. No shenanigans, you hear me? You lay,” he unzipped his hoodie, setting it down on the floor, “Right here, and I’m going to do the work. Got it?”

Error nodded eagerly. His diaphragm ached as he eased himself down on the sweatshirt. It was warm. It smelled like apple wine and the remnants of a fire in the hearth. Nightmare wasn’t finished with his activities and he resumed licking between the other’s legs, like he was something to be savored. At one point, he was deep-throating him, another he was eating him out. Error was whining, and it turned the Guardian on like nothing else. Error was his.

Nightmare resumed his worship of the Destroyer’s bones, suckling at his hips, leaving fresh bruises on bone and ecto alike. Error arched into him, singing his praises. By the time Nightmare’s cock was lined up with Error’s ready entrance, he was painfully hard. It felt like a game–how turned on could he make himself before he couldn’t resist fucking Error’s tight cunt? He had his answer now, as he wasn’t willing to resist any longer.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said, smirking. Error rolled his eye lights.

“Woah, I’ll never guess ri-I-ight, fuck!” Error cursed as he was spread by Nightmare’s girth, the stretch bringing tears to his eye sockets. “Night, you bastard–”

Nightmare snorted. “Now that’s not very polite.”

Error hissed, although he was thoroughly enjoying the slide of the other’s dick against his insides. “Fuck–slow, we’re going slow remember?”

Nightmare did. He reigned in the intensity, sensing that Error was a bit more sore than he bargained for, and pressed soothing kisses into his clavicle. “There we go. How’s that?”

“Mhmm.” A sensation was culminating inside of Error’s core, and he wasn’t sure what to think of it. It was pleasure, blissful and sensual, yet there was a hollow feeling there to accompany it. It felt contradictory. He began to steadily tear up. Maybe it was because he was in the process of dying. Somehow that made sense. Would he really die here? Would he be robbed of the life he could have had outside of this place now that he found someone he cared for so deeply?

“Error? Error.” Nightmare pressed his forehead against the Destroyer’s. “Are you in pain? Do you want to stop?”

“N-no,” Error admitted, sniffling. He wrapped his arms around Nightmare’s shoulders. “I don’t…I don’t want this to sto-op. I don’t want to be alone after-after–” he cried, his voice cracking and separating into glitches. “Don’t–don’t lie to me,” Error pleaded, feeling far weaker than he ever had. “Don’t you dare,” he said, burying his face in Nightmare’s shoulder. “You make me fuck-fucking care, you asshole.”

“Hey Error,” Nightmare said, his voice soothing. “Guess what? You made me care, too.” The Guardian brushed tears from the other’s face, his own soul echoing the feeling of loneliness he once was very familiar with. “Does that make you the asshole as well?”

Error chuckled, before narrowing his eyes. “Don’t you da-are fucking lie to me. You’re serious?” He whimpered as his insides were pressed into by Nightmare’s steadily swelling cock. Nightmare kissed him, thrusting his shaft deeper.

“Let me make something clear,” Nightmare rumbled, his voice sending chills up Error’s spine. “I’m not letting you go that easily,” the Guardian snarled. “Of course I’m not lying. I wouldn’t do that to you…not now,” Nightmare insisted, groaning as Error’s walls tightened. Error was soon cumming, his insides fluttering around the shaft piercing him. The Destroyer made a pained sound, hugging the other so tightly he swore they’d merged into one body. He was in loads of pain, but he didn’t care at the moment. Nightmare saw stars as he felt his release approaching before proceeding to groan out his completion, holding Error as close as he could without aggravating the major injury. “I’ve got you,” Nightmare purred, his tentacles checking the locks as he gathered the Destroyer into his lap. Error nodded, nuzzling into his chest.

It seemed as though all that could go wrong had in fact gone wrong, and while he didn’t want to shoulder the responsibility of taking on the mess, there was no one left to blame but himself.

Ink felt as though his skull had been suspended in a thick liquid for centuries and one day the contents of his cranium had drained and he’d awoken to find everything absolutely wrong. The disappearance of Error, the deterioration of AUs, the freakish amalgamations forming from monsters who’d seemed perfectly fine before they definitely weren’t. Dread coagulated in his rib cage, altogether foreign and wholly unforgiving as he was wrenched through an emotion he’d never truly tasted without the aid of his paints and yet here it was hitting him like a freight train. He felt watched and entirely alone at the same time, the echoes of some unknown crevice in his mind opening up and allowing for the downpour of reality to douse him. It felt overwhelmingly horrible.

Error was there one day, ritualistically hanging dolls and picking himself up after the fights they had, and then he was absent. When Ink had stopped into the Antivoid to seat himself among the strings where he could watch, Error’s television was on, but static had fuzzed up the screen. His knitting materials were folded on his beanbag chair, and a half-eaten bar of chocolate was sealed off at the top to preserve its freshness. The Creator waited, wondering if Error had taken a quick trip to Outerale or possibly Underswap, but there was no sign of the Destroyer even after hours had ticked by. Ink had resigned himself to the fact that Error was busy and that the other would reappear soon enough. Except he never did.

It wasn’t until Dream had heard from Nightmare’s notable second-hand-man that he’d gone missing along with Error that Ink recognized the seriousness of it all. It was worse than he’d suspected and at first he genuinely couldn’t believe Error had been contained by some mysterious dimension within the multiverse. In time, it began to make sense, though. Error wasn’t ever supposed to disappear completely, but since he did, the Creator recognized the toxic effects his worlds were succumbing to. He watched societies disintegrate, but before that, they’d mutate and grow increasingly grotesque. He’d ended the suffering of more than a few, but he wasn’t a code manipulator, and he couldn’t ask Error how to dismantle a fully fledged AU now, could he?

So now, it was his turn to begin to make things right–place a bandage over the clusterfuck he’d initiated and maintained. Dream had ordained him as the one responsible for hunting down Fresh. He wasn’t aware of his recent whereabouts, but since he was tasked with finding him, he began the search. Ink was sure he’d been on the move for days (or possibly weeks) when he eventually came across him, Fresh seemed surprised. Unbeknownst to the Creator, Fresh had been having a nice time corrupting an AU before popping over to this one to subject it to the same fate as the last. He wondered if that was why the illustrious Creator was approaching him now.

“Hey, my wickedly creative bro is in town! To what do I owe this surprise visit?” He asked, flashing a smile and propping his neon skateboard up against his color block slacks.

“Heh, well, we’ve got a slight problem,” Ink began, but was interrupted by Fresh.

“Wait, does this have somethin’ to do with my radical boy Error all up and missing from his Antivoid?”

“Well, yes, it does. We’ve done what we can, but we need your assistance,” Ink said, hoping that he wouldn’t have to make any major sacrifices for the other to agree to help. Fresh’s shades displayed a series of exclamation points.

“So, first of all, what happened? What am I getting my radical self into, broseph?” Fresh asked, genuinely curious as to how the Destroyer went missing.

“Nightmare is missing along with Error. According to Dream, the situation started from an intense game of portal tag between the two of them and then something went horrifically wrong. They’ve made contact, so that’s one positive aspect of this whole shabang. As far as I know, the problem we’re running into is that the location is very well disguised,” Ink explained. “At this point, neither Dream nor I can make physical contact with this location.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you guys found them another way? I mean, that’s sick, but how did you do that?” Fresh asked, tilting his skull.

“Dream used unconscious exploration through something he and Nightmare have referred to as the Dreamscape. We weren’t certain how well it would work, but it turned out after multiple times that we were able to make a connection.”

Fresh’s smile took on a strained quality. This sounded bad. “So Glitchy bro is okay?” Ink paused momentarily, and Fresh’s expression fell. “He is okay, right?”

Ink offered an awkward smile, scratching the back of his skull. From what Dream and Blue had relayed to him, Error wasn’t in good condition. In fact, the way it had been conveyed to him, he was a mess. “He’s…alive. From what I understand, the environment is hostile. It isn’t the ideal setting for recovery. From what I’ve heard, he hasn’t been healing as he usually does.”

“So it’s serious,” Fresh responded, his voice far less emotive than it typically was. This was the most serious Ink had ever seen the parasite. “How about you bring me to the homies who can reach ‘em and we’ll get started, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” the Creator said, creating an inky portal in the ground back to Dream’s office. Fresh stepped in, followed by Ink, who was starting to doubt how this was going to pan out. He wasn’t certain if it was Fresh’s change in demeanor or having to acknowledge that Error’s existence was hanging in the balance, but his vision began to tilt even before he entered his portal. For once in his extremely long life, he hoped he was wrong to be feeling as panicked as he was.

Dream visibly perked up upon seeing them. From the dark circles under his eye sockets, it was clear to the Creator that his ex-teammate hadn’t been sleeping. Dream’s smile reminded Ink of adding sprinkles onto a melted nice cream cone. “Welcome. Firstly, I just want to thank you for coming. We have quite a dire situation on our hands,” Dream said. He knew his hands were shaking, but it wasn’t like eating now would help the matter. He’d cover up the problem with more fruity, bubbling cider and pretend all was well.

“That’s what I’ve been told. What’s the current plan?”

“You’ll be entering the Dreamscape with Cross and myself. I need you to remain close to keep tabs on you throughout the duration. All I need from you is to listen intently to what Nightmare and Error say. Does that sound doable to you?” The Guardian of Positivity asked.

“That works, Dreamy pal,” Fresh replied as he took the other’s extended hand, seating himself in the strangely shaped chair that most likely originated from the Creator’s dimension. Ink and Blue took a seat nearby in case they were needed at any point of the process. Blue cracked open a romance novel and Ink uncapped his new pen and ink well.

“Cross, Fresh–just so you both are aware, it can feel rather strange your first time around. Any sensation should settle down relatively quickly, but I did want you to be aware that it’s a possibility. Are you ready?”

“I’m set,” Cross responded before glancing at Fresh.

Fresh gave a thumbs up with his free hand before he was lulled into a state of immense calm. He didn’t even realize when he’d fallen under. Blue and Ink were altered to his skull nodding forward and his groovy ball cap falling to the ground. Both resumed their quiet activities. It was all part of unconscious travel, after all.

Fresh inhaled a breath of stale air as he looked around a practically empty room with random pieces of furniture stacked in front of a closed door. He turned to the side, spotting Dream and Cross before continuing his exploration around the strange space. Not soon after, he found Error and Nightmare looking back at them from an elevated platform somewhere up a pale wall with flecks of…Fresh wasn’t quite sure. Error looked as though he’d been through hell and he assumed the being next to him was Nightmare through the process of elimination. From what he recalled, Nightmare didn’t used to be so tall, broad, or ominous. Don’t get him wrong, the guy was creepy with his ooze and tentacles, but there were noticeable changes he was picking up on. The dark Guardian looked completely exhausted. Fresh glanced over at the window and looked out of it to get a better grasp of their surroundings.

There were stories of empty windows gazing back at him. It was trippy and gave him an intense feeling of foreboding as he looked skyward, then down towards where the ground should’ve been. He turned to face the others once more.

“Hello, Fre-esh,” Error said.

Fresh smiled. “Well, hello. I’ve all up and missed you. Your white, empty infinity is really unrad without you in it.”

“So I’ve he-eard,” Error replied, squinting his eyes in what Fresh recognized as a smile that didn’t quite reach the Destroyer’s mouth.”

“Boss, Error,” Cross uttered, his soul feeling lighter as he took in the sight of the two. “I don’t think you realize how much of a relief it is to see you.”

“The same for you. While I wish it was under different circumstances, it’s refreshing nonetheless,” Nightmare said. Cross took in his boss’ altered appearance and internally winced. He wondered if the Guardian would be stuck with the changes–he wouldn’t dare bring it up, though. Now was neither the time nor place.

“How’re you holding up, Error?” Dream asked, his diaphragm clenching as he witnessed the gore of the Destroyer’s chest through his tattered shirt.

Error shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I’m hurting. I’d sa-ay pretty much the same as the last time we saw you.”

“What hurts–” Fresh began to ask, and Error was already tugging up what was left of his shirt, displaying the extensive damage to his rib cage. The bandages weren’t holding up as nicely as when Nightmare first meticulously applied them. Fresh’s smile disappeared completely. “Oh, that–” Fresh paused, not sure how to form words as he registered that Error was definitely not okay. He felt like what Ink had conveyed was an understatement now that he was witnessing it, even through the distortion of the Dreamscape. “That looks really bad.”

Nightmare scoffed in response. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

Fresh let air hiss through his teeth. “I can when I figure more things out. There are familiar aspects to this place here an’ there, but I’m not sure if I’ve actually been here or not.” Fresh looked out the window once more, this time looking skyward as far as he could, then down once more. “Tbh, my dudes, I probably haven’t. Is this where you guys are holed up right now in the actual dimension?” He asked.

“Yeah, this is it. It’s essentially a mass-massive network of rooms. Some of them ha-ave creatures while some are completely empty. It’s a gamble, really,” Error grumbled.

“So far, there’s been no evidence of a way out,” Nightmare added.

“Based on past experience, I’m gathering that you bros are trapped in a pocket dimension,” Fresh said. Dream looked over at him, expression reflecting confusion.

“A…what now?” Dream asked. “Ink’s never mentioned those before.”

“Of course he hasn’t,” Nightmare said, sneering at the comment. Dream looked at him briefly with an unreadable expression, before glancing back to Fresh.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. My kind also call ‘em rifts. Think of it as slipping through a mega uncool crack in the membrane of the multiverse. I can point out how it looks from the outside. They’re bad news–you really don’t wanna get caught up in one, as you clearly figured out,” Fresh said seriously.

The dark Guardian frowned. “So, since we’re actively caught up in one, as you put it, what does that mean in terms of getting us out of it?” Nightmare asked.

“First thing’s first–I’ll locate the rift. After accessing it, I’ll decide on the best way to split,” Fresh stated. Error looked unsure about his plan of action.

“But you’ll get tra-apped in here too, won’t you?” Error asked.

“Technically, yes, but only temporarily,” Fresh said. “Remember, I’m not like you, my destroying home slice. Where I’m from, we gotta learn how to deal with all sorts of gnarly universal disasters. With a little finesse and magic from the host body, heh, or bodies, I’m sure I can get you outta here.”

“Oh, thank fu-uck,” Error exclaimed. Fresh’s smile wavered.

“That’s some uncool lingo, Glitchy bro,” Fresh chided. Error snorted in response.

“It’s rich that you can-can-can’t censor me here,” Error shot back. Fresh’s smile returned in full.

“Oh, you just wait. You fine gents should be seeing me soon enough. Then I can heavily filter ya–how ‘bout that?”

“Hold on, how soon? Give me-e some warning here,” Error said, an excited gleam in his eyes.

“Wait, you really think you can get in that quickly? While that’s awesome news, isn’t it kind of far-fetched to think you’ll be able to pinpoint this place when we have no idea where to start looking?” Cross asked.

“I agree with Cross, and I’m curious as well,” Dream pointed out. “What’s a realistic time frame as far as finding and entering the rift?”

Fresh tapped his chin, pondering the idea himself. “Time works differently in places like this...so I dunno what to say except I’ll start looking for an access point as soon as my bod is functioning again,” Fresh responded. “I don’t wanna make promises I can’t keep, ya feel?” Nightmare sighed.

“While that’s reassuring to hear that you’ve handled similar situations, you need to be aware that this place is extensive. I just thought you should be aware of what you’re getting yourself into,” the Guardian of Negativity stated. Fresh made finger guns at him.

“Thanks for that, my big, bad, tentacled bro! But don’t worry about ol’ Fresh. I do just fine on my own. It’ll be tight,” he said, casting another glance out the window for good measure. Looking back, something was different–the parasite’s left eye light was glowing a fierce amethyst beneath his shades. “I’m going to give those freaks a good time.” His shades were tipped down, and a myriad of purple tendrils made themselves known. “I’m pretty sure these jokers won’t forget me once I introduce myself to this little slice of paradise.”

Dream took a step back, exclaiming, “Oh, wow.” Cross had a similar knee-jerk reaction, his eye lights morphing into pinpricks at the sudden turn of Fresh’s demeanor and the presence of the tentacles spilling from his eye sockets. Nightmare stared in equal fascination and horror, and Error froze up. Fresh cackled at the reactions he received.

“You don’t know how much I missed that expression, Glitchy bro!” Fresh commented through his laughter. Error snarled.

“Don’t you dare come up in here and start with that shit! Nuh uh, no way!”

Cross barked out a surprised laugh and Dream released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Fresh’s laughter filled the space. He couldn’t get over their reactions to his organic form–it truly never got old. He calmed down, before stating, “Again, no promises, broseph. You bros hang tight now. I’m coming for you.”

Fresh began to follow Dream and Cross out before he recalled something, and he turned on his heel. “Hey, bros! Listen–I may have to take up an unradical host body. What can I do to let you know I’m not one of them?”

Error thought for a moment, realizing that Fresh’s current host body probably wouldn’t survive the entire trip. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pondered until a fitting thought popped into his skull. “Expose all of the tent-tentacles through the eye sockets when you find us–I’ll know it’s you. If it doesn’t have eyes…summon a colorful accessory.”

Fresh tipped his hat. “Will do. I’ll see you boys soon.”

“So,” Ink said, watching as Dream, Cross, and Fresh awoke gradually. Fresh scowled at the overhead lights, rubbing at his eye sockets.

Fresh stood, stretching out his spine and rolling his skull both ways to release tension. “They’re in really rough condition, bro, but I have a good idea where to start searching,” he said, stretching out his joints. The Creator stood up.

“ I’ll come with you.”

“Dude, no, that’s a terrible idea,” Cross promptly snapped, his annoyance with the Creator surfacing after seeing Nightmare and Error suffering and just out of reach. Dream’s expression conveyed a reluctance to allow Ink to involve himself in Fresh’s mission.

“That’s really not the best idea, artsy bro. You said it yourself, this place is hostile. It really took a lot out of those two, and their tough cookies,” Fresh remarked. Ink wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Hold on, listen. If something goes wrong, you’re going to need backup. I can remain on the outside–I don’t have to go where you’re headed.”

“I dunno. Have you dealt with this kind of thing before? It’s high risk,” Fresh said. “If you got trapped, there’s no way I’d know. I’m focused on finding the guys who’re in desperate need of help.”

Ink nodded. “I know. We can’t afford for this to fall through, I get that. Getting them out is the priority. I’ll be careful.”

“Ink,” Dream said sternly, hoping to dissuade him. His patience with the Creator was at its limit. “You don’t know what you’re up against.”

“This isn’t the *fudging* time to be a hero, dude,” Cross added. “You should let Fresh handle it. He has experience with this kind of thing. This is about getting them out, not fulfilling your curiosity.”

Ink narrowed his eyes. “Before you jump to conclusions, I’d like to be heard,” he said. “It’s a good idea to have someone to keep track of time on the outside. If Fresh is in there for too long, we’ll know that we need to go back in through the Dreamscape to check up on things. I’m sure Fresh is capable of doing this by himself, but it’s not a realistic expectation to leave him without any kind of support.”

“You can’t risk being pulled in there. Error’s condition has worsened and boss…he’s suffered, too. That place is toxic,” Cross stated. “Don’t mess around, because you won’t get another chance.”

“Cross is right. I don’t think tracking the time the rescue takes is a bad idea, but you need to prioritize self-preservation. There aren’t any do overs, as far as we’re aware of,” Dream stated.

“Guys, I’d be on the outside, as in far from the thing itself. I don’t want to compromise the process when we’ve gone this far already. I’ll be able to be of some assistance at least while I monitor and time you on the outside, alright?”

Fresh debated for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the Creator accompanying him, before responding, “Okay. Be prepared to listen closely to instructions. Trust me, this thing will eat you alive if you’re not careful.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” the Creator replied.

The hunt for the multiversal anomaly commenced. Ink conveyed where he and Dream had already scoured, and Fresh relied upon his past experience with rifts to direct his search in unexplored regions of space. It was a tedious process, bordering on grueling at times, but Fresh was steadfast that they persist. The reality of it was they could search for days on end and it could still end up taking eons before they find the thing, but Fresh was intent on keeping his word.

Error, for all of his strange habits, quick temper, and infamous repudiation, was one of the most reliable beings Fresh had ever met. Error was a tough egg to crack, but once Fresh bugged him enough and convinced him that he wouldn’t possess him, the Destroyer finally opened up to him. Fresh was a treasure trove of Error’s fun factoids that would never see the light of day, because he knew deep down how much it would hurt the Destroyer to know that he aired his dirty laundry to the multiverse. To be fair, Error knew loads about Fresh, so the blackmail was plentiful in the event that the parasite was a terrible guy and spilled his tea to his enemies. He wouldn’t, though. He’d sworn to silence.

Fresh respected the fact that Error didn’t flaunt their friendship. It wasn’t his style, after all. What many didn’t know was that the parasite had a deep seated distaste for the Creator thanks to his absolute carelessness. On more than one occasion, Fresh had sworn he’d seen Ink’s silhouette in the Antivoid, but he didn’t have any direct evidence to lay out on the table.

Fresh thought back on the development of a sizable pocket dimension in the far reaches of the multiverse. When Fresh was learning the ways of the multiverse, it thrived within close proximity of many AUs. It was a silent beast waiting to consume whatever was unfortunate enough to stray too close. Error probably hadn’t thought about something so extraordinary hiding in plain sight. Typically, the multiverse wasn’t so utterly dysfunctional that it swallowed passersby. Nightmare and Error were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After a long few days of relative silence intermingled with one word interactions, Fresh spoke. “I have a feeling I know where we’re going to find it.”

Chapter Text

Reaper had noticed a fluctuation in the multiverse almost as soon as his husband’s unsocial brother had mysteriously disappeared. It was sudden, jarring, and altogether uncanny, especially since Geno had met with him not long before he went missing. The fact that Nightmare was also absent left many questions unanswered, namely where the Guardian of Negativity and the Destroyer had ended up. Reaper had tasked himself with exploration outside of his deathly responsibilities, and he’d come up empty handed every single time. Not to mention he felt like he was letting Geno down when he informed him that he hadn’t found Error. He would stop into the Antivoid on occasion, where he discovered he wasn’t the only one who was searching for the Destroyer. Ink, who made it well known that he despised the Antivoid, was there more than once, offering a wave to Reaper before exiting through one of his inky portals. It rubbed Reaper the wrong way, but he ended up shrugging it off.

He and Geno had to explain to their sons, Goth and Raven, that their uncle wouldn’t be visiting–not because he was busy, but because he wasn’t around any longer. Geno had plans to involve his brother in more family-centric events, and it just seemed as though the universe had conspired against him. For all of the time he could have re-established a thriving relationship with his sibling he now spent pondering if Error would ever be seen again. It was deeply disturbing and Geno’s family could tell how much it upset him.

Reaper pressed a kiss to Geno’s forehead, before shaking his skull, and Geno wilted. The cloaked skeleton wrapped his arms around his lover, whispering reassurances that most likely fell flat. Geno was mourning his brother, and Reaper was patient. He’d love him through his grief and then some.

“Will you make sure that Goth is working on his homework? I need to clear my head,” Geno explained, offering a tired smile.

“Of course, angel. I’d recommend taking a jacket,” Reaper added, leaning in to press a kiss to Geno’s mouth. “Love you, Gen.”

“You too, Reaps. I shouldn’t be too long.”

Geno teleported somewhere he hadn’t been in years, which meant he was completely turned around upon arrival. The decor had changed considerably, and he realized he was out of practice because his skull felt like it was spinning as he looked around. There was a gasp from somewhere close by and Geno traced it to the Guardian of Positivity, who appeared to have spilt his coffee on his sun patterned robe.

“...Geno?” He asked, his voice cracking as he shakily set his mug down. “What are you doing here? That-” Dream paused momentarily, squinting to get a better look. “You are Geno?”

“That’s my name,” he replied, pointedly making his way over to the Guardian. “I need to know something and I feel like you might know at least surface level information on what the fuck is goin on.”

“Um, I’m not sure, but go ahead and ask. I’ll do my best to help.”

“Where is Error?” Geno asked, not beating around the bush whatsoever. “He’s…I thought he might’ve disappeared purposefully at first, but I–it’s too convenient is what it is!” Geno stated firmly. “I know he’s not on good terms with that air-headed Creator-”

“There was an incident with teleporting and portals,” Dream interrupted, not seeing the point in letting the other stress out further. “We don’t know exactly what happened, but what we do know is that he’s trapped in a dimension that we haven’t been able to locate…not physically, at least.”

“What?” Geno uttered, before blinking and repeating, “What?”

“I wish I had more to tell you, but I don’t understand it myself. We’ve been trying to find a way to rescue them…we’ve tried and tried, let me tell you, it’s not for lack of trying…heh.”

The gathering of glitches covering Geno’s melted eye socket visibly flickered as he digested what had been said. “But you said you haven’t reached them physically–you’ve been able to communicate with Error, then?”

Dream nodded. “As Guardians, both Nightmare and I are able to access the Dreamscape. It’s not unlimited, but it can bypass certain barriers that become a lot more tricky to access when you’re working with solid bones.”

“Bring me with you,” Geno pleaded, his tone morphing into one of desperation. “Please, I’ve been so fucking worried. Error’s my brother,” he emphasized, not willing to divulge their family tree but needing to be able to make sure his sibling was alright.

Dream looked down at his attire, biting at his lower lip as he considered it. He sighed and nodded. “Okay. It may take us a few times to get through, but we’ll give it a shot.”

Geno’s shoulders relaxed, his posture slouching in relief at the confirmation. “As in n-now? Right now? Can we?”

“We can. Let me change out of this and set up and we’ll get started,” Dream stated. “Would you like some coffee, by the way?”

Geno’s initial impression of the space wasn’t a positive one. Just by glancing around, he swore he could get a clear read of the scents lingering about. Crinkling his nasal ridge, he scanned the area, feeling a little bit better when he happened upon the positive Guardian. He then realized there were others in the near distance who didn’t seem to notice their arrival as of yet. He could pick his sibling out of a crowd, so spotting Error in the desolate, uncanny environment was exceedingly simple.

“Error!” Geno yelled, sprinting towards the Destroyer and who he supposed was Nightmare–at least he hoped it was Nightmare. He looked slightly different than the last time he’d seen the corrupted Guardian. Error looked like a deer in headlights as he turned towards him and upon seeing the state he was in, Geno froze. Time seemed to slow as he took in Error, typically the stronger of the two of them, with a chunk of his rib cage missing, dried blood decorating his shirt, and a vacant quality in his gaze. Geno was thoroughly shaken and his fumbled for words to express the horror that had gripped his soul.

“E-Error?!” He choked out, his brow furrowing as tears pooled in his eye socket. “Wha…you, I-I–”

Error moved in to hug his sibling, who clearly wasn’t prepared to see what had become of him. He didn't blame him. Geno cried into his shoulder, guilt overtaking him as what Dream had told him hit home. Geno had been frustrated for some time, convinced that Error had decided to avoid him completely rather than admitting that he was struggling. He would have preferred Error being healthy even if it meant that he didn’t want contact–he wouldn’t ever wish this fate on his brother.

“Gen, it’s alright,” Error said, knowing full well it wasn’t alright, but this was his brother with emotions of steel-he couldn't recall the last time he'd seen him cry. He almost hoped that Geno would just assume he was being a moody recluse and that by the time they returned, he could surprise him with…something. He hadn’t gotten that far in his planning, but he knew he needed to visit his sibling at some point upon his return. They’d drifted apart, and he knew it was Error's fault. Geno had been trying to get him to visit for eons and Error had been less than compliant. He regretted not being there more. Geno deserved a better sibling.

“I thought you-you were just…having a bad time again,” Geno said, coughing as he sobbed. “I’m a-a terrible brother, I didn’t know where you went and I–”

“Excuse me, thi-this is Gen you’re talking about. He’s a devoted dad and a college professor on the side–watch wha-a-at you say about him, you hear me?” Error teased as he felt himself tearing up as well. “Tch, look what you’ve do-one. I’m tearing up now, too.”

Geno wiped at his good eye socket, laughing sadly as he worked on composing himself. “What can I say? Heh...I’m t-talented like that.” Geno tried not to cry and failed miserably. Error brought him back in for a hug. “I’m not ready to let you go,” Geno admitted.

“I’m not plan-planning to go anywhere,” Error reassured him. “Listen, I was going to come visit when I got out of here…I should’ve been bet-better about responding to you.” Error wiped at his face, offering a sad smile. He wouldn’t tell Geno he felt like he was on the verge of collapsing. He didn’t know what to say, because nothing was going to make this better. “I want to spend time with you and Reaper and my neph-nephews, Gen.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me,” Geno said, his shoulders slumping. “You’re such an important part of my life,” he emphasized, his mouth twitching downward at the edges as he thought about this possibly being the last time he’d see his brother.

“Listen, if I don’t make it back…please tell Reaper and the boys I’m sorry. If I d-do make it back, I’m going to stay for dinner, stay the night–you won-won’t be able to get rid of me,” Error expressed, not trying to hide the fact that he was crying now. “I’m sorry for not being around.”

The idea that there might actually be a future outside of this place was a nice distraction for Error. He’d remain hopeful, even if it felt like pretending, and maybe luck would favor him for once in his long life.

“You’re going to get out,” Geno said sternly. “We’ll get you out. There’s a hollow in the multiverse left where you’re supposed to be. No one can take that place, i-it’s reserved for you, so you’ll have to return.”

“Definitely. That’s exactly how the multiverse wo-works,” Error replied, rolling his eye lights. “I’m holding on, Gen. You do the same, okay?”

Geno nodded, squeezing his sibling just a fraction tighter before releasing him. Another flood of tears was building and even though he tried to resist, his focus was being dragged somewhere else. Geno reached out to Error as he faded into the dismal background.

Geno jerked into wakefulness, even as he resisted wholeheartedly, his breathing fast and uncontrolled. Dream had offered his hands and Geno shakily accepted them, grounding himself as he took measured breaths. Geno sniffled before clearing his throat.

“Thank you,” he expressed, withdrawing his hands to wipe at his dampened face. “I-I should get going. I told Reaper I wasn’t going to be long…um, how long has it been?”

Dream glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the far wall. “Four hours have passed.”

“What?!” Geno was on his feet in an instant, sweat beading up on his forehead. “I’ve got to go. Shit. Thank you, thank you so much, I’ll return the favor somehow–”

“No need to repay me, really. You can come by tomorrow or the day after if you’d like an update,” Dream supplied. “Safe travels,” he said to the spot where Geno once stood. The Guardian of Positivity headed to the couch where he flopped down without hesitation. He entered a deep sleep in no time at all.

Geno nearly collided with his son upon returning to his home. Goth gasped, dropping his mug of tea on the kitchen tiles. “D-dad? You’re back,” he uttered, following with an apology for breaking yet another mug.

“I am. Have you and Raven finished your studies?”

“Yeah, we were done two hours ago. Pops was getting worried. You should find him,” Goth said, bending down to gather the remnants of the cup. “I think he’s upstairs.”

Geno scaled the steps and caught sight of his youngest son in the doorway of the master bedroom. Geno turned him around, hugged him, and said, “I need to speak with your father. Help your brother with whatever broke in the kitchen, please.”

Raven sighed. “He broke something again? We’re not gonna have anything left at this rate,” he muttered as he headed off down the hall. Geno was swept up into a hug and Reaper uttered out a ‘thank Stars’.

“I’m sorry, Reaps. I know I said I wouldn’t be long, I didn’t expect it to take hours–”

“Are you okay? You scared me half to death, Gen,” Reaper scolded, his singular blue eye light glowing fiercely in its socket. “Where were you?”

“Give me a sec, will ya? I know, I feel like shit for being late, but hear me out,” Geno demanded, unable to still his soul in his chest. “I met with Dream and I spoke to Error.”

Reaper’s brows shot up and he stiffened. “You found him?”

“In a way, yes? We were able to reach him using Dream’s unconscious communication channels. I don't remember what it's called. He…I didn’t realize it would take hours, it felt like barely ten minutes had passed by.” Geno frowned as he acknowledged his eye sockets stinging once more. “He’s in really bad shape. They’re trying to find a way to get him back, but so far they haven’t been able to find where he’s trapped.”

“Gen, that’s…I don’t know what to say, love. I’m glad you were able to see him, but I know this wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. Maybe we can go together, talk with Dream and the others involved–what do you think?”

Geno nodded, his jaw trembling as sadness and stress overtook him. “I feel like I’ve failed somehow,” he admitted. Reaper embraced him, pressing his skull against Geno’s forehead as he reassured his husband that he’d done nothing wrong.

“Error is strong, angel. Just because this is news to us doesn’t mean others haven’t been working to get him out. Gothy and Raven want to know what's going on. Do you want to let them know about your chat with Error?”

“Yeah. They need to know. Can you make me some tea, Reaps? Extra sweetener in mine?”

“Just for you, my dear. We’ll get through this,” Reaper hummed, pressing a kiss to Geno’s face. Lacing his phalanges with Geno’s, he led him downstairs where their sons were seated on the couch speaking in hushed voices. They both looked up as they witnessed their parents approaching.

“This is about Error, isn’t it?” Goth asked, his wings subconsciously twitching in both interest and concern. Geno joined his sons, confirming for them that this was about their missing uncle.

“I’m going to tell you what I know,” he began, and Reaper tugged a trundle over to sit with and support his family. He loved Geno to pieces and for his sake, he hoped that the Destroyer would come out of this relatively unscathed. Taking Geno’s hand in his, he contemplated how he'd go about comforting his husband and children in the event Error perished. His own soul felt heavy at the idea, and while he was never incredibly close to Error, he appreciated whenever he decided to grace them with his presence. He watched Goth’s expression fall along with Raven’s as they came to realize that this was more serious than they’d previously expected. Goth hugged Geno, whispering ‘I’m sorry, dad. I'm so sorry.'

Raven wiped at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. This was all overwhelming, but he was trying to be stoic for his dad. “If he's anything like you, he won’t stop fighting. I have faith in uncle, and you should, too, dad.”

Geno nodded, desperately hoping his son’s words rang true.

Error had been experiencing intense night terrors after the event where they’d been separated. Nightmare hadn’t pried, since he could tell that the Destroyer wasn’t ready to talk about it. He comforted Error the way he knew how until the frequency of the dreams became overwhelming and the Destroyer was avoiding sleep. Nightmare had convinced him to try and while he'd fallen asleep, Error had ended u[ screaming himself awake, his phalanges digging into Nightmare’s tentacles with enough force to pierce the altered corruption, the Guardian decided that he couldn’t hold out any longer. The Destroyer calmed after being restrained in the sturdy grip of Nightmare’s tentacles. He was brought face to face with the Guardian’s expression of concern.

“I’d like to know what happened,” he said softly, his words simultaneously soothing and gut-wrenching. Error didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew he needed to. It concerned the both of them and if Nightmare was injured because Error couldn’t face his fear head on, he’d never forgive himself.

“Okay.” Error looked away from his companion. “You can set me down. It’s alright.”

“Which would be more comfortable?” Nightmare asked, settling Error in his lap with his tentacles still surrounding him, albeit less tightly.

“This is-is fine,” Error said, before letting all of the air out of his diaphragm in a big sigh. “So, when we were sep-separated, I ran into the, uh…the thing that looks like Ink, you know?” Nightmare’s brows furrowed.

“I destroyed it, though…I mean, it wasn’t alive when we left,” the Guardian stated. “You saw it, right? It was dead…”

“Yeah, it was d-dead then,” Error emphasized. “It did this to me. It…he said he wan-wanted me? Like–” He began to feel clammy and sweat gathered in between his joints. “The not-Ink said to ‘humor him’ wha-whatever that means.”

Nightmare’s expression darkened as he processed that. “What did he do to you?” He asked, his voice barely audible, yet promising a harrowing experience to whomever wronged his partner.

Error inhaled and held his breath, closing his eye sockets as the memories surged forth. The image of the Creator had haunted his dreams since he’d seen him watching. In that short amount of time being connected to not-Ink, he’d gathered that Ink had seen and known more about him than Error ever would have suspected. It was all wrong and it fed into the paranoia that had been dormant for a long while. The sanctity of Error’s Antivoid was an illusion–Ink was ever present. Nothing about the Destroyer’s life was his own; everything was shared, and he wanted to scream because no one was supposed to be privy to the lowest moments of his existence.

“He f-forced me to share magic,” Error admitted, his voice trembling and quiet as his thoughts blared. “L-like this,” Error took Nightmare’s face in his hands and pressed his eye socket up against the Guardian’s. “I didn’t…he…” his breathing quickened and Nightmare pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“I’m here. Take your time.”

“I saw things–l-like Ink from the out-outside, stalking me, sneaking into the An-Antivoid, and killing himself and…I don’t know if it was real or just a mindfuck but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head,” Error rambled, his frame trembling. “When I snapped out of the f-forced connection I attacked him with the m-meat tenderizer. When he caught me he, heh, he ripped off my floating ribs.”

One of Nightmare’s tentacles gently rubbed Error’s upper spine. He kept his expression as impassive as possible, but couldn’t help but wince at the description his partner provided. He offered a hand for Error to take, and Error did so without hesitation.

“Then he forced his hand bet-bet-between my ribs here,” Error beckoned to the area around the hole in his rib cage, “And when he pulled back, the hand stayed attached–it wa-was burrowing its tendrils into me, I swear, it was s-spreading.” Error swallowed roughly. “I broke his neck…then I cut ou-out my infected bones along with his dismembered hand. Then you showed up.”

“I’ll fucking remove his limbs and scatter them across this Star's forsaken realm,” Nightmare said, his eye glowing fiercely. “Since it won’t remain dead, we’ll need to be more careful. It would have been helpful to know that he wasn’t long dead,” the Guardian said, sighing as he rested his forehead against Error’s. “For future reference, please don’t keep information like that from me again.” Nightmare felt a wave of fear surge through him at the thought of Error succumbing to that vile imitation of the Creator. What if it hadn’t heard him? Could the creature have located them, awaiting a slip-up on the Guardian’s behalf that would offer an opening for another attack? “We’ve had too many close calls,” Nightmare insisted firmly, yet quietly.

“I know I should’ve told you,” Error replied, wiping at his damp eye sockets. “I re-realize that. I’m sorry, Night. I’m s-sorry,” he choked out, the conversation taking a toll on him. Nightmare sighed, gathering the other close to him.

“You don’t need to be sorry. Not now,” he responded, his voice’s multifaceted quality slipping through as emotion welled up in his chest. “Err, my prerogative is keeping you safe. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his neck bones aching as anxiety wormed its way into his soul. “I’m not willing to risk being separated again.”

Error nodded, wrapping his arms around Nightmare’s rib cage even though it made his wounds sting. “I’ve been a f-fucking moron,” the Destroyer said, offering a sad chuckle. “I’m not going to lie…I feel like I’m going in-in-insane. It’s like I can still hear its voice and-and how it felt when I was forced into magic sharing.” Error shivered in repulsion at the vivid memory.

“Let me help,” Nightmare insisted, cupping Error’s jaw and slotting their mouths together. Error eagerly responded, ecstatic to have a distraction from the emotional and physical discomfort he was in. “It’s been a minute since I last fed. I can relieve some of that tension. What do you think?”

“Yes,” Error responded, reconnecting their mouths and grinding his pelvis against Nightmare’s. “I feel like the room is-is closing in around me…I’d like to indulge a bit.” Error willed his ecto into existence and guided one of the Guardian’s tentacles to his mouth where he lathered the tapered tip with his tongues. The tentacle responded by squirming against his cervical vertebrae and sliding along his glowing, blue joints. Error moaned at the sensation of Nightmare beginning to draw from his magic, his focus upon not thinking about the fact that Not-Ink was probably actively looking for him.

“Be my guest,” the Guardian hummed, his hands kneading at Error’s hips. “I may just watch for a moment. Don’t feel pressured to hold back–I’m at your disposal.”

Error guided the tentacle from his mouth down between his legs and further back until the tip was prodding at a hole he’d been hesitant to experiment with in the past, but it seemed daring enough to distract him from the fear he was feeling. Using his phalanges alongside the tentacle, he groaned and tensed as he was spread.

“Fuck,” he hissed, furrowing his brows and gritting his teeth. Nightmare, who’d noticed the change in routine, decided to lean forward and show some attention to Error’s neck. With a semi-startled moan, Error’s ass relaxed slightly and the tip of the tentacle squirmed against his sensitive insides. He trembled. “Night, h-hah, what about sitting back an-and watching?” Error asked.

“I've changed my mind,” the Guardian rumbled, his grip on Error’s hips tightening ever so slightly. “You’re in the mood for something daring, I see-how about I offer some assistance?”

Nightmare held two digits in front of the Destroyer’s mouth and Error opened his jaw, allowing them entrance. He sucked on the phalanges, immensely enjoying the way the other was watching him intently. When the Guardian deemed his first two fingers coated enough, he withdrew them. Slipping the tentacle nearly all of the way out, he slowly introduced his middle digit inside of Error. The Destroyer drew a shaky breath, gripping his partner’s shoulders as pain and pleasure ascended his spinal column.

“Oh Stars,” Error uttered, clenching around the single phalange and the tip of the tentacle that had him feeling overfull. The ache was subsiding, and he tested the waters by rolling his hips, which turned out to be a wonderfully pleasurable decision. “N-Night, I can take more,” he insisted, but the Guardian continued stretching him with the one for a while longer. Adding a second was less jarring than the first and much more gratifying. Error cried out before biting down on his knuckles.

“Mmm, don’t be shy now. Let me hear you, Err,” Nightmare asked, becoming lost in the nuances of the Destroyer’s frame. “I’m feeling the effects of negativity…from your magic,” he said, his voice reflecting his altered state of mind. “I wanted to let you know. Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“S-so you’re getting off on m-my misery?” Error moaned out, his eye sockets half-lidded as he ground down on Nightmare’s fingers. The Guardian looked momentarily taken aback and Error saw it. “Night…Nightmare, don’t look into it that deep-deeply…I wasn’t…” Error sighed before connecting their mouths, kissing him passionately. Pulling back, he searched the Guardian’s face. “I was trying to be sexy, um, I don’t think that-I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Nightmare responded, smiling deviously. “I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t actually getting off to your pain…you do know that, correct?”

Error nodded. “Yeah, I do. I think it’s pretty hot that you’re drunk off my neg-neg-negative emotions, though. You’re so damn handsome and it-it’s not fair,” the Destroyer stated, urging more of the tentacle to plunge inside of him. “C’mon, please, I want you.”

Nightmare withdrew his phalanges and slipped more of his tentacle within his partner, highly satisfied as Error threw his skull back. Error calling him handsome felt so out of place when the Guardian was watching him so sensuously taking a typically dangerous part of his anatomy inside of a place he obviously hadn’t touched in quite a while (if ever). He doubted the Destroyer knew how attractive he was, which was tragic. Nightmare would have to show him one day in front of the large mirror in his master bedroom what he looked like in the throes of pleasure. It made the Guardian’s soul throb with excitement, the thought of Error’s entire face a searing blush, his frame trembling as Nightmare methodically exposed him, breaking down the barriers the powerful skeleton had constructed over his long lifetime.

“‘Yes, ye-yesyes,” Error chanted breathily, overwhelmed by the novel sensation of having something exploring his back entrance while simultaneously craving stimulation in more familiar areas. He sought out Nightmare’s erection before gripping it, his mouth watering at the idea of increasing stimulation. Stroking the shaft that still piqued his interest every time he handled it, he lowered his hips, dragging the tip through the moisture that had gathered as a result of the arousal surging through his mana lines. Nightmare groaned, unable to help himself as he played with the other’s swollen clit, pinching and tugging lightly at the soft, yet firm blue ecto. “Night,” Error whined, biting down on his lower lip as he teased himself and his partner.

“Mhmm?”

Error’s emotions were being tugged in multiple different directions as blissful stimulation welled in his pelvis and blossomed like a warm oil in his chest cavity. He was drunk on sensation, his mind providing many things he could (and wanted) to say, but that he was far too cowardly to utter. His thoughts accumulated in an alarming realization, which he’d been suppressing and successfully denying for a while now. He’d let himself open up and now he was certain he was in love with Nightmare. He recalled the feeling from his past, but didn’t recall from where or for whom he’d felt it for, but it didn’t matter now. He’d never felt it this acutely before.

Error swallowed roughly and sunk down on the Guardian’s dick, releasing a pleased sound as he did so. He felt as though some part of his ecto may split, but realistically he knew he could take it. He leaned forward to kiss Nightmare, fully immersing himself in the experience of being so close to the Guardian. His mind felt light and heavy simultaneously, and his frame became a seemingly separate, yet highly sensitive part of his being. Nightmare began to move his hips and Error relaxed against him, moving languidly, their hips meeting over and over in a tantalizing rhythm. His harrowing experiences forgotten for the moment, the Destroyer allowed himself the freedom of letting go. He felt far away and yet his bones might as well have been fused with Nightmare’s own.

At some point, Error had taken the Guardian’s right hand and slipped it underneath his rib cage. He was so acutely aware, and yet it felt as though he was watching them both from somewhere above them. He pressed Nightmare’s hand against his string-laden soul, the one Error had abused over the years in times of intense loneliness and panic. The pleasure that filtered through him was blinding and the Destroyer found himself with his mouth open and his eye lights rolling back into his skull.

It felt as though the multiverse was holding its breath as Nightmare watched Error guide his hand underneath his rib cage. The Guardian was certain this could go very wrong, so he gave Error full control, relaxing as his palm and phalanges met the surface of the other’s soul. Error choked out an intensely erotic, an edge of pain to his tone as he gripped Nightmare’s shoulders hard enough to sting. The Guardian was in disbelief momentarily, staring at the lifesource pulsating in his hand as he reminded himself to stay relaxed. Error was beautiful and Nightmare wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this level of trust from the Destroyer. He was cradling the core of his very being in his claws.

Awestruck and still very turned on, Nightmare took one of Error’s hands and mirrored him, planting the Destroyer’s tri-colored phalanges against his corruption coated soul. It felt as if he’d been engulfed in warm oil, the pinpoint of the sensation centered where Error’s palm connected with his soul. It felt as though he was watching the scene unfold from somewhere outside of himself. They slotted their mouths together, desperate to close the distance between one another as hunger for deeply intimate connection overruled any other thought. Even through the haze, the Guardian was keenly aware of his partner’s injuries, which he cushioned with a tentacle. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Error pain, especially in a moment like this.

“Error,” Nightmare breathed. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked, searching the Destroyer’s face for any sign of doubt.

“Yeah, I me-ean, do you not want to? Is this–did I cross a l-line?” Error asked, so worked up that it ached. Nightmare shook his skull.

“No, not at all. I meant it when I said I want you,” Nightmare said. “I have feelings for you,” he admitted, his voice taking on a multi-tonal quality as it cracked. “We have each other…if we don’t get out of here, then I’ll have this. I’ll have you.”

Error was momentarily stunned into silence, the gravity of the situation settling on his conscience. “I…I want you, too,” Error said. “I, uh–” he paused, wondering if he was being too open about how he was feeling before remembering that they were trapped (possibly forever) in a cursed maze in an alternate dimension. ‘Right.’ “I love you,” he blurted, his face glowing in embarrassment as the words left his lips. There was a tangible silence before Error asked, “Am I–was that wrong to say? Just, um, f-forget it, okay?”

Nightmare leaned in, inhaling the scent along Error’s cervical vertebrae as he hugged him. “No, no, you’re perfect, don’t you dare tell me to forget that,” the Guardian chided. “I love you, too. I want a life for us outside of here, but if this is it…then that’s okay. You’re enough.”

“You too,” Error responded, trying not to choke up, because that would ruin the mood. It was time for sex and soul sharing and not crying. He’d very much like not to cry and ruin what they had going on here. “I want to bond with you.”

Nightmare drew him into a kiss that was so passionate it took his breath away. Then he pressed their sternums together, their souls reaching out towards one another through their rib cages, intertwining threads of magic binding them together. The sensation was so intense, white hot and euphoria inducing as it flowed through both of their mana lines. Error’s eye sockets became filled with glitches as he was swept into a vivid, waking reverie.

Sickly sweet, golden-skinned apples hanging from a tree with expansive branches–she wasn’t just a tree, but a proclaimed goddess of the land, a mother, and an embodiment of balance. The two beings were cared for by her since their early childhood years when they were abandoned at her surface level roots. She could sense their distress, so she provided what she could to keep the young skeleton children safe, drawing them up into her canopy where she wove her sapling branches together to create a space that could house them.

‘You are safe here’ she told them. Her voice was one that became their source of comfort and reassurance even though it was not audible outside of their skulls. It didn't need to be heard aloud to know they were cared for.

The two were polar opposites, yet the divine apple tree adored each child the same. The children transformed into emotional youths with bold personalities, and then into young, naïve adults that still had yet to leave her side. She didn’t wish for her adopted progeny to depart, but she knew it was natural. She refused smother her intelligent and talented sons and risk thwarting their lively spirits. She would always be here to offer them love when they needed it.

Nightmare, the sensitive intellect with a propensity for isolating himself, began to pique his adoptive mother’s concern. Dream, who was charismatic and got along with monsters and humans alike, would be out on the town, creating connections and developing a name for himself. His sibling, however, had earned himself a reputation for being cynical and distrusting of others. Nightmare wasn’t sure when the nearby villagers had decided he was the “bad one” but it had become obvious that his presence wasn’t sought after as Dream’s was.

The villagers had their share of crops, infrastructure, technology, and resources. The apple tree that protected Dream and Nightmare wasn’t a food source, but a monument to the health of the community. It wasn’t for consumption by humans or monsters. This was the way it had been. So when a group of deviants came to steal the apples from the Guardians’ protector, Nightmare was instantly on his feet and ready to protect her at all costs. He lashed out, using magic to dissuade the trespassers from harassing the only parent he could remember. When he was overtaken and mercilessly beaten by the uncaring entourage, he painstakingly scaled the trunk and entered the canopy of foliage and fruit. Of course Dream wasn’t present–it fell upon Nightmare to handle the serious situations, as always. As rage filled his soul and flared throughout his mana lines, he listened to the voice inside of his skull encouraging him to eat the forbidden fruit. It was his mother's voice-he could recognize it anywhere. At first he refused, repulsed at the idea of hurting the one who protected him, but she convinced him otherwise.

'For me, my sweetest Nightmare, you will do this. You will live and I will be the heartwood thriving within your soul. Do not make me watch my son die.'

He bit into the nearest fruit. He wasn’t sure exactly how many he ate, or when the flesh of the fruits had began to blacken, but he was stricken with intense pain surging from the core of his being.

Black, slick tentacles erupted from his eye socket as coagulating fluid dripped from his mouth and down his ribs. His spine felt as though it may snap as four large, extensive tentacles formed from the black ooze collecting on his frame. Yelling out in agony, he leapt down from the tree, and his tentacles set upon the nearest perpetrator, tearing through their flesh like a hot knife through butter. He murdered every one of them, leaving none to escape–it was their fault he’d become what he had, their fault his arboreal mother was now silent in his conscience! And Dream, the illustrious golden boy was nowhere to be found throughout the attack on himself and his mother. Where had he been? Didn’t Nightmare deserve to know why he wasn’t there?

“No…” Dream’s voice reached Nightmare, who turned to observe him, the pain only now beginning to ebb as the corruption settled on his bones permanently. He yelled, arming his bow as he grimaced, his eye sockets brimming with tears. "Mother? Nightmare?!"

“Where were you?” Nightmare shot back, his voice no longer his own, but warped with his metamorphosis. “You left me–I wasn’t strong enough!” He exclaimed, taking a few staggered steps forward. Dream’s hands trembled, yet he made no move to fire the arrow he’d lined up.

“Who are you?” He asked, appearing afraid to know the answer. Tears spilled over and Dream asked, “Why? What have you done? I-I can’t hear her any longer, she's gone silent...”

“I tried to protect us,” Nightmare snarled. The Guardian shook his head as the gravity of the situation impacted him. He dared a glance over at their source of protection and the only parent they recalled having. Branches were splintered and the trunk had begun to gray. He felt sick. “Don’t come looking for me,” he commanded, and without knowing how or what was happening, he was enveloped by a silky black hole that erased the scene in front of him and left him in a dried out wheat field where he collapsed.

Error sucked in a breath. Nightmare groaned, tugging at where they were tied, before settling once more. He was feeling especially hazy, but that was fine. He kissed his pleasure stricken lover, his hands exploring Error’s spine as his consciousness was tugged upon, the magnetism of their bond tempting him to let go.

The lonely being found he could see what others couldn’t as soon as he attempted to describe code to them. When he’d begun to destroy Ink’s fractured universes, he was met with deep seated ire. He’d attempted to get through to him, and he may have a few times, but the Creator’s memory issues essentially undid any progress he’d made with his enemy. That was when Error gave up on trying to convince Ink that he was carrying out a necessary task and ended up fighting him. Constant fighting and struggling with the voices in his skull became his normal. He might as well have been living in purgatory, because his life became a meaningless drone. He’d mentally checked out at some point.

Then he met Nightmare. He was as daunting as he was handsome, and Error wanted to smack the smile right off of his attractive face, because it was wasn’t distracting. The Destroyer was convinced that a temporary deal with the dark Guardian would be beneficial, so he agreed to be around when he could. It was mutually beneficial until he became tired of the corruption covered skeleton’s demands and sky high expectations. Error wasn’t a tool and he wouldn’t be used. The Destroyer would leave Nightmare and his team and return to his Antivoid utterly pissed and horny. Don’t ask him why, it didn’t make sense to him. He took care of it each time before plopping down onto his beanbag to watch Undernovela until the multiverse decided to fuck him over again.

After decimating three alternate universes in a row in the span of a few hours, Error had the sense to be wary of Ink’s sudden presence. He’d recognized that the Creator wasn’t in the mood to talk that day and when Ink had caught him, he’d gripped Error’s forearm so tightly that it snapped. Error didn’t like reflecting on times like that–it wasn’t as if Ink remembered it. When Error had brought it up, Ink had tilted his skull and asked “When did that happen?” It was fruitless dealing with someone who forgot so much, so the Destroyer opted to be more careful, especially if he began seeing signs that the Creator was being pushed a tich too far. He could heal his bones, but an actual break took far longer than a cracked bone.

Sometimes Error would look into a mirror when he came across one. He didn’t keep one in the Antivoid. It gave him an intense sense of vertigo if he looked at his reflection too long, as though the incongruency of his past self and current self were actively warring for dominance. He knew there were long buried aspects of himself, but he wasn’t interested in digging that up. When he felt existential panic, he curled up under a blanket and isolated himself. Feelings of loss and terror overtook him sometimes, but that was what he had to deal with. He knew, like Ink, that he’d forgotten something incredibly important, but he didn’t want to know if it made him feel like the multiverse was ending every time trickles of the suppressed memories returned to him. If he never knew, that was fine. He didn’t need that. He was just fine.

Blue didn’t speak to him any longer. Fresh had come to sit with Error and the Destroyer was thankful for it, even if he didn’t voice it. It felt like Error’s insides were withering away. He didn’t want to knit or eat chocolate, even though Fresh had brought him a king sized bar from a local candy store. He wasn’t sure when it would stop feeling this bad, or if it ever would. Idly, he watched Undernovela and dared to rest his cold feet against Fresh’s leg. When he didn’t glitch out, he counted it as a small win, and reveled in the warmth coming from the other.

The Guardian was brought back to active awareness to find Error slumped against him, soft snores filling the space around them as the Destroyer slept. The connection between their souls had petered off, and a sensation of blissful ease surrounded them. Nightmare petted Error’s skull gently, his soul filled with possessiveness and the intention to keep Error protected while they were still joined at the pelvis. Inhaling the scent of his partner, he nuzzled the side of his skull, enjoying the soft sounds the Destroyer uttered under his breath in response to the affection. Nightmare’s rib cage ached and he hissed under his breath, suddenly recalling the discomfort monsters often felt when their bonded partner was injured. Even after the first time, he was acutely aware of the depth of Error’s fears, although he couldn’t say he could understand all of them. Error shivered and the Guardian of Negativity pressed a kiss to his skull. If anything were to interrupt them, he’d have them speared on his tentacles and torn limb from limb. He let his skull fall back against the wall as he contemplated what they’d done. He couldn’t help but smile.

While Nightmare had gained a new outlook on their situation, Error was attempting to remain positive–not for himself, but rather for the Guardian. It was a new side of his partner and it sparked interest in Error’s soul, but it also brought forth a slew of questions.

What if Nightmare got out and realized he wasn’t as attracted to the Destroyer as he thought? The thought made Error shudder, because even this early on (he estimated it had been a little over a week since they’d bonded) he felt an intense emotional attachment to him. He was convinced before they bonded that he was in love and he wasn’t certain how to accept that they had connected via their souls. He wasn’t supposed to have that–he was an arguably unstable monster who took pride in decimating universes. It didn’t feel as though he was supposed to have this, as strange as that was to acknowledge.

Also, the idea that he may die now haunted him, because he’d be dragging the Guardian through unspeakable misery when their bond died with him. He felt guilt gnaw at his core as he thought about the repercussions, but it seemed that Nightmare wasn’t weighed down by the decision, at least not externally.

“How’re you feeling?” The Guardian asked, one of his tentacles finding the small of Error’s spine. The Destroyer released a sigh.

“Honestly? I’m petrified.”

Nightmare turned to his lover, his soul receiving the echoes of the aforementioned fear. The Guardian scowled in sympathy. “Want to tell me about it?”

Error contemplated for a moment before nodding. At times like this he wished he had more than the threadbare clothing that was barely holding up. Error started walking once more, cherishing the weight of the tentacle resting on his spine. “I feel like I’ve con-condemned you to a life you never would’ve chose-chosen outside of this place,” he said, his soul feeling heavy as the words left his mouth. Nightmare tilted his skull.

“How do you mean?”

Error’s temper flared, but at his own perceived ineptitude rather than Nightmare’s confusion. “Me. You’re bonded to me,” Error uttered as though the implication would become obvious. When it didn’t, he pinched his nasal ridge. “If I d-don’t make it, you’re going to suffer, a-and what if we do get out and you regret this? It feels like I-I’ve trapped you, Night.”

Nightmare’s brow was furrowed as he said, “You haven’t “trapped” me–if you don’t recall, I committed to this, too. I realize who I’m bonded to and I don’t want anyone else.” The Guardian released a terse sigh. “I can’t believe I’m having to explain to you that you didn’t coerce me into bonding with you. You’re actually idiculous sometimes.”

“I like how you con-conveniently skipped over the part where I may die. If I’m re-re-responsible for torturing you after I’m gone–”

“Stop. You’re not dying,” Nightmare insisted, planting his hands on Error’s shoulders. “Don’t speak like that when we still have a chance.” Error looked down and away from him. “Err, look at me.” The Destroyer obliged, his under eye circles emphasized by the skylight above them. “I care. I don’t want to lose you. Let’s not go there.”

“Okay,” Error stated, understanding where the other was coming from as he felt panic resonate within his chest. “I don’t want you to ha-ave regrets later on. I don’t want to lose you, either. I…don’t know what I’d do.”

“I regret nothing,” Nightmare said firmly, hoping that his insecure partner would get it through his skull. “I’m confident in my decision. You’re mine,” he hummed, tugging Error’s frame closer so that he could tease along his lower spine. “I’m yours. I’m committed to you.”

Error blushed fiercely, but nodded in response. Hearing the Guardian speak those words into existence was like a soothing balm to Error’s soul. The Destroyer wasn’t sure why he felt like he couldn’t have this, but the feeling was less intense than before as Nightmare cupped his face.

“Let someone else take control for once, will you?” Nightmare asked, his handsome smile increasing the intensity of the blush along Error’s zygomatic bones. Error huffed and the Guardian kissed him. Nightmare thoroughly enjoyed the way his partner’s breath hitched as he deepened the angle, sliding his tongue over Error’s. When he pulled away, Error looked slightly betrayed. “What do you think?”

“I’m t-too controlling?” Error asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re saying you want to shou-shoulder my issues along with your own?”

“Precisely.”

“You don’t have a clue wha-a-at you’re signing up for,” the Destroyer replied. Nightmare appeared far too smug as he watched Error’s display.

“Oh, but I do,” he pointed out, his tentacles unable to resist touching Error’s spine and hips. “I got a taste when we bonded, just as you did, I’m certain.” Error’s steely expression faltered momentarily. “I liked what I saw.”

Error recalled his nearly tangible memories during their connection. He’d felt engrossed in watching the skeleton with violet eyes who seemed to be slightly obsessed with crescent moon pendants. He wasn’t sure who he was watching, but their mannerisms felt familiar, as did the smirk as they sat in the bows of the apple tree reading countless novels. He found himself connecting the dots as heard his voice and recognized Dream even without his elaborate garments that he donned in the present day. Nightmare hadn’t always been this way, but this was the only version of him that Error had ever known. He pondered how that might have affected his lover–losing his parent, his brother, and the life he once knew all in the blink of an eye.

“I like what I see…and what I s-saw,” Error said, trying to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want to give off the impression that he pitied the Guardian, because he didn’t. He knew how it felt to be alone, though, and he knew his partner knew it intimately as well. Nightmare’s expression altered slightly as he processed that.

“What did you see? I don’t think we ever shared the details,” he said, intertwining his phalanges with Error’s own as they began to walk once more. Error leaned against Nightmare’s side, the nuances of his new frame becoming as familiar as his former. Nightmare was a terrifically beautiful amalgamation of their native multiverse and the Rooms. “Spill the tea, why don’t you?”

Error scoffed. “Sure, I’ll give you the ju-juicy details.” He was about to dig his phalanges into his cervical vertebra before reminding himself that it was already in rough condition. “It started with a tree,” Error began and he felt Nightmare tense ever so slightly. The Destroyer glanced over.

“Are you alright?” He asked. Nightmare nodded, but Error wasn’t convinced.

“I tend to avoid thinking about my life before…my transformation,” he admitted, his voice solemn and conveying the discomfort he was experiencing. “When you said you liked what you saw–please explain what you meant.”

Error guided him to an alcove that granted a good amount of visibility. Error wanted to make this right immediately. He took Nightmare’s jaw in his hands and was slightly shaken when he saw uncertainty. This had really affected Nightmare and it clearly still had a grip on his conscience. “Nighty,” Error said in a commanding tone. The teal eye light zeroed in on him. For the Guardian, Error was the center of his current universe. He felt raw fear at the idea of Error being repulsed by him. “I’m sorry for wha-at you’ve gone through. The pain and loneliness you m-must have felt, I’m sure it was torturous. This is the version of you I know…I do have feelings for you and th-this is what I understand to be love. It didn’t change-change the way I see you. You know that, right?” Error could hear his soul fluctuating in his cranium. “I want you, this you–ex-ex-exactly as you are right now.”

When Nightmare leaned down, Error rested his forehead against his, releasing a sigh. “Thank you,” the Guardian replied softly, the vulnerability he felt reflected in his voice.

“I don’t know the ex-extent of my past,” Error stated. “But if I find out about it, you-you’ll be the first to know. Heh, t-to be honest, you’re the first to know a lot about me.”

Nightmare smiled and Error’s chest tightened in fondness. Stars, he was deep in this.

While there hadn’t been much luck uncovering the source, Fresh knew that they were inching closer. The multiverse was expansive, but he knew what to look for and he felt certain that he was closing in. Fresh led the Creator through another rippling, fuchsia portal landing them in an area of the multiverse flecked with uncountable AUs. Fresh paused momentarily, taking in the sight of the monstrous rift snaking through a large portion of worlds. It was far larger than the other rifts he’d encountered in the past. Taking a glance over at the Creator, Fresh discovered that Ink appeared genuinely horrified.

“That is the pocket dimension?” He asked, looking at Fresh like he’d lost his mind. The parasite nodded. “Heh, why did I get the impression it was going to be smaller?” He asked aloud, processing the sight of the multiversal beast lying in wait.

“Small is relative, broski. They don’t form by themselves, you know,” he said, leveling the Creator with a certain, knowing expression. “You may want to look around your Doodlesphere, bro, or you’re going to lose a lot of worlds to this thing. I know you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“My–what? Heheh…are you suggesting that I caused this?” Ink asked, bewilderment written on his face. Fresh grinned widely and tilted his skull. “That can’t be right–it’s an actively detrimental force. I’ve never created something that would consume other things–”

“You didn’t have to “intend” to create it. It’s a direct result of carelessness, bruh.” Fresh stared into the ominous pocket dimension. “It’s about time I carry out my end of the dealio. Seriously, whatever you do, don’t get close to it. You won’t get out. If I’m not back within 48 hours, go back to Dream and enter through the Dreamscape. Neither of you bros try to enter any other way.”

“Fresh, are you sure about this? I mean–” Ink began, but Fresh held up a hand.

“Later, Inky dude. Those two are counting on me.” Fresh focused his magic before entering the ominous light emanating from the fissure. It hit him like a freight train. Gradually he came to, roused by the sound of flowing water echoing around him. He sat up, rubbing at his aching skull before standing slowly, taking the time to survey his surroundings. He could tell his host body wasn’t going to be whole for very long. He was correct in the assumption that he’d need a new vessel. A wave of familiarity washed over him as he began to walk. These places had an uncanny resemblance to one another.

He passed through a vast amount of different settings. They’d been right about this place being absolutely immense. He encountered a few different lifeforms. He’d seen how long they could withstand being infected by the fresh virus in extremely high doses before inspecting their remains when they inevitably perished under the overabundance of foreign contaminants. He didn’t linger, but curiosity made him want to know what he’d gone up against. His outfit sported stains, but he’d expected he wouldn’t come out of here pristine. The creatures were an inconvenience, but so was he; he was the ideal rival for the residents of the pocket dimension. He made them regret their rudeness and for injuring one of his best pals. Then, when he found one that wouldn’t immediately fold when he infected it, he jumped from his dying host body and burrowed into the thing’s exposed, skeletal eye socket.

Feeling reinvigorated, he continued on. He found old remnants of some of the creatures and used their decaying forms to point him towards Nightmare and Error’s current location. It was a long, arduous process, but his persistence wasn’t thwarted. He traveled until his newly begotten joints began to ache. Above him were countless windows. He entered a structure, recalling some of the details he’d gathered while inside of the Dreamscape. It was a possibility that this was the wrong route, but he’d find out soon enough, and retrace his steps, if need be.

When he caught onto the sound of voices after so many (hours/days/possibly weeks?) of endless searching, he picked up his pace. A perk of hanging out with the Destroyer over the years was that he could recognize the unique qualities of Error’s voice anywhere. He was unsure if he was experiencing audial hallucinations or if he’d actually begun to hear soft echoes of Error’s voice. He was well aware it could also be another creature who was mimicking him, but he decided that he would never know unless he attempted to get the attention of whoever it was. When he was considerably closer, picking up on pieces of the conversation, he spoke up.

“Error, Nightmare, it’s the radical Fresh. I’m in a host body, so I’m going to look different than you’re used to. Where are you?”

Silence prevailed for a moment before there was a tentative, “Fresh? Is tha-at really you?” Error’s voice echoed back, a hint of excitement in his tone.

“Heck, yeah.” He looked around, unable to locate them. “Keep talking, home slices. We’ll find each other.”

Fresh recalled the promise he made to Error in the Dreamscape and he allowed tentacles to slide out of his host body’s eye sockets. His singular, vibrant eye filled the rest of one of the sockets and he was sure he looked absolutely horrifying, but he was working with the tools he was offered. He followed the two very different voices, searching the confusing terrain as the volume increased. Hope surged in Fresh’s body knowing that he was close to reaching them.

“Oh, *f-fudge*!” Error took a few steps back as Fresh rounded a corner, finally meeting up with the Guardian and the Destroyer. “Heh, holy *snail*, you weren’t k-kiddin’. That’s really unsettling,” Error said, relief washing over him as he recognized the amber eye peering back at him. Both he and Nightmare were in absolute disbelief.

“I’m stunned it actually worked. Stars, how are you actually here right now?” Nightmare asked, laughing out of relief. Fresh shrugged and chuckled tiredly.

“I could ask you bombastic dudes the same question,” Fresh stated. “How about we focus on finding somewhere safe to rest up?” Glancing down, the parasite frowned. “My swag is never gonna forgive me for the damage it took, bros.”

“Yes. *Ham* yes, I’m down,” Error replied, before shooting Fresh a dirty look. “Is this how it’s going to be with you around? I can’t c-curse as I die? Tch, not fair.”

“You know what you signed up for,” Fresh said, making finger guns at his destructive companion. “No nasty lingo with me around.”

“Interesting,” Nightmare stated as he followed the parasite’s lead. It felt nice having someone who was more versed in dimensional travel leading them. The Guardian of Negativity felt much more at ease as he let his mind drift.

They came across a space which probably used to be a condo, but was now a grouping of desolate rooms behind a lockable door. Error eased himself down to the ground, leaning his sore back against a wall. Fresh also took a seat, sighing as he felt the deep aches and pains gradually settle. Nightmare slid into a crouch next to Error, his tentacles spreading out along the ground, the tips extending into vein-like patterns as they sought purchase.

“So, Fresh, how are we planning on breaking out of here?” Nightmare asked tiredly. He rubbed at his empty, goop-covered eye socket idly, exhaustion prickling at the inside of his skull.

“Well, the plan is to look for weaknesses in the structure of the inside of the dimension’s perimeter. Pocket AUs look sound, but they’re unstable by nature,” Fresh informed them. “Once I find what I’m looking for, I’ll get us out.”

Error looked worried. “Fresh…you’re not just *funking* with me, ri-ight? You can actually do this?”

“Bros, if I couldn’t do this, I wouldn’t be here,” Fresh said simply. “I need you to rest up. We need you to gain some strength before we begin the search.”

Nightmare glanced from Error to Fresh. “That’s a tall order,” he said. “Our healing is impacted by the Rooms. We can do what we can to gain energy, but there’s no guarantee we’ll be in peak condition.”

“I’ve heard and I know how energy intensive this is going to be. I just think you should get as much downtime before we attempt to leave as possible,” Fresh said. “We’ve got a monumental task ahead of us.”

Error thought about how it would feel upon getting out. It didn’t seem realistic at this point. It was both anxiety inducing at this point to think about what could be. He didn’t necessarily want to contemplate it, but his mind wasn’t complying with his desire to drift off with an empty cranium. What if he wasn’t able to recover after being injured here? What if his magic levels were permanently depleted, forever at a level that left him vulnerable?

Nightmare could see Error internally panicking. He held out a hand, and it was taken promptly. “Do you want to talk about it?” The Guardian asked softly. Fresh was laying down, his hoodie cinched around his skull to create a makeshift pillow. It was evident he was pooped.

“It’s noth-noth-nothing new. Just…heh, I’m not so confident things are going to work out in our favor, you know?” Error replied, his voice wavering as he spoke. Nightmare didn’t blame him. He was concerned as well.

Nightmare sighed. “We’ve been here for so long now…escape sounds impossible, doesn’t it?”

“Completely,” Error responded. Nightmare squeezed Error’s hand reassuringly.

“Is there anything else that has you worried?” Nightmare said, his voice hugely comforting for the Destroyer. Error nodded.

“I don’t fe-eel like I’m going to regain my magic levels. It’s been brutal here. If I don’t heal…I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Error admitted. It made it more real now that he was confessing his fears to the other. He released an unsteady breath.

“We’ll find a solution. We have options,” Nightmare promised. “You won’t be left to fend for yourself at any point. It may take time, but we’ll do what it takes.”

Error gazed at him with a tired expression, before saying, “Be careful, Night. I might sta-art getting the idea that you like me a little.”

Nightmare chuckled fondly, the sensation of a blush burning his zygomatic bones. It was a comment he hadn’t expected after sharing his soul with the other. It was pleasantly playful and helped him to center his emotions. “Well, I don’t think that would be a bad thing. In fact,” Nightmare leaned in to whisper against Error’s skull, “I think I do like you–just a little.”

Error snorted as he chuckled, lightly shoving his lover. “Shut up,” the Destroyer uttered between his laughter, before coughing in response to the dry atmosphere. Error gave Nightmare’s hand two squeezes as he laid the tatters of his shirt out on the ground and leaned his skull against the Guardian’s femur.

“Sleep we-ell,” Error announced before shortly slipping into a heavy sleep. One of Nightmare’s tentacles curled around his partner’s form, creating a barrier in the event that any threat were to access their space. The Guardian was caught slightly off guard as he witnessed Fresh smiling softly.

“I’m glad my homie wasn’t alone,” Fresh said, his shoulders relaxing as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I went lookin’ for him at first, ya know? I thought maybe he just didn’t want to be found.”

Nightmare nodded. “I heard you two go way back. You must’ve been worried.”

Fresh shrugged. “He’s disappeared in the past–not for this long. He was never gone for years at a time,” he pointed out. “I’d watch his Antivoid n’ make sure no one messed with his crib.”

“I’m glad he had a friend like you,” the Guardian responded. “When did you meet him? Do you remember?”

“Oh wow. Yeah I do, though it’s been a while, home slice,” Fresh said, thinking back to the event that determined their meeting. “Don’t remember the AU, but it was one that I’d infected with my radical virus–it’s named after me, so it’s flashy, you dig?” Somehow the host body still retained a golden tooth. Nightmare found that detail extremely interesting and couldn’t figure out how that happened. “Error was there to take it down. I was caught in the end stages of the cleanup, so I snatched the nearest healthy host and jumped through my glitchy bro’s portal after him.” The parasite appeared proud as he said this. “Needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled. He flipped his lid, bruh.”

“I believe it,” Nightmare said. “So how’d you avoid being blasted into oblivion?”

“Well, he strung me up as he tends to do to anomalies…then he aimed an armada of blasters at me before asking who I was. I introduced myself and let him know I wasn’t there to hurt him.” Fresh smiled at the memory. “We weren’t friends right away–hehe, actually far from it. After a while he gave up on kicking me out every time I popped by with some news about the multiverse or a snack from an AU. We got to talking and just clicked.”

“You lucky fellow,” the Guardian replied. “I’m sure not every trespasser to Error’s realm goes unscathed.”

“Heh, I really am lucky. He’s a good pal,” the parasite said before sighing. “In all honestly, he’s the best” His positive facade faded into a much darker one. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if this escape doesn’t fly. I’ve kinda avoided thinking about that…sorry, m’ not trying to scare you.”

Nightmare could relate. He’d been preoccupying himself with comforting Error and now that he was fast asleep, he was left to contemplate the discomforting ‘what ifs’. “Don’t be sorry. You’re only being realistic. Regardless of what happens, you’re putting your neck on the line for us. You’re admirable for daring to come into this place at all, you know.”

Fresh was silent for a few moments as he digested the fact that he’d been given a compliment. That didn’t happen often, but it felt nice (even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it). “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

The click of the lock disengaging was far too loud for Error’s taste as they exited the empty condo. It had housed them for hours (or days, he wasn’t sure). The Destroyer’s cervical vertebra itched, the scars from his past compulsive scratching reminding him of the reason for his paranoia.

They began their journey. It was painfully tedious at times. Fresh took time inspecting the walls, his tentacles extended outward from his monstrous chest cavity, exploring the tiles and crumbling drywall. He could tell the areas they’d passed through thus far had been fortified enough that it would be a waste of time and energy trying to manipulate the dimension’s DNA.

“We’re making good time, bros,” Fresh said, hoping to lighten the mood a little bit. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed, and he was positive he wouldn’t know until they got out of this dimension. “How’re you holding up, destroyin’ home slice?”

“Just per-p-perfect,” Error responded, leaning against Nightmare for support as they walked. “Heh, never better.” Sweat clung to his bones, and he wondered idly if Nightmare was uncomfortable with having to support him almost constantly at this point. The ache in his diaphragm was increasing, as was the sensation of being watched. It felt as though the walls themselves had eyes.

The Guardian of Negativity was keenly aware of Error’s worsening condition. He supported him with a tentacle coiled around his spinal column, and held his hand to give him some semblance of stability. “Is there anything I can do?” He asked, knowing full well that they were out of options. Error didn’t know at this point what he wanted. He was too hot and cold simultaneously and while he was sure they needed to keep going, all he wanted to do was stop and sit down. Nightmare was extremely on edge and while Error would’ve offered reassurance, he was too fatigued to manage even that. He squeezed Nightmare’s hand, hoping it would convey reassurance.

Fresh was inspecting yet another area, expecting it to be a dud, but was pleasantly surprised to find that he’d come across a weak point. While he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the effects this was probably going to have on the host body, he’d already come to terms with the fact that it likely wasn’t going to survive the backlash from the rift.

“I found a place,” he announced. He turned to face them. There was an unsteadiness to his voice as he took in the sight of Error. It was time to go. “Seriously, no matter what happens, don’t let go. Getting lost in this mess means disappearing…permanently.”

“Hold on, is there anything else we should know before you prod around the anatomy of the pocket dimension?” Nightmare asked. Fresh shook his head.

“Nope. Although, if my host body is obliterated, I’ll grab onto one of you. I’m not trying to get all lost up in here.”

While Nightmare wasn’t sure he was a huge fan of coming face to face with the parasite that was Fresh, he didn’t vocalize it. This guy was their ticket out, he could deal with the repercussions of the situation. “Do what you need to.”

“Radical. I’m starting, so hang tight.” Fresh’s tentacles unfurled from his rib cage, slithering into a fissure in the tiled wall. Forcing the appendages in as far as he could, his prominent eye glowed brightly, an uncanny grin gracing his otherworldly features. He utilized the body’s magic stores, along with some of his organic energy, to work on frying the fibers of the pocket dimension’s biology. There was resistance, which he was expecting; forcing more tentacles into the gradually widening crack, he released a wave of the extremely potent virus he was infamous for. There was a subsonic groan as the structure was eaten away from the inside. The dimension was being altered by the toxins of the Fresh virus on an atomic level, the process going far more quickly than Fresh originally thought it would. It gave away suddenly and violently, the pressure differences of the multiverse and the inside of the rift resulting in them being brutally wrenched into the ether beyond the Rooms.

Not-Ink watched the source of his obsession disappearing into the blackness of the Void beyond his dimension. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised, considering their comrade and savior had obliterated the residents he’d come across. Not one to underestimate newcomers, not-Ink steered clear of the powerful being, following him at a safe distance while remaining hidden.

He’d been tempted to interfere with their escape, but it had moved far more quickly than he suspected it would. He also had been aware that the rescuer would most likely deal out damage worse than the tentacled skeleton had, and he wasn’t willing to wait to heal. No, he didn’t want to be delayed any longer than what was necessary.

A group of dark, ethereal silhouettes had gathered behind him, awaiting further orders. He’d struck a deal with them, reassuring the creatures that it would be worth their time to be of assistance to him. While he’d rather follow the trio into the abyss, he recognized the importance of maintaining his patience. He knew it would be worth the wait.

Nightmare’s tentacles surrounded Error like a protective cocoon. Error tensed as the cursed shell of the hellish world fell away around them. Matter leaked into the blackness of the void from the rift, filling the empty space with bits and pieces of the nightmarish rooms they’d contended with for so long. The Guardian assumed the dark matter would find its way into the atmosphere of other AUs with the way it bled shrapnel and shapeless matter.

Nightmare focused on keeping Error secured in his grip, checking on him as they drifted away from the wreck. “We’re out…fuck, we’re actually out,” he said, before an abrupt, tight grip on his arm distracted him. Snapping his skull to the side, he spied a one-eyed, tentacled creature wrapped around the sleeve of his hoodie. It squinted its eye into a crescent shape, and Nightmare felt relief as he put the pieces together. It was Fresh. The massive wave of magic feedback must’ve torn apart the borrowed body. The Guardian of Negativity was clueless as to how he’d managed to find his way to them without his host body–he’d have to ask him later on. All of that aside, they were all here.

“Fresh–are you able to pull up a portal?” Nightmare asked, hoping the parasite could hear him in the overbearing, nearly crushing vastness of nothingness surrounding them. He was reassured as a hazy, amethyst portal coalesced, the entrance swirling with faint pastel hues and fuchsia lights. Nightmare shot one of his stronger, unaffected tentacles towards the opening, and upon making contact with the surface, they were sucked through. The trio crash landed into a familiar AU. The Guardian was jarred by the sensation of grass and dirt against his bones rather than the putrid, foul smelling floors of the Rooms. Gathering his senses, Nightmare scanned the area, catching sight of the silhouette of his castle in the near distance. His soul felt such immense relief that he began to tear up. “Fresh, you did it…you *benching* did it,” he said, on his feet and heading steadily in the direction of his home. Error sagged in his grip–the Guardian was certain he passed out during the last few moments before they were pulled into the portal when he’d felt him go limp in his hold. Panic gripped his soul as his chest ached immensely, the raw emotion and physical sensation so intense it resurrected a primal fear. “Error, we’re so close. Come on, d-don’t do this, we’re nearly there,” he growled out.

Nightmare threw open the hefty doors at the entrance of his castle, instantly alerting the guardsmen. Too physically exhausted to order them to stand down, he shoved them aside with his free tentacles. They hadn’t recognized him on sight and since they weren’t expecting their lord to return, the Guardian couldn’t blame them. He was met by his absolutely bewildered team, who were on their feet and surrounding them in an instant. Dream, Blue and Ink were present as well, entering the circle to observe the Guardian of Negativity with an unconscious Error wrapped in his tentacles.

“Error–” Nightmare gasped, the exertion of the events weighing heavily upon him. “He's hurt badly– he’s not waking up!” He yelled out, panic evident in his voice. Dream, Cross, and Blue jumped into action, relieving Nightmare of the unconscious Destroyer before setting him up on the long, firmer cushion of the sectional couch in the living room. Horror, Dust, and Killer were immediately at Nightmare’s side, recognizing that their boss was struggling to remain upright. Ink offered a hand to Fresh, who climbed dexterously from Nightmare’s hoodie into the Creator’s palm. Ink was quick to keep to the deal he’d made with their parasite ally, transporting him to another AU to find him a suitable host body (and also familiarize him with the large sum of AUs he’d have free reign over after rescuing Nightmare and Error). There was no reason to stay and contribute to the growing tension when the situation was already incredibly dire. Ink was learning when it was time to step out of the way and allow others to take the lead.

They worked to stabilize him, yet Error still wasn’t regaining consciousness. Dream had already initiated multiple rounds of intensive healing magic into his mana lines. Blue unwrapped the old “bandages” from Error’s damaged rib cage. The mutilation was far worse than the preview they’d been given in the Dreamscape. Nightmare’s team attempted to deter him from seeing Error. This effort was implemented until his team couldn’t keep him away from the Destroyer any longer. It seemed to be causing their leader physiological and psychological pain the longer he was kept from seeing Error. The Guardian was determined to check up on him, even if he knew he wasn’t going to like the sight he was met with. He just had to see him, he couldn’t bear it any longer.

Nightmare approached warily, his soul aching worse than he could recall. Dream made room for his brother, although his focus on his patient didn’t waver. Nightmare took one of Error’s hands gently, watching as Blue and the Positive Guardian tended to him with the utmost care. Dream, with his knowledge of healing, had attached a drip to Error’s soul; it was feeding him enriched magic directly to the source, which was necessary at this point. Dream and Blue took a short break to recuperate while Nightmare remained alongside the severely weakened Destroyer.

Nightmare took a warm, damp cloth and took time to wipe the accumulated grime from Error’s face and skull. He gently cleansed his jaw, where he’d received the chemical burns from his first encounter in the Rooms. Nightmare paid careful attention to the other’s blood-encrusted cervical vertebrae. Then he worked on Error’s hands, pressing the cloth in between the joints and along the colorful metacarpals. He watched the minute fluctuation of Error’s facial expressions, finding them immensely comforting even if the other wasn’t able to wake up. He spoke to him, finding that it helped to calm the part of him which feared the worst for his lover.

Killer was elated that their boss had returned, but at the moment, he was immensely concerned. They each had their own share of trauma in this group, and the fact that Nightmare had his own helping of horrible experiences on top of the recent occurrence didn’t sit well with him. He was intent on going to check up on the Guardian, but when he quietly approached the doorway, he froze. Just out of sight, he peered into the other room to see his boss tenderly handling Error’s limbs as he wiped his bones with a rag. He could tell the water was warm, as steam rose lazily into the air as the Destroyer was carefully bathed. When he’d seen them the first time, he felt an unspoken connection between Nightmare and Error. It was befuddling initially, but he got it. The two went through truly traumatizing events together and they’d latched onto one another during that time. It felt strange, though, considering the last in-person memory he had was of the two at each other’s throats constantly. He really hoped it wouldn’t be the straw that broke the camel’s back for Nightmare if Error didn’t make it. It sounded callous and uncaring, but the negative guardian was his prerogative.

Nightmare was having a one-sided conversation with the unconscious Destroyer, his voice cracking with the weight of the emotions plaguing him. “You’ve done so well…you’ve truly always done well. I was too contrary to acknowledge my appreciation for you.” Nightmare’s new form was just as responsive as his old one, the veiny, mutated tentacles drooping as he experienced emotional distress. “I’m still right here. I promise I haven’t left…in fact, I won’t leave.” The Guardian let the rag fall back into the warm water bucket.

The Guardian of Negativity wasn’t the sentimental type. He didn’t say things like that–at least not for as long as Killer had known him. At some point in time, Killer harbored a keen interest in his boss which hadn’t ever panned out into anything, because frankly, Nightmare wasn’t interested in him. His second in command knew more about him than his teammates, but he wasn’t privy to many aspects of Nightmare’s life outside of work. He respected his desire for privacy, but as someone he considered both his boss and companion, it was admittedly frustrating at times. He wanted Error to heal so Nightmare could truly rest. Maybe then things would go back to the way they’d been, the only difference being that his boss and the Destroyer were now thick as thieves. Killer decided not to linger any longer, since he was well aware his boss wouldn’t want spectators. He quietly returned to the rest of the team a couple rooms over.

Horror, Dust, and Cross looked up as he meandered back into the lounge. “Boss is…busy,” he said tiredly. Dust tilted his skull, flicking the toothpick he’d been chewing on into the dustbin.

Dusted snorted before asking, “M’kay, what’s that supposed to mean? Are they fucking or somethin’?”

Killer shot him a glare. “No, you dense motherfucker. Error is completely unresponsive. I think it’s a sentimental thing…I didn’t really want to interrupt that,” Killer admitted, waving him off dismissively. “It’s none of our business.”

Horror contemplated their boss having feelings for the Destroyer. When he dissected it, it seemed natural. They were both powerful, anguished beings with a lot of baggage–and now a lot more since they’d been trapped in a dimension that intended to erase them from existence. He would feel a lot more productive if he prepped something packed with nutrition–if Error woke up soon, he’d need it. “I’m going…to make some healing stew for E-Error n’ boss,” he said, before getting up and heading to the kitchen.

Dust glanced over and realized his pal had disappeared. Dust sighed before shrugging and letting his skull fall back against the seat cushion and tugging the strings of his hood snug. He figured he’d grab a nap, considering he hadn’t slept much at all since Nightmare had returned.

“I’m going to go consult with Dream. I know he said he didn’t want to wait too long before getting back to work on Error’s injuries,” Cross stated, taking his leave as well. Killer settled into a cozy chair, tugging a heavy blanket over himself with a grunt. He planned to doze until his boss or a team member needed him. He was dead tired.

Nightmare stayed as close to Error’s side as he could, even when Dream, Blue, and Cross returned to continue their efforts to revive the Destroyer. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone in this state. Dream pointed out that the severed portions of a few of the damaged ribs had begun to crumble. Nightmare scrutinized the area the other spoke of and could see exactly what Dream was referring to. There were portions of bone that were porous. None of them necessarily liked the idea of removing more bone, but the deadened areas would impede any new bone growth. They couldn’t leave it there in good conscience, so the Positive Guardian focused on removing the dead portions of rib.

Nightmare remained in the vicinity, but gave his brother space as he took a seat along the perimeter of the room. He felt as though his diaphragm would collapse under the weight that had settled in his soul. Cross walked over and took a seat next to him, hoping to offer an iota of comfort to their ailing leader. He was intimately familiar with loss and his soul winced in sympathy at what the other must be feeling.

“I’m certain this hasn’t been easy for you,” Cross said, his voice quiet. “I wanted to remind you that we’re here for you. We don’t know what you went through, but we’ll do our best. Please don’t be afraid to confide in us.”

The Guardian of Negativity wondered why no one had mentioned his altered appearance. He was sure he appeared unsettling, if not outright horrific, but there hadn’t been any acknowledgement of such a major change. He clenched his fists in the pockets of his slacks. “I appreciate that,” Nightmare said, his tone flat.

“Horror is whipping up a large portion of stew,” he said.

“He’s as thoughtful as ever,” Nightmare commented, feeling the ache in his chest intensify. He bore it, because that was all he could do.

“He’s worried about you,” Cross said. “We all are.” Nightmare sighed. He didn’t give a shit about his own well being at the moment. If anything, he wished others could have blinders on as well and pay attention to Error who needed all of the help he could get. The Guardian was physically fine, albeit a bit low on magic, but it was nothing time wouldn’t fix.

“You shouldn’t be. I’m fine,” Nightmare insisted, probably a bit more harshly than necessary. “I’m not keeling over. Error was literally approaching death’s door in there,” Nightmare said. “He…fuck, I was helpless to do anything. That was one of the most infuriating aspects, not being able to do shit to help him.” Cross nodded, understanding that he’d hit a sore spot. It was clear that his boss had begun to care deeply for Error.

“Trust me, we’re concerned about him, too. Listen, boss,” Cross said, the serious intent clear in his tone. “We’ve just gotten you back, and we’re going to support you...even if you don’t think you deserve it. We’re here for you. Okay?”

Nightmare looked skyward momentarily before releasing a long sigh. He knew arguing this point with Cross was pointless. He glared at the guardsman, but there was no true malice in his gaze. “So be it. Just…care for him,” Nightmare said, glancing at the Destroyer being operated on. Cross cracked a small smile.

“Of course, boss. The others are already on board with that plan. I’m extremely glad to have you both back.” He got up and left Nightmare to decompress on his own. He wasn’t expecting their leader to be fine after what he and Error had been through. He genuinely hoped that they’d gotten past the worst of it and that the Destroyer would be on the mend from here on out. Cross left to retreat to his bedroom where he’d hunker down for a nap. He intended to be well rested in the event that he was needed. He didn’t expect Dream to be able to go for days on end without assistance.

Once the unviable bones were removed, Dream checked the Destroyer’s levels. Stripping the gloves from his hands and tossing them in a nearby waste basket, he meandered over to sit alongside the other Guardian, leaving a comfortable amount of space between them. He sat there silently, allowing his eye sockets to shut as he leaned his skull back against the back of the seat.

Dream finally broke the silence as he stated, “I’ve done what I can.” Nightmare glanced over, his soul heavy with concern and fatigue.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Nightmare said, withdrawing his gaze from his sibling. Silence reigned once more while the Positive Guardian processed his words.

“I did what was necessary,” Dream said. “I wouldn’t have let him fade away, I....he didn’t deserve to be stranded in that wasteland, and neither did you.”

“I know.”

“I should head out. I want to be back early in the morning to check his magic levels.”

Nightmare sighed. “You…don’t have to do that. There are enough rooms in this castle to house a small town. You don’t have to make a decision right now, but it’s worth considering.”

Dream couldn’t help but stare at his estranged brother. Had he heard that correctly? Blinking, he looked down at the floor between his feet. A speck of dust shifted on the stone floor. “I may take you up on that. Thank you.”

“No need,” the Guardian of Negativity responded, standing and cracking his spine. Without another word, he retreated to his ground level office to give himself a moment to think. He’d return to Error’s side shortly, but for his own sanity, he needed a moment to himself.

Dream watched him retreat, before turning his attention to the unconscious Destroyer. He’d give him a once over before he headed off to sleep. It felt surreal that Nightmare would be content with him staying over, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He was far too tired for that right now.

Nightmare returned to his place at Error’s side, taking one of the Destroyer’s hands in his own. There was now a larger portion of Error’s rib cage missing, but what was left behind would heal in time (he genuinely hoped). He’d do everything he could to ensure that he regained full health. He pulled a blanket up over the Destroyer’s chest, knowing his castle became chilly when dusk fell. Resting his skull on one of the couch cushions, Nightmare drifted off to sleep sitting on the ground alongside his unconscious lover.

Days passed. While Error’s magic levels remained steady, he showed no sign of stirring. Dream did what he could, and while he struggled to take enough breaks, he knew it was imperative that he maintained his energy. After downing a bowl of warm soup, Dream ended up departing from the castle. He’d done all he currently could for Error and he felt absolutely drained. He adjusted his sun-themed satchel, his hand trembling with exhaustion as he lifted a fist to the polished wood of Reaper and Geno’s door.

Footsteps quickly approached from the other side and he caught the sound of locks being undone. Geno appeared as though he hadn’t slept in weeks, which was a very real possibility. “Dream…come in.”

He obliged, slipping his sandals off at the entrance before seating himself. Geno was quick to follow, his expression conveying the nervousness and anticipation threatening to drive him insane. “You have news, right? Please, don’t keep me waiting.”

Dream nodded. “We’ve gotten them out.” Geno sucked in a breath, his voice hitching with emotion. “But Error is in a fragile state. I’ve done everything I can to stabilize him, but he hasn’t woken since returning.”

Geno drew a hand across his face as tears spilled over, his brow furrowing as he processed the information. “P-please take me to see him.”

“Of course,” Dream reassured him, standing up even though his joints begged him to sit back down on the comfy couch. “I presumed you’d want to.”

“I’ll let Reaper know I’m headed out. I’ll be right back.”

Nightmare was drawn out of his nap abruptly by the presence of his brother and Geno. He began to get up, but Geno told him to stay. “No, you’re fine. I apologize for disturbing you.”

Geno’s attention zeroed in on his brother. While hesitant to touch him, Geno settled on picking up one of his hands and offering a gentle squeeze. The tears flowed and his soul felt as though it was on the verge of failing. He allowed himself to express the overwhelming emotions while away from his family, free of the guilt that ate away at him when he nearly broke down at home. He wasn’t sure how long he remained there by Error’s side. He felt numb and while he still was aware of the weight of the world on his shoulders, he had no tears left to shed after hours of letting go of his typically controlled facade.

He took a seat close to Error in a comfortable recliner, content to be in his presence as he collected himself. He appreciated that no one forced him to talk, because he truly had no energy left to expend. He realized that Dream had drifted off to sleep on the adjacent couch. Turning his attention to Nightmare, Geno asked, “Where can I find paper and a pen?”

The Guardian of Negativity led him into one of the studies and retrieved what he needed. With a tired ‘thank you’ Geno took a seat and proceeded to write a note to Dream. When he’d stated what he intended to, he set it down on the couch next to the Positive Guardian and wished Nightmare a good night before teleporting back to his and Reaper’s AU.

Dream wasn’t sure what he was awoken by, but his soul was restless and he felt on edge. He stretched and heard something crinkle. Startled, he glanced over to find a folded note with his name on it. Rubbing at his eye sockets, he picked up the paper and unfolded it.

I wanted to leave you with a few words, but you fell asleep and I couldn’t bring myself to wake you.

You’ve been immensely supportive and I’d like to repay you for that one day. I know you and my brother have had your differences, but you have proven the extent of your wit through your meticulous planning and organization.

If you’d like to stop by and talk, my home is open to you.

Thank you,

Geno

Dream stared at the letter for a moment before folding it up once more and slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. He stood up and meandered to the kitchen. He filled up a kettle and sat down at the table to wait for the water to boil. The Guardian ended up staring off into space as he contemplated what the future might look like if he couldn’t revive Error. Frankly, it scared him–everything Ink had neglected to inform him of had come back to slap Dream in the face. For all of the trust he once had in the Creator, there was nothing left now but a keen sensation of betrayal and regret.

“Hey,” a gentle, deep voice caught his attention. He turned to see Cross at the doorway to the loft kitchen and Dream settled back into his seat. “It’s pretty early. Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Dream nodded. “I’m stressed.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Cross stated. “I know you’re running on fumes. Have you considered taking one of the beds upstairs?”

“I…I did, but I fell asleep on the couch. It’s comfortable enough,” Dream said. Cross leveled him with a doubtful expression.

“Listen, I know Nightmare invited you to stay over. I’m not going to let you wither away.” When the kettle began to whistle, Cross moved it to another burner and cut the power to the active coil. “What kind of tea do you like? I’m already up so I can grab it.”

“Purple echo leaf, please. I like it with a spoon full of honey,” Dream supplied, covering his mouth as he yawned. “Thank you.”

Cross responded with an ‘mhm’ as he grabbed out the tea bags and honey. Dream was content to sit in silence as he took in the subtle sounds of Cross making his drink. The guardsman delivered the hot drink and took a seat next to the Guardian.

Cross watched Dream stir his drink as a thought occurred to him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were part of the team.”

Dream froze, before scowling and shaking his head. “No, heh, that…I wouldn’t be.”

“No? Well, I think your presence would be a healthy one. The others seem to appreciate your visits to the castle.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said in a quiet voice. “Maybe they tolerate my presence because it is necessary. I don’t need to be liked, it’s alright–”

“But, Dream, you are,” Cross insisted, leaning forward ever so slightly. “I like seeing you around the castle. I’ve spoken with the others and they agree that you’ve been a joy to have around. You fit in so well.”

Dream stared into his tea as though it would give him a hint on how to respond to that. Looking over to Cross, whose red and white eye lights were trained on him from under half-lidded eye sockets. Cross offered an open palm on the table and Dream looked from him to his open hand and moved his hand to hover over Cross’ before settling his hand against the larger one. A fierce blush colored his face as their phalanges were laced together.

“I don’t know what to say,” the Guardian admitted. Cross squeezed his hand gently.

“That’s alright.” Cross sighed. “How about I help you get a room arranged?”

Dream nodded. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

Cross picked up the mug of tea and led Dream to a bedroom that had been most recently cleaned. It was large and decorated in neutral colors. Dream helped Cross stretch a new fitted sheet onto the bed before they worked on swapping the pillowcases. There was a comfortable silence between them as they changed out the old bed set for the fresh one. When all was said and done, Dream sat down on the mattress and smiled at Cross.

“I appreciate your help. It’s…I’m honestly uncertain how to feel about Nightmare’s decision to let me stay over. It is a pleasant surprise and yet…I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Cross stepped forward, his black and white guardsman attire brushing against Dream’s inner thigh. The Guardian became aware of their proximity, his soul thrumming as he registered the other’s attention on him. “Dream?”

“Cross?” He asked, looking up from under tired eye sockets.

“Firstly, please don’t hesitate to tell me if this is too much,” he emphasized, his eye lights reflecting slight nervousness as he continued with, “But may I kiss you?”

Dream felt his face flush as he realized what he’d just been asked. He nodded, his chest swelling with elation as Cross slotted their mouths together. It awoke something within the Guardian of Positivity that he’d suppressed since his very brief (and emotionally painful) fling with Ink. The Creator had wanted gratification, but he wasn’t interested in Dream–Dream was a means to an end, a momentary preoccupation. It had been so brief, that Dream had asked himself how he’d been lulled into the false sense of comfort the Creator had supplied.

Cross cupped his jaw, his phalanges warm against the bone of his face. Dream melted into his touch, the anxiety and fear that had gripped his soul for so long replaced by a craving for more of this. When they broke apart, Cross smiled.

“I like you, Dream. If you couldn’t tell, well…maybe I wasn’t as forward with my interest as I thought I was,” Cross admitted. “I’m absolutely awestruck by you.”

Dream’s face lit up a bright yellow hue as embarrassment burned along his cheeks. “I-I didn’t notice, but I haven’t felt wanted in quite a while. I think I forgot what it felt like, to be honest.”

When Cross leaned in for another kiss, Dream tugged him onto the bed with him. Cross felt magic coalesce as his hand was guided to the Guardian’s pelvis, which had softened with the ecto that had formed there. Cross dipped his hand underneath the waist of Dream’s pants where his phalanges slipped in between his legs, parting the warm folds. Dream bit back a moan as he was stretched, Cross’ larger frame over his own making him weak with lust as it surged from his pent up soul. Kissing Cross was an experience he’d have to commit to memory. His breath hitched as Cross’ phalanges curled inside of him.

“Tell me what you want,” Cross said, his breath warm against Dream’s neck. The Guardian shivered.

“Make me feel wanted,” Dream replied, his chest tightening in anticipation as Cross moved over him fully, his sturdy pelvis aligned with his own.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

As he stirred, it felt as if the weight of the multiverse had settled onto his chest. He squinted into the dark room, barely able to open his eye sockets at all. He was certainly laid out on a comfortable surface–it felt nothing like the unforgiving floors of the Rooms. His pain was almost completely absent, which he was thankful for, but it all felt too good to be true. Was he dead? Error slowly came to realize that someone was holding his hand. The edges of his mouth twitched upward as he gave the large hand an experimental squeeze.

Nightmare was roused from sleep in an instant, his cyan eye light falling upon the tri-color hand he was holding. “Error?” Nightmare asked tentatively. He sat up straighter as he processed another squeeze, excitement and relief rapidly filling his soul. Nightmare bent over to press his lips against Error’s temple, emotion welling up within him as he registered that this wasn’t a dream–Error was actually awake.

Error softly chuckled, coughing in response to his prolonged silence. He squinted at Nightmare’s looming silhouette above him. This guy was the best dream demon he could’ve asked for. Nightmare was so intimidating…just perfectly ominous and sexy. He’d fucked this tentacled, wickedly attractive monster–him, the lonely, universe-destroying outcast of society. He smiled dopily up at the Guardian’s fiercely handsome visage. “You ma-ake me want to believe we’re not…still in the Rooms. This is a nice surprise, Night.”

“Error,” Nightmare hummed, recognizing how disoriented he must be after all that happened. The sedatives Dream administered earlier were probably still doing a good job of keeping Error’s mind sluggish. “I’ve got you, alright? Can you tell me how much pain you’re in right now?”

“At the mo-moment, heh, almost none at all,” Error said quietly. He blinked, opening his eye sockets wider as he took in the chasm of Nightmare’s castle ceilings. He assumed this must be a pleasant dream, possibly another waltz through the Dreamscape. He’d take it. He scrunched his nasal ridge as he felt something tug from within his rib cage. “Wha…why is there a tu-tu-tube in me?” He asked, concern coloring his features.

“Don’t touch that,” Nightmare scolded. Error’s expression shifted to one of confusion and slight hurt.

“Why is it th-there?” Error asked. “Why’s there a tube st-stuck in me?” Nightmare tried not to chuckle at the betrayal evident in his partner’s voice.

“It was necessary. You needed magic,” Nightmare replied, caressing Error’s jaw. The Destroyer leaned into the touch, sighing in relief. “Dream cleaned your injuries and got rid of the worst of it.”

Error furrowed his brows. He squinted once more at Nightmare, before saying, “This…isn’t the Dreamscape?”

“No, we’re inside my home. I know it’s hard to believe, but we actually pulled through,” Nightmare said. “We’re out.” Error looked even more perplexed now.

“That doesn’t…I mean, h-how? I don-don’t remember…any 0f that,” Error admitted.

“None of it ever made sense, let’s be honest,” Nightmare stated. “But, Err, listen to me–we’re back. We’re actually on the outside. Fuck, I’m—” Nightmare took a deep breath in before releasing it. “I didn’t know if you were going to wake up again. I can’t adequately express how glad I am that you’re awake.”

Error scowled, his thoughts becoming gradually sharper. They’d really escaped? So this meant their relationship was coming to a close, then–that was what he understood. Nightmare would return to his team and Error would return to…absolute solitude. The Antivoid. Being alone. He didn’t want it to end. He liked, no, he loved feeling wanted by the Guardian. Part of him wanted the other to say he was joking, because his soul was aching so fiercely it might actually fizzle out. He couldn’t pretend any longer. It was time to face reality. ‘Time to wake up’ he told himself.

“Error?” Nightmare noticed the sadness taking over Error’s expression. He could tell the gears were turning in the Destroyer’s cranium and it looked like he’d become caught up in a wholly unpleasant train of thought.

“I should go, shouldn’t I?” He asked, the crippling disappointment leaching into his tone. Nightmare was perplexed before a wave of irritation and hurt creeping into his being. He reminded himself that the other was confused. For all he knew, Error was experiencing profound memory loss (how far back, he couldn’t tell). His lover needed compassion and care and that was what Nightmare intended to provide him with.

“What? Of course not. Why would you assume that? First of all, you’re in no condition to leave and secondly, even if you were–” Nightmare insisted, but was cut off by the distraught Destroyer’s choked voice.

“I–you don’t ha-ave to do this,” Error stated, tearing up. He wished he could fade away, maybe it would be simpler that way. He was half-convinced that the multiverse had just fucked with his mind–what if he’d dreamt the entire thing? Was Nightmare just humoring him? “…if we…do you regret what we did?” Error asked, his voice more frail than the Guardian could recall. Nightmare’s chest ached as he bent down to press a kiss to Error’s mouth.

Nightmare pulled back after a few moments and sighed. Error waited, wiping at his under eyes. “Even if you were healthy, I wouldn’t want you to leave. I was terrified that you were going to dust on me. I thought you’d die and that your last waking memories would be of that awful place. I’ve been a fucking wreck.”

“You…I-I…” Error fumbled, shock evident in his features. Nightmare felt a pang of sympathy as he realized that the Destroyer must be far more out of it than he thought. The painkillers and sedatives that had been given earlier would continue to affect him, Nightmare had to remind himself.

“Here, I’ll say it again, a little differently–I want you to stay,” Nightmare said, squeezing Error’s hand, afraid to touch the other anywhere else in his weakened state. “You’re going to stay, and I’m going to be by your side. You won’t be alone. I won’t let you go back to that.”

Error allowed himself to cry as Nightmare rested their foreheads together. Sweet relief washed over him, the suggestion of pain in the background of his consciousness cementing the fact that he was, in fact, alive.

Upon discovering that the Destroyer had awoken, Horror went to the kitchen to reheat his stew. Blue immediately retrieved more blankets after commenting how cold it was in the castle while Killer seated himself nearby Error and his boss.

“Look at you, sunshine. Welcome to the land of the living,” he commented, offering Error a toothy grin. The Destroyer snorted.

“Don’t think I’ve e-ever been called that before.”

Dust’s voice echoed as he entered the room. He approached, his hands shoved somewhere in his baggy hoodie. “Hey. It’s about time you came around. You’ve been worrying us all, you massive jerk.”

“Oh, my bad,” Error said, unable to help the chuckle even though it made his chest ache. “I should’ve considered your feelings be-before passing out.”

“Ya damn right,” Dust shot back, his shoulders less tense than they’d been in days. “Take it easy. I’m gonna check on Big H.”

Blue entered the room with a heavy blanket and a soft pillow from one of the upstairs closets. He made his way over to Error, absolute relief written on his face. “I’m so, so glad to see you awake. Soup should be ready soon…do you need anything else at the moment? I know you’re probably still pretty out of it so I won’t bother you–”

“You’re not both-bothering me, idiot,” Error quipped as the blanket was draped over him. “If you want to hang out here, you’re welcome to. It’s nice to ac-actually see you.”

Blue beamed. “I’ll do that then. Let me finish up in the kitchen with H and I’ll be back. It’s fantastic to see you, too.”

Error slowly consumed his hot soup, savoring the way it felt as it was absorbed into his magic network. Nightmare drained his own bowl of broth rather quickly, only now coming to realize how badly he was craving edible substances. Members of the team returned, quietly talking amongst themselves and to Nightmare, who was much more at ease now that Error was eating. Blue took a seat in a nearby recliner before cracking open a novel he was working on. It had been a great distraction while he waited for the Destroyer to awaken. He could actually enjoy the plot now that Error wasn’t unresponsive. Near him on the carpet, Killer bundled up in a few fuzzy covers as he enjoyed a piping hot mug of coffee. The sound of their mingling accompanied Error sipping the steaming broth.

Error’s complexion began looking much more vibrant with the addition of the healing stew; Nightmare encouraged him to finish the bowl. Error obliged, handing off the emptied dish once he’d slurped the last of it down.

Dream retrieved Geno when the atmosphere settled down a fraction. He wanted to give them time to visit with Error without everyone else surrounding them. Upon his arrival, Geno appeared fearful, probably expecting to be given bad news. Dream was quick to reassure him that he was there to bring him to visit his brother who’d recently woken up.

“He’s awake?” Geno asked, glitches flitting around his being as a wave of excitement and intense relief washed over him. Dream nodded.

“He’s doing well, all things considered. I’m sure he’s eager to see you, so–”

“Give me a moment,” Geno interrupted. Geno didn’t need to be told the information twice. He picked up a package with a rich blue bow securing it before letting the Guardian know he was more than ready to go. Dream summoned a radiant portal in the nearest wall and Geno stepped into Nightmare’s dimension.

The reunion was intense. Geno was so relieved that he could barely find words to express himself, so he just held the Destroyer’s hand before gathering his wits enough to tell him that he’d missed him. Error squeezed his sibling’s hand, hoping his weak grip might offer some comfort. He’d opt for a hug, but he was in no condition to do so, so he settled for holding Geno’s hand as long as he needed. When Geno apologized for crying again, Error rolled his eye lights and told him to ‘shut up’. Geno’s chuckle conveyed the relief he felt at seeing his first friend alive.

“I know you need rest, but before I leave, I wanted to give you this.” Geno handed over the package and Error looked at it with distinguishable interest.

“You got me some-somethin’?” Error asked. Geno shrugged.

“It’s not much,” Geno said.

Error untied the bow and ripped open the paper to expose a sleek, black material. His brows furrowed, then raised in interest as he revealed a carefully tailored sweater jacket and a pair of slacks. Someone had taken time to emulate the colors of his old outfit into this new, soft set. It brought on such an intense emotional response, the Destroyer was momentarily taken aback. He glanced at Geno, then back at the clothing.

“Thank you, Gen,” he croaked, appreciating the sensation of the material as it slid between his phalanges. “It’s so soft.”

“Your clothes were in bad condition–I’m sure you know that,” Geno remarked, scratching at the back of his neck. “A jacket was necessary…the pants matched and I couldn’t resist, so you get those as well. I know you cherished your old jacket and slacks,” Geno pointed out. “So I’m sorry I couldn’t patch them up.”

Error shook his skull. “N-no, heh, my old clothes were ruined. Thank you…this mean-means more than you know.”

Geno smiled and let Error know that he’d be around when he recovered, but emphasized that he should take care of himself and get plenty of rest in the meantime. Error kept his eye sockets open until he watched his brother depart through one of Dream’s golden portals. Then he allowed himself to drift off.

Error opened his eyes to a familiar office with a vast library. Nightmare sat at the sizable desk, his tentacles splayed out around him like a corrupted network of tree limbs. Outside the large window behind the Guardian, stars dotted the skies. Maybe if he searched hard enough, he could spot the fallout that was rift parading as a galaxy in the vast constellation. Error ambled over to take a seat across from the Nightmare.

“Have you actually read your entire col-collection?” Error asked, looking around at the countless novels lining the shelves.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nightmare hummed, before following it up with,“Yes, in fact, I have. I can’t say I remember what each of them is about. It’s been a long while, after all.”

“Hm. Well, when I can stand up again, maybe you should give me a taste of your favorite novels,” Error suggested.

“Certainly.”

Error’s attention was once more drawn to the window. He recalled windows in the Rooms which looked out upon haunting scenery as far as the eye could see in any direction. Abruptly he was pulled back into the office space, facing Nightmare’s steely gaze.

“We’re no longer there,” Nightmare said calmly. “I’ll filter through the intrusive thoughts. I’m not unaffected by the memories, either,” Nightmare stated. “I hope you’re not ashamed. You really shouldn’t be.”

Error slumped in his seat. “Heh, it’s easier said than done, but I’m working on it,” Error said quietly.

“I have an idea. Would you like a distraction?”

“Actually, I would,” Error replied, his interest piqued. He got up from his seat and followed Nightmare through the space, entering deeper into the first level of the library. The shadows shifted, appearing to breathe as they strode into an adjoining section of the expansive office. Nightmare’s tentacles seemed to have a mind of their own, their movements fluid, yet calculated as they trailed along behind him.

They entered a short hallway and into a space with a rounded perimeter. There was a hearth embedded within a stone-lined wall. The atmosphere exuded a vibe of gothic luxury. The seating was upholstered with black leather and the rug was a mural of the cosmos. Error wondered if Nightmare had an interest in the stars as well. Maybe when he healed they could visit Outertale together.

The Guardian of Negativity lit a fire in the hearth before pulling Error close. He cupped Error’s jaw, caressing the side of his face with his thumb. Time felt as though it was moving significantly more slowly as Nightmare gazed into his eyes. Error’s cheeks were aflame as the other looked upon him like he was something worth admiring.

“Relax,” Nightmare whispered. “Are you still up for that distraction?”

The Destroyer nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’ve been very fuck-fucking patient,” Error said.

“Mmm, I suppose you have,” Nightmare replied. “Have you ever been fucked in your dreams?”

“N-no–well,” Error rambled, face bright with embarrassment. “You would ask this ques-question,” Error grumbled.

“With who?” Nightmare asked, his curiosity overflowing. Error muttered something unintelligible. “What was that? You have to speak up, dear,” Nightmare teased.

“With you, asshole,” Error hissed. “It was you, ev-even before…”

Nightmare tilted his head. “Before?”

Error groaned in response. “Yes, before all of this-is happened.”

“Oh?” Nightmare smiled wryly. “How very interesting.”

Error looked away. It had been a strange time for him. He couldn’t deny that the Guardian had been appealing to him, at least in appearance. Before he showed his true colors, that was–after that, the Destroyer took a step back. His infatuation didn’t get the memo though; Nightmare’s presence plagued his unconscious mind. He hated and simultaneously craved Nightmare’s haughty, no-nonsense attitude. It caused his soul to beat faster and his magic to burn hotter in his mana lines. He was certain Nightmare had no clue he was the reason for all of these conflicted emotions.

“You were really into me back then?” Nightmare asked. He mulled over the implications of that. Error took a moment to respond.

“...y-yeah. You pissed me off, but I li-liked it. Occasionally.” Error cleared his “throat”. “I’m not entirely sure how to describe it.”

Nightmare smiled deviously. “That’s really hot,” he purred, leaning forward to nip at Error’s cervical vertebrae. “I thought you were attractive as well. I knew I rubbed you the wrong way, so I supposed you wouldn’t reciprocate my interest,” Nightmare breathed.

Error’s breath caught as Nightmare’s hands encircled his iliac crests. “Well, I guess I surprised us bo-oth, then,” Error said, his hands settling on Nightmare’s upper back. “I’d really like you inside of me right about now,” Error said teasingly. Nightmare purred in delight.

“I bet you would. How about we make that happen?” The Guardian replied, lifting the other up so that his spine was flush with the cool surface of the wall. Even in the Dreamscape, textures stood out–Error had no clue how, since he’d never been in this room in the waking world. Nightmare stripped the pants off of him with ease, letting them fall to the constellation themed rug. Digits slipped inside of the Destroyer’s formed ecto, spreading his slick walls and making him dizzy with anticipation. Error hugged the other closer with his legs, forcing the phalanges deeper, and he whined as Nightmare curled the digits toward himself. “Yes, just like that, dear. Let me hear your voice,” he praised.

Error sought out Nightmare’s mouth, humming in gratification when he found the other’s tongue. The Guardian of Negativity wasn’t shy–he sucked on Error’s tongues, passionately kissing him until the other was breathless. Then there was pressure at his entrance, and Error sighed as he was speared by Nightmare’s dick. It was strange, not quite how it felt in waking, but nonetheless pleasurable. Error’s phalanges dug into Nightmare’s back, digging into his shoulder blades as he was fucked into against the wall of the cozy hideaway. All he could focus on was the intensity of the sensations radiating from his pelvis as the other railed him. He keened when Nightmare began to punctuate his steady thrusts with the tease of a knot–he wouldn’t push hard enough to slide it in, though. Error decided that if he wasn’t given the swollen base of the guardian’s cock, he’d take it himself. Nightmare seemed to be enjoying the way he was losing his cool, squirming to accommodate the knot that was being intentionally kept from him.

Reaching down, Error curled his phalanges around the base of his partner’s dick. He then tightened his hold on Nightmare’s waist with his legs, forcing the girthy shaft further inside of him. The knot was stubborn, since it had swelled quickly, but he didn’t care. He gasped as it slipped forcibly past his entrance, filling him up abruptly. Nightmare grunted before releasing a low groan of approval. “Impatient, aren’t we?” The dark skeleton cooed, shifting his hips so that the tie between them strained. Error whimpered.

“You were being a fucking t-tease,” Error shot back half-heartedly. Nightmare barked out a laugh.

“As if you haven’t done the very same to me. Tch, such a hypocrite,” he chided, his phalanges finding the other’s swollen clit easily. “You get so sensitive with me lodged inside your cunt, don’t you, Err?” Nightmare’s voice rumbled. Error’s frame was wracked by a pleasant chill. Error tensed at the touch, a desperate sound escaping his mouth before he could stop it.

“Uh-uh huh…fuck, don’t stop t-touching me,” Error pleaded, his voice strained as Nightmare massaged his clit in firm, languid motions. He was so sensitive, it was bordering on painful, but he swore if it stopped he might actually sob in anguish. “Night-nghh-yes, I’m…I’m–”

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Nightmare said, hissing in delight. He swirled his phalanges over the nub, lightly tugging at the puffy clit until Error was crying out and trembling in his grasp.

The Guardian awoke to the sensation of something cool and sticky clinging to his femur. Nightmare scowled, lifting the blanket around him to see cyan ejaculate on his leg. He peered around, suddenly very aware of his surroundings. Error stirred as well, groaning as he came to. He blinked, the grogginess fading in lieu of the ardent horniness which now lingered. His ecto was fully formed, and while their Dreamscape fuck had been a delectable experience, he was feeling the effects of not being touched in the waking world.

“You bastard,” he muttered, pointedly glaring at Nightmare. The Guardian snapped his skull to the side to observe his irritated lover.

“Is someone a little pent up?” Nightmare asked, sneering. Error groaned.

“You fucking kn-knew that would happen, didn’t you? Damn it, Night,” Error pouted. He reached between his legs under the blanket to finger himself, using his other hand to tease his very strained clit. It was torturous, the unsteady touch only fueling the fire.

“You poor thing,” Nightmare cooed, his eye light flickering with devious intent. “If you’re good, I might consider helping with that.”

“Oh, you me-ean finishing what you started?” Error shot back, a hint of a growl in his voice. Nightmare smiled maliciously. “Fuck it all, I’ll do what I have to–”

“No, none of that. You’re going to stay right where you are,” the Guardian commanded. Nightmare moved down between his lover’s femurs. Error’s hands found his cranium, caressing his skull and cervical vertebrae as Nightmare breathed on his exposed ecto.

Nightmare’s tongue traced the shape of the other’s clit, eliciting a breathy expression of pleasure from Error. The Guardian smirked, swirling his tongue around the soft, yet firm protrusion. He felt Error’s frame shiver, and began to lap at the entrance. Images from the rooms flashed before his eye in the dark–a near desolate kitchen with counters at the perfect height to prop the Destroyer up on. The sound of his lips against soft ecto renewed Nightmare’s lust, the taste of Error’s strengthening magic like nectar to his senses. His frame heated, his tentacles coiling around him and along their pillows in excitement. Error was rolling his hips against his face, and Nightmare sucked at the plush folds as he reached down to grip himself through the fabric of his shorts.

“N-Night,” Error groaned, his hands resting on Nightmare’s skull reverently. “I…I want you so, so bad-badly.” Error whimpered, his femurs clenching as the Guardian shoved his tongue deeper inside of him. Nightmare hummed in approval.

Nightmare was overheated. Boiling alive hadn’t ever felt so pleasant before. He focused upon sucking at the sweet ecto, humming as he squeezed his own shaft as he thought about how divine it would feel to fuck his lover when he was healed. He slipped his hand into his shorts, stroking his cock with a vengeance as he ate Error out. He was soon groaning, mouthing at Error’s cunt with fervor as he neared his climax. Error’s vocalizations took on a desperate edge, and while he stayed quiet, Nightmare heard every nuance of the Destroyer’s voice. It was delicious. Error tensed, sobbing out a praise intermingled with the Guardian’s name, and Nightmare was soon to follow, adding to the already drying cum on his thigh.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he resurfaced, taking in Error’s perfectly blissed out expression. Error smiled softly, pulling Nightmare down to connect their lips. This. This was what Nightmare knew he’d been missing. He kissed him deeply, cupping his jaw. “Mm, so needy…but I like that,” Nightmare said, his voice velvety smooth like the dark chocolate truffles Error uncovered in some distant AU eons ago. “I’m going to keep you. What do you think about that, Err?” Nightmare asked.

“I’d like that,” Error replied, nipping Nightmare’s jaw. “P-please do.”

Time ticked on and as his magic levels gradually rose, Error was itching to move. Nightmare, the worrier that he was, insisted that the Destroyer take it easy as he healed. Error would be damned if he let time pass him by while his rib cage mended itself at a snail’s pace. He found laying in bed constantly to be a recipe for undesirable memories to pull him back into the mindset he’d taken on while in the Rooms. Therefore, Error perfected his silent stalking through the castle halls. When he sensed someone close by, he pressed himself into a separate passageway or nook. Error’s rib cage was sore–that was a given, since he’d had a chunk of it excavated and tossed into the trash (after having already cut out a piece himself). Parts of his frame were expendable according to the multiverse, but to his utter relief, his bones were regenerating, albeit very slowly.

Sometimes he’d watch conversations he wasn’t privy to. Other times, he was less graceful–Cross happened to catch him in one of his flare ups, and he’d hastily escorted him back to his recovery suite. Error thanked him for helping him to cover his ass, although he wished he hadn’t been so weak as to need help for the most basic of tasks.

Cross wasn’t subtle in the slightest. He’d fallen for the Guardian of Positivity hard. Too bad Dream was around the castle often, so Cross was stuck battling his own urges while trying to remain professional in front of his boss. Cross was encouraged when Nightmare admitted that he was aware of his interest in Dream. That was all it took for him to loosen up a bit and consider actually courting the Positive Guardian.

Cross meticulously planned for an occasion in which he could be vulnerable without being seen by others. A walk in the far reaches of the courtyard seemed appropriate–Dream was enamored by the scenery, taking note of the blossoms he’d never seen in his end of the multiverse. Many of them were vivid with a particularly dark blush to their petals. Nightmare’s corrupted magic infiltrated his surroundings, the negativity feeding the terrain and the living beings encompassing his dimension. Dream felt hollow at that thought. Before he knew Ink was delusional in believing in a plan of infinite creation, he was certain Nightmare’s theories and beliefs were born of ill intent. He should’ve been more guarded, had more sense, but he was interested in branching out and exploring the multiverse. He was so naive, then…if he could turn back time, he’d do it without a second thought.

“Dream,” Cross said, securing the guardian’s attention. Dream’s eye lights reminded him of honeyed candies. He smiled softly. “I’d like to tell you something I’ve been intending to say aloud for a long while now.”

Dream’s smile was a drug–maybe that wasn’t what Cross should be thinking, but for him, it stirred emotions he hadn’t experienced in eons. “The floor is yours.” The guard shifted.

“You’ve pleasantly surprised me,” Cross began, looking away from the radiant Guardian of Positivity. “I don’t think I’ve ever acknowledged your true intentions until very recently. I’m…” he paused, contemplating how to word it. His brows furrowed. “I’d like to take you on a date, if you’d be up for it,” Cross said. Dream’s brows shot up.

“You want…to go out with me?” Dream asked, uncertain as to whether he was correct in his deduction of what was being said. Cross nodded.

“As I said before, I like you, Dream. I like you a lot,” he stated, taking Dream’s hand in both of his own. “Nightmare is aware of my intentions. He knows I came out here just to ask you,” Cross admitted, blushing furiously. “I’ve…well, since that night you stayed…no, it’s been longer, I’ll admit. I’ve been wanting to approach you for a while now.”

Dream frowned, then offered a gentle smile. His soul ached. He wasn’t sure he could deal with another relationship deteriorating. While he craved contact, he wasn’t sure it was the best idea to tempt fate–it hadn’t ended up well for him in the past. As he took in Cross’ welcoming expression and felt the way his soul clenched at the thought of going on a date with him, he was convinced to try again. He liked Cross a lot…he wanted this. He wouldn’t jeopardize his future because of his past pain.

“I’d like that,” Dream admitted. “When were you thinking?” He asked. Cross appeared shocked for a moment, before regaining his composure.

“Honestly, whenever you’re free,” Cross said. “I’m absolutely stoked.” Dream chuckled.

“While I wasn’t necessarily expecting you to like me back, it’s a nice surprise to know you feel the same,” Dream admitted, his cheeks illuminated by golden magic. Cross was smitten.

Cross’ world stood still as the Guardian kissed him. He thought he’d have to take the lead, because it had always been expected of him, so this was a pleasant change of pace. Cross’ burned with the urge to close the distance between them, so he did, tugging Dream’s hips toward him until they met his own.

Nightmare picked up on Error’s restlessness in the dark of the night. He entered his bedroom, his focus centered upon treating the bored-to-pieces partner of his. Error wished he’d plow his ass or cunt hard. Too bad for him, though; it wasn’t up to him to call the shots. He was on his forearms, arching his as Nightmare ate him out. It was only the second time he’d indulged in anal with the Guardian. The first time had been rewarding enough that he’d known he’d want to do it again. It felt so strange, yet the pleasure was just as intense as he was stretched on his lover’s phalanges.

“Night–Nightmare, holy fu-uck,” Error exclaimed as the Guardian slid his dick into him. It felt too good. He was bound to gain more than he bargained for with these feelings lingering in his soul. “N-nmmm, please…”

“Shit. You’ve been so patient, haven’t you? Mm, take me, that feels so good, Err. You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Nightmare purred, sliding his thick shaft past Error’s fluctuating sphincter. It burned so good.

“Yeah…mnmmm. I am, are-aren’t I?” Error’s insides clenched, and Nightmare thrusted at a deeper angle, groaning in satisfaction.

“You pretty…son of a bitch,” Nightmare said. “You know exactly what you do to me. Fuck. I’m gonna breed you–how about that?” A more intense rhythm began, the sensation cuing Error into the fact that Nightmare was essentially humping him. He’d said he wanted to breed him and Error’s mind expanded on what that might look like. He gripped the bed sheets as pleasure shot up his spinal column.

“Fuck me,” Error urged. Nightmare nibbled at Error’s cervical vertebrae. He was about to give his lover something worth remembering.

The base of Nightmare’s dick slapped against Error’s entrance. The Destroyer spread his femurs wider, very willing to accept the swollen portion of his partner’s dick. Nightmare entered him, forcing himself inside with insistent, short thrusts until he slipped fully inside. Error whimpered as fluid dripped onto their mattress as a result of the overwhelming sensation of his ass being stretched further than it had ever been before. Nightmare was ecstatic as he caressed Error’s abdomen slightly distended abdomen reverently. It was intensely satisfying, and the Destroyer was lost as to what was happening, just knowing he didn’t want it to end.

Nightmare’s cock massaged his insides so perfectly that Error was approaching oversensitivity very quickly. He began to whimper as Nightmare ground against him, somehow pressing in at a deeper angle. Error bowed his spine, whining as sensitivity rapidly increased. Nightmare kissed him, reassuring him that he was doing wonderfully as they both settled into the tie. Error was dizzy with lust.

Error grunted, before whimpering, squirming against the mattress as the overstimulation ebbed into a manageable burn. “Night-”

“I’ve got you,” the Guardian reassured him, biting gently at the other’s shoulder blade. “You look so delicious from this angle, dear,” he cooed, a teasing element evident in his husky tone. Error choked on a moan, Nightmare’s grinding against his backside wonderfully distracting.

Error swallowed thickly. He was teetering on the edge, so close to release that if he touched himself, he swore he’d lose it. He didn’t want to end it like that, though. He was enjoying the pleasurable build up far too much. “Cum in-inside me,” Error commanded, although it came out as more of a plea. Nightmare bit down slightly harder on his shoulder, gripping the Destroyer’s hips so tightly it felt like the ecto there was bruising. Error saw stars as the other’s teeth dug into his bones, the pain intermingling with the pleasure to create a euphoric sensation. When Nightmare began to vocalize his release, groaning around his mouthful of Error’s shoulder bones, Error felt his own orgasm quickly approaching. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck yes–” he rambled, his frame freezing up as a white hot, blissful sensation took ahold of him. He was so full, and having Nightmare fuck him while already lodged deep inside of his ass had awakened something inside of him.

Nightmare released Error’s shoulder, kissing where he’d left an impression of his canines in the dark bones. Error whimpered. “Are you hurting?” Nightmare asked as he caressed the Destroyer’s spinal column.

“You made it better,” Error replied, sticking out the tips of his tongues playfully. He was so tired he couldn’t see straight. “Hm, what would I ev-ever do without you?” Error asked sarcastically. Nightmare rubbed the other’s formed abdomen, observing how soft it was as he ran his hand in circular motions over the rich, blue ecto.

“I don’t know. You may have dusted,” Nightmare commented. Error snorted. “It doesn’t seem like you’d survive without my dick inside of you.”

Error chuckled. “Pfft. So I have an ad-dick-tion, is that what you’re claiming?”

Nightmare glared at him before saying, “That was egregious, but let’s go with that.”

“Fuck you, I-I’m hilarious,” Error responded, yawning as exhaustion finally began to take over. “Lay dow-down with me?”

Nightmare laid down on his side so that Error’s back was slotted up against his sternum, his still formed ecto velvety soft against his own corruption covered bones. Error’s glitches tickled, buzzing and flitting occasionally where their bodies touched. Nightmare draped a tentacle over Error’s hips, holding him close. The Destroyer sighed in contentment.

“Comfortable?” Nightmare asked. Error offered a muffled ‘mhmm’ and snuggled into the tip of a tentacle trailing down and over the headboard aside his skull. Nightmare recognized the insistent tug inside of his rib cage. He would describe it as pain, but honestly, it was multifaceted. It was a longing sensation, one that left him contemplating how life was going to treat them now that they were outside of the Rooms. He was determined to make things right by Error–he was planning something scenic and worthwhile for his lover that he knew would distract from the distressing memories they both still experienced. A plethora of concerns crept up on him as he pondered. He inhaled his Error’s comforting scent, processing the feeling of disquietude and appreciating that he was able to hold his lover close while he deciphered his thoughts.

Chapter Text

The arrival of autumn weather left Nightmare’s realm dryer and cooler. Error took in the metamorphosis of the landscape from the large window seat within the master bedroom. He had been reluctant to sit there at first, considering his experience with Not-Ink in the Rooms. Eventually he overcame the trepidation and spent time outside of bed lounging on the velvet cushions lining the seat. The cold glass was always a stark contrast to the warm atmosphere inside. It shocked him back to reality when his mind drifted.

His wounds were on the mend, and while it was tedious, he was satisfied that there was any progress at all. From what he could see, there was a considerable amount of bone growth around where the tainted ribs had to be cut out. He’d pointedly mentioned to Nightmare that he was in less pain in hopes of calming his ever tense significant other. While he still experienced phantom sensations emanating from where his floating ribs used to be, he felt physically better than he had in a long while.

Error lifted up his shirt to observe his diaphragm in the master bathroom mirror. There was still a gaping cavity staring back at him, yet the sight of it didn’t affect him as much as it used to. His remaining ribs on his damaged side looked relatively healthy and he was hopeful that his magic would handle the rest and seal off any weak sections in the future.

Nightmare had been struggling. The urge to remain at Error’s side was a constant temptation. He fully recognized that it was obsessive and unhealthy, but nonetheless, his mind provided a plethora of reasons why he should never leave his partner alone again. He knew they’d both been dealing with their resulting trauma inflicted upon them by their shared experience in the Rooms in their own ways. He wasn’t sure what he could possibly do to quell the urge to keep a persistent watch over the Destroyer. It had begun to deeply disturb him.

Upon opening his bedroom door, the Guardian was greeted by an empty bed. The light coming from the restroom cued him into where his lover had gone. He felt a smile curl the corners of his mouth as he made his way to the master bathroom. Error was made aware of Nightmare’s presence as he caught the Guardian’s reflection in the mirror. As the Guardian joined him in front of the double sinks, Error readily leaned into Nightmare’s side. He relished the tentacle which wound its way around his waist, the tip lightly teasing his iliac crest. Error wasn’t immune to Nightmare’s attention and he found himself blushing at the gaze of admiration reflected back at him.

“Hey, Err. I brought you a hot coffee,” Nightmare said, pressing a kiss to the Destroyer’s skull. “It’s on the bedside table. Big H added foam to the top. He said you liked it the last time he made it for you.”

“Heh, yeah, I do like it a l-lot,” Error hummed, wrapping his arms around the Guardian’s diaphragm. He released a long sigh of contentment. He was safe. They were safe. “I fe-eel like I’ve been pr-pretty spoiled lately. Does he ev-ever take a break?”

Nightmare chuckled. “I’ve tried to encourage him to rest in the past,” the Guardian said, recalling his lackey’s expression as he begrudgingly departed the kitchen. It hadn’t been ten minutes before Big H was back in front of the stove, though. “The truth is he can’t be dissuaded from partaking in the culinary arts. It’s a losing battle.”

Error snorted. “So when you say you ha-ave control of your team, you mean everyone but Big H?” He asked. Nightmare sighed.

“I do have control over my team,” Nightmare muttered. “H is an outlier. He’s a culinary genius, I couldn’t possibly stifle his passion. What kind of boss do you take me for?”

Error laughed and pleasant prickles radiated along Nightmare’s skull. The sound was something Nightmare would never tire of hearing. “I’m sure that’s the case,” Error said as he rolled his eye lights. “Though, I think you may have a soft spot for your employees.”

Nightmare scoffed. “I harbor no such thing. I’m strictly professional with my team.”

“Of course. I must’ve misjudged you.” Error leaned his skull against his larger partner’s sternum. He’d gotten used to the Guardian’s new features that he’d gained from the extremely close call in the Rooms. While he knew his lover felt out of touch with his new physique at times, Error never hesitated to let him know how attractive he was. Nightmare had become more angular in some places, dark sinews ran between some of his bone structures, and the veiny protrusions which had melded with his tentacles made for a harrowing display when they were extended fully, but regardless, Error found his form unparalleled. His lover was a menacingly handsome spectacle to behold.

“Yes, that’s it,” Nightmare agreed, his phalanges tracing patterns on his hips. “Speaking of cooking, have you eaten anything today?” He asked. Error stiffened slightly in response.

“M’ not hungry,” he muttered. Nightmare lifted the Destroyer’s chin so that he was peering into his eyes.

“You need to eat,” the Guardian said sternly. “If nothing else, you should have some broth.”

The Destroyer huffed out a complaint under his breath. “It’s not fair when you as-ask and look at me that way,” he grumbled, pulling away from his larger counterpart and sighed. “Fffucking fine. Fine. I’ll eat. Then I’m going for a walk.”

Nightmare’s eye light contracted as fear radiated within his diaphragm. “I’ll have time later on–”

“Alone.” At that, Nightmare closed his mouth, his expression and body language conveying immense concern. Error felt his soul ache at his partner’s intense emotional pain as it made itself known in his own soul. Error tiptoed to kiss the Guardian’s jaw before stating, “Night...I need a moment to myself. It won’t be long, I just need to clear my head.”

Nightmare nodded, but his expression reflected his hesitance. Error guided the Guardian’s hands to his sternum before connecting their mouths. “Night. Talk to me,” the Destroyer urged.

“I…I'm aware you’re healing well, but I’m worried that something will happen and I won’t be there when you need me,” he admitted. Error cupped his jaw and smiled softly.

“Hey. I lo-ove you,” Error said, nuzzling Nightmare’s face. “You know tha-a-at, right?”

The dark Guardian nodded and forced a smile for Error’s sake. His flashbacks consisted of the Destroyer’s disappearance, his debilitating injuries, and the guilt of not realizing sooner that not-Ink wasn’t dead. It didn’t matter that he genuinely hadn’t known–it felt like he should’ve been able to protect his lover, no matter what the cost. He hated that the creature had coerced magic-laden visions into Error’s skull through his eye socket. Sometimes, Nightmare absently thumbed the crack situated on the rim of Error’s upper eye socket, undoubtedly caused by the force the thing employed as he violated him. He didn’t ever want the Destroyer to experience anything like that ever again.

“I know,” he responded, being brought back to the present by the cadence of his own voice. “Enjoy yourself,” Nightmare said despite his instincts telling him to hold his lover close and guide him back to the bed where he was safest. He needed to loosen his hold on Error–he was certain this wasn’t considered healthy. He had to put effort into holding his tongue as he watched the tension leaving Error’s features. He desperately wanted to respect his lover’s wishes, but the sensation in his soul had yet to settle down. It felt like he was failing the Destroyer once again even though nothing suggested that this was the case. The idea that something might happen was just as terrifying.

“Thank you,” Error responded, relaxing into Nightmare’s side as he hugged him. The Guardian leaned down to steal a kiss before watching Error exit their room. Nightmare’s anxiety spiked, but that was his issue to deal with. He’d consider his options. He still had time before his partner went out, and if he needed to, he’d come up with a plan to ensure his other half’s safety.

Error drank a bowl of hot soup and thanked Big H before departing. It felt exhilarating considering the last few months had been spent recovering in bed in the dark master bedroom. Don’t get him wrong, he liked that room–it was his favorite, actually. It was an incredibly cozy space to unwind and rest his eyes after spending time downstairs. He’d been pestering Nightmare about his improvement and how much he wanted to experience the outdoors again and it had paid off. His lover had gone through hell, much like himself, so he understood where Nightmare’s hesitance originated from.

Time alone felt well earned after expending immense patience while his doting partner came to terms with him leaving unattended. Error inhaled the scent of the cool, autumnal breeze that brushed past his bones. Tree limbs and the peachy sky overhead greeted him as he began a leisurely stroll along a path that he and Nightmare had traversed multiple times before.

A whopping fifteen minutes had passed since Error left the castle walls and Nightmare was not doing well. He was experiencing full blown panic and he had no clue how he was keeping it together in front of his team. He needed…well, he wasn’t sure what he needed actually, but he knew he had to do something or else he’d claw all of the corruption from his bones and splatter the walls black.

“Killer.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I need to ask something of you.”

“Aight,” Killer responded, slipping on his black tee shirt. “What’s cookin’?”

“Error went for a walk. He went down the main path headed south. He’s not all of the way healed and I don’t want anything to happen to him. I’d like you to follow him, but since I told him I would let him go alone, can you stay hidden?”

“Makes sense, boss. Yeah, I gotcha covered. How about you take a load off an’ let me keep an eye out on your man crush.” Killer winked as he snapped his digits and disappeared from sight.

Error walked alongside a stream. He wasn’t looking to get his feet wet, but the sound of it was pleasant enough to draw him close.The breeze carried chilled air into his nasal aperture, dancing along his taste receptors as he exhaled. He felt like, for a moment, he could let go and allow his mind to drift. He was thankful that the outdoors didn’t resemble the Rooms place that shall not be mentioned. He’d been working on blocking out the incessant thoughts of their imprisonment in the dimension. Before he recognized the onslaught of uninvited memories. As he traversed through a tunnel, his hands began to tremble.

The echo of moving water…it was everywhere, nowhere, in his skull and permeating the fibers of his very being–

Error abruptly changed the direction and headed briskly for the trees. He gritted his teeth as his panic rose, thoroughly upset at himself for not being better at accepting that he was no longer there. He wanted to enjoy this–was that too much to ask? He jogged until he couldn’t hear the echoes any longer. The Destroyer felt awful, but he was determined to remedy things himself. He couldn’t always have the Guardian of Negativity at his side to kiss it better, could he? That was unrealistic. He’d torn apart worlds not so long ago, and here he was plagued by all encompassing fear at the sound of flowing water. It made him feel immense shame at how emotional he became over water, but he couldn't calm down. He planted his hands on each side of his skull, hoping to block out any remnants of what that fucking awful water from the Rooms sounded like–he hated it!

‘Stop, stopsTopStOp! PleAse make it stop, please…please.’

He wasn’t certain how long he’d been crouched down in the fallen leaves covering the forest floor, but eventually his mind and soul balanced out. His breathing calmed, and his hands had stopped shivering. Slowly, he got back to his feet and surveyed the forest. He could now focus on the present…he could continue his walk now. He had control over this. This was his walk, damn it, and he was going to persist.

“Error?”

The Destroyer whirled around, his soul threatening to separate from his rib cage as he came across the one being he’d do anything to not see at the moment. Fear began to culminate in his chest once again as he was forced to confront the Creator. He had no idea why Ink would be here or for what purpose. It felt wrong.

“What in the everloving fUck are y0u doing here?” Error spat. His face burned as an outflux of magic rushed to his extremities. Ink appeared a bit uncertain momentarily, but his expression morphed into one much more familiar to the Destroyer. If he had to guess, the Creator’s paints had either worn off, or maybe he hadn’t bothered taking them at all. He’d seen the results of both scenarios before and it sent a chill down Error’s spinal column. At least Ink on his paints proved to be semi-predictable. This was what Error called “uncharted territory”.

“I was thinking…I’ve been trying hard to remember some things. You know how finicky my memory is,” Ink said with an manic air about him. Error pinned him with a glare. “Hey, um, I get that you’re upset–”

Error backed up a few paces. “You don’t know the f-fucking half of it,” Error shot back, not willing to indulge Ink’s desire for conversation. He wasn’t interested in humoring the being who’d been a source of stress for him for as long as he could remember. He desired to be anywhere but here.

“Maybe I don’t fully understand,” Ink stated, holding his hands up for Error to see. “You can tell me, you know? I’ll listen. I know I’ve done some incredibly awful things. I’d like to talk to you, nothing more.”

“Heh, how about no,” Error said. “I came out here for sol-solitude and here you are wasting my time, yet a-again. Why do you al-al-always make this about you?”

Ink’s expression reflected his unwillingness to accept that answer. Something about his demeanor changed. It was as though a switch had been flipped.“I don’t think you understand, so let me make this crystal clear,” Ink offered, his voice suddenly uncharacteristically steely. There was an edge to his tone that had Error backtracking mentally, but physically, he froze up. His mind provided a surge of memories as he attempted to stay ahead of the situation. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, because I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not who everyone thought I was.” Ink strode forward and Error took multiple steps back before his spine impacted with a tree trunk. Ink planted his hands on either side of Error's skull, his ghostly eye lights boring into his own.

Error’s voice came out far quieter than he'd anticipated. “I said I don't wa-ant to hear it," Error hissed. "aNd d-don't tOuch me!"

“Still dramatic as the day we met, I see,” Ink stated. “ Tch, I'm sure if I’d actually touched you, I would've received a much bigger reaction than whatever that was. No need for theatrics, dear Error.”

Error opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His mind shifted between superimposing not-Ink’s face over the Creator’s visage and reverting back to Ink’s currently stony gaze. Error felt as though he was going to die. He wasn’t convinced fully that he wasn’t about to meet his demise. His healing might have been for nothing if Ink lost his cool, so Error held his tongue.

Ink’s expression softened slightly as he began. “I’ve wanted to know you…I mean really know you for so, so long,” he admitted. “That was my plan–I was going to prove to you that we could coexist,” Ink said, a manic sincerity in his voice that chilled Error to the core. “I fell skull-first into it. You became so much more to me than merely my antithesis.”

Error wanted to tell him to fuck himself. He wanted to pluck the Creator’s head off of his tattooed cervical vertebrae, but his body wouldn’t obey. The multiverse was acting against him as he stood there, unable to move.

“I’ve watched you for a long, long time now. I’m sure you didn’t realize it, but I was there…more often than not, actually. I shouldn’t have been in the Antivoid all the times that I was, but I couldn’t help myself. You've never recognized how desirable you are–it was a task in and of itself practicing restraint all of the times I witnessed you in compromising positions.”

‘Shut up. Stop talking. Shut the fuck up.’ Error was trembling and his eye socket ached as he relived the visions he’d been shown.

“I knew how wrong it was, but I couldn’t stop. I was so deep in it and I knew that it was a fruitless endeavor to stay away. So I didn’t try to,” the Creator said. “I wanted to remedy things between us, but it felt unattainable, so I settled for fantasizing about how it would feel to start over with you.”

Ink sighed. “Things got a little out of hand, I’ll admit. I was hoping that after the last fight between us I could apologize. I had a gift and…I knew I'd hurt you, even through the haze of red paint. I don't like fighting you–you know that," Ink growled, before his voice settled into its default neutral tone. "I know it wasn’t easy for you in that dimension. That place scarred you,” he said, looking at Error’s diaphragm. The Destroyer was seeing splotches of color in his vision and he felt immense regret as Nightmare’s earlier concern came flooding back to him. “I thought maybe you were gone for good. I lost it…went on a killing spree for the first time–I thought that maybe you’d be proud of me,” Ink smiled, his teeth chalky white in the flecks of light filtering through the canopy above. “And when that didn’t solve my mental anguish, I killed myself. I don’t remember how many times I did it, but at some point, it brought me mental clarity. It was all worth it in the end.”

Error shook his head. Fear burned in his soul, sharp and overwhelming. Ink tilted his skull as he observed Error. “I want to remedy things between us. I’ve treated you so badly, done so many reprehensible things…” Ink’s eye lights took on a distant quality momentarily, before zeroing back in on Error. “There’s so much I’ve wanted to say–” Ink grunted, his sentence coming to an abrupt halt. He hastily withdrew his hands and gripped his upper arm. Black fluid trickled down around an angry red construct jutting out of the bone. Ink glared at the soul who dared to attack him. For his efforts to spot his assailant, he received another gleaming bone construct to the rib cage, which nearly brought him to his knees.

“Error,” a gravelly voice caught his attention. The speaker was close to him, but he couldn’t see them; his vision was occluded by glitches. The breeze felt weighty yet soft against his cranium as he focused as hard as he could on not blacking out. He was genuinely afraid of what the Creator might do if he felt unconscious. “The fuck were ya doin’ to him?” Nightmare’s henchman snarled, more gleaming, red bone constructs apparating and ready if the Creator attempted to fight back. Ink’s pale eye lights bore daggers into Killer’s empty eye sockets as he blocked his view of the Destroyer.

“We were merely chatting. Don’t you think it’s inconsiderate to interrupt?” Ink asked, tilting his skull to the side.

“Yeah, okay. Listen–either you go back to your scribble sphere willingly or I’m gonna give you a reason to,” he said with a smile, withdrawing two honed and polished daggers from his sweatshirt pockets. “Your choice.”

Ink’s upper lip curled as he sneered at the bastard who cut his rendezvous with Error short. He had more to say, but he’d been caught off guard and he didn’t want Killer to contact Nightmare or the others. Dream would probably find a way to torture him endlessly without lifting a phalange, knowing how happy he was to be on semi-speaking terms with his brother once again. He was also aware that Dream was keenly unhappy with him upon finding out how his creation sprees had impacted the multiverse. Ink sighed.

“So, when did you begin to actually care for anything? I thought Nightmare had you thoroughly drugged and compliant,” Ink said as he tugged one of the bone constructs out of his arm before letting it fall to the forest floor. “Humor me–what changed exactly?”

Killer’s smile wavered. “You're one to talk–so doping yourself up on fake emotions isn’t takin’ drugs? Heh, yeah, okay.”

Ink shrugged as he tugged the other bone construct out of his anatomy. “It’s just that you’re essentially Nightmare’s doll–a plaything, really. It’s truly unfortunate.” The Creator smirked as Killer’s demeanor shifted from one of controlled stoicism to mild irritation. “I’d think that you’d want to be something more than a puppet. It’s ironic that you’re protecting Error–he’s definitely got a doll of you strung up in his Antivoid at this very moment. You’re merely a pawn to him as well. It seems like you’re never the one pulling the strings, doesn’t it?”

Killer scoffed. “You talk too much. By the way, ya wouldn’t know loyalty if it hit ya in the fuckin’ face. I’m not about to explain the concept to you either–I know Dream and countless others have already tried. Now leave. This is your only warning,” Killer said, his smile morphing into an ominous expression as he stood in front of Error. Ink rolled his eye lights and stepped into a dark, glistening opening in the ground. Killer waited until he was certain the Creator had left the area before tending to the Destroyer.

“Error? Hey, you ok?” He asked, observing the glitches swarming the other’s eye sockets. “I’m gonna touch ya–I know you don’t like it, but I need to get us back to the castle.”

‘It’s Killer. Thank the Stars.’ Error nodded, hoping that it was clear that he’d cling to him if it meant getting the hell out of dodge. He meant to grab onto Killer’s shoulders but must have ended up collapsing into him, because he face-planted into the shoulder of his sweatshirt. Reality shifted around them and the Destroyer’s endurance finally gave way as he was dragged into unconsciousness.

“Hey–Big H, Dust,” Killer hissed out in a hushed tone as he readjusted his grip on the Destroyer so he could hold him comfortably. “Fellas, I need some help here.”

Dust promptly pulled a blanket out of a wooden chest and spread it out onto the floor. Big H grabbed a pillow and the team settled Error onto the ground, trying to make him comfortable. Dust retrieved a cold pack and healing syrup concentrate from the kitchen cabinets.

“Ah, shit,” Dust uttered. “I’ll go get the boss.”

“Shh, hold on,” Killer stated firmly. “Let’s get Error situated. Give me a moment to get him set up. Nightmare’s gonna lose it if he sees him like this. Give it a minute and then let’s call him.”

“Is he injured?” Big H asked. Killer shook his skull.

“No, he’s fine. Ink cornered him a ways out in the woods,” he explained. “I don’t know what that freaky fucker wanted but he was getting up close and personal with him.”

Dust’s eyes narrowed before he asked, “What exactly was he doing?”

“When I arrived, he had him cornered,” Killer said. “Had a hand on each side of him just looming there. So I shot him.” Killer smirked at the memory.

Big H felt anger burning bright in his soul at the implications of Ink pinning Error against a tree. Error’s anatomy was still healing. He was planning to make more stew for the Destroyer “So…we are gonna tell boss soon, right?”

“Mhmm, one thing at a time, man. Let’s not lay it all on ‘im at once,” Killer said. “Not sayin’ we should sugarcoat things, but I don’t think info-dumping is gonna help either.”

Dust shrugged, his hood falling over his eye sockets as he chuckled. “M’kay. Hopin’ boss is feelin’ kind today.” He strolled down the hall, muttering to himself as his most frequent hallucination pestered him about his past sins.

Killer took the tincture of syrup and trickled the substance past Error’s teeth. He had experience with team members passing out enough times to know that stabilizing magic levels was key. Sweet relief washed over the second in command as Error eventually twitched and groaned. “Hey there, you’re back at the castle. Can ya hear me?”

Error fought to open his eye sockets. He wanted to sleep, but he also didn’t want to scare the others with his lack of response. He wasn’t interested in scaring his lover, in particular, who had already been hesitant to let him out of his sight. The Destroyer squinted up at Killer, whose silhouette was still fuzzy, and doubled along the edges. Error tried to talk, but no sound came from him. That was enough to let Killer know he was doing alright.

“There we go. Hey. You’re safe. I know you’re probably feelin’ rough. Can you open your mouth?”

Error nodded almost imperceptibly. Killer drew some up into the dropper and squeezed a helping into Error’s parted teeth. The Destroyer appeared conflicted by the flavor. Killer chuckled at the Destroyer’s furrowed brow. “Aight, now let’s get the boss. Dust, ya want to do the honors?”

There was a drawn out sigh from somewhere down the corridor. Killer could make out the middle finger that was definitely for him as his teammate retreated. Dust slipped his hands into his pockets and approached their leader’s office located two hallways over. He knocked on the large, wooden doors and awaited a response. Nightmare never was one to respond well to being disturbed while awake, so bracing for impact was instinctual.

“Boss.” Dust said firmly, listening for a response. He couldn’t deny that Nightmare had become far more imposing in his new form. Dust had retained a healthy amount of caution as he opened the rightmost door and approached the seated silhouette. It seemed their leader’s recent anxiety had finally worn him out enough that he’d fallen asleep at his desk. “Boss,” Dust called out louder this time. He narrowly missed being struck by a sharpened tentacle that impaled the floor inches from his being. Dust released a quiet ‘shit’ as the Guardian stirred, his gaze distant as his skull snapped up to behold his uninvited guest.

“Where’s Error?” Nightmare commanded rather than asked and Dust waved him in the direction of the recovering Destroyer.

Nightmare clasped a hand to his sternum as he registered the increasing pang in his soul. Upon seeing Error, he gathered him up within his tentacles without hesitation. The Guardian teleported into the master bedroom and undressed Error, inspecting his frame for any sign of injury. When he found none, he breathed a sigh of relief and settled his lover into bed, tugging the duvet up over him to keep him warm. He caressed Error’s cranium to soothe his distress, yet his own soul still ached tremendously.

“Err,” Nightmare said, his voice wavering slightly as he watched his partner’s eye sockets try to open. However, it was a fruitless endeavor.

“He’s recovering from passin’ out, boss. Might take some time for him to fully come back around,” Killer said. He brought a couple pain pills and some water to ease the soreness that followed losing consciousness. “I’ll give you the details.”

Reluctantly Nightmare took a seat in the comfy, blue upholstered alongside the bed and his nightstand. One of his tentacles sought out Error’s hand. The Destroyer gave it a light squeeze and the Guardian felt slightly more centered. Killer took a seat on a dark, leather pouf and sighed.

“He ran into Ink out there. I dunno what exactly was being said, but Ink had backed him up against a tree. The fucker was way too close–I ended up shooting him twice. We got out, but not before Error fell unconscious,” Killer said, before glancing over at Error. The Destroyer’s eye sockets were fully closed once more and the gentle rise and fall of the covers indicated that he’d drifted back off to sleep. Turning his attention back to the Guardian, Killer could tell he was livid.

“Hey–I know you’re angry. I’m pissed, too. He didn’t lay a phalange on him, though. I promise,” Killer offered in a reassuring tone. His cervical vertebrae prickled as tarry, veiny protrusions metastasized from Nightmare’s tentacles. He’d always been aware of the extent of their leader’s temper, but seeing fury surge forth paired with the otherworldly changes was an increasingly uncanny experience. “Do ya want me to wait here with him? Do you need to step out for a minute or–”

“Summon Dream and Cross,” the Guardian demanded. “I’ll have the door open when I want their company. I need time to process this.”

“Of course. Here if ya need me, boss,” Killer responded before he teleported away. The residual shape of his silhouette disappeared as his magic faded from the air. Nightmare felt his thoughts spiraling as he stood, the weight of the multiverse threatening to crush his diaphragm as violent thoughts infiltrated his mind. He was only tugged out of the chaotic maelstrom when he felt a gentle touch near the base of one of his tentacles. Warmth flooded his diaphragm as he turned to his partner.

“N-Night,” Error said softly. Nightmare could tell he was still out of it.

“I won’t let that bastard near you–never again,” the Guardian snarled, his eye light leaking excess magic into the air. His anger was palpable. “If I’d been there-”

“I know,” the Destroyer responded, squeezing the tentacle in his hand with more pressure than before. Nightmare did his best to cast his anger aside as he climbed into bed beside his lover. Error pressed an eager, slightly disoriented kiss to the Guardian’s mouth. The concentrated magic serum that the team gave him had his levels rising to a normal range, something that was palpable to him since the veil of fatigue was being lifted from his frame. Nightmare’s posture was stiff, but the Destroyer would work with what he was given. His lover hadn’t fed from him in far too long and both of them could use the relief it granted.

“Feed. You haven’t in s-so long.,” Error said, his phalanges exploring the divets of Nightmare’s cervical vertebrae. “I want to for-forget. Let me feel you, Night.”

That last sentence sent a chill through the Guardian. Flashes of the Rooms took him by surprise and he took a moment to wait them out. When they finally passed, Nightmare sighed and surrounded his slighter partner with his tentacles and pressed their sternums together. It wasn’t Error’s fault that the Creator happened to be in his realm, but the fear of what could have happened thrummed in the Guardian’s soul. It embittered his thoughts, tempting him to say something he’d likely regret later because, ultimately, he was frustrated with himself. He wished he could regulate his emotions more effectively.

He took a deep breath and released it, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he focused on deepening the kiss he shared with Error. Nightmare readily consumed the negativity emanating from Error’s soul, quickly finding it to be heady enough to make his thoughts hazy and his lust surge. He maneuvered the Destroyer onto his back and grinded his formed magic against his pelvis. Error responded eagerly, spreading his thighs, and readily accepting Nightmare’s length as the other’s pubic symphysis connected with his ecto. The Guardian uttered a throaty groan as he gripped his lover’s hips and set a languid pace. Between the intake of negativity, the Destroyer’s climbing pleasure, and the blissful sensations overwhelming Nightmare’s being, the tension within his frame snapped. Releasing a choked groan, the Guardian hunched over Error, holding him close as climax washed over him.

The Destroyer was a spectacle to behold. While Nightmare’s nerves were still burning with wrath, he would be a fool not to appreciate this. Error was all his. His. He bore his teeth as he envisioned Ink cornering his gorgeous partner. He didn’t care if he touched him, he wanted to tear his spine from the rest of his anatomy for daring to exist in his lover’s presence. Nightmare reached between Error’s thighs and carefully thumbed the Destroyer’s clit, trying to rid his thoughts of the Creator’s likeness in favor of hearing the other’s sweet vocalizations.

“Yes, Nighty please-”

“You’re close, aren’t you, love?” Nightmare asked, his voice a rich, multifaceted alto against the Destroyer’s skull. Error nodded as his frame tensed. He teetered on the very edge, his thighs trembling as Nightmare thrusted into him. The angle felt deeper, filling him up and gliding against his hypersensitive insides. “I’ve got you,” the Guardian stated, the possessiveness in his voice causing Error to shiver. “I’ll tear apart the multiverse if it means protecting you. You’re mine.”

Error experienced a full body shiver. “Mhmm, l-like that, k-keep going,” Error pleaded, his phalanges biting into shoulders. Nightmare’s mouth watered as he nipped along his lover’s neck bones, the taste of his magic crackling against his tongue as he teased the glowing joints. Nightmare slowed his pace, teasing his partner as he traced along his swollen clit, alternating the pressure of his touch as he observed Error getting closer to finishing. Error groaned. “You ass-asshole, don’t you dare play with me.”

The Guardian chuckled and applied a sharper bite to Error’s cervical vertebrae. Error gasped, his insides tightening. Nightmare hummed in appreciation as he watched where they were connected, the sensitivity of orgasm wearing off little by little. While he enjoyed knotting his lover, when he didn’t he could continue actively fucking him. He’d always enjoyed a bit of pain play, so over-stimulation was no stranger to the Guardian. “Mm, I know. I should claim you out in the open. That would surely put to rest who you belong to, wouldn't it?” Nightmare snarled, reveling in the way Error tensed, his breath hitched at the suggestion. Error’s choked moan spurred his partner on. “That’s it, Err. My lovely Destroyer. Cum for me, darling.” He increased the intensity of his phalanges between Error’s legs while grinding into the heat of his rich, blue ecto.

“N-Night, fu-uck me like th-that, yes!” Error praised, his spine bowing as his partner worked him through a soul quaking orgasm. The intensity was enough to push Nightmare over the edge once more, and he bit down on the junction between Error’s neck and shoulder as he came. Time stood still as they floated through the haze of pleasure that proceeded.

Upon remembering the order he’d given Killer, Nightmare reluctantly pulled out and sat on the edge of the bed, annoyed by his earlier insistence. He knew the matter was urgent, but the last thing he wanted to do after sex with Error was talk about the Creator. Sighing, he turned to let Error know that they needed to freshen up.

After a relatively quick shower, Nightmare and Error ensured there was adequate air flow in the bedroom and lit a candle for good measure. They were hyper aware of the scent of sex lingering in the air and while it didn’t bother Nightmare, Error wasn’t keen on letting everyone else know what they’d been up to. When the bed was made and Error had adjusted his outfit, Nightmare opened the door to the master suite.

Dream and Cross had arrived as soon as they could. Cross nodded his head in greeting and Dream offered a neutral smile to his brother and Error. “We were a few AUs away. Apologies if we kept you waiting,” the Guardian of Positivity stated. Leaning against one of the master bed’s frame posts, Nightmare held up a hand.

“You did not. Error was resting and I didn’t want to disturb him.” Error chuckled internally at that. Yes, he’d definitely been resting, not being fucked through the bed.

“So, something happened,” Cross said, looking between Error and Nightmare. When Error pinched his nasal ridge at the memory and remained silent, the dark Guardian took initiative.

“The Creator cornered him in the forest,” he said, not hesitating to get straight to the point. “I’m currently searching for reasons why I shouldn’t pay him a visit at this very instant.”

Dream’s soul lurched. “Ink cornered you?” He asked, not quite processing the statement until it left his own mouth. Error nodded.

“Yeah.” Error chuckled at the sensation of fear returning to his chest. It was a resonating, deep ache that spread like wildfire through his mana lines. “He detailed all of the f-fucked up shit he’s done…at least the portion that involved me. Knowing him, there’s prob-probably a lot left unsaid.” He swallowed, though there was no moisture in his mouth. His vision blurred at the edges. “He’s been watch-watching me for a long, long time.”

“He–I’m sorry, he what?” The Guardian of Positivity ground out, his eye lights flaring a molten gold. The bed post snapped as one of Nightmare’s tentacles seized the wooden column hard enough for the wood to splinter.

“He’s been stalking me,” Error stated, his tone almost emotionless as he said it.

Cross wasn’t sure what to say, but he attempted to involve himself in the conversation regardless. “He told you so?” He asked.

“Yes,” the Destroyer responded without hesitation. “From what he said, he was in-interested in pursuing some kind of relationship,” Error said, the idea making his soul shift uneasily. “I don’t…I never got that impression from Ink in the past. It doesn’t m-make sense.”

“I have something I need to address,” Dream said, his tone conveying how infuriated the typically level-headed Guardian had become at this revelation. “Nightmare, Cross, please stay here with Error. I’ll handle this.”

“Wait, you’re going alone?” Cross asked. He appeared instantly on edge at the idea of the Guardian of Positivity confronting the clearly unstable Creator.

“I am. I’ll be back very shortly.”

“Wait,” Nightmare commanded. Dream did, but his eye lights reflected his waning patience. Nightmare’s soul resonated with pride at his sibling’s fury. Having someone else stepping in to defend Error felt right. “If the situation becomes dangerous,” he began, reaching into his pocket to grasp a small glass vial of a black liquid. “Shatter this. We’ll be there to assist.”

Nightmare recognized the smile in Dream’s eyes even if it didn’t extend to the rest of his features. “Thank you. I’ll do that.” He then phased out of existence, his silhouette remaining for a few seconds as the multiverse registered that the Guardian of Positivity had teleported elsewhere. Cross felt concern bubbling up within his chest, but he wouldn’t overstep. Sighing, he turned to Error and his boss.

“By the way, Big H is done cooking. I think it would do both of you good to eat something.”

Nightmare nodded in agreement as he dared to glance back at the mangled foot-board. “That sounds nice.” He offered a hand to Error, who took it with no hesitation. They followed Cross down to the kitchen where the rest of the group was waiting. They were immensely relieved to see Error up and about again and the atmosphere became a little less tense as they joined them at the table.

Dream strode through the hallways of Ink’s most extensive structure within the Doodlesphere. In the past, the Creator’s infrastructures seemed novel and intricate, but now all he felt was annoyance at the excessiveness of it all. He called out for his former teammate, listening for an answer as he traversed the many corridors and rooms that Ink filled with canvases and AU blueprints. As he approached a large, domed space with a coiling light descending from the highest point in the ceiling, he caught sight of Ink.

It was no surprise he was gripping his oversized brush, the item that made him recognizable throughout most of the multiverse. Dream had come to despise the brush before he realized that the brush was only an extension of the actual individual he couldn’t stand. Approaching him at a brisk pace, Dream narrowed his eye sockets and announced his presence.

“I expect an explanation as to why you thought it was appropriate to approach Error,” the Guardian of Positivity said, his tone drenched in exasperation. “What is wrong with you? Why would you do that? It’s like you think it’s funny to spit in my face after I worked so hard to free them–”

“Dream, you know I can’t follow you when you speak so quickly,” Ink responded. “I had an opportunity to tell him what I’ve done, so I did.” The Creator slid his brush into the sheath fastened over his shoulder and diagonally along his back. “It doesn’t suit me to pretend to be like the rest of you when I’m nothing at all like you. I’ve actually felt something lately, although I’m not sure how to define it. So I told Error what I did and it seemed to scratch the itch. It’s just that simple.”

Dream was irate. “You know what? You’re such a selfish piece of shit,” he spat, marching forward to emphasize how serious the situation had become. “Why? They just went through a life-changing, years-long experience and you decided that it was prime time to tell Error that you stalked him for eons. You’re insufferable! You haven’t changed a bit–you just wanted to get them back to fuel your desire to control Error. Well, newsflash, Ink–you really fucked up this time.”

Ink’s expression was unreadable. It made Dream’s anger flare. “Literally nothing I do now can salvage your reputation, heh, not that I want to any longer. Your lack of concern for anyone but yourself is the reason you will never cultivate real relationships. I’ve tried so hard with you and what have I gotten out of it? Oh, yeah, countless years that I could have been rekindling my relationship with my sibling–wasted!”

“He didn’t want your company and he still doesn’t. You have so many hang ups, Dream, the biggest one being that you don’t know when to throw in the towel. You’ve never been good at reading a room–especially when you weren’t wanted,” Ink said, taking a few measured steps forward. “I considered myself a good friend. I was honest about my lack of emotional intelligence. I sought out what felt good and rewarding because that gave my life purpose. Just because I never had feelings attached to the activities I partook in doesn’t mean I disregarded others entirely.”

“You’ve never tried,” Dream said. “And you weren’t transparent–you manipulated me and you’ve manipulated countless others to get what you wanted. I believed in you, and you hurt me, you motherfucker!” The Guardian of Positivity shouted. “You knew my brother was out there since the moment I met you and you lied to my face. What have I ever done to you to be used like this?”

Ink chuckled. “How laughable. You’ve always been too sensitive. No, I protected you. You may never see it, but your shortcomings were so evident to me that I took initiative to save you from yourself.”

“I hate you,” Dream snarled. The Creator smiled.

“I’m well aware.”

Dream was the first to throw a punch. Ink’s teeth painfully clacked together as Dream’s knuckles made impact with his lower jaw. It left the Creator reeling. Ink looked at his former teammate, genuine shock written all over his face. He’d never known Dream to react with violence, but maybe this was the Guardian’s breaking point. The Creator delivered a sharp backhand to Dream’s face, his knuckles striking the other’s temple hard enough to throw Dream off kilter. Dream clutched the left side of his face, keenly aware of his eye socket already swelling from the weight of the blow.

Clutching the vial Nightmare had given him, Dream revived the fight, one of his hands gripping Ink’s cervical vertebrae as he snarled in fury. He threw the vial down and it bounced once on the cobblestone before breaking. Black fluid oozed out over the cobblestone, and Ink’s eye lights contracted into pinpoints as realization dawned on him. They were about to have company–he hadn’t planned for Dream to summon backup. In a swift movement, he wrapped his phalanges around Dream’s skull and slammed the back of the Guardian’s cranium into the stone walls of the corridor. Dream’s grip on his neck faltered as his head made impact with the unforgiving surface. Ink was able to slip away, stepping into the circle of pooling, black fluid that opened up in the opposing wall. Dream’s vision spun as he staggered and he reached out to plant a hand on the slick wall to support himself. It was painted red, the texture uncanny as realization dawned on him–Ink’s attack had been hard enough to crack his skull. Nausea suddenly gripped him and he bent over instinctively as the taste of acrid fluid intruded the back of his mouth.

“Dream?!”

Cross. That was Cross’ voice. Dream was grateful to know that he wasn’t alone any longer. He processed the blur of white and black garments and not much else–he shut his uninjured eye socket as an immense wave of nausea had him bending forward. A considerable amount of magic splashed onto the ground, narrowly missing Cross’ feet.

Dream was ushered through a portal, the burn of magic in his mouth reminding him that the situation had devolved into an utter shit-show. He knew he’d instigated the fight, but he couldn’t hold himself back. He’d put up with the Creator for far too long. He’d always wanted to punch the smug expression off of Ink’s face, so he considered his mission a success. He managed to smile through the pain in his cranium and the haze of concerned voices surrounding him as they returned to Nightmare’s abode.

Error wasn’t sure how to process what he was seeing. Dream had just been led back onto the premises with a broken eye socket and a fractured skull. The Guardian of Positivity’s eye socket was completely swollen shut and they’d just gotten the steady trickle of marrow and magic to stop leaking from his head wound. Cross was distraught at the state of his boyfriend. Nightmare relied on separating his emotions from rational thought in the present moment as he doled out orders to the team. Dust retrieved more of the concentrated syrup from the kitchen and Killer steadied Dream’s skull with one hand, and with the other he applied just enough pressure to the crack in his skull to encourage the wound to clot.

Error didn’t know exactly what to do with himself, but it felt strange not to be doing anything in a situation like this. He went to the fridge to grab a glass of water and a bottle of pain reliever before making his way into the fray.

“Hey…a-are you thirsty?” He asked softly, and Dream opened an eye socket in response. He nodded gently before being gently chided by Killer who told him to hold his head still. “I have some pain meds…is it alright to give him the-e-ese?” He asked, looking at the other team members.

“Go on ahead,” Dust replied. Error popped open the bottle and retrieved two pills before holding them to Dream’s mouth. He followed them up with the glass of cold water and the Guardian of Positivity appeared relieved as he drank. He downed the whole glass and uttered a soft ‘thank you’.

After he’d contributed, Error removed himself so he wouldn’t be in the way. He still felt the aftershocks of his earlier experience with the Creator and he was now coming to terms with the present conundrum. He never thought he’d see the day when the Creator attacked the Guardian of Positivity. He didn’t like that he was wrong in thinking that Ink wouldn’t injure someone who used to be so devoted to him. It made his soul twist at the idea.

When Dream was stabilized and moved to a ground level bedroom with Cross, the atmosphere settled down into something more manageable. Error felt deeply unsettled at Dream’s injuries, especially since they occurred shortly after his own confrontation with Ink. He didn’t want to think too much about it or he may lose control over his emotions. He’d had enough of that lately and he was determined to save Nightmare the grief of having to console him. The Guardian had more than enough on his plate and yet he insisted on taking on more. Error wasn’t sure how he managed at times, but it was admirable of his lover to persist through these trying times, nonetheless.

Error sat down at the dining table and watched the flicker of the candles sitting upon the centerpiece. The room was dim and the conversation from a few rooms over kept him company as he allowed himself to let his mind drift. Sometimes he felt like he’d detached from his bones–almost as if he was hovering somewhere above in the shadows, watching his frame respond from the outside. He was reminded of how painfully aware they’d have to be in the Rooms, constantly alert and ready to react to any sign of a threat. His soul was still primed and ready to respond, and his mind would retreat to that hellscape at the most inopportune of times. During times like these, feeling detached wasn’t an issue, but then again, he’d rather be able to control when it happened. It was inconvenient and unsettling, but he figured it had something to do with the lingering stress his memories caused.

Blue visited Dream. He’d been back in his own AU for some time, but Cross had let him know of the situation and Blue responded quickly. Error figured that the guardsman was going to be spending the night in the castle, considering he hadn’t emerged from the room Dream was laid up in. Neither had Cross for that matter. Blue was a loyal friend and the Destroyer was sure he was discussing what the future held for the Creator now that Ink had decided to say ‘fuck it’ to coming to terms with his idiotic decisions.

While some part of him wished Ink had genuinely seen the flaws in his past behavior, another part of him was glad he was showing his true colors. The unhinged, selfish and abstract thinking that led him to stalk Error for eons led the Destroyer to the conclusion that he couldn’t be reasoned with. Error pinched his nasal ridge between two phalanges and sighed. To say he wasn’t sure what to do with himself currently was the understatement of the century.

A deep, multi-layered voice interrupted his thoughts and Error was all too grateful for it. “Hey. Would you join me in bed?”

Error nodded and wrapped his arms around Nightmare’s diaphragm, distinctly aware of the pent up tension in the dark Guardian’s frame. Error was picked up effortlessly by his lover and he instinctively wrapped his legs around Nightmare’s midsection. His cheeks heated up as they walked past Dust and Killer and ascended the stairs. He hid his face in Nightmare’s cervical vertebrae and received a hum of amusement.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked. Error shrugged in response before slumping in his grip. “It’s been a stressful day. Let me take care of you, Err,” Nightmare purred, his voice a lovely baritone against Error’s skull. Error couldn’t help but shiver. He would do anything to be immersed in Nightmare’s protective aura, surrounded by his semi-sentient tentacles and pressed snugly against his sternum. He relaxed into the Guardian’s hold as they approached their bedroom.

“What about you?” Error asked, his voice hoarse and glitchy from exhaustion. Nightmare hummed, holding him just a bit closer in response.

“This is what I want. Taking care of you brings me more comfort than you can imagine,” Nightmare explained, well aware that the Destroyer was concerned for his well being. “Your concern is appreciated, but I’d be happier if we can keep you relaxed.”

Error huffed. “I’m not going to br-break, Night. Promise you’ll let me know if-if you need anything. You will, right?”

Nightmare smiled softly. “I will. Don’t stress over that now.” The Guardian pressed a kiss to Error’s fractured eye socket before closing their bedroom door with a tentacle.

Ever since Dream’s encounter with the Creator, Blue became a regular at the castle. Outside of visiting with Dream, he’d either be cooking with Big H or sparring with Dust. The Swaptale resident had a surprisingly dark sense of humor, which keyed the Guardian of Negativity into why he got along with Error so well. Maybe Error had rattled some screws loose in the guardsman when he’d abducted him. Error seemed to have that influence upon those he had prolonged experience with (not that Nightmare was complaining).

Blue had spoken to the Destroyer more often recently than he had in years. It was refreshing, and even though it occasionally inspired jealous emotions within him, Nightmare accepted that Error needed more than his company alone. The guy lived in isolation for so long, he deserved normalcy and meaningful connections. Error was currently working on a knitting project in the living room, sipping on a mug filled with hot cocoa and his glasses perched on his nasal ridge.

Meanwhile, in the gym, Blue and Dust were invested in their sparring session. Dust learned quickly that he didn’t need to tone it down for Blue–in fact, the guardsman made him work for a win. Dust was elated to have met such a skilled opponent.

Blue’s visage was coated in sweat, his stocky bones trembling with excess magic as it flowed freely throughout his mana lines. Dust didn’t suppress his own magic levels seeing that Blue was letting his own magic unfurl into its fullest potency. Dust was reminded that he needed to stay alert as his opponent struck, swiping him off of his feet. Dust’s tailbone hit the ground and he hissed out a curse. Dust rolled out of Blue’s way as one of his fists made impact on the mats where he’d previously just been. Dust was ensnared in those electric eye lights as the guardsman stood once again. Dust did the same. When Blue made his move, Dust snagged his forearm, and twisted it behind his back. He used the brunt of his weight to pin him against the floor. Blue hit the mat, laughing between heavy breaths and an exclamation of, “Alright, alright, you got me!”

“Mhmm,” Dust hummed, straddling Blue as he let go of his arm. “You owe me, pretty boy.”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten,” Blue huffed and rolled his eye lights. “Are you going to let me up or am I destined to be your chair from now on?”

“Dunno. It’s a tempting offer,” Dust stated, running his phalanges along the other’s clothed ribs. Blue squealed. “What’re you going to do about it?”

“Stop! No tickling! Sto-hahOP!” Blue yelled, overtaken by laughter. He writhed underneath Dust, eventually rolling so that he was belly up to face the other’s attack head on. Dust doubled down, though, phalanges skittering over his sternum and dipping lower to get at his spine. Blue set his feet against the floor before lifting his hips, lurching Dust forward, which he realized wasn’t super well thought out as their skulls connected. The sound that Dust made was worth it.

“Fucking ouch,” Dust cursed, laughing all the while. He rolled off of Blue, thoroughly amused by his antics.

“Tch. That was naughty of you,” Blue accused, rubbing his aching forehead. “Maybe I’ll just take that cake slice upstairs for myself. What do you think about that?”

“I think you’re bluffing,'' Dust hummed, propping his skull up in his hand as he rested his elbow on the sweat-slick mat. Blue’s eye lights were stars flecked with azure pigments. There were a few bruises littering Blue’s jaw, but they accented his flushed zygomatic bones so nicely. “That’s what I think,” Dust stated quietly enough that Blue leaned in to hear him.

“Is there a reason why we’re whispering right now?” Blue asked, his radiant smile absolutely enticing. Dust hesitated a moment before leaning in and kissing him. Blue stilled, then melted into it. The kiss was drawn out, their magic still fluctuating from their recent spar, and things turned heated quickly. Blue sucked on Dust’s lower lip and made a sound of approval as Dust’s hand found his ribs, the touch passionate and intentional.

They separated eventually, both of them flushed, yet eager to continue. Dust asked, “Hey…is this okay?”

Blue scooted closer, slipping his own hand up and under Dust’s shirt. “What do you think?” He asked, his voice shaking slightly as his phalanges closed around the taller skeleton’s spinal column. Up close, Dust’s eye lights were intense and the long-healed scars on his face were clearly visible; Blue’s breath caught as Dust wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing him once more. It made him feel unsteady on his feet as the taste of Dust’s magic infiltrated his senses–he wasn’t prepared for their sparring session to take this turn, but he wasn’t about to object.

“Let’s take this somewhere a lil’ more private,” Dust said against the side of Blue’s skull. “What do you say?” One of Dust’s hands strayed lower, tracing the hem of his shorts. Blue’s breath hitched at the implications, his face heating up.

Blue searched Dust’s face, before responding, “Yes. Mweh heh, a thousand times yes.”

Error took a break from his knitting project. He was on his way to the restroom to run a bath to soothe his back after being hunched over for hours. He was distracted by a peculiar sound. He paused mid-stride. He glanced around for the source of the noise. It was muffled, but persistent, and his curiosity to find the source won over.

Warped echoes. The flow of water. Error blinked, shaking his head. He wasn’t there. He doubled down on listening to the sounds that were real and tangible. The voices in the inanimate all around him. The sound of wind through rooms upon rooms upon rooms, never ending–

Error entered the gym, hands squeezing the sides of his skull. He took a few deep breaths before catching sight of Blue’s teal scarf hanging on one of the hooks near the cubbies. The Destroyer supposed he must’ve been here earlier with Dust. He walked around, the sound gradually becoming clearer as he neared the restroom connected to the training space.

He recognized the pitch of that voice–he should’ve stopped there and turned around. Hindsight was 20/20 though, because he didn’t stop. He turned the corner, entering into the lounge where he was met with ample folded towels slotted neatly into shelves and an in-ground fountain. He lingered for a moment, his eye lights trained on the refracted light cast onto the walls by the moving water. He tore himself away from the decorative pool when he realized he’d been staring upward for some time. He shook his head, and meandered towards the washroom, leaning forward to peer past the door frame to his right.

He caught sight of two silhouettes through a glass shower curtain. He recognized Blue, who was being lifted and his spine was pressed up against one of the shower walls. Dust was holding Blue’s thighs apart as he thrust in and out of him. Error was frozen in place, not sure whether to flee and or remain in place and continue observing Blue being split in half by Dust’s cock. His face was practically on fire as he listened to Blue moan and beg, his typically steady, relatively deep voice rendered to a reedy, shaking tenor.

“You’re taking me so well. Mmn, look at you all stretched out,” Dust said, his voice husky with lust as he deepened the angle of his thrusts. Blue whined, his glistening ecto bruising under Dust’s ruthless grip. “You like that I’m splitting your pretty cunt?”

Error decided this wasn’t something he was going to stick around for. He’d already overstayed his welcome (because he definitely wasn’t invited). Gathering his senses, he began to back out of the room. He felt that if he looked away from the entrance, they’d become aware of the fact that he’d seen them doing the deed, and he wasn’t about to go through that level of mortification. Not today, not ever–he’d seen and heard enough to last him a lifetime. He could’ve gone without knowing the size of Dust’s dick or that Blue was a very loud bottom.

“Stars, you’re, nggh, so big,” Blue said, his words intermingled with a moan. “You’d better cum inside of me,” he commanded, before devolving back into groans of appreciation as Dust leaned in to kiss him deeply. Error fled, making his way out of the gym in record time. He continued down the corridor, heading into the restroom closest to Nightmare’s office. Closing and locking the door, he stood there, absolutely mortified. Why had he stayed so long? He was just watching them fuck, what was wrong with him? He put his hands to his face, realizing that his ecto had formed between his thighs. He was such a pervert–why had he stayed so long?

“Err?” Nightmare asked, the sound of his office door closing bringing Error out of his thoughts. He made his way to the bathroom door before opening it to see Nightmare. “Are you alright?”

“Ye-e-eah, I’m fine. Completely fine,” Error said. His face was definitely beaming yellow with embarrassment, and he knew the Guardian could see right through his fib.

“May I come in?” Nightmare asked, a knowing smile curling his lips. Error opened the door, allowing the other to join him. Nightmare’s tentacles busied themselves closing and locking the door, before he had Error pressed against the sink, his hands on either side of Error’s hips. “What’s got you so flustered, hmm?”

“N-nothing, it’s nothing,” Error insisted. “Just-” Error swallowed, searching his skull for an excuse. “Thinking about you…” he trailed off, feeling his blush spread as dug himself into a deeper hole. Nightmare smirked, a hand moving to cup the apex of his thighs through his slacks.

“Is that so?” The Guardian asked. “Well, then. How would you feel about spreading your legs for me?” Nightmare asked with his wonderfully deep voice, his hand making its way underneath Error’s waistband. Error released a shaky breath as he dipped his phalanges inside of him. “There we go. Does the big bad Destroyer want to be dicked down?”

“Is that ev-even a question? I’m going to perish if I’m not, mmn, fu-fucked into that counter,” Error said, offering a crooked smile, his face reflecting a blush so extensive that it reached his cervical vertebrae.

“Do you know what I think?” The Guardian asked in a hushed tone. Error looked at him expectantly. Nightmare snorted at the image of his lover. “I think you’re keeping something from me,” Nightmare supplied. When Error stilled completely for a moment, he knew he’d struck gold. “No bother, I’ll get the information out of you eventually. Right now, though-” Nightmare purred, ridding Error of his pants and lining his cock up with his slick folds. “I’m going to remind you of what you’re good at.”

Error scoffed, before his breath caught as he was penetrated slowly. “And what is it that I’m good at?”

Nightmare smiled wickedly. “Being my cock sleeve, darling.”

Error choked out a gasp as he was abruptly thrust into. They both vocalized their pleasure as Nightmare’s tentacles covered the countertop, flowing over Error’s heated bones and tilting his pelvis to allow deeper penetration. The fact that Nightmare came out of the pocket dimension with this amount of energy to spare spoke of his monumental strength. Error thought about that often, because it really, genuinely turned him on. He’d thrown them into the mess, but Nightmare had endured and prevailed. Error should’ve felt angry–how dare he thrive in a hostile dimension while Error suffered. He felt no anger, however. He received a humbling realization that he wasn’t untouchable–far from it, really. Speaking of strength, the way Nightmare’s hips moved, the fluidity of his thrusts, was mesmerizing. Error could appreciate beauty in many forms; Nightmare happened to be one of his favorite beings to admire.

“You’re already looking fucked out, love,” Nightmare voiced, his zygomatic bones flushed a light cyan as he exerted himself. Error’s intense blush spurred him on. “Oh, does the Destroyer like that?” One of Nightmare’s tentacles moved to grip Error’s straining dick, coiling around the flushed shaft until the tendril toyed with the precum filled opening. Error’s breath caught as he felt the tip of his dick widen a fraction to accommodate the narrow tip of the tendril.

“Night, w-wait,” Error said, anxiety prickling at his skull as he contemplated the tendril slid slightly deeper into his dick. It stung slightly. He wasn’t sure he could handle it. It was new and it happened to cause his soul to clench in apprehension.

Nightmare stilled, before asking, “Err, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Error said, steadying himself. “I’ve just nev-never done stuff like that before. Will it hurt?”

Nightmare contemplated for a moment before replying. “You may feel pressure, but pain isn’t something you should be feeling. I should’ve asked, I’m sorry.”

“It’s re-eally not a big deal. I kind l-like the idea of it, but can we ta-ake things slow?” Error asked, pulling Nightmare’s skull down so that he could kiss him. The Guardian’s cock twitched inside of him, and they proceeded where they’d left off.

“Of course,” Nightmare said, his voice filled with care as he began to suck at Error’s cervical vertebrae in apology. It coaxed breathy whimpers from the Destroyer, who was enjoying himself immensely, as the Guardian slowly fucked him. Nightmare was alerted by the sound of footsteps approaching his office. He glanced towards the closed bathroom door momentarily, half expecting someone to try and open it. His cervical vertebrae prickled.

“Boss?” Killer’s voice echoed in the hallway. Nightmare was extremely tempted to reach out and strangle his second in command at that moment. “Hey, I’ve got some news about the rift.”

Nightmare hissed, punctuating his annoyance with a particularly hard thrust that had Error reeling. “I’m busy filtering my negativity. I’ll find you when I’m through,” he responded, his voice conveying some of the irritation he was feeling.

“Sure thing, boss. I’ll gather the others.” Killer retreated, his footsteps fading as he exited the corridor. Nightmare took the opportunity to turn Error so that he was facing the mirror, spreading his legs so that he could nail him from behind. His tentacle still worked the Destroyer’s dick, squeezing and massaging the turgid length until Error began to babble and plead. He wasn’t about to knot him at the moment, even if he wanted to remain inside his lover until his erection faded naturally. There was a new development, and as much as he’d rather work on fucking the Destroyer until he couldn’t stand, it was integral that he was present for this.

“Nighty,” Error whined, pushing his ass back against the other as the guardian had his way with him. Nightmare’s claws dug into his sides, pricking the ecto and leaving superficial marks that would probably scar up. “Fuck me, fucking yes!” Error came, decorating the bathroom cabinets with glistening ejaculate. Nightmare thrusted a few more times, avoiding the temptation of forcing the base of his dick into Error’s fluttering insides. He bit at Error’s right shoulder, a slight amount of marrow welling up where his primary and secondary canines dug deeper than surface level. Error groaned, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the other’s teeth on him. He whimpered. “Do we ha-ave to go?” Error asked, his tone giving insight to just how thrilled he was to hear about the place that made their lives miserable.

“Yes, and you, my dear, are not running off. I refuse to sit through this alone.” Nightmare slipped free of Error’s cunt, causing the Destroyer to groan. He’d like to launch Killer into the Void right about now. Error grumbled, turning on the faucet to splash his face with water. He could feel the moisture from their coupling dripping down his inner thigh, and was liking the idea of Nightmare watching him in his debauched state. He cleaned his face, wiping away the sweat–he wished he could dispel the thoughts of Dust and Blue doing the dirty in the washroom out of his skull that easily, but alas, the image lingered.

Once they were both decent, he and Nightmare went to find where Killer had gathered everyone. Error was pleasantly sore. He felt the deep ache echo in his pelvis. It was satisfying to know the other had fucked him hard for once, but on the other hand, he didn’t typically feel pain in his nethers. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable as he walked into the conference room, the first place they decided to check for the others.

“Boss, Error, welcome. We have some good news. We’ve gathered a team of researchers who are willing to investigate the rift,” Cross said. Nightmare tilted his skull.

“Really? Who would be moronic enough to approach it?” Nightmare asked.

“Well, approach is a stretch. We won’t be sending anyone into the literal dimension. Sci, Fell, Sans, and a few others who are familiar with interdimensional anomalies have offered their assistance,” Cross said.

“Ho-old on, what? You’re involving Sans? The Sans?” Error asked, well aware of the implications of the guy’s death upon the rest of the multiverse. “What happened to not touch-touching that guy unless we wanted to caus-caus-cause the collapse of the multiverse as we know it?”

“If we don’t address the issue at hand, the multiverse is going to go to shit regardless if Undertale Sans is involved or not. We’re out of options,” Killer said, his expression unwavering. “I ain’t thrilled about it either. Also, Ink is banned from this AU here on out. If anyone suspects the fucker might be around, report it immediately. Got it?”

The group acknowledged Killer’s order. Nightmare didn’t seem pleased, but he was aware of the dire straits they’d entered into. “When will the research team be able to begin? I’d like documentation for our records. What’s the earliest they can be here?”

“Two days from now is the earliest they can begin,” Cross responded. “It’ll give them time to prepare. I’ll have them housed here so we can be closely involved in the process.”

Error wasn’t sure how safe it was to house them here, but he supposed Nightmare and Dream had the final say as far as who was involved in this impromptu gathering of scientists. The Destroyer was always hands off with the original Undertale residents–they played an integral role in the balance of the multiverse. If Sans happened to disappear permanently outside of his realm, Error wasn’t sure what would happen. It wasn’t a pleasant outcome, that was for certain.

“We’ve communicated with government officials of the AUs. They know the nature of the issue. It shouldn’t be a problem gathering recruits who don’t want to be swallowed up by the pocket dimension,” Killer pointed out. Next to him sat Dust and Blue, who Error pointedly avoided looking at. He did take note that Blue appeared very relaxed, and Dust was especially alert. Dust had enough LV to fuel the electricity for an entire city. Blue didn’t know what he was getting himself into. That was Error’s verdict.

Nightmare hummed in acknowledgement. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’d like an update tomorrow. Fresh should be contacted. The recruits need a rundown on safety before beginning any research.”

“Noted,” Killer stated, tapping at the tablet in his hands. He looked around before asking, “Anything else to address?”

“Hold on–what about Ink?” Error asked. Dream’s expression shifted minutely from where he was seated. The Destroyer felt slightly bad for bringing this up, but it was necessary. “He is–he j-just…do we have any idea where he’s at?” Error asked, looking at the group with no small amount of nervousness.

“It’s a bit complicated. You want to stick around and we can chat?” Killer asked. Error didn’t know what else to say so he just nodded before crossing his arms in front of his chest. When everyone dispersed aside from himself, Nightmare, and Killer, Error looked at Killer expectantly. Killer pinched his nasal ridge and sighed.

“Listen–Big H, Dust, and me are going over to scope out Ink’s realm. We haven’t caught sight of him anywhere but we don’t wanna be caught off guard if he does show his face around here again. We’re planning to either move to a different AU or increase the structure of security in this one. Time will tell which route we take. Boss, do you have anything to say?”

Nightmare placed a hand on Error’s shoulder. “I know you’ve been stressed recently and-”

“I can handle know-knowing this,” Error interrupted, his eye lights reflecting his anxiety. “I’d like to know the in-instant you know about. Please, promise you’ll tell me the-ese things.”

Nightmare nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry for upsetting you, that wasn’t my intention.” Glancing to his second in command, he said, “You will take extra precaution when leading this afternoon.”

“Will do. I’m around if you have any more questions,” he told Error before teleporting from the room. Error looked down at the ground as paranoia filled his cranium and strangled his soul. He felt as though the multiverse was on the brink of coming apart at the seams and there was nothing he could do about it. Over the duration of his existence, he’d never felt as weak as he did right then.

“What the fuck do we do?” Error asked, the barrage of overwhelming emotions hitting him all at once. “He’s out there and I can-can’t fight him!” The Destroyer gripped his skull. Nightmare stepped closer, only for Error to distance himself as panic flared. “I-I don’t know how I’m s’posed to do anything! I can’t think straight, I can’t control my abilities the wa-ay I used to, and I keep being dragged ba-ack there whether I’m awake or asleep–it’s like reliving it over and over again! I hate it!”

“I’m here,” Nightmare said, keeping his voice level as Error’s emotions overflowed.

“It was supposed to be better when we were out and it just doesn’t end! Why doesn’t it end?!” Error shrieked, grabbing a chair and throwing it into the nearest wall where it broke upon impact. Nightmare observed, but didn’t attempt to intervene. “And of course it has to affect us out here–it can’t be ov-over, that would be too merciful!” Another chair splintered and lost a few legs as it connected with the wall.

Cross and Big H appeared back at the doorway to witness the Destroyer’s episode. Cross looked to Nightmare who leveled him with a stern glare. ‘Do not’ the Guardian mouthed. When a piece from a chair struck Nightmare’s shoulder, Cross and H stepped forward only for one of their boss’ tentacles to slam the door shut, creating a barrier. Error whirled around, momentarily broken out of the amalgamation of his panic, fear, and anger that had his soul clenching so tightly in his chest that it felt like it would give out. Breathing hard, eye lights blown wide in his sockets, and hands trembling, Error surveyed the extent of his destruction. His face contorted as a plethora of glitches swarmed his body. Nightmare opened his mouth to speak, reaching a hand out for his lover to take, well aware that the other was spiraling. He’d hold him tightly in his tentacles, just like he had done back in the Rooms. Error was suddenly gone, leaving behind a fuzzy, glitching silhouette behind where he’d just stood. Nightmare’s yell echoed throughout the halls of the castle.

Something was very wrong. The Creator had known this when the Doodlesphere had become overcast and veiny, black protrusions had begun to spread outward from the ominous, hulking development in the deepening alcove within his realm. There was an ominous quality to the atmosphere that Ink couldn’t shake. He supposed that was what he had to deal with, at least until he could determine how to consult with Error again without an audience. He grimaced as he entered the cave that had gained both depth and square footage since he’d last inspected it. It was a yawning behemoth that he wasn’t sure he should be awestruck or horrified by. His footfalls echoed as he approached the end, or what used to be the end–apparently it had become elongated since his last journey through it.

It felt as though static had accumulated in his joints as Ink approached the mass. It was spectacular and unlike anything the Creator had ever beheld. It had expanded further, the tendrils spanning into new passages and the center unfurling at a gradual pace to reveal colors, fragmentations, and half-baked creatures that would never breathe a single breath. It was self-generating and regardless of his creation or breaks, it always continued pushing out matter. Ink smiled at the festering titan.

Soon he probably wouldn’t be able to access it so easily. He’d probably have to descend miles into the structure to find the otherworldly aberration. Ink set down his brush and approached it. His reflection stared back at him, slightly altered, yet still inextricably him in nature. His curiosity had taken hold of him and although it would inevitably have repercussions, the Creator reached out to touch the ethereal other staring back at him.

Ink’s eye sockets widened as his hand merged with the substance. It was cool to the touch and his wrist also became submerged, the matter moving fluidly around his forearm. He released an awed breath before tensing as his hand was harshly grabbed by something on the other side. Pain shot up the length of his arm as he was jerked forward up to his elbow. Reaching back for his brush, he cursed aloud as the rest of his arm was consumed by the monstrosity. His yells fell on deaf ears as he came just short of reaching his weapon of choice and he fell victim to the iron grip on the other side of the anomaly. What emerged from the matter felt unbridled elation at his luck. Bones and sinews glistening with the portal’s essence, he caught sight of the abandoned brush on the ground and knelt down to inspect it. He picked it up and followed the dark, rocky channel towards the orange glow.

Not-Ink’s eye lights adjusted to the expanse of water, sky, and the multitude of papers suspended in the atmosphere like wispy constellations above him. In the near distance there were visible structures. From his time lurking within the Creator’s memories, he recognized that was where he should be headed. He gripped the brush and contemplated the best route to take. He’d seen the brush in use before, but now that it was in his own hands, he was at a loss. After whipping the brush end in various angles and speeds, he was disappointed in the lack of dark, pooling portals. With his cervical vertebrae prickling in irritation, he dug his phalanges into the wooden handle and focused intently on where he wanted the portal to appear. A grin split his features as opaque ink bubbled up from the ground, the glistening surface beckoning him to step inside. He entered and fell through time and space before landing on cobblestone floors. Standing up and peering around the space, his diaphragm tightened as ecstatic emotions flowed from his core. He was in the Creator’s “office”. Countless images of Error surrounded him, ascending the walls as far as he could see. His bones trembled in response to his excitement as he tugged off his weathered clothing, letting the wet garments fall into a pile on the ground.

He left the sanctuary of the office and descended multiple levels before eventually ending up knee-deep in a softly glowing spring. He waded in until the water level rose to his rib cage. Eons of grime clouded the crystal clear liquid and Not-Ink immersed the entirety of his frame within the soothing pool. His mind drifted to the Destroyer. He’d been entranced as the Creator backed him up against a tree, envy burning brightly as Ink confessed his darkest secrets to the one he’d been obsessing over for so long. The memories that trickled into Not-Ink’s cranium were his until he relinquished them, so while the interaction had ended badly for the Creator, Ink would probably never truly know why the Destroyer was suddenly and irrevocably terrified of him. He’d always taken perverse joy in the fact that he was the direct cause of Ink’s memory loss. Whenever he hungered for a glimpse into life outside of the prison he’d escaped from, he simply leached from the clueless Creator’s memory bank.

Surfacing, Not-Ink made his way back to the cobblestone shoreline. He noticed that his bones had begun to change slightly. His forearms took on gradually darkening etchings, the designs yet to make themselves known as they formed all over his frame. This universe recognized what was absent and filled it in without missing a beat. This delighted him. He ascended the stairs once again to track down Ink’s bedroom. He’d seen the Creator’s reflection enough to know how he dressed. The rest of the details he’d figure out by filtering through the vast collection of memories he’d acquired.

Error was immersed in a mixture of leaves and grass as he stumbled back into existence. The ground seemed to switch places with the sky. He was breathing fast, his vision blurring as he tried to calm himself down. He didn’t know where he was, but aside from that, he’d just teleported! To be fair, he wasn’t sure how exactly it had happened, but nevertheless, he’d done it. While he was thrilled to have accumulated enough magic to complete a jump, he was dumbstruck by the realization that he had absolutely no clue where he was. Also, he’d just wrecked the conference room. Shame resonated in the pit of his chest as he recalled how calm Nightmare had been as he completely lost it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to envision what he was going through at the moment. He seemed to only be causing the Guardian distress lately, and that made his chest ache.

Groaning, Error got back to his feet and brushed off his clothing. He walked through the foliage and tree-lined paths until he reached a village. He was careful, well aware that the residents of the AU may be familiar with his reputation. When he wasn’t stared at and no one seemed to offer more than a passing glance, Error’s frame relaxed. He strode past farmer’s markets, street vendors, and groups of performers receiving tips from passersby. Overall it was lively and the air was filled with the scent of autumn leaves and local foods.

He was well aware he didn’t have enough energy to make a jump back to Nightmare’s realm, but he still felt guilt and shame gripping his soul as the aftershocks of his partner’s distress reached him. He might as well make the most of his time trapped here as he recuperated. He tugged at his scarf so that it shielded his eye lights from the sunlight and headed in the direction of rolling hills and scenic landscape.

He walked for some time, the breeze blowing his jacket and tugging at his slacks as he enjoyed the quietude of the countryside. He’d finally gotten his solo walk, albeit not the way he’d foreseen it happening. The Destroyer meandered into lush fields surrounded by birdsong and overcast skies. The flowers here were still blooming even as the seasons shifted and it gave Error something to look at as he wandered. Eventually he found a massive tree looking out over a ranch and he decided to take a seat against its trunk. His eyelids felt heavy from his journey from his place of arrival and Error surmised that closing his eye sockets for some time could help his magic replenish itself. Leaning his skull back, it took very little time for him to drift off.

The resident of the ranch home wasn’t sure what he was looking at when he crested the hill overlooking his farm. It took him a moment to piece together the fact that this was a skeleton monster with very uniquely colored bones. This wasn’t a common occurrence and frankly he wasn’t sure how to go about this.

“Uh, hey,” he began, taking a few steps towards the stranger. “Hey there…is there something I can help you with, buddy?” He asked in a louder voice. Error startled awake. He was thoroughly confused and it took a moment for him to recall where he was. Upon seeing the skeleton monster dressed in overalls and a straw hat, he clammed up and was immediately on guard. “Hi. Didn’t mean to scare ya. What’s your name?”

Error blinked at him before finding his voice. “Error. And yours?”

“Saejun,” he responded, offering a soft smile. “Where ya from?”

Error looked down momentarily, debating on how to approach this. He knew not all AUs were aware of the multiverse. He guessed it was worth a try. “Not here,” he admitted. “Hon-honestly, I’m a bit lost.”

Saejun nodded and lifted a hand to his chin. “So, my bro’s got some stew cookin’. How about you join us for dinner and maybe I can help you find a way out of here?”

Error stood up and brushed himself off. “Yeah…that sounds good. Thank-thanks.”

Entering the stranger’s home, Error was met with a humble interior with baskets, quilts, and the buzz of a satellite television. The scent of food has his mouth watering even if the sensation of hunger didn’t reach his core. He could eat–he knew he could, because he’d eaten enough of Big H’s meals to last him a lifetime. He was startled by the sudden presence of a tall skeleton monster dressed in a gingham shirt and patched jeans. He looked equally spooked by Error and the Destroyer couldn’t exactly blame him.

Saejun scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, hey bro. This is Error. He’s just passin’ through.”

“Oh my–apologies, Error. It seems we both gave each other quite the scare. Welcome to our home,” he said, offering a smile reflecting embarrassment. “Oh yes, where are my manners–my name is Pilsu. It’s nice to meet you!”

Error felt his sudden wariness fade as he observed Saejun’s brother. “You, too. No worries, it’s not too hard to scare me the-e-ese days.”

Pilsu dished out stew and freshly brewed, loose leaf tea before taking a seat with his brother and their guest. Error enjoyed the stew immensely and his magic responded to the hearty blend of meat and potatoes by readily absorbing the nutrients. He felt warmth encompass his diaphragm as he finished off the last few bites and relaxed into his chair. Pilsu appeared delighted.

“So, I know you’re not from here. I’m guessin’ what ya mean by that is you’re a multiversal traveler,” Saejun said. The Destroyer nodded.

“You guessed correctly.”

Saejun smirked. “Alright. Now, I may be completely off, but somethin’ tells me ya might know Nightmare’s team.” Error froze momentarily as he considered how he should respond. Would they sound the alarm if they knew he was connected with the Guardian of Negativity’s cohort? Did he step into a trap?

“I do,” Error responded, watching Saejun and his brother closely for any sign of a negative reaction. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised.

“So then I’m guessing you know Big H?” Saejun asked, a genuine smile spreading across his features. Error’s expression must have given it away because his host interjected. “Ya do, don’t ya?” Saejun said. “Listen, I’ve got his contact. We go way back. It’s a long story. You guys on good terms n’ all?”

Error relaxed at that. “Yeah, we’re good. He’s great...a very talented chef and coll-colleague of mine.”

“He’s so good. We learned a thing or two from him while he stayed with us. Heh, you can only make stew so many ways until it gets old,” he said, a lazy grin upon his face. “I’ll shoot him a message.”

“Thank you,” Error replied, wondering how he was so lucky as to find Saejun who knew someone on the team. He felt dazed after the day’s events and while he was thankful to have an answer as to how he was going to return to Nightmare’s realm, he still felt the weight of his earlier actions gnawing at his conscience. He sighed and sipped at his tea as he waited for any sign of a response from the team.

Error hadn’t realized he’d drifted off until a sharp knock from the door caused him to stir. He grasped his tea before it could spill and turned around to see who had arrived at the brothers’ abode. The figure filled the doorway and when he caught a glimpse of a gleaming, red eye light, the Destroyer had a good idea who it might be.

“Big H, it’s so good to see ya,” Saejun said as he gathered his much larger friend into a hug. The reunion seemed so natural and yet Error never suspected H was capable of striking up a friendship with someone like Saejun.

“You, too. I’ll be back…some other time. The boss is frazzled,” Big H replied. Saejun stepped back.

“Of course he is. I look forward to sittin’ down and hangin’ out. It’s been too long.” Saejun looked back and waved Error over. The Destroyer stood up and joined them, lingering sleep still clouding his cranium as he processed the relief on Big H’s face.

“Hey. Let’s go,” Big H said, extending a hand to the glitching skeleton in front of him. Error obliged, thanking Saejun before they were whisked into a jump. Error felt the void’s matter accommodate them before they were deposited inside of the familiar interior of Nightmare’s castle. Error released a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he uttered, the exhaustion in his voice reflecting his gradually recovering magic levels.

“He needs to see you,” Big H stated, and proceeded to lead Error to the Guardian of Negativity. The Destroyer’s soul ached more fiercely now and he felt a fresh wave of regret cascade over him that he wasn’t entirely sure was solely his. Big H opened Nightmare’s office door to reveal a scene of disorder. Papers were strewn about, some of the decor was demolished, and one of the window panes had a jagged hole through it. Black liquid dripped from the sharp edges of the broken glass and Error winced upon realizing it was his lover’s blood.

“Boss. He’s back.”

Nightmare materialized in front of them, his eye light wide with emotion as he acknowledged that his partner had returned. Error was ready to be confronted for his outburst and sudden disappearance, but instead he was pulled tightly against the Guardian’s sternum. The office door shut, leaving him with his lover who had obviously gone through turbulent emotions of his own upon the Destroyer’s sudden disappearance.

“I’m so sorry,” Error said, guilt eating away at him. “That was uncalled for…I’ll replace ev-everything, and-”

Nightmare stiffened. “You really think I care about the fucking furniture?” The Guardian bit out, leveling him with a stony expression. “You weren’t anywhere–you were just gone. I thought I’d really lost you this time. I was convinced I wouldn’t find you, and I know it’s not rational, but nothing has been since…you know.”

Error nodded, hugging his lover tightly. “Night, I teleported. I don’t know how I d-did it…I mean, I don’t recall feel-feeling differently. My magic levels were sapped after I ended up stranded.” Error worked hard to reassure him as he recounted the events after he’d ended up in the strange AU. He felt through their connection that the Guardian was gradually settling down. He knew it would help resolve any concerns if they shared souls, so he offered, hoping that he’d his partner would be open to it. Nightmare readily accepted, stealing a kiss from the Destroyer as they retreated into the hallway leading to the hidden room with the stone walls and fireplace.

“I’ve had some difficulty coping with separation since our return,” Nightmare admitted, his multi-layered voice taking on an edge of vulnerability. “I don’t want you to ever feel trapped with me. I felt such overwhelming fear when you went out for a walk, I ordered Killer to follow you at a distance. Ten when you just disappeared–” Nightmare sucked in a breath, his hand trembling as he cupped Error’s face. “Error, I love you. I know I haven’t said it in a while, but I do. I felt like it didn’t need to be said…but if you like to hear it, then I’ll never stop saying it. You’ll grow tired of me saying it, I’ll say it so often.”

Error felt his face heat up. The same giddiness that had sprung up on him when they were first experimenting together gripped his soul. It was an all consuming, deep sensation that radiated outward from within his diaphragm. He wasn’t ready for the impact of that statement to cause his eye sockets to sting with unshed tears. “I love you, too,” the Destroyer said, wiping the moisture from his cheeks. “I felt like such an ass…you’ve been so supportive and then I b-blew up and broke your stuff. You don’t deserve that,” Error stated, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’ve never felt this way about an-any-anyone else before. I’m scared that I’m ruining this for us.”

Nightmare pulled Error into his lap as he took a seat on the leather sectional. He unbuttoned his shirt and planted the Destroyer’s hand flat against his sternum. “You’re not ruining anything. Look at me,” the Guardian commanded. “We’ve both been through hell. Let’s not diminish that. You’re who I want–no one else holds a candle to you. We’re going to struggle with what we’ve been through, but that’s okay. We’re okay,” Nightmare said.

“We’re okay,” Error echoed. “I’m sorry you ha-ad a bad time today, too.”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” the Guardian of Negativity said. “My office suffered at my hands, but at the time I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t present, not really…it was just an overdose of magic and fear…it reminded me of being back there.”

Error understood all too well. “I know.”

Pressing their sternums together, the atmosphere shifted from one of lessening tension to one that reflected the strength of their bond. It was still fresh, but it felt durable and offered reassurance that went deeper than verbal expression could. Error felt safe with the Guardian. He’d never felt so at home with anyone before and it made him fear losing what they had even more. Tearing up, he held his partner and promised to be more careful going forward. The gratitude and care that filtered through their connected souls told Error everything he needed to know regarding the Guardian’s feelings. He felt so accepted. The weight of guilt on his shoulders lessened and he was able to focus on their combined strength rather than his own, which might never be what it once was. He’d learn to live with it, though. As long as he was able to have and hold Nightmare close, Error would manage.

Something was very wrong. Error sat up in bed, as did Nightmare, the both of them locking eye lights as the air buzzed with an off putting energy. One moment the sky lit up like a monumental bolt of lightning had struck the AU before everything went black. Candle flames were snuffed, the electricity fizzled out, and a sound like nothing Error had ever heard before resounded all around them at a subsonic level.

Nightmare was out of bed in an instant, followed by Error, who joined his partner at the window. Something was off. It hadn’t ever felt like this until–

“Ink,” Error stated, the dread in his chest only increasing as he watched the sky take on a sickly hue. “It has to be–he’s done some-something,” Error said, his voice trembling. “Fuck!”

As another blinding light lit up the atmosphere, Nightmare tugged Error from the window and into the walk in closet. The structure of the castle shivered on its foundation and the Guardian covered his lover with his frame as pieces of material fell from the ceiling and onto his back.

Holding him tightly, Nightmare teleported them to the gardens before teleporting back inside. Error winced as the blinding light bathed everything in white once more. He cursed Ink’s name as he watched Killer, Dust, and Big H appear before him in the courtyard. Soon after, Blue, Dream, and Cross joined them, followed by Nightmare. The structure groaned as the ground beneath them shook.

“We’re leaving now,” Nightmare announced before opening a glistening, black portal behind him. Error was grabbed by multiple tentacles before being tugged through the Void. The others were being held onto by tentacles as well, the connection securing them as they traversed the dimension of darkness.

They landed on the cliffs of an AU that Error was all too familiar with. The constellations above seemed different than usual, but the location still brought him comfort. Outertale had been affected as well, that much was clear to the Destroyer. Whatever had been done had been disastrous, he was sure–there was no way currently to determine the severity of it. Error released a shaking sigh before looking around at everyone else.

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Dust asked. Blue shot him a look and Dust raised his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m just voicing what we’re all thinkin’.”

“We’re fine,” Killer stated. “Shit might’ve hit the fan, but we’re okay. That’s all that matters right now.”

“Let’s find shelter,” Cross said, and Killer nodded in agreement.

“Town’s that way. Be careful everyone–there’s loose rocks on the way down,” Killer said, pointedly looking over to Cross who was helping Dream along.

When they were upon the perimeter of town, Error could see differences in the land that hadn’t been there before. They trekked into town until they came across the center square where the scent of pastries and freshly brewed coffee greeted them. There were numerous inns and other places that they could hole up in until they spotted a better opportunity. Killer took initiative and approached an inn with a star theme and an extensive inn rising skyward.

“We need a few rooms–a suite would be preferred if you have it.”

The skeleton behind the counter smiled and responded, “Let me take a look for you sir. Would you like anything from the case? Can I get you some coffee or tea?”

“Sure. Let’s get the room situation figured out an’ I’ll take a look,” Killer replied.

The host click through the availability options until he reached the suites. Typically these were unoccupied, since they were pricier than their queen and king bed options. “How many are in your group, sir?”

“Eight, including myself.”

“Alright, thank you.”After a moment, the front desk attendant said, “Good news, I have a few suites here that would fit your needs.” He showed each of the options to Killer and laid out the amenities that came with them. By the end of it, Killer felt sweet relief wash over him as he realized how affordable it was.

“We’ll go for option 3.” Killer picked up a menu and thought about the others. “Boss, you want a coffee?”

Nightmare approached with Error falling into step with him. “I’ll take two. What would you like?” He asked his lover.

“M-mocha cappuccino with ex-extra foam, please,” Error announced as he squinted at the menu. The skeleton behind the counter wrote the order on a cup before taking the more intimidating monster’s order. Then he took Killer’s order as well.

“I’ll take the Cosmos Cold Brew with Cream.”

“Good choice. It’s one of my favorites.” He placed the cups to the side as he rang up their total for the stay and the beverages. “That comes out to 450g. Would you prefer to pay in cash or check?”

“Cash,” Killer stated. He handed over what they owed before heading outside to chat with the others. Nightmare and Error took a seat in a booth inside the cafe.

“We got a suite. We’re gonna have room to spare,” Killer told the group. “Also, the place inside has food and caffeine.”

“How long are…we staying?” Big H asked.

“Two days to start with. If we need to stay longer, I’ll pay by the day,” Killer said. “We should contact our research team and fill them in.”

“Agreed,” Cross said. “Let’s do that soon. If our AU was affected that means that countless others probably suffered the same fate, or worse.”

“I’d really like to lay down,” Dream said quietly and Cross acknowledged his statement with a grunt.

“Killer, do you have the keys to the suite?” He asked.

Killer dropped a key card into Cross’ hand. Cross made his way inside with Dream and the others followed suit. Killer doled out the other cards he was given and stopped by the counter to grab his coffee along with a carrier for Nightmare and Error’s drinks.

“Thanks for your help. I’ll see ya around,” Killer told the host, who smiled and waved as he followed the rest of the group to the elevators. Nightmare and Error were the last to enter, both looking thoroughly exhausted. Killer punched the button for their floor and allowed his shoulders to relax. He pinched his nasal ridge and cursed under his breath. He was well versed in holding it together, but considering he hadn’t slept more than half an hour was weighing on him.

“You handled this well,” Nightmare stated, grabbing Killer’s attention.

“Huh? Are you talking to me?”

“Who else?” Nightmare retorted.

Killer was dumbstruck momentarily before shrugging. “Yer welcome, boss.”

To be continued.

Chapter Text

Cross and Killer took responsibility for traveling into the AUs to gather the members of the research team. Meanwhile, Big H and Dust busied themselves chatting with Blue while retrieving food from the bakery and cafe. Dust’s flavor of humor was a mixture of raunchy, teasing, and sarcastic. When he noticed Blue becoming flustered, it spurred him on to double down. Big H, ever observant, had caught onto the fact that the dynamic between the two of them had changed. He recalled that one day they’d begun sparring together, but it quickly turned into more. Dust wasn’t typically playful, nor was he typically so eager to interact with others. Dust had baggage and some of that lingered in the form of hearing voices. In the past it had made it difficult for him to assimilate with the team and sometimes it was difficult to communicate with him because of his mental setbacks. Dust still heard disembodied voices–Big H knew that much. He seemed to click with Blue, which was an enigma, because Dust was a loner through and through.

Big H paid for the meals and lifted the large bag to tote their freshly prepared food up to the others. He thanked the bubbly guy behind the counter, all the while listening to Dust’s and Blue’s hushed laughter mingling in the hallway behind him. He contemplated how it would have gone if Blue had joined them instead of being roped into joining Ink’s team. He could tell there was more to the guardsman than his surface level demeanor. He supposed he’d have to wait and see what became of Blue’s mask when shit really hit the fan.

Error never thought he’d be spending any amount of time with Dream, but here he was knitting next to him on the sectional couch. Dream’s face now sported dark tinted bruises around his eye socket, which could now open just slightly. Dream was trying his own hand at knitting, shifting yarn from needle to needle while trying to maintain decent tension. Dream seemed enthused by the activity. Error had settled into the cushions of the couch as he worked on a project of his own. It was nice just doing something by himself while in the presence of someone else. He didn’t feel the need to put on an elaborate act, nor was there any point in doing so. The fact that Dream had helped him when he was steps away from dusting made him a safe individual in Error's eyes.

“Okay, how’s this?” Dream asked, holding up a few rows of uneven purl stitches. Error adjusted his glasses and assessed his work.

“You’re get-getting better. Your tension has im-improved already.”

“Nice! By the way, I appreciate your assistance. It’s been a long time since I’ve tried working with yarn.” The Guardian of Positivity’s smile was a pleasant thing. It made Error feel at ease–like he didn’t need to worry about maintaining a facade in front of him. Maybe he shouldn't be so open around Ink's former teammate, but he wasn’t sure he could uphold a mask even if he’d wanted to. He was mentally and physically exhausted.

“It’s nice to find some-someone who’s interested in learning. I don’t mind teaching,” Error said as he set his project in his lap. He reached for his cup of coffee and took a moment to sit in silence as he enjoyed the warmth. “By the wa-ay, how’s your skull feeling?”

“It’s alright. Thanks for asking. How, um, how’re you holding up?” Dream asked tentatively.

Error sighed before saying, “I’m alright. It’s just going to t-take time and I ha-a-ave to accept that.” He glanced down at the area of his diaphragm where his shirt highlighted the missing bone. “Waiting isn’t my forte,” the Destroyer grumbled.

“That’s fair, I’m not a fan of waiting, either.” Dream plucked his mug from the coffee table and took a sip before humming in contentment. “I can’t wrap my head around all of it…it really doesn’t seem possible, yet here we are.”

Error grunted. “Yeah, and it’s just my luck that it would hap-happen when I can’t do a fucking thing,” he said under his breath. He and Dream both jolted and turned their heads when the door swung open and their peers returned with a bag releasing the scent of freshly prepared food.

“Don’t get too excited now,” Dust said, a lax smile spreading across his hooded visage. “We’ve got enough for lunch and dinner. And snacks.”

Big H huffed as he mulled over what he would do for the rest of the day. Cooking wasn’t on the agenda, nor did he want to leave the small kitchen space a mess. It looked like he was going to have to get creative. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Oh my Stars, Error–are you teaching Dream to knit?” Blue asked before leaning over the back of the couch to observe. “You are! I remember when you tried to teach me, mweheh…I never got the hang of it.”

“You did-didn’t try again after the one time,” Error muttered, rolling his eye lights. Dream chuckled at the sass-riddled response.

“Um, I tried my hardest, thank you very much,” Blue said in a playfully defensive manner, one of his hands against his sternum for dramatic effect. “Maybe you’re just not a good teacher!”

The Destroyer looked at him with a deadpan expression. “I’m bad at teach-teaching? I guess it’s good I don’t spec-s-specialize in education, then.”

“No, not really. Ugh, you should know I’m teasing you,” Blue said, before sighing and crossing his arms. “But I may join and try to learn if you guys don’t mind.”

“Oh? But I tho-ought my teaching skills were shit,” Error said, smirking deviously.

“Forgive me?” Blue asked, clasping his hands together. Error scoffed.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!” Blue exclaimed, fist pumping as he headed to the kitchen. Both Horror and Dust were watching his expression of excitement with quizzical expressions. They looked at one another, then back at the beaming skeleton in front of them.

Dust chuckled. “You’re a fucking dork.”

“Clearly,” Blue snapped playfully before selecting his soup and sandwich from the spread on the counter. Sitting down on one of the bar seats, he took a bite of the panini. “Oh wow, not bad. It’s definitely not your cooking, though,” he said, looking at Big H.

“Aw, damn, Blue, you flatter me,” Big H said.

“It’s true,” Blue shot back, sipping at his hot latte. “Tell me when you want to cook again…well, I guess when we can cook again, rather.”

“Of course, bud.”

The sound of a door within the suite opening and closing alerted the group to the arrival of the Guardian of Negativity, who had taken a few hours to rest. Error had tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t–not with the state that the multiverse was in. Nightmare came into view, and the Destroyer smiled softly. He didn’t register the knitting needles slipping from his phalanges or when it had gotten so quiet. Time ceased to exist as he watched his powerful lover approach, the Guardian’s presence one that Error associated with immense power, protection, and carnal emotions. It didn’t seem possible that he had caught his eye light, but Error had the bruises to prove that he was desired. Error’s soul stirred, and heat spread throughout his bones. It felt as though everything was being perceived through a haze. He blinked, and Nightmare was suddenly there, standing next to him.

“Are you feeling alright?” Nightmare’s deep voice pierced through the veil that had separated the Destroyer from the rest of the AU. Error nodded.

“Mhm. How are you? Do you f-feel rested?” He asked.

Nightmare didn’t look convinced by his response, but he didn’t push. He sat down next to the Destroyer on the couch. Error felt the familiar sensation of one of his lover’s tentacles slipping behind his spine. “I feel like I can think clearly again. That was a very necessary break after...” he let his voice trail off, noting that he didn’t need to finish that sentence. He took one of Error’s hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The Destroyer visibly relaxed against the couch cushions. He still seemed distant to the Guardian, but that was alright for now. He’d seen Error experience moments like this before. He knew it would pass. As long as his partner remained semi-lucid, Nightmare’s mind felt relatively at ease.

“Hey, ya hungry, boss?” Big H asked.

“Yes, I am. Could you bring my lunch in here?” Nightmare asked, glancing over his shoulder. Big H was already on it. He set down a bowl of bisque, a thick slice of sourdough bread, and a cappuccino. Nightmare sighed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Enjoy.”

Nightmare tucked into the meal. Holding Error close and eating amongst everyone felt exquisite compared to the chaos they’d experienced in such a short duration of time. He focused on the sensation of Error’s magic thrumming through his mana lines, the distinct flavor of the soup, and the walls between them and the outside. He’d remain level headed and take the situation one step at a time. He trusted that Killer and Cross would be returning fairly soon. It had been established that Fresh would be available in the near future, but there hadn’t been any response from him since the team and company had fled the Negative Guardian’s AU. It was a waiting game at this point.

Killer and Cross had meticulously planned their excursion to gather each member of the research team. Red was easy enough to find, as was Sans, but when they stepped into Sci’s AU, it was evident that tracking him down wouldn’t be as straightforward. The atmosphere buzzed with an ominous energy, and many structures had taken a major hit from objects slung from the void. Otherworldly and uncanny fragments stuck out of the ground, obscuring the sky as they traversed the town’s debris littered streets. Cross and Killer took a moment to reevaluate their plan of action.

“So, Sans n’ Red–do you have any idea where he would’ve gone? Any clue at all is helpful, so don’t hold back,” Cross said, his arms folded over his chest. His shirt had been torn back in Red’s AU and he was still clearly displeased that his getup suffered so much.

Red shrugged and peered over at Sans. Sans shrugged and said, “I know he’s got a reinforced lab. I suppose he’s probably hiding out there. Dunno exactly where it is, but I have an idea where to start looking.”

“I can offer up some other places if we don’t find him there,” Red supplied, glancing between Killer and Cross. “But the lab is a good place ta start.”

Killer stroked his chin. “Aigh’t boys. You two lead for a while and we’ll cover ya if somethin’ comes up,” he said, rolling his shoulders and releasing layered pops and cracks. He sighed. “You good with that, Bossy Crossy?”

“Fine with me. Don’t start with the stupid nicknames. You know how I feel about them.”

“Aw, c’mon, laugh a little, monochrome soldier,” Killer elbowed his teammate, who wasn’t currently amused by the teasing. “So, which way, boys?”

Red and Sans began the trek towards the north end of town.

If the place hadn’t been a minefield of bits and pieces from the Void they would’ve been able to teleport, but that wasn’t an option. A few hours had slipped by and eventually they came upon what was identified as Sci’s lab. Compared to much of the infrastructure around it, the building had taken fairly minimal damage to its exterior. Sans was convinced that what was clinging to its walls was debris from the buildings neighboring it. Red hit the button next to the door and crossed his fingers that it still worked. After a few moments of silence, the intercom crackled to life.

“State your name and why you’re here.”

Red stepped back, beckoning for either Cross or Killer to take the reins. Killer stepped up and clicked the button. “Hey, Sci, it’s Killer. We came to escort you to our temporary base of operations. Heh, ya know, since shit’s hit the fan and all we ain’t back at the castle any longer.”

“Oh! I’m on it, come on in.” The metallic door audibly clicked. Killer took the handle and tugged it open.

“After you,” Killer said, winking at the others as they entered. Thunder rumbled overhead, and as Killer looked upward past the power lines and wreckage, a raindrop plopped into his eye socket. He wrinkled his nasal ridge. With his luck, it would be tainted with something cursed or toxic that would alter the chemistry of his magic. He dried the inside of his eye socket with the sleeve of his hoodie before heading inside.

Red approached a door with bold letters that read “Authorized Personnel Only”. Pulling on the door, he was relieved to find that it was unlocked. They descended into the low lighting of the stairs leading down into what they’d correctly assumed was the underground laboratory. A figure with red-tinted glasses came into view. He finished pulling on a khaki jacket and waved upon seeing them.

“Hey there. As you’ve probably seen, the disrepair up there is extensive. It’s far worse a couple days back. I hunkered down here as soon as things got bleak,” Sci said, packing a few necessities into a duffel bag. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Cross said, glancing around at the place. It seemed that the lab hadn’t gone unscathed by the strange series of events either. “Are you all set to head out?”

Sci zipped up his bag before slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m ready.”

Night had fallen in Outertale, yet there was light enough from the galaxies above to find their way back unhindered. There was a breeze tussling their clothing as they followed Killer and Cross back to the inn. The host was there, meticulously packing up the day’s pastries into tupperware. They walked past, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the guy’s face was flushed. Killer would give credit where credit was due–the guy was dedicated. Killer was never cut out for customer service, even in the days before meeting Nightmare.

Entering the suite the trio of researchers were plunged into culture shock. Nightmare made his way over to welcome them. Sans had never had to work so hard to fake nonchalance. Red wasn’t as skilled in disguising his awe at witnessing the altered Guardian, and Sci reacted with enthusiasm and a healthy dose of caution. Fresh still hadn’t made his debut, but the Guardian of Negativity didn’t seem phased by this. They’d take what they could get. Killer made a subtle hand signal and Nightmare dismissed him with a nod. He took his leave, putting his bedroom door in between himself and the rest of the team for the time being. He released a drawn out sigh.

Sitting on the bed with the covers still pulled all the way up to the fresh smelling pillows, he picked up his cup from yesterday–no, this morning. It was still the same fucking day. Something fell off of the bottom of his disposable cup and he paused to watch it hit the ground. Setting down his empty cup, he leaned over to pick up the tea sachet-shaped post-it note. Bringing it closer, he eyed the neat lettering.

If you wanna spill some tea, roll on over to the bakery.

Cossi (:

Killer blinked at the note and read it again. And once more. He looked up and contemplated whether he had the energy to go investigate. It had been a long while since he’d gotten up to something other than work and if the boss really needed him, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to ring him. He glanced at the flirty note again and teleported downstairs.

He walked down the hallway towards the low lighting in the cafe and leaned against the counter. Looking around, he didn’t immediately catch sight of anyone, so he opted for another tactic. “Uh, Cossi?” He voiced, reading the name printed on the note.

“One moment!” There was the sound of something falling, then a string of muttered curses following close behind it. Footfalls became louder before the inn’s host rounded the corner and halted. His face lit up in a dark blush hue. Killer chuckled. Cute.

“Hey. I found a little somethin’ stuck to the bottom of my coffee cup,” Killer said, presenting an aura of smugness and amusement. “Do you treat all your shady lookin’ patrons to a cutesy note, or am I special?”

Cossi coughed and stammered, “I-I’m sorry about that, I didn’t–”

“Hey, listen,” Killer said, realizing that maybe he was coming on too strong with his approach. “I liked yer note, it was cute. I haven’t had time to chat with anyone lately outside my coworkers–ya want to take a walk?”

Cossi nodded, not able to express how much anxiety he’d felt after placing that note. It was impulsive, unprofessional, and apparently it worked. “Yeah…give me just a moment.”

He hung up his apron and locked the drawer under the desk. Standing back up, he walked around the counter to stand face to face with the skeleton with dripping, empty eye sockets. The stranger smiled.

“The name’s Killer,” he said, offering a hand. Cossi took it, noting the size difference between their hands as he did. This guy could probably break him like a twig.

“Nice to meet you. Uh, I guess you know my name by now,” he replied, a blush tinting his cheeks. Killer smiled.

“Alright, Cossi. Haven’t heard that name before, but I like it.” Killer broke the handshake and looked towards the exit. “I suppose you know your way around here.”

“That I do.” Cossi opened the door to the outside, and they walked in the direction of the cliffs. “Hey, uh, you sure that note wasn’t…fuck, I dunno–”

“Hey, I’ll let ya in on a secret,” Killer said, flipping a electric cigarette through his phalanges before placing it between his teeth. “I’m grown. If I didn’t wanna hang out with you, I wouldn’t be here. Does that help?”

Cossi chuckled. “Yeah, actually. A lot.” There was a moment of silence before he asked, “Where are you from, by the way?”

“A good distance away. I’m not from this world-”

Cossi paused, his golden eye lights lingering on Killer’s face. “Wait, you’re an interdimensional traveler?”

“Mhm. You’re spot on.”

“That’s so incredibly cool,” Cossi said, grinning like a fool. “I mean, I always wanted to but I didn’t have the means and–heh, anyway, that’s awesome.”

Killer hummed. “I’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember. It began with a job offer. Started off as contract work and now it’s a full time gig. Kinda wish it felt new again.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can see that.” Cossi looked up as concern welled up in his rib cage. He knew something bad had happened–it was just the beginning and he didn’t know when they’d see the results of what had been inflicted upon their home. He stopped listening to the news when everything began to spiral further and further. He didn’t know what else to do. How did one come to accept something that was so far out of their control?

“Hey, you okay?” Killer asked.

Cossi shook his head. “No. No, I’m not. Things have happened and they don’t make sense. Heh, I don’t know what to do. Nothing fucking prepared me for this.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a joyful sound. Killer could recognize the sound of fear from a mile away.

He blew a plume of smoke into the night air. “The AU I was stationed out of was impacted, too. We came here when things deteriorated. I’m pretty sure whatever happened the impact is multiverse wide,” Killer stated. Panic crossed Cossi’s features. “It’s many factors balled up into one. The multiverse reached a breaking point and now we’re caught up in the fallout.”

“Well, shit,” Cossi muttered, his soul tightening as he contemplated what that meant for him. “So it’s, like, the beginning of the end, then?”

Killer mulled it over for a moment before responding, “I guess ya could put it that way. Let’s hope the end don’t come too quickly, though. I’m talkin’ to this guy–he smells like pastries n’ coffee beans. I think we got a few things in common.”

Cossi sputtered as realization hit him. He blushed, tugging his starry hood up to cover his face. Killer laughed aloud as he followed the other towards towering rock formations.

Red and Sans set up their belongings in a room with double beds. Sci was settling in across the hall from them in a small bedroom with a twin bed tucked into a corner. Sans would have rather been bunking alone, but he wouldn’t complain. It was fine.

Red closed the door and Sans turned to look at him. Red’s expression conveyed sheepishness as overthinking took over. The day had exhausted them physically, but his skull still housed all of the pent up anxiety from the day’s travels. “So, Sans…are ya curious about all how this is going to go down? ‘Cause the guy who’s supposed to give us the rundown ain’t even here.”

Sans shrugged. “No clue, pal. I figured we’d be staying at Nightmare’s castle and now we’re here. I’m sure anything could change on a moment’s notice.”

Red grunted. “I didn’t think the stakes would be this fuckin’ high just starting out.”

Sans chuckled. “I learned not to underestimate the multiverse. Keep in mind we’re essentially walking amongst gods,” he added, glancing at the door. “The Universe Destroyer and the infamous Guardians are housed here with us. Dude, we’re peons in comparison to these guys. If multiverse shit is a big deal for them, there’s really no comparison. For us it’s just…incomprehensible.”

The Underfell resident nodded his skull and gripped his chin as he contemplated. “I thought some of ‘em were mortals like us, though? Half-mortals maybe? Dunno how that works.”

Sans leaned his skull back to rest on the stack of pillows lining his headboard. “Technically, yes. Pretty sure as long as Nightmare is around, his followers will be around with him. I don’t know the technicalities of it.”

“Huh,” Red uttered, before laying down on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling. A small, yellow moth flew towards the sconces at the corners of the bedroom, before retreating from the hot bulbs when it happened too close to them. It repeated the process multiple times before Red sighed. “Are you worried?”

Sans snorted. “Hell yeah. I’m terrified.”

Red swallowed and nodded. “Me, too.”

“It’s alright to be scared. This is some astronomical, horrific shit. There’s no point in pretending when we’re going to be face to face with the reality of what is happening.”

“Yer right. Heh, I need to loosen the fuck up.” Red stretched before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the seat in his corner. “Thanks for the chat. G’night.”

“Goodnight, Red.”

Blue bit one of the pillows as Dust held his hips in a punishing grip. He’d been subtly teasing Dust ever since they’d gone down to grab lunch for the others. He didn’t think he’d get quite this into their little game, but the guardsman couldn’t complain. It felt like Dust was rearranging his insides in the most pleasurable way possible. He was big, and it felt immaculate to take him to the hilt. Blue blinked and tears streamed down his cheeks. If he died now, he’d regret nothing.

“You knew, mmn, exactly what you were doing today,” Dust growled, his voice low and threatening. “You probably felt so in control. Now look at you.”

Blue released a groan that was half-stifled by his mouth full of pillow. Dust’s hips connected with Blue’s ass harshly, the slap of his pelvis against Blue’s ecto making a sound both obscene and gratifying. He reminded himself to be gentle with the sheets even though his phalanges stretched the tight threading each time Dust upped the intensity. Blue trembled as Dust reached along his spine to tease his cervical vertebrae, the roughened tips of his phalanges memorizing the intricacies of his neck bones.

Dust groaned as he leaned over the guardsman, one of his hands supporting him while the other moved from Blue’s neck to his front where he gripped the fairly muscled, yet soft ecto of his abdomen. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty. Stars,” he said between clenched teeth, moving his hips once again. “D’ya like bein’ my little bitch?” Blue made a strangled mewl in response as he arched his spine. “You wanna cum, don’t ya? ‘N you’ve been such a good boy, too.”

“Please. Dust, please,” Blue begged, his eye lights hazy as he looked over his shoulder at Dust. Dust leaned in to capture Blue’s mouth with his own as he clutched him tighter to him. Blue whimpered as Dust fucked him deeper and faster, and he let himself drift into a headspace he’d very recently gotten acquainted with. Sex with Dust was a drug he’d gotten hooked on. He was just fine with that.

“Are you alright?” Nightmare asked his lover, whose skull was resting in his lap. Error gave a gentle nod, his hands busy with one of the ends of his tentacles that had extended into veiny filaments. It was strangely soothing and it offered his partner comfort, so the Guardian let him have at it. “What can I do for you right now, darling?”

Error shivered at the pet name. It felt too gentle for him. Maybe that was why he liked it when the Guardian called him such things. Error released a sigh. “I feel like all of this-this is my fault,” he admitted. “And I know you’ll sa-ay it’s not. And maybe it isn’t directly my fa-a-ault, but I’m certain I had a hand in this.”

“We all did,” Nightmare said, one of his hands caressing Error’s cranium. “I pushed you and you pushed back. Everyone has their limit. I drove you to your limit. I shouldn’t have, and if I could take it back, I would in an instant.”

“Would this still have hap-happened? Even if we hadn’t been trapped, do you thin-think the multiverse would be crumbling?”

“I don’t know. I do know that, together, we endured the horrors of that vile place. We will persevere. I wouldn’t want to face the end of the multiverse with anyone else,” Nightmare said.

Error stroked his lover’s leg, his hand resting on the Guardian’s knee as he contemplated what it might look like to be faced with the end of his existence. He’d unknowingly done it once, but he had no memory of their last moments in the Rooms. It was absolutely surreal. It was fucking terrifying. “Me neither. Hey…will you c-carry me to be-ed? Please?” Error asked, the stress and exhaustion settling heavily in his frame. Nightmare smiled. The Destroyer was again reminded of how handsome his partner was at that moment.

“Of course.”

Fresh stood among the ruins of what used to be Nightmare’s castle. He’d gone throughout what was left of the place and scouted out the rooms. Lastly he entered the remnants of Nightmare and Error’s suite, which had been rendered to the structure’s bare bones. It unsettled him as he contemplated what this AU must’ve gone through with the multiversal shift. He didn’t know exactly what had taken place, but he knew that a multitude of AUs had suffered as a result.

He headed back down the hallway, the carpets covered in debris and mottled in sunlight that filtered through the holes in the high ceilings. Fresh entered the kitchen before meandering into what he assumed used to be the living room. He leaned against a solid beam that had previously been responsible for supporting the domed ceiling.

“Well, ain’t this a perfect coincidence,” a voice echoed from the direction of the entrance. Fresh turned his skull and recognized the eyeless visage of Nightmare’s knife-wielding assistant. He strode into the space, kicking at a few smaller chunks of rubble, making them clatter until they hit something else that had been impacted by the multiversal hiccup.

“Hey, bro. I had a bad feeling when I saw Nightmare’s crib looking like this. This really blows.”

“Heh heh, yeah, you can say that again,” Killer said, a sigh following his statement. “Was kinda hopin’ there was going to be more to come back to.”

Fresh stood up, brushing off the pants of his colorful tracksuit. “So, is the rest of the crew okay?” He asked. Killer nodded.

“The crew’s more than okay. We’ve been waitin’ to hear from ya. Boss is gonna be thrilled,” he said, planting his hands on his hip bones. “We’re stationed in Outertale. Can ya jump us there? Or should I open a portal back to where we’re stayin’?”

“Sure can,” Fresh said, his organic eye gleaming as he “unzipped” a pulsing, fuchsia portal. “You first, radical bro.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Killer said as he stepped in. Fresh followed directly behind, closing the portal as he did so. They were deposited between the cliffs and the inn. Killer led him towards where they were stationed, all the while maintaining casual conversation.

Cossi waved as they entered the front doors. Killer offered a nod and Fresh waved, smiling the way he often did. From what Killer could tell, the guy’s default was an uncanny smile, but he wasn’t one to pass judgment. Killer had been informed on numerous occasions that his own smile inspired no small amount of discomfort. One of those individuals had been Dust on an evening where Killer had been attempting to relax in the hot spring back at the castle. His brow twitched at the memory of Dust insulting him as he walked by, probably going to mess around with Blue. Great, now all he could think of was Dust’s stupid, shit-eating grin.
‘Fuckin’ Dust.’

The elevator arrived at their floor. They entered the suite and all eye lights focused on him. A grin overtook his features as he waved at the small crowd. “It’s tubular to see the crew is a’ight,” he said, entering the surprisingly large space. His eye lights fell on Error who’d paused whatever he’d been doing to watch his arrival. Nostalgia flooded his cranium as he recalled the times they’d shared in the vast space of Antivoid. It felt so distant now. “Hey, my Destroyin’ homeslice. Good to see ya again.”

“Hey, Fre-e-esh,” Error responded, bumping his own fist against Fresh's knuckles.

He glanced over at the Guardian of Negativity, who was reclining right next to the Destroyer. He didn’t want to cause a stir, but he also wasn’t about to beat around the bush. He needed a word with them both. “Hey, my tentacled bro. I need to chat with you and Error alone. Do you bros have a place in mind? It’s about Ink,” Fresh said, intentionally keeping his voice soft so as not to draw attention to them.

Nightmare nodded. “The den over that way. That’s the door,” he motioned towards the inconspicuous wooden door on the other side of the room. “Go ahead and we’ll be right in.”

“You got it,” Fresh said and made his way over, opening the door to the dimly lit room with shelves and sconces along the walls. He meandered over to the window looking out over a courtyard where a collection of trees and a pond were located. He looked back at the entrance of the room as Nightmare and Error joined him, closing the door behind them. Error’s expression conveyed his concern. Fresh didn’t blame him.

Before he’d reconnected with the team, he’d stumbled upon the behemoth accidentally. The parasite had gone to discuss the ramifications of the AUs he’d been gifted in return for his collaboration in the rescue of Nightmare and Error. He’d searched for him for a while before calling it quits and exploring the space. Fresh had no doubt about the ominous cavern being a new addition to Ink’s home world. He meandered around until he came across the thing. Immediately he recognized the accursed signature of the rift. It cued him into the fact that he’d been correct in assuming that Ink had to have known something was happening.
He was transfixed by the abomination, the debris scattered about being added to periodically by the far flung section of the pocket dimension. He knew he was probably never meant to see this, but how could he miss it? Ink hadn’t done a thing to hide the issue, much less disguise it. If he had, there was no impact upon the aberration. It made Fresh experience existential dread like he hadn’t felt since entering the rift to save Nightmare and Error. The Creator had really and truly gone off the deep end. After retreating, Fresh knew that this was something he couldn’t overlook. which was why they were standing on the outcropping that led to the cavern. They had an opportunity to study the rift without going anywhere close to the original source.

Error appeared mortified, and Nightmare was only slightly better at disguising his dawning horror. Error belted out a stilted laugh, half expecting to be hit with a punchline and sinker to wrap everything up. When Nightmare and Fresh looked back at him with nothing to suggest this was bad humor, Error felt panic grip him.

“No. Heh, no, that’s not–” Error cleared his figurative “throat” as he looked between them, his vision tunneling slightly as he attempted to comprehend what he’d been told. “Fresh, you’re not s-serious…tell me you’re not. Please.”

Fresh released a drawn out sigh. “Wish I could say I was joshin’ you, but I’m not. I’m very serious.”

“Error, how about we take a seat?” Nightmare asked, the tension in his frame being expressed through the movement of his looming tentacles. “Come on.”

“Fine, fine…*fudging* fine,” Error muttered, his voice sounding both jittery and defeated simultaneously. Nightmare let Error’s sudden emotional shift roll off his shoulders. He knew his partner was scared. “S-so-sorry,” he hissed out, clasping his hands along his temples. The air felt too heavy for him to breathe. The Destroyer hated this aspect of himself–the distress that took hold of him in response to what seemed like anything and everything.

The tip of one of Nightmare’s tentacles coiled around Error’s forearm bones. A magic seal formed underneath, binding Error to the present in the most literal sense–the Guardian of Negativity wasn’t about to risk the Destroyer making an accidental jump right now. “I’ve got you,” the Guardian insisted.

“I-I’m…it’s-” Error let his hands fall away from his skull and closed his eye sockets. He breathed out before reopening them. He still felt as though the multiverse would crush him under its weight, but it was fine. “Sorry. G-go on,” he insisted.

Fresh picked back up without missing a beat. “I’m not sure Ink knew what it was,” Fresh stated. “The way I see it, bro knew something was up, but he downplayed how dangerous this thing was. I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

Error furrowing his brow. He didn’t like the sensation accumulating in his soul as he let his mind drift into unknown territory. “When the most recent event with the AUs took place, something cha-a-anged. I don’t know what ex-ex-exactly changed, but I have a feeling Ink is responsible.”

Fresh nodded in agreement. “I think you may be right. I felt it when it happened, too, yo. Nothing prepared me for that.”

“So you think that the Creator was the impetus for all of what we’re experiencing right now?” Nightmare asked, looking from Error to Fresh. “Or is this just a shot in the dark?”

“Well, isn’t it coincidental that he’s all up and gone missing after the multiverse starts falling apart?” The parasite asked as he tilted his skull to the side. “He’s always been flighty, but the timing doesn’t sit right with me.”

“I suppose now that you put it that way…” Nightmare trailed off, thinking about the time period between when Error had the confrontation with Ink in his realm and now. Time ran together these days, and it frustrated him endlessly. His perception of time hadn’t quite recovered from their time in the Rooms.

“Mark my words,” Error said. “Ink had a han-hand in this.”

“I don’t doubt that he did,” Nightmare said. “We’ll need to remain vigilant.”

“We do,” Fresh said, rubbing his chin as he contemplated. “The rift’s offshoot shouldn’t pose a threat–as long as no one makes direct contact with it. We can use it to gather stats on the real thing,” he said.

“What if I-Ink returns? What then?” Error asked, his arms crossed over his chest. “How do we know he’ll be fine with us *creeping* around his dimension?”

“If that did happen, I can handle the Creator, my dudes,” Fresh responded. “He won’t touch the team goin’ with me. I don’t dig violence, but if need be-” Fresh’s eye light flared and a tentacle wrapped around the side of his glasses, “I got my group covered.”

Nightmare glanced at Error. His expression was reminiscent of the time in which they’d recently escaped the Rooms. The Destroyer was having one hell of a time filtering his thoughts and emotions.

“*Fork*,” Error said under his breath. “You’re sure about this?” He asked, looking at Fresh with an expression that brought the parasite back to their hangouts in the Antivoid. Fresh smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“If I wasn’t my radical self, then maybe I’d have doubts. But being the bodacious Fresh,” he said as he stood up from his seat, “I’m more than capable, my destroyin’ broski.”

Nightmare’s tentacles supported Error’s spine as he attempted to comfort him in any way he could. “Thank you for informing us of this matter. We have full confidence in your abilities. The mortals will be in good hands with you as their advisor.”

“Thanks. Sorry to sour the mood, bros,” Fresh stated, genuinely meaning it. It did feel nice to have to shoulder the knowledge all on his own now. “But you needed to know before I began.”

Nightmare nodded. “You did right by us. Error, do you have anything else to add?”

Error commended himself for his current stoicism, because he felt anything but calm and collected. “N-no, not now. I’ll chat with you late-later on if I think of anything,” he responded. Static danced in his vision as he watched Fresh make playful finger guns at him. “We, uh, did need to hear this, though. Thanks, Fresh.”

Fresh clasped his hands in front of him, and grinned. “That was it. Am I good to meet the boys?”

“Yes,” the Guardian replied, and Fresh took his leave, stepping out into the other room. Taking the moment alone, Nightmare looked to Error, loosening his hold on his partner’s forearms. “Are you okay?” He asked, his eye light steely as he searched the Destroyer’s face.

Error huffed out a sigh. “I’m as o-o-okay as I’m gonna be at the moment. I think I might jus-just sit in that chair in the room for a while, Night.”

Nightmare’s expression hadn’t shifted. “I’ll be here if you need me,” he said seriously, and Error looked down. Nightmare sensed something was off, but he wasn’t about to smother his lover. “You don’t need to suffer alone. You know that.”

“I know,” Error replied, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the Guardian’s jaw. “I’m going to rest.” With that said, Error departed the room. Fresh, being the neon sign that he was, turned to see the Destroyer passing through. He observed the Destroyer’s expression shift into something he couldn’t quite identify before breezed past him and into the hallway behind him. Fresh didn’t ask. He was acquainted with the telltale signs that the Destroyer needed space. He spotted Nightmare exiting the den and closing the door. He made his way over to the couch and sat down.

Killer followed suit and took a seat not too far from him. “So, boss–he was back at the castle, which is decimated, by the way,” Killer stated. “There’s not much to go back to, unfortunately. Kinda bummed out.”

“Oh, *fudge*,” Dust muttered, before furrowing his brow. “Wait, what the *herring*?”

Blue chuckled. “You have Fresh to thank for that,” he said. Fresh turned in his seat to make a finger gun at him in response.

“Cursing totally ain’t cool, yo,” he supplied, leaning back against the couch cushions. “I just jazz it up a little. Make it palatable.”

Cross snorted from the kitchen. “That’s just what we need around here. Welcome, by the way,” he said to Fresh. Dream stood up from the bar stool he’d been seated and adjusted his shawl.

“Fresh, I don’t mean to rush you,” he said, stepping up to where Cross stood with his arms folded across his patched uniform. “We should go get the researchers from their rooms.”

“Allow me,” Blue piped up before retreating into the hall to the bedrooms. The first one he happened upon was Sans’ and Red’s bedroom. He reached out to knock. He hadn’t realized the door was slightly ajar and he was greeted with the sight of Red and Sans seated on one of the beds leaning over a shared phone. Sans looked up abruptly, his white eye light contracting as he realized they had a guest. He whispered something to Red, who also straightened up to look back at Blue.

Blue offered a wave and an awkward smile.“Mweh heh, sorry if I’m interrupting. You’re wanted in the living room. Fresh just arrived.” With that, Blue left the doorway swiftly to knock on Sci’s door, which thankfully wasn’t open. Blue felt sweat beading up on his skull as he felt eyes on his back…or maybe that was just his imagination.

The door opened, and Sci rubbed at his eye socket before planting his tinted glasses on his nasal ridge. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Fresh is here. They want you in the living room.”

Sci’s eye sockets widened as he gathered his sweater and slung a fanny pack over his shoulder. He followed Blue out and nodded to Sans and Red, who looked caught off guard, but otherwise unfazed.

“Alright, here we are,” Blue announced to the room. The others followed, not sure where exactly to stand or how to go about addressing the group. Nightmare’s tentacles slid over the fabric of the carpet as he approached them.

“I hope you realize that your presence is vital to the multiverse. As you can imagine, our decision to involve you was not one that was made without extensive consideration,” he said, his voice multi-layered and deliberate. “This is our ally, Fresh. He’ll be walking you through the basics before accompanying you on your missions to gather data on the rift. Your well-being is integral, so he will be your protection as you work.” Nightmare paused, before glancing over at their parasitic guest. “Fresh?”

“Yo.”

“Please keep an eye on your communication device. We need to be able to reach you at a moment’s notice,” the Guardian of Negativity stated.

“Of course, my totally wicked Guardian homeboy,” Fresh said before walking over to the researchers. “You can trust the bodacious Fresh to get these guys educated.” His glasses projected the words ‘Radical’ as he snapped, conjuring a portal within the confines of the living room. It created an eerie glow over the surfaces of the surroundings. He escorted the newcomers inside, his signature grin doing little to put the research team members at ease, but they went on out of obligation to the cause. With another snap, the fuchsia portal closed behind them, leaving the air charged with magic as the tunnel through the void zipped itself from the inside.

Killer signaled to Nightmare that he had something to tell him, preferably out of earshot of the others. The Guardian drew his tentacles closer to his figure as he entered the den and sat down. Killer shut the door, and took the other seat. “So,” he began, taking out a cloth to polish one of his knives, “We stayin’ for a while? ‘Cause I’ll need to pay to extend our time.”

“For the time being, yes. Go ahead and arrange for us to remain here for at least a full week more. We’ll reevaluate when the time comes.”

Killer nodded, before letting air hiss through his teeth. “Boss, I’m gonna be real with ya. I need some time to sort out some mental shit. Do you mind if I take some time?” He asked almost hesitantly. His smile probably gave away how out of sorts he was feeling.

Nightmare knew that his second in command had his demons. On top of that, he wouldn’t expect anyone to have a level head knowing what they did about the condition of the multiverse. “You deserve a break. Keep me posted. Message me if you need more time to sort things out.”

“You sure? As in-”

Nightmare scoffed. “Did I stutter?” The Guardian of Negativity asked, crossing his legs as he relaxed against the chair he was seated in. “Yes, you can take the time you need. You’re dismissed.”

“Thanks, boss,” he said, his smile relaxing into a more natural expression as he stood from his seat.

“Mhm. And will you stop by my room to retrieve the book I’m reading before you head out? It’s on the dresser.”

“Sure.”

“Do be aware that Error is resting. Please knock before entering,” Nightmare added. “He isn’t having a good time today.”

“Will do, boss. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Killer reentered the living room only to find that most of the team had dispersed. Big H was on the couch watching TV, Blue was stirring something into a hot drink, and Dust had kicked back in one of the recliners. Killer headed down the hallway to the bedrooms. He continued to the very end of the corridor. He knocked a few times and waited. When there was no response, Killer warred with himself over whether it was appropriate to enter.

He knocked again and waited, but there was no sound of movement or any suggestion of a response from the other side of the door. Hesitantly, Killer barely cracked open the door and called out. He heard something in the direction of the restroom that made the back of his cervical vertebrae prickle with uncertainty. “Error? The boss wants me to grab his book. Can you let me know if that’s a’ight?” An indistinct, unintelligible sound came from somewhere, but it wasn’t reassuring. Killer frowned and opened the door a few inches more. “Hey–I’m comin’ in. I’m gonna grab that book and-”

Killer pushed the door fully open to reveal a mostly dark atmosphere. The lights were all off and the bed sheets were disturbed, haphazardly tossed aside so that half of them trailed on the ground. There was no sign of the Destroyer in the room. Killer kept talking, repeating his intentions as he went to retrieve the thick novel off of the dresser. He paused after picking up the book. The sounds he heard were muffled and it made the back of his cervical vertebrae tingle. A bad sensation culminated in his rib cage as he decided to approach the restroom.

He peered around. He caught sight of a door at the other end of the master bath that was slightly ajar. He heard what he thought might be muttering. He cautiously approached what he assumed to be a walk-in storage or closet space, all the while announcing his presence in case Error was having a particularly bad moment. He’d been aware of his episode that led to him teleporting–he didn’t want to risk Error disappearing again, even if it had been accidental the last time it happened.

“Hey, Error? It’s Killer. Are you in there?” When he was able to make out Error’s voice emanating from the space, he stepped inside. “Error, I’m coming in.”

Water. There was nothing but water and tiles, tiles and water and no way out. His diaphragm felt like it had been dipped in molten metal, the pain from his former injuries returning in full. Sinewy, slicked fingertips pried his eye socket open when all he wanted to do was close it.

He felt icy, tenuous touches. Acrid tasting, putrid fluid building up in his mouth before cascading down his cervical vertebrae, painting his rib cage as it descended his frame. His eye socket felt like it would split with the pressure being exerted upon it. All of it resulted in pain. Why did this still happen?

He wasn’t meant to survive the experience. He was certain he wasn’t supposed to have seen freedom. It all followed him, and there was no way to stop the sensation of terror from dragging him back there in full. It was his fault–Not-Ink fucked him up, made it so that Error couldn’t do anything to protect himself or those he cared about. He was rendered useless.

‘Error?’

He shook his skull. No, he didn’t want to know. He’d heard enough.

‘Error. Hey.’ The voice was familiar. It didn’t strike him as belonging to the Rooms. ‘You’re alright–I know ya probably don’t feel like it, but you’re safe. Can you see me?’

Error shook his head and distress bled into his voice as he responded shakily. “No.” He followed up by asking, “Wha-at-what do you want?”

“Hey, you know me. It’s Killer. Nightmare asked me to grab a book for him so I knocked for a while. I had a feelin’ something was wrong”

Error felt as though he could distinguish reality from whatever he’d been immersed in. He felt the lingering terror, but recognized that glitches had filled up his eye sockets. He felt around with trembling hands. “Kill-Killer, okay. You were right, heh. Guess I wasn’t that s-subtle.” He released an unsure sound. “W-where am I?”

“You’re in the closet attached to your bathroom,” Killer said. His voice was immensely comforting as Error attempted to quell the tightness in his chest. “Is there anythin’ I can do for ya?”

“C-can you just stay here with me? I’m…heh, I’m so mentally fu-ucked,” Error said, his voice glitching from stress and shame. Killer readjusted himself so he could settle onto the carpet with the Destroyer. He inhaled and released a sigh, hoping to convey that he was perfectly fine with settling in for a while.

“Course I can. I’m gonna let ya in on a little secret,” Killer said. “Everyone on the team is pretty mentally fucked. No one’s gonna judge you.”

Error chuckled. It sounded forced. “R-right…tend to forget about tha-at.” His eye socket itched and ached. He lifted a hand up to tug at the rim, and Killer spoke up.

“Ey, don’t do that. You got a split there already. You’re only gonna make it wider doin’ that.”

Error hesitated. Reluctantly, he let his hand fall into his lap. “It bothers me of-ften,” he said. Knowing that Killer was one of the monsters who’d seen him at his worst, he decided to continue. “I was attacked by some-something where we were trapped. It forced magic into my eye socket th-through its own e-eye. It’s caused me a lot of is-issues.”

“Holy shit,” Killer uttered, not expecting to hear something so visceral. He suppressed a chill. “And that eye light is still functional?”

Error grunted an acknowledgment. “When it's not glitched out like this, ye-eah.” The Destroyer sucked in a breath before letting it out. From the slightly ajar closet door casting light from the bathroom, he could identify Killer’s visage as his vision began to clear. “Have you dealt with…episodes that take you back to times you don-don’t wanna remember?”

“Yes,” Killer said without hesitation. “Used to happen often. Boss connected with someone knowledgeable and got me some pills to kick it for the most part. Still happens sometimes, though.”

Error bit at the inside of his jaw as he processed that. He almost wished that Killer would’ve told him that whatever medication he’d started made the flashbacks stop. “I don’t feel like my-myself anymore,” Error admitted.

Killer offered a sympathetic smile. He knew how it felt to lose himself to his past trauma. He didn’t wish it upon anyone, but wishing hadn’t ever gotten him anywhere. Reality was relentless. “I can relate to that feelin’,” Killer said, his voice taking on a softer quality than usual. “Not gonna assume to know what y’all went through, but ’m very familiar with losing touch with reality.” He sighed. “If you ever want to talk about the unpleasant shit, I’m here. Been told I’m pretty decent at listenin’.”

Error blinked, the last of the glitches clouding his vision clearing as he did. “I think I’ll take you u-up on that. I’m…I don’t know how to pretend to be fine. I haven’t f-felt fine for a long time now.”

“Error, my man–you don’t have to pretend. Fuck, I’m gonna be honest with ya–nobody expects ya to just bounce back after what ya went through. That’s just not how shit works,” Killer responded.

Error didn’t know what to say. He felt inept as he considered how deeply he’d been affected by the Rooms. He’d tried to shrug it off, shove it down and stifle the memories as they appeared. Apparently his plan to ignore the growing anxiety wasn’t as effective as he assumed it would be. He hadn’t seen that coming. Not at all.

“Thanks,” Error responded, unsure how else to thank someone who didn’t owe him anything for comforting him. “I just need some time…”

“That’s okay. Heh, I need time, too, buddy. Need a hand?”

Error hesitated momentarily before grasping the hand that was offered to him. Glitches flitted along his forearm and across his phalanges, but he was thankful for the assistance. He adjusted his clothing and looked down at the ground, muttering about ‘inconvenient flashbacks’. “Thanks for com-coming in. I’m thankful to not be stuck in a closet with my thought-thoughts any longer. Heh.”

“Of course. Just remember ya can chat with me or any of the others ya feel comfortable with. You’re not botherin’ anyone.” Error nodded and uttered a soft ‘thanks’ as he exited the closet. Killer left the restroom before closing the Destroyer’s door and heading to deliver the book to Nightmare. He felt slightly more at ease knowing that he brought Error out of something that may have ended poorly. His mind was now occupied with the time he’d have to himself. He had a good idea of how he’d spend it.

Error peered at his reflection in the mirror. His forehead was mottled with perspiration and his eye lights were far too bright. He tugged off his shirt to rid himself of the clammy sensation resulting from the damp sections of material. He placed his hands on the counter top and focused on the chill of the glossy surface against his phalanges. He felt disconnected from his senses as he attempted to focus on the small details of his surroundings. After a few minutes in silence, he lifted a hand to scratch at his left ulna and radius. He applied more pressure, digging the sharper tips of his phalanges into the bones, recognizing the spike of sensation and the wave of relief that accompanied it. He scratched until marrow beaded up on the surface and trailed down in thin rivulets before plopping onto the counter.

Error discontinued when a sudden calm descended upon him. He picked up his shirt and mopped up the mess he’d made. The air against his forearm bones felt like small needles but it was clarifying. Error was feeling much more present. He could put on a brave face for Nightmare–the Guardian didn’t need more on his plate with everything happening. Error turned on the shower. When steam clouded the glass door, he stepped inside, sighing as the hot water surrounded him. He leaned his forehead against the tiles and watched red tinted water encircle the drain before being sucked into the cavity in the floor. The gurgle of the drain incited a prickling sensation along the back of his cervical vertebra. He squinted at it, the reflection of the lights creating a sharp white pip where the whirlpool of marrow and water descended. His mind conjured an eye socket in the place of the drain, suggesting that the reflection was an eye light observing him–a mentally unwell, formerly unwavering monster with no fucking clue how to handle himself.

Error hooked his phalanges into his compromised eye socket and tugged, the resulting pain causing moisture to well up and spill over onto his cheeks. He bit down on the bone of his lower lip, the pressure adding to the blend of pain, heat, and overwhelm that had blossomed in his chest. What was wrong with him? He’d done so much to fight against his insanity. He’d tuned out the voices so well for such a long time, built up his defenses by figuring out his triggers, and for once actually felt like he could mend his accursed mind. He fucking hated being alone with his thoughts. It felt like he’d undone any progress he’d made in the past–or maybe he hadn’t ever gotten the voices to leave. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t trust his memory now.

He choked on a pitiful sound as it left his mouth. His hands were trembling and he could distinctly feel unseen eyes upon him. He settled in the corner of the shower. He rested his skull on his forearms which were propped on his knees, the position relieving some of the intensity of it all. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but when he began to shiver, he figured he probably had overstayed his welcome. On unsteady feet he shuffled over to turn off the water and stepped out. He stood in the center of the restroom as he adjusted the towel around him, his thoughts drifting along a series of tunnels and cursed white tiles.

Killer was smug as he sauntered down the hallway behind Cossi’s bakery. There was someone else at the counter today, which meant his new acquaintance was able to slip away for a while. Looking around, Killer kept track of the turns they took on the way to an inconspicuous door with a starry doormat reading ‘Stellar’. Cossi tugged a key out of his apron’s pocket and unlocked it before pushing it open. The scent of polished wood met Killer as he followed him inside.

“It’s not much,” Cossi said, his tone suggesting that he’d said it more out of embarrassment than anything else. “But it gets the job done.” He closed the door behind Killer as he looked around the space. Compared to the suite they were staying in, Cossi’s home was a humbler aesthetic.

“Nice liquor collection,” Killer commented, nodding to the cabinet with abundant variations of colorful bottles and flasks. Cossi’s face brightened as he blushed and sputtered.

“Oh, yeah, that. I like vintage glassware. Flasks, bottles, and whatnot.”

Killer arched his brow. “So you’re not an alcoholic is what yer tellin’ me?”

“I mean, I drink, but I don’t go overboard. Everything in moderation, man,” Cossi said, opening the cabinet door and flicking on the light inside the decorative case. “Some of them can be consumed, others…well, I’m not sure I trust all of them. Some are oldies.”

“Ooh, Cossi–are you inviting me to drink with ya?” Killer asked, leaning against the wall to the right of him. “Don’t play with me, baby boy. Booze is serious business.”

Cossi’s face was on fire. “Y-yeah…yeah, I guess I am. Do you wanna?”

With a phalanx under his apron’s waist tie, Killer tugged the skeleton monster closer so that they were chest to chest. “What’d I say about teasin’?” He asked with a devious smirk. Cossi was adorable when he became flustered. “You want to pick somethin’? Or I could help ya. Your choice.”

“K-Killer?”

“That’s my name.”

“Do you like whiskey?” He asked, his voice wavering as his soul shifted in his rib cage.

“Mhm. Where are your low-ball glasses, Starboy?”

“In the kitchen–over the toaster. You can’t miss it.”

Killer released the hotel host’s apron as he turned to retrieve their drink ware. Cossi was beside himself with a blend of horny and apprehension as he watched the sexy unhinged guy retreat into his kitchen. He turned back to his cabinet and grabbed out two of his more recently dated bottles before setting them down on his coffee table. Killer was right behind him, setting down two glasses with a sly smirk.

“Two? What a surprise.” Killer sat down next to him before picking up the leaner of the two bottles to inspect. Cossi had yet to figure out how his new pal saw anything with his lack of visible eye lights. It felt wrong to ask a question like that, so he’d just speculate on his own–

“Heh, what? Ohhh, it’s the eye sockets, ain’t it?” Killer asked.

Cossi clasped a hand over his mouth as mortification swept over him. He was ruining any semblance of a chance he might have had with this guy. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he actually noticeably staring? “I’m so sorry,” he said, his words muffled by his hand.

“Psh. Nah, don’t be sorry,” Killer said, hooking a phalanx around the apron strings one more. “We’re gonna have a good time, yeah? I asked for time off just for you, pretty boy.”

“That was rude of me-”

“To what–look at me?” Killer chuckled. “Hey, I’ll do a lot to grab your attention. Just wait.”

“Fuck, okay. Uh, drinks? Drinks, let’s do drinks,” Cossi answered himself as he unscrewed the golden cap and filled the cups with orchid purple liquid. Killer looked pleased with himself.

“Tell me if I’m makin’ you uncomfortable, because that’s not my intention,” Killer told him, his face still reflecting that cocksure expression.

Cossi paused, before shaking his skull. “You’re not. It’s been a while since I had company. You’re the first guy I’ve actually brought back here, so, uh, consider yourself…approved.”

“Aw, that’s fuckin’ sweet. That’s also a lot of pressure. What have you done?”

“No, no I–no pressure-”

“Hey. Cossi.” Said skeleton looked to Killer, the anxiety he was feeling brightening his eye lights. “Anythin’ makes you uncomfortable you tell me stop. Got it?” Cossi nodded in response, his expression reflecting keen interest in whatever Killer had in mind. Killer plucked up a glass and handed it to Cossi before lifting his own. Killer tossed his drink back and Cossi followed suit.

Fresh felt like they’d covered a good amount of content. It had gone smoothly and the researchers had loosened up over the time they spent in the open AU. The weather had remained balmy and welcoming while they discussed the dynamics of the rift. The sun had begun to sink down in the sky, approaching the horizon and casting a pink haze over the landscape. The group was enjoying some downtime, as was Fresh after the hours he’d spent answering questions and asking the newbies questions of his own. The chill of the oncoming evening permeated the parasite’s jacket, so he could only assume the others were feeling the cold as well.

“Heyo, my radical researchers. Congrats on finishing your intro to pocket dimensions. Next time we head out, we start digging deeper. I’ve got just the location.” Fresh made finger guns as his sunglasses lit up with ‘Totally tubular’.

They were glad to see the fuchsia portal appear out of the darkening atmosphere. Sans was the first to step through, followed by Red and Sci. Fresh glanced around, feeling thoroughly unsettled as the distinct sensation of being watched gripped him. Seeing nothing to suggest that his sudden wariness had any basis in reality, he shrugged and entered his portal.

They were greeted by an empty living room. Red headed to the kitchen to find something to eat while Sans settled down into a chair. Sci took a seat on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Fresh stretched upon entering the suite, cracking his spine before seating himself on the carpeted floor.

When Sans was unable to keep his eye sockets open, he retreated to his and Red’s shared quarters. He tossed his shirt onto the floor next to his bed before shedding his socks. He climbed onto the mattress and tugged the comforter up to his chin before allowing himself to drift off.

Red rinsed off his plate and slotted it into the dishwasher. He cracked his back and bid the others a good night before meandering to his bedroom. He pushed open the door to reveal Sans already snoring softly. It felt strangely intimate walking in on someone sleeping. He closed the door as quietly as he could before making his way to his own bed. He took off his jacket and his black tee shirt before laying down. Sans shifted in his sleep and Red glanced over at the sound of rustling covers.

Sans’ eye socket opened slightly and he hummed. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Silence prevailed as Sans blinked, his eye light, which was dim with exhaustion. He was out of it, but he was awake enough for the moment. He supposed that came with the territory of sharing a room. “Did you feel like somethin’ was off today?”

Red contemplated, before shrugging. “I mean, Fresh is pretty out there. I don’t think he’s the first guy I’d choose to hang with.”

Sans rubbed his eye socket, before adding, “Yeah, I get that, but I’m not referring to Fresh. I mean the place we were stationed at today. In general. Did you feel watched?”

“Yeah, actually. Had me feelin’ a little crazy. I think I felt it.”

Sans reluctantly sat up as sleepiness gave way to his overactive mind. “There was someone or something there. You can’t convince me there wasn’t. It felt wrong. I didn’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything.”

Red nodded. “Ya don’t have to convince me.” He paused to contemplate for a moment before asking, “Do ya think we’re in over our heads here?”

Sans shrugged. “Dunno. I just hope Fresh has a plan if things take a turn for the worst. He mentioned getting close, but not “too close” – whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“Yeah, uh, how would we get close at all without ending up fucked?”

Sans pressed the base of his palms against his eye sockets as he sighed. Maybe he should’ve eaten more during the day. He felt sore and far too tired for what they’d done. He’d keep that in mind for future outings. “It’s not possible. Unless it’s somehow an indirect source, which now that I’m thinkin’ about it, it may be. He said he wasn’t going to put us in danger…at least not intentionally.”

Red grunted in response, muttering something soft and unintelligible in agreement. After a few minutes, he sat up in bed as well. “Do ya have anyone back home in particular that you’re missin’ right now?”

Sans shrugged. “My younger bro, Papyrus. He’s attending a local university. I know he has support back home, but I can’t help but be worried about him.”

Red understood. He and his brother weren’t very close, but he still felt obliged to be there for him. He was all Red had. “I’ve got a brother, too. We ain’t super close, but we share a house. Don’t really know what I’d do if somethin’ happened to him.”

Sans nodded. He got it. He really did. Papyrus called him “overbearing” and he accepted it. He’d much rather annoy his brother than see him dust. “Same. I used to have friends. Hell, I used to be kind of popular.”

Red snorted. “You? Popular? Nah, quit pullin’ my chain.”

Sans rolled his eye lights and Red grinned, his sharp teeth catching the barely there light emanating from the nightlight plugged into the far wall. “And I bet you’re a beloved member back home, hm?” Red’s expression shifted and Sans chuckled. “Uh huh.”

“Shut up,” Red spat playfully, his smile returning in full. Sans clutched a hand to his sternum, feigning shock.

“Oh my Stars, what’s the goth boy gonna do if I don’t?” Red threw off his covers and Sans froze, not expecting his roommate to react quite so outwardly. “Whoa, hah, slow down there now.”

“Are you gonna retract what ya said?” Red asked, his right eye light bright with interest. Sans, now very awake, contemplated. He didn’t know how long they’d be staying here or if they’d make it home. What was the harm in playing around?

“Fuck that, buddy. What’re you gonna do to me?”

Red’s response was a toothy smirk.

“Hey.”

Fresh turned his skull to see Sci taking a seat on the living room couch. “Yo. What’s cookin’ homeslice?”

“Did you feel like there was something off back there?” Sci asked, unfolding the wrapper of his chocolate bar.

Fresh’s shades displayed ellipses as he titled his skull to the side. “How do you mean, broseph?”

“Well, we were out in the middle of nowhere in that AU. There weren’t any towns nearby, so there shouldn’t have been anyone else there with us, right?” Sci asked, breaking off a square of his snack. “You felt it, too. You did, didn’t you?”

Fresh’s smile wavered slightly. “Didn’t see anything wrong. I think I just chose an uncanny AU. I would’ve been able to see if we’d had any totally unrad guests lurking about.” Fresh tapped the side of his sunglasses lenses. “You’re in good hands.”

“Yeah…I don’t know, it could be that I’m just anxious about the upcoming excursion.”

“Makes sense, science bro. The multiverse is an intimidating place. As long as you're with me I’ll keep you safe,” the parasite said. Sci uttered a nervous chuckle.

“Thanks, Fresh. That means a lot.”

Killer was well versed in time management. Time was of the essence and Nightmare valued efficiency, so if Killer had a spare moment he found a way to make it count. He would have said the same for the afternoon where he and Cossi had planned to hang out an hour or two before the hotel host returned to his desk. That hour or two had turned into three, then four, and then they’d lost track of time completely. Cossi had reached out to the guy taking over his shift to say he wouldn’t be back and that he’d pay him overtime. It was in a semi-slurred, relaxed tone that Killer wasn’t at all familiar with, but that he very much liked. He had loosened up after they’d spent a while chasing their banter with punchy drinks. While Killer wasn’t quite drunk, he was far past tipsy.

Killer was immensely entertained when Cossi asked about his job. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected it, but he wasn’t trying to scare the guy off. He gave a roundabout explanation of his career and detailed that he was familiar with combat. Cossi’s expression took on a playful edge as he urged Killer to demonstrate a fighting move he'd used before. Killer laughed aloud, but decided to play along with Cossi’s request.

“A’ight, so let’s say I wanna restrain you. Yer a lethal psycho who’s gonna assassinate my boss,” Killer said, stepping into place an arm’s length from Cossi. He watched Killer with unadulterated fascination. Killer caught the back of Cossi’s knee with one of his feet and Cossi tripped. Killer caught him and exerted a light amount of force on his shoulders so that Cossi fell into a kneeling position before him. “I would’ve had you pinned, held your wrists just like this behind your back, and made sure to hold a blade to your neck,” Killer said, his voice a deep, droning pur that had Cossi transfixed. “But you’re too pretty to mess up. Dunno what I’d do if I ran into you out on the field. Prob’ly stash you in my pocket for later.” Killer winked.

Cossi blushed and his entire face was overtaken by the rich hue of his magic. Killer lifted the kneeling monster’s chin with a phalange as he smirked. “Or maybe you wanna get a little fucked? Cossi, are you getting off on this?”

Cossi’s mouth tugged into a bashful smile as he uttered, “Yeah, heh, yeah I am. You caught me.”

His surroundings blurred as they went from a tentative kiss to getting handsy on the couch. In very little time, Cossi had his magic summoned, and Killer’s mouth watered at the sight of him. His new companion was chubby and delectable as fuck. Killer would be a fool to turn him down (not that the thought had even occurred to him). He let his own ecto spread down, the deep blood red cascading over his bones and filling in his pelvic cradle. He watched Cossi shift his pants off hungrily, the excitement of not knowing what he might get turning him on even more.

“I, uh, d-don’t top,” Cossi said, his face glowing as he shed his slacks. Killer knelt on the floor, his attention on the lower half of the other’s frame. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Wanna sit back and let me take control? I think I can make it worth your time,” Killer purred.

Cossi nodded, the alcohol and the heat of the moment leaving him sensitive to everything. Cossi’s world narrowed down to the sensation of warmth and white hot pleasure radiating from between his legs. He bit down on one of his knuckles as he felt pressure as the other’s tongue pressed inside of him. He was mindful not to squeeze his thighs together, until Killer pulled back, licking his teeth.

“Hey. You’re tense. Is this okay?” Cossi nodded, looking to the side as he began to over analyze things. Killer set his hands on his thighs, re-centering his attention. “You know what I find really, really hot?”

“Y-yeah-”

“Your thighs. They’re sexy as hell. You wanna squeeze my skull? Cause suffocating while eating you out sounds like the fucking best way to go,” Killer said, his eye sockets half-lidded. Cossi couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him.

“Dude, I was thinking to myself ‘don’t squeeze, don’t squeeze’ and you’re telling me you want me to crush you?”

“Cossi, I don’t think you realize how turned on I am right now. Fuck, yes, I want you to crush me.”

“I’m…I’m really out of practice,” Cossi replied. Killer offered a slanted, goofy smile.

“I can’t tell ya the last time I did this. I ain’t judgin’ you,” Killer said, leaning his skull against one of Cossi’s thighs. Cossi’s expression visibly relaxed. “Here, how about we try somethin’ else first? How’s that sound?”

“Yeah, yes–can I do something?”

"Sure can," Killer said as he untied the tie on his slacks and let them fall before taking a seat on the couch. He gripped his dick and turned his head to look at Cossi. “Be my guest. It’s all for you, Starboy.”

Cossi took a seat in Killer’s lap like he owned it. It was as though a switch had been flipped as the shorter, chubbier skeleton took Killer’s length in hand and gave it a few pumps. Staring down at the red shaft jutting from between his thighs in admiration, he took a moment to finger himself before positioning Killer’s dick at his entrance. Killer groaned as the pressure and heat of Cossi’s pelvis engulfed his dick. It had been so, so long. Too long.

“Fuck, yes,” Killer uttered, looked up at Cossi from under half–lidded eyes sockets. Cossi smirked, rocking his hips as he got the feel for the shaft inside him. He guided Killer’s hands to his hips where he molded them against his ecto in a firm grip.

“I like it rough,” he said, the blush returning in full. Killer grinned as he lifted Cossi’s hips, only to snap his own up as he brought him back down into his lap. He was certain he’d be able to make his new pal scream. This was just what he needed.

When Error exited the room, he had no clue what time it was. Time had ceased to matter due to the sudden onslaught of confusion and bad memories. He meandered down the corridor, catching the sound of a couple muffled voices behind a closed door. He didn’t stick around to identify if the groan he caught was born from pain or pleasure. He’d learned not to ask questions about the goings on within the network of Nightmare’s team and the recently added guests. Error shook off a chill that had crept up his spinal column as he stepped into the living space.

The drone of a local news channel on the TV filled the space with a monotonous hum as they talked about “strange natural disasters” and “eerie premonitions”. Error watched the monster dressed in a dapper sweater vest for a moment before his attention was drawn to the study off to the side of the room. Error approached the slightly ajar door before opening it fully and stepping inside. As his eye lights adjusted to the dim atmosphere, he was met with the sight of his partner fully passed out in one of the chairs with an open book in his lap. His tentacles were spread out like roots along the carpeted floor, the ends separating into finer filaments that tapered off somewhere along the fibers of the rug. Error didn’t want to startle him, so he opted for taking a gentle, cautious approach to waking him.

“Night,” Error called out, his voice carrying a hoarse edge. The tentacles along the ground began to move and the Destroyer was alerted to his partner’s waking by the glow of Nightmare’s teal eye light illuminating one side of his angular visage. Error stepped into the room and made his way over to the Guardian. Error tilted his skull as he slotted his mouth with Nightmare’s, catching the flavor of espresso on the Guardian’s tongue. Error hummed as relief washed over him. Sweet familiarity–he’d do anything to feel like the multiverse wasn’t fucked. For once he felt like he could breathe.

Nightmare cupped Error’s jaw, caressing his face with a sharp thumb as he sighed in contentment. “You’re fine. I’m merely catching up on lost sleep.” The Guardian smiled, his pearly canines peeking over the dark bone of his lip. His handsome expression morphed into one of concern as he asked, “Err, are you really alright? Your eye socket is swollen.”

The Destroyer fiddled with his phalanges subconsciously, the very recent memory of his hellish flashbacks prickling at his cranium. He nodded, but it must not have reached his eye lights, because his lover’s expression turned stony. Nightmare was not only adept at reading him, but the connection between their souls cued him into significant emotional fluctuations the Destroyer was experiencing.

“Error. Tell me,” the Guardian of Negativity said, his silken, baritone voice breaking down the Destroyer’s barely there defenses. Error just wanted to feel some degree of normalcy.

“It’s alright, o-okay? You already do en-enough,” Error said abruptly, the fear of becoming too much resurfacing. “I’m fine, re-eally.”

“Don’t lie to me,” the Guardian said as he stood from his seat. “You’ve had a difficult time today, haven’t you?” He asked, approaching his lover with measured steps until he could feel Error’s breath against his sternum.

The Destroyer nodded. He avoided looking up into that handsome, searing eye light. He felt unworthy of his partner’s gaze. He wasn’t worthy in his mind–not any longer. Not like this.

“I can feel that you’re hurting. Don’t prolong this, Err. Look at me,” he commanded. “You’re not a bother–not ever. I’ll not tolerate you believing such nonsense.” He leaned down to kiss his partner more passionately, his emotions intensifying at the thought of Error isolating himself unnecessarily. “Would you rather show me? Would that help?” Nightmare asked.

“I’d like that,” the Destroyer stated, his eye lights glowing feverishly. “Here? O-or back in-in the room?”

“You tell me,” Nightmare purred, his hands settling on Error’s hips. He settled his forehead against the Destroyer’s, inhaling the soothing scent of his lover.

“The room,” Error stated, closing his eye sockets. Nightmare pulled him closer before the study transformed, the ambiance shifting from a warmly lit, small area into the dark, hushed setting of the master bedroom. Error’s breath caught as he blinked, the sensation of his partner’s smooth teleportation jarring in its own way.

He climbed into bed, followed by the Guardian who readily welcomed Error into his lap. Nightmare unbuttoned his shirt and Error followed suit, tugging off the tee shirt that he’d pulled on earlier. It took little time to coordinate and press their sternum flush against one another. The Guardian’s tentacles covered Error’s frame and the Destroyer felt grounded as he received his partner’s emotions and revealed his own simultaneously. Error wrapped his arms around Nightmare’s neck and consciously let his mental walls down.

His thoughts were laid bare, as were his fears and the darkest parts of himself. The Destroyer wasn’t as apprehensive to reveal the entirety of his being to Nightmare as he’d been the first time, but he wouldn’t consider it an effortless task. He recalled his bleeding forearm, and the shower, and he was keenly aware of the fact that Nightmare would’ve seen it the moment it happened to cross his mind. He stiffened in his grip before feeling teeth graze his cervical vertebrae. Error groaned softly and Nightmare kissed his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the tone of his voice causing chills to travel along the Destroyer’s spine, “That I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

Error shook his head, furrowing his brow. “I’ve handled my-myself before all of this happened. It’s not your res-res-responsibility-”

“I know you did,” Nightmare responded. “But you’re not alone now. I want you and to be here, with you.” Error’s silence spoke volumes. Nightmare leaned in and kissed him, cupping his jaw as he slotted their mouth together. The strength of their connection increased as he focused on instilling his devotion to the Destroyer. He knew it wouldn’t be an overnight development–Error wasn’t able to grasp that he was here for the long haul, and the Guardian of Negativity was determined to change that. He’d show his lover that he was dedicated to him, so much so that he’d begun to plan a future for them.

Organizing basic needs for the team while staying at the inn left him with a good amount of free time. He’d spent the majority of that downtime with Error in some way or another, but when he had nothing to preoccupy him, his thoughts led him through what their future would look like. If the multiverse didn’t consume them all, he wanted so badly to fulfill Error’s desires. Witnessing the Destroyer genuinely happy was something he planned to achieve. He wouldn’t delude himself into believing that he had seen that from his partner–at least not yet. If nothing else, Nightmare was patient. He could wait, all the while taking care of his lover’s mental and physical well being.

“I’m so in love with you,” Nightmare stated softly, holding Error flush against him, his tentacles coiling protectively around the Destroyer’s upper arms and thighs. “Don’t tell me to ignore your pain. I won’t, by the way, if you were wondering.” The Guardian smiled as Error moaned as their souls became fully tethered. “Give me that pain, Err. Let me take it from you.”

Error tensed, his joints creaking with the exertion on his frame as he trembled through a sudden orgasm. The echo of it was fed to Nightmare who hummed in appreciation. The Destroyer twitched in his hold, the end of the blissful contraction leaving him far more lax than moments prior. “I love you, too, Night…can’t find the wo-ords to tell you how much you me-ean to me.” Error leaned his skull against his lover’s clavicle as he relaxed against him.

Nightmare’s tentacles caught the comforter and tugged it up and over Error and himself. He adjusted the angle of the pillows behind him and nuzzled the Destroyer when he relaxed against him, his frame falling into place naturally over his own. “I know, Err. I can feel it. You don’t need to try to explain it,” the Guardian reassured him. “Would you like me to feed?”

Error nodded tiredly. “Yeah. Please.”

The sound of Error’s snores filled the atmosphere within minutes of Nightmare initiating the absorption of negativity from his magic. It was reminiscent of both harrowing and sublime times past. He had to actively remind himself that they were secure for now. They’d take things day by day, because that was all they could do at the moment.

Fresh opened a portal into the Doodlesphere and beckoned the research crew to follow him as he stepped out onto a grassy outcropping. The trio of skeletons looked up in awe at the infinite space above them. Sans in particular experienced a flash of emotion that only colored his features for a moment before it was replaced by his typically neutral expression. Fresh acknowledged that there was a real possibility that the Creator could make an appearance, but he’d decided that gaining access to the offshoot of the rift was worth the risk.

“Alright, my virtuous bros, this ahead is where we’re we begin our radtastic descent,” Fresh stated, snapping his phalanges so that his portal closed itself. “One major reminder, tho–you’re not gonna get close to the thing that’s in there. If you do, I can’t guarantee you’ll come back with us. That’s just the nature of the beast, my dudes.”

Sci scowled and asked, “What exactly are we up against here?”

“Think of it as a glimpse into the rift. It’s an indirect link, but that doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. Think of it as a microscopic, remote version of the pocket dimension.”

“Well *stick*,” Red uttered as he scrutinized the mouth of the cave. Fresh’s smile twitched imperceptibly.

“So as long as we stay a good distance away, we’ll be fine, right?” Sans asked, his white eye lights searching for any sign of deception from their parasitic, world-hopping safety rep. Fresh nodded, his sunglasses conveying a glowing thumbs up. “Alright then. Let's get this party started.”

“I like your enthusiasm, broseph!” Fresh said before turning on his heel and starting towards the foreboding structure. The trio fell into step behind him, unwilling to allow their means of protection to get too far ahead. They were soon entering the mouth of the structure where the light was obscured almost entirely as they began their descent into the depths of the tunnels.

Sans wasn’t a stranger to the dark–he’d lived underground for most of his life, so he knew how to deal with a little claustrophobia. This place, however, made his soul clench uncomfortably in his rib cage. He was supposed to be brave, and while he’d like to say that he wasn’t put off by the place, there was nearly palpable dread growing inside of him. Red nudged his arm and he glanced over at his new companion.

“Hey–ya know, this guy told me it’s natural to be scared,” be said softly so that only Sans could hear him. Sans smiled. “‘M here for ya.”

He gave the Fell resident a lopsided smile. “You, too. I’m sure you can hear my bones rattling,” Sans said. Red chuckled.

“Only a lil’ bit, but I’m in the same boat. I can’t really say nothin’.”

“We’re super subtle,” Sans said, winking at Red. Red snorted.

“Totally. No one’s gonna know we’re *fudging* terrified,” the Underfell monster said sarcastically. “Heh, how would they know?”

Sans playfully bumped him with his shoulder and they both fell into a comfortable silence. Sci was a quiet guy, but it was obvious he was feeling trepidation as well. When he glanced over, Sans gave him a thumbs up, and Sci mirrored the gesture. Sans wasn’t certain how long it took exactly, but eventually they were faced with their perilous research subject. It was unlike anything they’d ever seen.

“Well, my smarticle particles, here we are. This is where we’re going to stay for a while. Don’t get any closer than the fractured, rusty door over there.”

Sans, Red, and Sci set up their gear. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to collect data on the thing. The energy signature, the approximate size, an estimate of the depth, and other attributes were entered into an electronic pad as they chatted among themselves. They analyzed the objects on the ground, careful not to touch any of the items which had been released from what Sans was beginning to believe was essentially a wormhole. He voiced this idea to Red and Sci who both agreed. As if on cue, a metallic clank resounded through the cavern as an object tumbled through the opaque surface of the massive, glistening maw. Red cursed under his breath and Sci forced himself to relax after realizing they weren’t being attacked. Sans felt perspiration beading up on his skull.

After a few hours of analyzing and hypothesizing, Fresh announced, “There’s a tunnel offshoot a little ways back. It might connect to this thing. Hang tight, sciencey bros.”

“Yep, we’ll be right here,” Sans said from where he was seated. He’d spread out his blue hoodie so that he had some cushion against the cold ground as he jotted some notes onto the tablet. He tapped the tablet pen against his chin as he reviewed what he’d jotted down. Red crouched next to him, passively reading along over his shoulder. “Do you think I’m missin’ anything?”

Red grunted. “The energy level changes periodically. I think ya should record a few more for comparison later on.” The taller of the two glanced back at the ominous, glassy wall ascending far above what they were able to see. “Also, the surface fluctuates sometimes. Have ya noticed that?”

Sans nodded and leaned over to take a look at the reading on the energy monitor. He jotted it down before checking the logged history of the past few hours. He placed the end of the pen between his teeth as he set the tablet down to watch the oil-slick surface of the wormhole. After a few moments, he witnesses a shiver along the surface.

“There,” he said, glancing over at Red. “Yeah, I just saw it.”

“Yeah, see it does that and-” he was cut off by a low, subsonic grinding that caused the ground to tremble beneath them. Sans was on his feet in an instant, his right eye light a searing blue as his magic levels responded to the drastic atmospheric change. Red mirrored him, looking around in a panic as the walls echoed the ominous sound.

“Where’s Sci?” Sans asked as he hastily gathered the materials. He frantically wrapped the energy meter into his hoodie and shoved the other bag at Red.

“Sci! Hey, Sci, it’s time to get the *flock* outa here. C’mon!” Red yelled. In response, the intensity of the sound increased. Fresh entered the space through a portal and motioned that they needed to leave. Exclamation points flashed across his shades and from the look of it, this wasn’t something he’d planned for. “We can’t find Sci!”

Sans hurriedly checked along the perimeter of the chamber and found nothing to suggest that Sci was there with him. He almost expected to find him crouched down or unconscious somewhere amongst the disarray, but he had no such luck. The surface of the wormhole fluctuated, the sound of it causing Sans’ cervical vertebrae to prickle with fear. He made the difficult decision to sprint back towards Red.

“Can’t find him–we’ve got to go,” he insisted, the sweat along his spine clammy and chilled. He was certain there were wet splotches on his tee shirt. “There’s no time, Red–we’re not dyin’ here!”

“We can’t just leave him,” Red growled out, looking around and hoping that the third member of the team would make an appearance. The reality unfortunately left him disappointed. “Where the *hay* is he? He was right here!”

Fresh wasn’t about to let the entirety of the team crumble. He knew the predicament they were in, but he wasn’t about to compromise the rest of their lives for the sake of one guy. He opened a fluctuating portal behind them and swiftly tugged them inside. Sans stiffened and Red whipped his skull around, the unexpected nature of the jump and their comrade missing causing him intense distress. Their exit destination was amongst the cliffs of Outertale at dusk. It was a sight to behold, but they didn’t even notice it. Sans was thoroughly shaken and Red was in absolute disbelief. They’d just left Sci.

“What the *flag*?!” Red snarled, one of his eye sockets empty while the other leaked blazing crimson magic into the air. Fresh held up his hands in a defensive position.

“Easy there broseph,” the parasite stated as his own eye socket gleamed under his shades. Sans watched for a moment before grabbing the arm of Red’s jacket. He was harshly shaken off and given a look fit to kill. Sans scowled and took a few steps back.

“You–you left him! We coulda done somethin’,” he snarled. Sans hadn’t let his increased magic abate since the cavern began to do whatever the hell it had done. A few blue bone constructs popped up from the ground securing the others’ attention.

“No, this is not happenin’ right now. Stop it,” he commanded, pinning Red with a steely look. “We’re gonna talk about this. What is this going to solve?”

“Hey, Sans, I don’t know what gave you the idea that you’re callin’ the shots,” Red responded in a scathing tone. “I don’t *frackin’* answer to ya. And quit with the censoring, I’m done with it!”

“Woah there,” Fresh said, introducing a dose of fuchsia magic into the mix to construct a see through shield in front of him. He lifted his sunglasses from his nasal ridge to reveal his ethereal eye and the tentacles spilling from his eye socket and from beneath his jacket. Red’s next words died on his tongue. “Now, listen carefully–I don’t care if you think you could’ve saved the guy. Bro wasn’t around to be saved, homie. If he’d been there, I woulda grabbed him, too.” Fresh looked between the two monsters who seemed adequately uncomfortable with the presence of his original form. “Think good and hard if you really wanna play around,” Fresh said in a controlled tone.

Red’s magic was in check almost immediately, the residual haze still leaking from his eye socket. He grimaced, but he wasn’t about to mess around with whatever this guy was packing. Maybe he should learn to hold his tongue. Boss always told him he was a dumb ass at the best of times.

“Good choice, Fell bro. Now, let’s chat a mo.” Fresh willed away the magic shield and pinned the grungy skeleton monster with a glare. His expression was unreadable and Red considered that more uncanny than the grin Fresh usually wore. “If you don’t want to be censored, don’t use unrad lingo. I’m not gonna stop keep bein’ my radical self just because you’re peeved,” Fresh explained, the slit of a pupil in his eye intensifying as he tilted his skull, “My advice? Get used to it.”

Gritting his teeth, Red suppressed his magic. When Fresh turned away from them to head back to the inn, Sans followed without so much as a glance at Red. Considering his pace, Red surmised that he was purposefully avoiding him. He’d definitely brought that upon himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he followed at a comfortable distance.

When they’d gotten back to the inn, darkness had settled upon the AU. Sans hadn’t spoken to, much less looked at Red the entire way back. Even as they awaited the elevator up to the suite, Sans focused his attention anywhere else. Red just wanted the day to come to a close at this point. It was wholly uncanny not having Sci around. Were they really this expendable? What if he ended up being the one who became lost–would he be left behind as well? It made his soul clench as he experienced a wave of vertigo.

Nightmare was seated in the living space with a steaming cup of tea in one tentacle and a novel in another. He hadn’t expected to be faced with one less researcher this early on. He closed his book and turned his attention to them.

“There was a complication,” Fresh stated, the lack of his bizarre lingo slightly jarring. “Let’s sit down. This is gonna take a sec.”

Red and Sans chose chairs, and Fresh took a seat on the couch, releasing a drawn out sigh. “It's bigger than the last time I saw it. The portal-”

“Wormhole,” Sans interrupted. “It’s a wormhole, I’m almost certain. Sorry, please continue.”

“No, don’t be, bro. The wormhole," Fresh began, "While not the rift itself, still happened to be far more unstable than I first thought."

“Where is the third?” The Guardian of Negativity asked as he processed the information he’d just been given.

“Couldn’t locate him. He's gone. There was no trace at all,” the parasite responded, a scowl tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m going back to scout the area. It wasn’t an easy decision to leave, but it was necessary. Things went sideways very fast.”

“Are you wounded?” He asked the group. Red and Sans both uttered a ‘no’. Nightmare pinched his nasal ridge. “See to it that you rest. Fresh and I will be discussing how we approach your involvement moving forward. If you need anything, please consult me or a member of my team.”

Sans stood and thanked Nightmare as he retreated to his sleeping quarters. Red thanked them both and made his way out of the room as well. The sensation of being watched caused a chill to ascend his spinal column. He’d gone and fucked up this time. He should think good and hard about losing his cool when working with beings like Fresh. If Sans hadn’t been around, Red was certain that their parasitic guardian would have had no issue giving him a thorough demonstration of why he shouldn’t fuck around.

He pushed open the door and found Sans already in bed, pointedly sleeping with his back to him. Red sighed as he made his way over to his own bed and undressed, leaving on only his boxers as he lifted the covers and laid down. He was aware that Sans wasn’t asleep. He should probably attempt to apologize. It sucked having the only guy here willing to chat and joke around with him giving him the silent treatment.

“Sans?”

A few moments of silence crawled by before Sans uttered a flat, “What is it?”

“M’ sorry.”

The following silence was nearly palpable. The inside of Red’s skull felt tight as his anticipation increased. “Are you?” Sans asked.

Red’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I am. Why-”

Sans sat up and glared at him. “Did you actually listen to anything I told you about them?” Sans asked in a hiss. “They’re not like us, Red. Just ‘cause they resemble us doesn’t mean they can’t easily dust you.”

Red mirrored him, sitting up in his bed. “I-I dunno, it all happened so fast and–I wasn’t actually plannin’ on fightin’,” he admitted, rubbing at the back of his cervical vertebrae. “He…we just fuckin’ left Sci. What if it had been you or me back there?”

Sans pressed a hand to his forehead and looked down. He was well aware of what they’d been made to do. It was out of their control. “You know what rubbed me the wrong way? That shit about me callin’ the shots…I never fucking told you to answer to me.” Sans chuckled dryly. “We didn’t have a choice in the matter. You know that. This shit is already complicated enough–I really don’t wanna watch you fuck yourself over. Don’t make me do that, Red.”

“I shoulda controlled my temper. You’re absolutely right,” Red said, though his soul still simmered with lingering annoyance. He wasn’t about to push Sans away. “I’m genuinely sorry fer how I acted out there…I’ll be better. I swear to Stars I will.”

Sans met his eye lights and Red could see the darkened bone under the other’s eye sockets. Sans’ expression was unreadable, but the atmosphere felt notably less tense. “Show me. And don’t do that shit again.”

Red nodded in response before laying back down. It hadn’t resolved everything, but it was a start. He tried not to think about Sci or the unknown depths of the wormhole. He offered a soft ‘g’night’ that was echoed back at him from the other side of the room. It made his soul feel a little less heavy as he let his thoughts drift to his home world.

Blue and Dust had taken to sleeping in the same bed for a while. It began naturally and they hadn’t spoken of what it meant. They could approach that later. It wasn’t a secret that they’d hit it off especially well, so there was no need to explain to any team member who came across the two in bed with one another. The entire team knew what they got up to and while Blue had a convincing ‘I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about’ act, he got off on being dominated by his new, amorous companion.

Dust awoke to sweat clinging to his bones after a good night with Blue. He knew that it was a bad mental health day the moment he joined the land of the living. On days like this, his perception was warped, sounds were far too loud, and there was a good deal of paranoia that accompanied his auditory hallucinations. Blue didn’t need prompting to know that something was off. Dust didn’t respond right away when he asked him a question, and even when he did give Blue his attention, he seemed distant and unfocused.

“Hey,” Blue said, reaching out to take one of his hands.

Dust blinked, his expression impassive. He seemed completely apathetic to Blue’s presence until he gave his hand a squeeze and leaned in for a kiss. “Can we hang out on the couch? It’s gonna be a bad day for me, Blue.”

“Of course. What d’ya want to watch?”

“Some absolute trash. One of those stupid reality or game show programs, ya know?” Dust attempted a smile, but it felt fake and wrong. He allowed his face to relax. It took a lot of effort to emote.

“Mhm. I have something in mind,” Blue said as he led his struggling companion into the living room. He sat down and patted the spot beside himself. Dust sat down and leaned into Blue, sighing as he rested his skull against the other’s shoulder. “Are you comfortable?” Blue asked.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Dust voiced softly against Blue’s skull. “Could you summon your thighs for me? I could grab a pillow no problem, but I was thinkin’-”

Blue smiled and allowed his ecto to fill his lower half, his pants reflecting his increased girth as he did so. Dust’s blush was a welcome reaction, as was his momentary focus as he registered Blue’s willingness to try something like this for him. “Come lay down,” Blue said, his voice soothing to Dust’s aching cranium. He complied, resting his head against the soft ecto of the other’s lap. Blue rested a hand on his skull and turned on the TV to browse the channels. Dust felt like the multiverse could crumble around him and he’d die happy. Blue was something special.

Cossi’s stress had increased considerably as he scrolled through his phone to discover new areas of deterioration in the town. Monsters were pulling their money out of banks, stores were scrambling to restock supplies as individuals went out to clear the shelves and add to an “end of the world hoard”. Recognizing his own shortcomings and wishing that he had a better way to face the future, he was faced with the realization that he was out of options. He phoned his colleague who’d stood in for him the other day and told him to meet him around noon. When there was a lull in customers, they sat down over coffee.

By the end of it, he’d shaken the guy’s hand and watched him retreat to the lounge down the hall to prepare for a shift with a smile and a pep in his step. Cossi had given him a considerable pay raise and designated him the manager directly under himself, the owner. He’d earned it and Cossi needed someone dependable to handle the bakery and clientele while he interviewed others to join the inn’s staff.

Cossi was uncertain how much luck he’d have going out to restock the inn’s toiletries, cleaning materials, and baking ingredients, but he knew it was a necessity at this point. He wouldn’t wait until he reached dire straights to go find what his guests needed to make their stay comfortable and hassle free. He waited for the new manager’s return to head out to the nearest wholesale market.

He wasn’t expecting to come across Killer in the hallway, but as luck would have it, they crossed paths. He must have been visibly stressed because Killer turned on his heel to walk with him. Cossi felt the blush creep up his cervical vertebrae before blooming across his zygomatic bones.

“Hey, Starboy. Where are you off to this afternoon?”

“The store. I need to restock quite a few things. What’s your day look like?” Cossi asked, fishing around his pocket for his car keys. Sometimes he felt like calling it a car was too kind–the thing was a road hazard, but he didn’t have the funds to get it patched up. His money always seemed to be funneled right back into the inn.

“Worked out a little, drank two big cups of coffee, and had a fun little chat with my boss,” Killer said, smiling confidently at him. Cossi felt like he could see the smug side of that expression reminding him that he’d seen him completely bare. That man’s skull was between his thighs- “Woah there–almost ran straight into the door,” Killer stated, tilting his skull. “Ya know, I think you might need a shopping pal. What d’ya say I come with? You seem kinda out of it.”

Cossi nodded. “Heh, how could you say that? Me, out of it? Couldn’t be.” Cossi pushed open the door and made his way towards his junker of a vehicle. “Yeah…that’d be great, actually.”

After a relatively short drive, they found a parking space in a full lot. Cossi sighed as he unbuckled himself, not looking forward to navigating his way through packed aisles. At least he had a buddy today to brave the masses.

“What a sick ride,” Killer said playfully before performing an overemphasized wink. Cossi rolled his eye lights.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, consider this–I don’t have a car, so you’re leagues ahead of me.”

“Killer, my car is about two steps away from being scrap metal. I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but you really don’t have to,” Cossi responded, playfully bumping Killer’s arm with his own. The taller’s smirk seemed to relax into a more natural expression in response to the gesture.

They entered the market and took one of the last remaining carts in the bay. Killer seemed enthralled by the place Cossi had gone to so often. It was interesting watching the micro expressions that crossed his features as they entered new zones of the store. Cossi grabbed cleaning sprays, powders, and solvents first before heading towards the aisle where toiletries were kept. Judging by the amount of empty shelves along the way, he didn’t have much hope that he’d find what he came for.

Upon reaching the aisle, Cossi noted that the toilet paper he typically bought in bulk was sold out. Unimpressed, he meandered towards the smaller packs of toilet paper which were being plucked off of the shelves like it was the hottest new product in town. Scowling, he grabbed three of the nearest, larger and decent quality packs and plopped them into his cart. Spying a laminated note stuck to the shelf, he read ‘Notice: limit is 2 per shopper’. Huffing, he tossed one of the packs back, annoyance flaring as he asked himself what the point of getting toilet paper here was if he couldn’t get it in bulk.

“Is there a problem?” Killer asked as he leaned his forearms on the push bar of the cart.

“Yeah. Everything is in high demand because of the deterioration. The limit per customer is two for toilet paper.”

Killer squinted to read the notice before shrugging and grabbing two packs off of the shelf and tossing them into the cart. “I can spare a few Gs. You can order more somewhere else, yeah?”

Cossi appeared conflicted. “Uh, yeah, sure can–so you don’t have to buy those. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You’re right, it’s no big deal. I’m chippin’ in, what, 4 Gs? C’mon, Starboy, lemme pay you back for the liquor I bummed off of you.”

Cossi relented, albeit with hesitation. He supposed it wasn’t worth the fuss if Killer was so insistent. He shrugged and walked the cart halfway down the aisle before he was stopped by an aquatic monster lugging a backpack of bubbling water on their shoulders. Their searing orange eyes scanned his cart, then they leaned to the side to check the aisle, before their attention zeroed in on him.

“I’ve gone to three stores already and the toilet paper is completely sold out. You took the last of my favorite brand,” the monster said, their tone reflecting their displeasure. “Do you really need four? I thought most places were limiting the amount one guy can take.”

“Yes, I really need this. They’re for myself and my friend, so if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside-”

“But you’re skeleton monsters–why would you need toilet paper?” The stranger asked, their voice becoming more accusatory. “I have a family and we’re almost completely out-”

“Did ya not hear him when he said that we needed em?” Killer asked, stepping forward to confront the monster inconveniencing them. “Cause from what I heard, he just gave ya your answer, pal. Now move.”

The stranger stiffened at that. “Now hold on, you’re really going to be an asshole about this? You’re being inconsiderate as fuck right now-”

Killer tugged his sheathed knife from his waistband discreetly enough so that only the stranger could see it. He uncapped it halfway and asked, “Do ya really wanna keep flappin’ your lips? Think about it.” Killer eyed the stranger before spitting, “Go bitch at someone else. Now move.”

The aquatic monster’s flesh paled slightly and they quickly stepped out of the way. Killer placed a hand on the end of the cart to lead Cossi into another aisle, recognizing that he may be a little unused to his way of handling confrontation. Sure enough, he felt Cossi’s hand tap his own.

“Killer, they could report us to security,” he said, worry evident in his tone.

Kilelr shrugged. “They could, but they won’t. It’s just a little bump in the road, Cossi. Don’t worry about it.”

Cossi wasn’t so sure, but he focused on finishing his store run rather than the possibility of retaliation. They waited for a while in the checkout lanes, the time passing at a snail’s pace as the cashier’s faced the sheer amount of customers. Cossi had begun to zone out by the time it was finally their turn to load their items onto the belt.

When they pulled up at the inn, Killer collected a few bags and a toilet paper pack to take inside. Cossi thanked him profusely before leading him to the back where there was a quicker entrance to the staff offices and supply closets. When they’d unloaded the stock from the trip, Cossi leaned back against the door frame of a closet and released a slow sigh.

“If you couldn’t tell, I hate going to the store. Heh.”

“Guess it’s good I came with then, huh?” Killer asked, sauntering over to the shorter skeleton. “You look like you could use a little somethin’.”

Cossi looked up and squinted slightly before asking, “Are you propositioning me? In the supply closet? What do you think this is?”

Killer chuckled and shrugged. “Maybe I just wanna fuck you against one of these walls until you can’t feel your legs.”

Cossi bit his lower lips before uttering, “I’m game.”

Fresh reentered Ink’s realm. The tremors had ceased, yet the parasite still maintained a healthy dose of caution as he traveled into the belly of the caverns. He summoned a flickering ball of fuchsia magic in his palm to illuminate the descent towards the chamber that housed the wormhole. His mouth was pulled into a tight line as he focused on the sounds emanating from the unseen spaces surrounding him. Why he’d decided to dedicate himself to this cause was beginning to elude him. If it became too much trouble, he was considering stepping away to collect himself. The only one who he’d really invested in was Error, but the Destroyer had a safety net with his new romantic interest. He could rest easy knowing that his pal had someone else who deeply cared for him.

His entry into the chamber was slow going. There was more clutter on the ground and the wormhole was as ominous as ever, an oily sheen to its surface reflecting his methodical approach. It felt as though the entirety of the space was holding its breath, a discreetly located surveillance tracking him from the never ending abyss where the ceiling of the cavern should be. He fueled the magic in his hand so that more light filled the space, causing the shadows to morph as more of the room became visible. He looked around, noting the differences since the last time he’d been here. Although his conscience warned him against making any unnecessary noise, he decided to go against the gut feeling.

“Sci–this is the radical Fresh. If you can hear me, make some noise,” he stated, his voice echoing off of the rocky structures surrounding him. He waited before asking, “Are you here, bro? If you’re still around, I need to know!”

An echo from one of the tunnels behind him had the parasite whirling around. The back of his cervical vertebrae prickled with unease as he waited for another sound. After some time, he got it.

“Fresh? Is that really you?” The voice asked disbelievingly. Fresh straightened up, making his way back towards the tunnels he’d passed along the way down to the wormhole.

“Yeah, it’s the radical Fresh alright! I’m here to bring you back. Keep talking, bro,” he said, snapping his fingers and stepping into the main tunnel.

“Stars, I can’t believe it. I thought I was done for,” Sci said, the emotion in his voice conveying how relieved he was. “It’s so dark in here. I didn’t want to expend all of my magic reserves.”

“I’m gettin’ close, broseph. Glad you didn’t use up your magic, that was some superb thinking.” Fresh siphoned more magic into the makeshift lantern in his palm and caught a glimpse of a figure in the near distance. “I see you! Do you see me, Sci?”

“I can’t see anything with it bein’ so bright, but I’d say that’s a good thing! Thank you for coming back…I-I can’t thank you enough,” Sci said, his voice breaking as his rescuer approached.

“I’m right here, Sciencey bro. We’re going back to the inn. Take my hands, won’t ya?” Fresh asked, holding out his hands to the skeleton who was bruised and squinting his eye sockets so hard he could’ve been looking directly into the glare of a star. Any light hurt his eye lights after being isolated in the darkness for so long.

Sci’s grip was hard enough to pop a few of Fresh’s joints, but he didn’t mind. He’d fully expected the guy to be terrified after what he’d endured. When they landed in Outertale’s cliffs, Sci laughed aloud, looking out into the expanse of sky flecked with stars. He was trembling from the overwhelm that descended upon receiving every bit of sensory input that he’d been deprived of.

“I’m sorry, broseph. We searched and couldn’t find you. It was a difficult decision to leave, but it was necessary,” Fresh explained. Sci nodded, his hands traveling to his eye sockets to wipe away stray tears as he openly wept.

“O-of course,” Sci said. “I know it’s not per-personal. This was a risk I acknowledged from the beginning. I don’t blame any of you.” He took a shaky breath in an attempt to steady himself. “Just…thank you for coming back for me.”

Fresh nodded. “It’s the least the radical Fresh could do for you. Let’s get you back indoors. The skelebros will be psyched to see you, I’m sure.”

As Fresh had predicted, Sci’s return garnered a huge reaction. The team had been alerted to his disappearance, so seeing Sci step inside the entrance of the suite left those gathered in the living room stunned. Red and Sans had been on their way to the kitchen for dinner when they laid eye lights on their fellow researcher. They’d accepted the very real possibility that he was dead by this point. In an instant, both were at his side. Their shock was palpable as they ascertained his well being, tripping over their words as they came to realize that he’d actually returned. Fresh gave Nightmare a thumbs up and sauntered into the living room to take a seat on the carpeted floor. Blue hopped off of a bar stool to watch the scene unfold.

“He’s alive,” he said mostly to himself. Killer came to stand next to him, watching the scuffed up Sci reassure Sans and Red that he was indeed alright, just tired and hungry.

“So he is. How long was he missin’ again?”

“Three days at least,” Dust stated. “Don’t know how long that’d be for him in Ink’s dimension, though.”

“Stars,” Blue uttered as he contemplated being enclosed in complete darkness for that amount of time. A chill ran along his spine when he thought too hard about it. “Poor guy…I’m glad he’s out of there.”

Killer watched the exchange for a little while more before glancing over at Dust. Dust’s eye lights seemed to reflect the same unease that Killer currently felt. This whole situation had him on edge and he couldn’t quite grasp the reason why.

Horror was quick to offer Sci some of the food they’d ordered, and Sci accepted it without hesitation. The suite returned to almost but not quite normalcy as everyone settled back into whatever they’d been doing previously. Error, however, remained in the study where he watched the scene from the cracked door. A sensation of wrongness overtook him as he watched Sci sitting on a bar stool; it all seemed completely off and he couldn’t place why. His magic crackled with glitches as he trudged back to his chair in an attempt to refocus on his current crochet project, but it was now a task and not a source of enjoyment as stress permeated his psyche. He begrudgingly pocketed his project with a huff and left the privacy of the study.

Cross and Dream were talking in the window seat closest to the room he’d been hiding away in. Killer had kicked back in a recliner and Dust was chatting with Blue and Horror in the kitchen. Nightmare’s gaze found him in little time. He was reluctant to bother him with tedious, little details that were probably figments of his own fractured mind, but Error decided that for the Guardian, he’d try to communicate what he was feeling.

That landed them in the master bedroom where Error was trying his best to find words to fit the dread building within his soul.

“This isn’t right,” Error began, pacing at the foot of their bed as he attempted to collect his thoughts. “He-he shouldn’t be he-ere–not if Fresh said he was nowhere to be found when they were down-down there the first time.”

Nightmare watched his partner itch at his arm bones. Error had begun to do that fairly frequently. He wasn’t sure if the itching was something he was even aware of. “He could have very well been misplaced in the caverns. Fresh described it as a series of tunnels. Maybe he became disoriented and wandered down the wrong passage in an attempt to locate the others.”

“It’s not-” Error exhaled harshly, reaching up to press at his temples, “Night, that’s possible, sure,” Error said, clearly not content with the reaction from the other. “Is this all ac-actually safe? Because, to me-e-e, it seems like we’re play-playing with fire right n-now. ”

“None of this is safe, but we’ve been aware of that from the beginning-”

“No, nonono,” Error reiterated, as though he’d gotten caught on loop. “I mean s-safe for us. Will we be safe or will something come c-crawling out of that worm-wormhole or whatever the fuck it is? What happens then?”

Nightmare paused. Discomfort blossomed in his chest cavity. Error was scared–he felt the emotion grip his own diaphragm as he contemplated their bubble of relative safety being popped. “I don’t know what will happen,” he said honestly, fighting the urge to tell his lover that everything would be fine. He couldn’t in good conscience ask Error for open communication and honesty if he couldn’t practice it himself. Error looked down and away from him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected to hear that–it was the truth, afterall. For all the Guardian could do, he wasn’t psychic, nor had he ever experienced something as hellish as the rift.

“I don’t like ad-admitting to it, but I’m scared,” Error said, his arms crossed tightly over his rib cage. He looked small as he hunched in on himself. Nightmare took a few steps towards him, not liking that he didn’t have the answers. Hell, all he wanted was a touch of normalcy, his new normal with the Destroyer that excluded the horrors that they’d gone through together. “I feel like such a f-failure having to ask to be protected like some fucking d-damsel in distress.”

“Well, it’s good you’re not a damsel,” the Guardian reassured him. “No one will touch you, because I won’t let them. And please refrain from calling my lover a failure–he is anything but.” He reached a tentacle out to curl into one of Error’s hands. It was squeezed firmly, and while sometimes it reminded the Guardian of Negativity of off-white tiles, more often than not it reminded him of warmth. “I hear what you’re saying. Everything you’ve brought up is valid and logical.”

Error released a long, unsteady sigh, but nodded his skull in response. Nightmare took his other hand in his own, his tentacles hovering around his lover in a makeshift shield as he closed the distance between them. “How about this…tell me the worst that could happen. What is plaguing you right now?”

Error stiffened and remained silent for nearly a full minute. It felt like eons had passed when he finally spoke up. “You’re torn away fr-from me. I can’t find you and I’m left alone in a dying mul-mul-multiverse,” the Destroyer said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Except I’m weak and vulnerable…I’d succumb ev-eventually, but that wouldn’t be a-all that bad, all things cons-s-sidering.”

“I won’t–we won’t allow that to happen,” Nightmare stated, one of his large hands cupping the side of Error’s face. “I promise, if there’s any sign of something amiss–the moment it happens, we’ll address it.”

Error consciously relaxed his posture and leaned his skull more heavily into Nightmare’s palm. “Thank you,” he muttered, holding the hand of his favorite being to his face with his own tri-colored phalanges. “I fe-eel crazy…your reassurance is apprec-eciated.”

Nightmare’s expression warred between adoration and sympathy. At least in his darkest times he’d had his team for moral support. There had always been someone there, even if he didn’t lean on them or seek solace in their presence. They did what he ordered and in return, he paid them for their time, kept a roof over their heads, and provided the necessities for all of his employees. He loathed the idea of the Destroyer being alone while his mental health deteriorated. He knew that his lover had been close to Fresh, but there was the possibility that he refused to allow him to get too close. It made the Guardian of Negativity sad as he contemplated their argumentative past.

“You’re alright,” he said softly. “I’m not perfect either–you have experienced many aspects of me that I’m not proud of,” Nightmare stated. “And yet you care for me. Give yourself some reprieve, my love.” Nightmare turned his skull towards the door as he heard a few voices that echoed down the hallway, far louder than the others. “We don’t have to go back out there if you’d rather spend some quality time together.”

Error nodded, wrapping his arms around the Guardian. “Yes, that. Quality time soun-sounds perfect.”

Days passed and Outertale began to feel the long term effects of the continuing multiversal disaster. Fractals and glitches appeared in the skies, the constellations brightening and dulling unevenly across the atmosphere. Weather patterns shifted and more intense storms rolled in as a result of a change in air pressure. The AU seemed to hold its breath sometimes as citizens stayed indoors. Cossi flipped through a book as he awaited his next customers, all the while sipping at an indulgent coffee he’d put together for himself. Just a while earlier, a shorter skeleton with a blue hoodie and slippers had placed his elbows on the counter earlier asking to see a menu. His friend, a taller skeleton monster with a proclivity for the color black and studs, asked the same. It was a relatively quiet day and the two were some of his first customers.

“Hey pal, I’d like the rotisserie on baguette with a black coffee and a couple of today’s coffee shots,” the taller asked, his sharp teeth catching Cossi’s attention briefly.

“Very good choice,” Cossi responded with a smile, typing it into his system. “And you?”

“I’ll have the homemade bisque with bread and, uh…have you got any ketchup?” The shorter asked. His friend clicked his tongue.

Cossi checked under the counter where a fridge sat, and upon opening it, he was greeted with a full ketchup bottle. Checking the date, he passed the bottle to his customer. “Here you go. We don’t get a lot of requests for ketchup so knock yourself out.”

“I appreciate it,” the shorter said, tugging out his worn out wallet to fish some Gs from the back pocket. He asked the price twice just to make sure he had enough to cover the meal and then some. “20 G and two 10 pieces for you. Thanks.”

“I’ll have everything out to you in just a few, gentlemen,” Cossi reassured them. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

The two dug into their lunches and seemed to be having an all around good time as far as Cossi could tell. He caught snippets of their conversation and couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at the banter.

“So, you weren’t kiddin’ about liking ketchup. Does it really do it for ya?” The taller asked.

Mr. Blue Hoodie scoffed. “Hey, I dunno if you should be talking, mustard fetishist.”

“I don’t put it on everythin’, though. You ordered soup and bread–where does ketchup fit into that equation?”

Cossi flipped a page of his book and sighed. He read through a large section, practically devouring the plot before pausing to take another sip of his delightful espresso creation. He was suddenly gripped by an odd sensation and he looked up. A few rooms over there was a lobby space where customers of the inn could relax and mingle. Someone was standing in the doorframe, their white eye lights fixed on him. They were just staring. Cossi wondered if he was overthinking this–maybe the skeleton was deciding on whether or not he was hungry. Maybe the individual was just staring off into space. There were many possibilities he hadn’t considered.

He looked down at his novel before looking up discreetly. He froze. No, that skeleton monster was definitely staring right at him. He didn’t like this. He wondered if he should grab his coworker who’d taken a lunch break not too long ago. Cossi closed his book and placed his hands on the counter as he looked back at the stranger. Something about them made a chill ascend Cossi’s spinal column.

Cossi picked up his phone and dialed his employee's number. He felt sweat beading up on his skull as he tapped the countertop with his phalanges. He glanced back over at the ominous silhouette watching him, keeping tabs on his position just in case he were to try anything. This was not how he planned his day to go.

“Hey, everything okay?” His coworker asked. Cossi offered a nervous laugh.

“No, uh, could you come out here for a sec?” He almost pleaded, fear culminating in his rib cage.

“On my way.”

The horned, skeleton monster entered the bakery and was at Cossi’s side in an instant. “What’s going on?”

“Do you see that guy over there?” Cossi asked, motioning towards the lobby entrance way. His employee leaned to look around him before shaking his head.

“Uh, no? Should I be seeing someone?”

Cossi whirled around, his eye lights scanning the lobby, hallway, and the entirety of the cafe. He felt simultaneously foolish and terrified. He’d just been there. “There was–he was just standing there and…shit,” Cossi hissed under his breath. “I’m sorry for interrupting your lunch.”

“Nah, don’t be. It’s fine,” the monster replied. “By the way, are you feeling okay? Because if not, I can handle it here. I’ve done it before.”

Cossi sighed and pinched his nasal ridge as he thought about it. After a moment, he figured it would do him good. “Yeah, okay. Text me if you have any questions?”

“Certainly, boss. Take it easy.”

Sans turned on the shower. He took off his hoodie and hung it up on the nearest hook before letting his other dirty clothes fall into a pile near the sink. Red was napping and Sans had left the restroom door slightly ajar, unconcerned if the other happened to awake. The lunch he’d shared with Red had been a nice break from their new normal. He stepped into the pleasantly steamy spray and sighed as he allowed his mind to drift. Sometimes his thoughts led him back home where he knew his brother and others were waiting for him. Other times, he felt complicated feelings that had recently surfaced that he wasn’t sure how to process. He allowed the thoughts to pass, flowing like the water down his spine. He wanted to at least attempt to decompress after the rough while they’d recently had.

He faced the clouded glass door momentarily to check if he’d left the liquid soap on the counter accidentally. He was greeted by a defined shape in the doorway. He jumped, nearly slipping on the wet tiles beneath his feet before catching himself on a builtin railing. He uttered a shaky laugh before chiding the intruder, who he knew must be Red.

“You’re such a dick for scarin’ me like that,” he said. “Can’t a guy enjoy a drippressing shower around here?” Sans asked, feeling proud of his pun. Silence commenced, aside from the spray of the shower on stone. The figure didn’t budge. If he focused, he could see the suggestion of eye lights through the foggy glass. “Aright, Red, you can stop now.”

The leaning silhouette tilted its skull, and Sans backed into a corner of the shower furthest from the door. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that one bit. “Okay, now you’re startin’ to creep me out. This isn’t funny.”

The silence was palpable. Sans was frozen with his back against one of the glass walls of the shower. He felt the magic in his mana lines responding to whoever was watching him from the doorway. His vision started to tunnel, and he blinked in an attempt to clear it. Upon refocusing, he noticed the doorway was empty. Feeling brave, he opened the shower door to reveal no one leaning in the bathroom door to peer at him. Thoroughly shaken and annoyed that he was now feeling worse than when he stepped into the shower, he turned off the spray and stepped out. He tied the towel around his hips and marched into his shared bedroom.

“Red. What the fuck was that?” He asked, well aware that he sounded annoyed, because he definitely was now that the fear had lessened.

Red opened his eye sockets and blinked a few times in confusion as he attempted to get his bearings. “What? What’d I do?” He asked groggily.

“Don’t play around, I know you peered into the bathroom without responding to a thing I said. Ya fuckin’ ass,” Sans bit out, casting his pillow into Red’s face. Red grunted in response, before feeling his soul sink at his roommate’s words.

“Sans, ya woke me up. I’ve been sleepin’ this whole time. What do ya mean someone came in and looked atcha?”

Sans appeared exasperated and anxious as he gripped his skull. “That isn’t funny. Come on, I-I saw someone standing right here,” he said, beckoning toward the door frame. “They were leaning in and…don’t look at me like that, I saw them!”

Red held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m not sayin’ ya didn’t–I’m just confused and kinda weirded out. They had to come through here to get to the bathroom,” he stated, the back of his cervical vertebrae prickling. “Meanin’ they were standin’ at the foot of my bed. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Sans crossed his arms and walked over to his bed. He sat down on the mattress, pressing a hand against his aching forehead. He didn’t know what to think of the situation. What was going on?

“I just wanted to take a shower and take a nap,” Sans stated. “I wasn’t prepared for that. I…who’d do that? Just barge in here and watch me shower and you sleep?” He scowled, the imagery creating a distinctly bad sensation in his chest. Red let air hiss between his teeth as he released a long breath.

“I dunno. It’s fucked up,” he said. There was a pause as both of them considered the closed bedroom door. Red was certain he would’ve heard someone entering. Sans wondered if he recalled hearing the sound of the door opening and closing. He couldn’t recall if he had, and it was stressing him out. “I think ya should sleep some. I’ll stay awake.”

“Sleep? After that?” Sans asked before uttering a chuckle. “Fat chance that’ll happen.”

“We had a rough start here. If it’s the stress gettin’ to ya, I think a nap would be good. Before ya start, I’m not sayin’ I don’t believe ya,” Red said pointedly. “I’m freaked out and on edge, too. That’s terrifyin’ and I’d rather it not be true. I’m just bein’ honest.”

Sans narrowed his eye sockets. “So, what, you think that I’m hallucinating? That…that sounds like something I don’t wanna deal with. Fuck.” He let his face fall into his hands as he released a groan.

“Your mind can play some nasty tricks when yer overtired,” Red said in a reassuring tone. “I’m not judgin’ ya…it’s just we’ve had a rough go of it so far. Ya know?”

“I guess,” Sans muttered. “Are you sure you can stay up? You seem like you could do with more sleep, too,” he pointed out.

Red shrugged. “I’m fine. I’d like ya to sleep.”

Sans looked over at him incredulously before relenting and tugging the blankets over himself. He kicked his towel out of the bed and sighed. He glanced over at Red, who’d tugged out a journal he’d begun to write in. He sat back against the headboard of his bed, the light from the sconces framing the angular aspects of his face. Sans’ eye sockets drifted closed as he listened to Red’s pen scratching the paper as he jotted down sentence after sentence. Maybe he was just overtired.

When Red glanced over, Sans was out cold. He smiled and looked back to his journal entry.

Dream felt proud of his progress on his knitting project. He’d started over a few times, but this time it had come together nicely. He walked to the mirror hung on the wall of his room and held it up against himself, envisioning how he’d look in a chestnut sweater. He had no idea how to make the sleeves or do anything more than a single panel, so it would take more time spent with Error. He set the project down and leaned in to inspect his eye socket. The swelling was going down and the bruising appeared less severe. He was thankful that resting was paying off.

The smallest amount of movement behind him caught his attention. He froze as he registered two white eye lights fixed on him and a silhouette standing just out of his direct line of sight. His mouth felt dry as he contemplated what to do. He was nearly certain that it wasn't Cross.

“Cross?” He asked, quietly at first. There was no response. The figure didn’t move, but it did blink. Fear gripped Dream as he loudly called, “Cross!”

The bedroom door was flung open and the guardsman entered looking caught off guard. “What? What happened? Are you okay?”

Dream shook his skull, looking in the direction of the room that was now obscured by the open door. “Someone was here, I swear to Stars-”

Turning around, Cross narrowed his eye sockets and swiftly shut the door revealing an absence of a trespasser. Dream placed a hand against his mouth as he looked around Cross to view the area he’d seen the figure. They’d literally just been there–their presence had been palpable!

“I-I’m telling you there was someone there,” the Guardian stated as irritation and confusion clouded his focus. “I…I don’t know,” he said, scowling.

Cross turned around and offered his hands to the Guardian. Dream took them, but his distressed expression remained. “Let’s take a seat, alright? It’s okay,” he reassured him. “I’m just glad you’re alright,” Cross said.

Dream uttered a humorless laugh. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I didn’t say that,” Cross responded. “If there is someone in here, they'll be sorry.”

Dream snorted. “You’d fight a ghost for me?”

“Uh, yeah. No questions asked.”

Dream’s following laugh sounded more natural. Cross smirked and tugged the Guardian in for a kiss. “That really freaked me out,” Dream admitted. “I’m sorry I scared you. I think I’m probably just stressed…just like everyone else.”

“I think you might be,” Cross said in a quiet, husky tone. Dream blushed and rubbed the back of his cervical vertebrae. “It’d be a little strange if you weren’t, though. Let’s help get rid of some of that anxiety, hm? I know just the thing.”

The days and nights slipped by, the time possessing an uncanny fluidity that reminded Nightmare of the hell-scape which they avoided naming whenever possible. He’d felt on edge and while he wasn’t about to jump to conclusions, he paid attention to the subtle wrongness. It was a new sensation among the other stressors, so it stood out more to him. His tentacles prickled with nervous energy. Practical ways of shedding the pent up energy involved allowing his tentacles to expand into veiny filaments that surrounded the room’s surfaces and allowing himself time to indulge in his favorite being.

There was a safe word involved. Error had assured the Guardian that he was excited by the idea of Nightmare letting loose. It had been a while since the Guardian of Negativity had let himself give into the more primal urges that had planted themselves in his psyche upon his transformation. The apprehension that was based in the fear of harming Error still lingered, but he knew himself better than that. He wouldn’t harm him, because he had control of this new version of himself.

Error had taken initiative, gripping one of his tentacles before wrapping around his spine. The Destroyer took one of his hands and lapped at the tips of his phalanges. He’d proceeded to swallow his middle and ring phalanx, looking up at Nightmare with half-lidded eye lights. Error’s other hand descended down his front until his tri-color phalanges dipped between the ecto of his thighs. He smirked around the clawed phalanges shoved down the pretty throat he’d made to accommodate them.

Nightmare looked absolutely alluring. His teal eye light was a blazing bulb as he watched the delicious display. Molten desire spread through his mana lines as he leaned down to thumb at the tears brimming in the Destroyer’s eye sockets. Error groaned as he slipped his phalanges inside of himself.

Carefully removing his phalanges from his partner’s mouth, Nightmare proceeded to lightly bite at Error’s cervical vertebra. The Destroyer embraced him, shivering in delight as the Guardian sucked at his neck. He placed a hand against Nightmare’s cranium and moaned as he felt a distinct pinch as his lover bit down harder.

“F-feels so good,” Error said, hoping that expressing his pleasure would calm any reservations his partner might be experiencing. Nightmare likened Error’s pleasure filled voice with the blissful sensation of sliding into the heated pools residing back at his now destroyed castle. It was a shame that he didn’t have the opportunity to acquaint the Destroyer with them. He was always down to intermingle pleasurable experiences. The Guardian smiled against Error’s neck bones before licking in between the glowing, blue joints. Error’s spine arched as he inhaled sharply. “N-Night–

“Sometimes when we do this, I’m taken back to…” he trailed off and uncertainty colored his words. “I don’t know why exactly, but it makes everything feel more intense. The times we indulged in each other stood out, because-”

“It was as c-close to perfect as we could ge-get,” Error filled in, pulling Nightmare into a kiss. He felt weightless as more pressure was applied to his spine and the Guardian traced his teeth with his tongue. “It hap-happens to me, too. Not every time, but enough.”

Error was easily picked up and sat upon the end of their bed. Nightmare slotted his hips between his thighs, a growl rumbling somewhere deep within his rib cage. Error shivered. His soul clenched in excitement.

“I feel like I lost a part of who I was back there,” Nightmare said, his baritone voice crackling with the suggestion of barely suppressed, multi-layered voices. “I’ve gained something immeasurable and haunting…though, I’m beginning to see it as a gift.”

Error’s phalanges traced his partner’s intricate abdomen. “Don’t hide it from me, then,” the Destroyer stated, his eye lights locked on the Guardian’s singular, searing eye socket. “I want every pa-art of you, Night.”

Nightmare leaned over him, his hands planted firmly on either side of his thighs as he leaned in so that their faces were mere inches apart. “This doesn’t make you uncomfortable?” The Guardian asked, his multifaceted voice an otherworldly harmony that sent a pleasant chill up Error’s spinal column. The Destroyer shook his head.

“No, it doesn’t.” Error caressed the side of his partner’s face reverently. “It nev-never did. You’re fuck-fucking incredible,” he said, his voice glitching with emotion.

Nightmare’s breath against his face felt pleasantly warm. Error felt the Guardian’s hands on his thighs, the clawed tips of his phalanges threatening to pierce ecto as he squeezed. “I’m flattered,” Nightmare said. He tugged Error’s thighs so that the Destroyer leaned back on his elbows on the mattress. He smirked as his partner got the message, relaxing and letting his skull fall back against the covers. Nightmare pressed his pelvis firmly against the apex of his partner’s thighs, a possessive rumble coming from deep within his diaphragm. “You’ve had a part in shaping who I’ve become. It’s thanks to you that I’m still here,” the Guardian stated as he caressed Error’s hip bones.

The Destroyer canted his hips to gain more pressure against his clit. “M-more, Night, please.”

Nightmare stroked his dick before gradually pressing the tip inside of his partner. It was measured and slow enough not to tear anything, but he’d learned that Error enjoyed a little bit of pain, so he indulged him. The sound the Destroyer uttered as he moved in and out of him sent heady, prickling sensations up the Guardian’s spine. His mind conjured the white tile, stale carpets, and alien infrastructure they’d only barely escaped. Magic flooded his mana lines as he began to fuck Error in earnest.

He lifted Error’s pelvis off of the mattress, and the sound of their coupling became louder with the change in angle. The Destroyer attempted to remain quiet, but it was a losing battle as he cried out, his glitched out whines and pleas sure to be heard by anyone nearing the end of the hallway. Nightmare bared his teeth, thoroughly enjoying the slap of their ecto and his smaller partner’s responsiveness.

“I-I ngh-yea, I wa-ant-” Error choked on a groan as Nightmare slowed his pace. “Night.”

“Mhm? What is it, darling?”

“You…mnn, I just-I want a sim-simple life with you. Stupidly simple,” the Destroyer insisted, his hands clutching the now wrinkled duvet. “But we can-can’t have that, can we?” Error asked.

“And why not?” Nightmare asked, thumbing at Error’s clit as he slowly fucked him. “Say we get through this. What is stopping us from having what we want?”

Error huffed before his breath hitched. “As if we go-got through this. There’s al-al-always something. It’s inescapable,” he uttered, tensing as the Guardian changed the angle once more. “M-maybe we can pretend?”

Nightmare hummed before leaning over to kiss him. “What do you suggest we pretend?"

Error’s face was illuminated by his blush and he reconsidered for a moment if his ask was too much. Nightmare, however, was familiar with this side of the Destroyer. He kissed him again and brought one of Error’s legs up to hook around his waist. Error groaned as his flexibility was put to the test.

“What do you want, Err?” Nightmare asked, his breath ghosting along Error’s jaw.

“To carry your ch-child,” Error said quietly. “T-to pretend to,” he emphasized, although he doubted that it made it better now that the statement was put out into the universe.

Nightmare traced his sternum, his phalanges trailing along the ribs around Error’s soul. “You’d look immaculate,” the Guardian purred. “The idea is tantalizing. There would be no hiding it from the team, you know?”

“I'm aware,” Error said, his blush searing his cheek bones. “I’d want to be s-seen...the idea of them to kn-knowing…” he trailed off. Nightmare shivered lightly and he moved his hips more pointedly. "I like it," he admitted.

“So, what you’re saying,” he began, the sensation of his knot against Error’s folds inspiring him to press deeper into his partner. “That you want me to make sure that you’re carrying my heir before the night is through,” Nightmare said, his multi-layered voice seeming to surround Error as he spoke.

“I-I…Night,” Error moaned and let his skull fall back against the covers. “You know what I-I mean–we couldn’t-”

“No?” Nightmare asked as he punctuated his thrusts. “So I can’t give my irresistible lover everything he wants?”

The Destroyer scoffed. “Sh-shockingly,” he bit out before gritting his teeth as the Guardian pressed his knot inside of him. The sensation was intense and exquisite. Tears rushed to Error’s eye sockets as he wrapped his other leg around the Guardian’s waist. “Y-yes, Night, o-oh Stars, yes…”

“You’d be such a good mommy,” Nightmare crooned, one of his hands slipping into Error’s rib cage to tease as the swollen aura of his soul. Error whimpered as the heat from the Guardian’s hand graced his life source.

“Touch my s-soul,” the Destroyer pleaded. Nightmare obliged, cupping the scarred, luminous casing, reveling in the sensation of magic flowing just under the surface. “You…you’d be a good daddy,” he said, the flush from his face extending down his sternum and out across his clavicles. Nightmare groaned and leaned his forehead against Error’s. The Destroyer’s breath was stolen as their souls found each other, and a two way ebb and flow of magic was initiated.

‘You don’t know how tempting that is,’ Nightmare’s voice echoed through the haze. ‘I’ve fantasized about what it would be like to settle down with you.’

The Destroyer had no idea what that would look like. His life of solitude and white, empty nothingness left him very little to reference. His thoughts invented a large, yet cozy setting that reminded him of the Guardian’s castle. Stained glass and dark, wooden fixtures created a warm ambiance, and a blend of Gothic architecture lent itself to the elegant atmosphere.

No white tiles or empty windows looking out into an abyss of sky or deceptively clear water. Team members with their own living quarters and guest rooms for family. Geno could be there, bring his nephews and Reaper. What would his brother think of him settling down? He’d probably be ecstatic.

Nightmare’s study recreated, better than the last, but reminiscent of its predecessor. A warm, bubbling spring somewhere beneath the ground level, a pleasant watery landscape that Error hadn’t gotten the chance to enjoy. He would if he had the chance to do it again. Nightmare’s expression as he relaxed in the spring was serene and it brought him a sense of peace that had been hard to come by since.

Dream could exist as something other than Nightmare’s enemy, becoming his own being outside of Ink’s circle and finding a place for himself in his sibling’s life. He’d probably be an extremely caring uncle, as would Geno…the serenity that Error and Nightmare envisioned together, but couldn’t have was soul wrenching. Error wanted that simplicity, but if this was as close as he’d ever get to it, so be it. They could fantasize together and that would have to be enough.

Nightmare, while keenly aware of their surroundings, was also witness to his lover’s desire for his happiness. It touched him deeply as he experienced for himself the extent of the Destroyer’s love for him. While the weight of the multiverse weighed on his conscience, he was determined to see the day they could focus on them. He felt the rebound of doubt from Error’s side of the bond, but Nightmare wasn’t deterred. Error’s breathy pleads were interspersed with the building heat in the Guardian’s core. Nightmare’s memories of their hideaways in the Rooms blended with the enticing visions of what they could have. He lost himself in Error’s half-lidded eye lights as he chased release.

At some point Error had been picked up and he was now positioned with his spine propped up against a wall. He watched the tendrils emanating from Nightmare’s tentacles as they crafted an impossible network of vessels spanning the entirety of the space. Error keened and dug his phalanges into his partner’s shoulder blades, undoubtedly spurring the Guardian on. He was breathless and drowning in bliss as he seemingly floated above himself, the pleasure reaching new heights as he focused on Nightmare’s unhindered need for him. He’d never felt so wanted before, and each time he gained a taste of how the Guardian felt for him, he was elated once again.

Gazing at the other side of the room where the door resided, he found himself entranced by a pair of hazy eye lights. He’d experienced far more chilling hallucinations since the Rooms, so he didn’t feel the need to acknowledge them more than he had. His mind was broken, and that was perfectly fine–Nightmare accepted him just as he was. The Destroyer reached his peak and his eye lights rolled back in his head, obscuring his waking dream of the watcher in the darkness.

‘Let them watch’ he thought as everything around him ceased to matter. He let himself float in the darkness that orgasm had left behind, accentuated by the ethereal vocals of his lover.

Chapter Text

4 Months Post Multiversal Shift

Sans avoided Sci when he was able to manage it. Ever since his return from the cavern, Sans felt the need to look over his shoulder. Even while he was alone, the lingering presence felt unshakeable. He couldn’t explain it, and not having direct evidence for his paranoia made it even more difficult to deal with. He didn’t want to come off as more unstable than he already felt.

He began to second guess his original assessment and gradually he felt more justified in his continued hypervigilance. He’d limited his time in the shower since he’d witnessed the ominous figure watching him. He spent enough time under the spray to clean himself, but his eye lights were glued to the doorway the entire time. He noticed that Sci would sometimes just stare in his general direction. It dragged him back to the longest seconds of his life as he looked back at whatever or whoever had been standing just beyond the fogged up glass of the shower door.

Lately, he couldn’t shake the sensation of dread that gripped him. On some level, he felt slightly guilty for giving Sci the cold shoulder, but self-preservation prompted him to continue to interact with him as little as possible. There was just something…off.

It was just Sans’ luck that Sci happened to be strolling into the living room a little after he’d arrived in the kitchen to grab himself a drink. Sci was flipping through a journal as he meandered over to sit on a bar stool at the island counter. Sans contemplated his options for escape before Sci spoke up.

“Haven’t seen you in a little while. You feeling alright?” He asked, setting the journal down on the surface in front of him. From what Sans could gather, he’d been reading through the notes he’d taken when they’d been in the caverns, but now there were some unintelligible additions. He ran his hand along the back of his cervical vertebrae as he contemplated his next move.

“Uh, yeah. It’s…” he trailed off. He felt the sweat beading up on his forehead. Time for a heaping dose of deflection. “How, uh, how’re you doin?”

Sci offered a lopsided smile. It rubbed Sans the wrong way. “It’s been weird. Better than being in that cave, that’s for sure.” He looked down at the journal for a moment before stating, “You’ve seemed stressed out. You wanna talk about it?”

“Hah, funny you should mention it. I’d expect to be saying that to you, since…you know.” Sans shifted his stance, instinctively clamming up at the idea of sharing what he was feeling, especially since Sci had given him the creeps lately. “Um…I don’t wanna talk here, no. Maybe another-”

“There’s a rec room down the way. It’s got a paddle ball setup and some things to pass the time. When’s the last time you got out of the suite?”

Sans didn’t know. He felt cornered. He released a long breath. “You know what? Sure. Lemme grab my jacket. I’ll be right back.” He teleported back to the bedroom where Red was promptly startled by his sudden appearance. His face and sternum were flushed and if Sans had to guess, he’d probably caught him with his dick in his hand. It wouldn’t be the first time and he was aware it wouldn’t be the last. Red had reassured him it wasn’t a big deal. Jumping places was a habit that died hard. Still, Red had probably expected a less spontaneous entrance. Sans felt just a little bad..

“Hey, sorry, pal. Listen, I’m gonna head over to the rec room with Sci. If I’m not back in 20 minutes, I need you to come find us,” he insisted.

“Why? Everythin’ okay?” Red asked, tilting his skull. Sans sighed in exasperation.

“Don’t look at me like that. Just-” Sans sighed, and pinched his nasal ridge. “Can I count on you to meet me over there or not?” He asked. Red could see the anxiety in the other’s face. Sans had been burdened by a lot of mental baggage lately. He really didn’t mind doing him a favor.

“Yeah, you’ve got my word.”

Relief visibly washed over Sans. He leaned in before stopping only inches away from Red’s face, his brows pinched.

What was he doing?

He blushed fiercely, but remained there, unsure of what to do or how to proceed. Red smirked.

“Didja nearly kiss me just now?” Red asked, and Sans scoffed, drawing back into his own space as though he’d been burned. His face was a vivid blue. “Ya were, weren’t ya? Stars, look at yer face!”

“No way, moron. Get over yourself,” Sans bit out. He clicked his tongue. “Please, don’t forget to come over.”

“I won’t, doll face. Time’s a tickin’.”

“Oh my Stars, shut the fuck up,” he uttered as he snapped his phalanges and disappeared. Sans teleported back into the living room and nearly collided with Sci upon reappearing. Sans apologized before asking, “So, rec room, right?”

“Mhm.”

Ten minutes passed since Sans had departed the room when Red developed a very bad feeling in the pit of his soul. He pulled on his shirt and jacket and made his way out into the hallway. Reluctantly, he tugged out one of the communication devices they’d been given and initiated a call to the guy he least wanted to talk to, much less see.

“Yo, it’s the radical Fresh-”

“Yeah, uh, it’s Red–the guy with some unresolved issues,” Red said, his voice reflecting his nervousness. “Listen, I need yer help.”

“My help? Okey dokey, how about giving me a location, homeslice?” The parasite suggested. He glanced around the white abyss of Error’s empty realm as he awaited a response.

“In the suite. Headed towards the livin’ room,” Red said, urgency clear in his tone. “It’s Sans–he went out with Sci, and somethin’ ain’t right. I don’t know what it-”

Red whipped around as the air became slightly electrified. Fresh stepped into the suite and the portal behind him sealed with an audible ‘schlick’. It was unnerving to see that he wasn’t sporting his trademark grin as he came face to face with Red.

“Show me where he’s at,” Fresh commanded.

Sans was surprised there weren’t sweat stains showing through his white shirt as he chatted with Sci in the empty rec room. It was all generally okay, and he might have even been loosening up a bit as he fell into casual conversation with his fellow researcher. At some point, he meandered over to a single serve coffee machine with some fancy, electric blue buttons. He joked all the while at his own expense, hoping to ease the lingering tension in the room. He chuckled as the machine whirred to life before a pang of dread gripped him. Every ounce of self-preservation told him not to turn around, but he did. He immediately regretted his decision.

Sci–no, definitely not Sci, had stood from where he’d previously been seated, and was now looming only a few feet away from him. From one of his eye sockets, a gruesome twist of black, filamented tendrils slithered down his cheek bone, leaving slick trails in their wake. Larger tentacles crept from beneath his jacket, creating a rustle of clothing that was jarringly loud in the otherwise silent space. His smile was interspersed with an oil-slick, violet liquid that had begun to drip down his chin and cervical vertebrae. It plopped wetly onto his jacket. The sight of it all left Sans questioning where he’d gone wrong and who he’d pissed off enough to deserve this.

“Please don’t scream,” Absolutely-Not-Sci said, his voice fragmenting and warping as he spoke. His jaw didn’t move the way it should. It felt like Sans was looking at a puppet with hidden strings. “I’d prefer to make this painless for you,” it said in a mockery of Sci’s voice. If Sci was there, he was suppressed by whatever else this thing was made up of. Sans hoped for Sci’s sake he was gone.

Sans’ magic loudly crackled to life, which he hoped would be a warning to fake Sci to back off. He was disappointed when he didn’t even flinch. Sans summoned an array of honed bone constructs in an instant. He didn’t want to risk a jump back to the suite when he wasn’t familiar with the way they took to get here. Sans took steps back to put space between them.

“Please don-don’t do this,” he pleaded in a measured, careful tone. If he could appeal to any part of Sci that might be left, he thought he might stand a chance. He didn’t look away from the abomination approaching him. “Sci, buddy, t-tell me what’s going through your skull right now. T-talk to me,” Sans insisted, hoping that he could buy himself some time. Red would be there soon, or so he hoped. Too bad Sans hadn’t kept diligent track of the time himself, so he really couldn’t blame the guy for being late.

It turned out that Not-Sci wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Sans had zero warning as he was thrown back into a wall of books and hand-crafted decorations. He landed with a grunt as items fell from the wall display, clattering all around. The pained groan that followed quickly morphed into a panicked yelp as tendrils attempted to gain access to his mouth. Clenching his teeth and grasping frantically at the invasive tendrils, he was met with the creature’s violet, coagulating drool dripping onto his cheek. Not only was it fucking vile, but it began to burn. It took his breath away as it audibly sizzled the longer it remained on the bones of his face. Sans feared he wouldn’t be able to get him off–he felt a few small tentacles slip past his clavicles and descend down toward his soul.

The weight of the creature was abruptly lifted from his frame by a mass of maroon tentacles accented by bright neons. Sans clawed at the substance on his face, and looked around with wide eye sockets. It took him time to realize that Red was there. He wasn’t sure when he’d arrived. He was beside him asking him a slew of questions, but up until that moment, it hadn’t sounded comprehensible. Sans had just begun to actually understand what he was saying.

“Fuck yer hurt. It’s gonna be okay, I gotcha,” he said, supporting Sans as he helped him to stand. Sans’ spine twinged as he leaned into his counterpart for support.

“What the…you s-saw that, right?” He asked, his voice as unsteady as he walked towards the exit of the rec room with Red.

“Yeah, the tail end of it,” Red said, an edge of panic in his tone. “Keep walkin’ this way, we’re gonna get you outta here.”

A chilling, multi-layered wail emanated from the corner of the room and was followed by a distinct, sickening crunch. Fresh caught up to them soon after, his expression unreadable as he placed a hand on the doorframe to support himself. Splotches of blood and coagulated matter decorated his clothing. From the look of it, he’d also forfeited at least half of a tentacle during his fight with the imposter.

“We need…alert the others,” he stated in a strained voice.

Red retrieved a warm, damp cloth for Sans’ face. Sans was on the couch, surrounded by Blue and Dust, who’d begun to help him clean the substance from his evident wounds. Fresh haphazardly made his way to the room inhabited by Nightmare and Error. He entered, not caring what he was about to be met with. He knew this feeling. He was working with borrowed time now.

“Thing from the rift,” he choked out, his voice weakening all the while. “Here. Killed it. Sans…it hurt him-” Fresh trailed off and his legs buckled. Error and Nightmare scrambled to assist him, as did others as they caught onto the dire situation. Dust joined them. The vial of magic concentrate was clutched in his hand as they maneuvered Fresh onto an unused bed.

In Error’s experience, Fresh didn’t just collapse. Something was very wrong. Dream stepped up to the bedside to siphon Fresh some magic from the palms of his hands. He furrowed his brow as the magic diffused instead of being absorbed into the soul and mana lines as it had in past circumstances. Error bit at the tip of his thumb anxiously as he stepped up to inspect his companion.

From an eye socket, a dim, amber glint caught his attention. A tentacle extended from the socket shakily, and Error didn’t think twice as he offered his hand to his pal. Dream made a sound of confusion before witnessing the tentacled being slip from the skull and into the Destroyer’s palm. Fresh used his remaining energy to anchor himself to Error’s metacarpals by wrapping his tentacles around the bones. Once he was fully detached from his skeletal host body, it fell apart at the joints before completely dusting. Everyone around them looked dazed as Error held Fresh to his jacket.

“Is…he alright?” Dream asked, looking between Error and his brother for an answer.

“Can some-someone get a bowl filled with warm water and magic serum?” Error asked as he glanced between members of Nightmare’s team. Dust stepped into action.

“On it.”

“Tha-a-anks,” the Destroyer replied. He gently brushed two phalanges over one of Fresh’s tentacles and was relieved when he felt a gentle pulse in response. Fresh’s singular eye was shut and there was a slight tremor radiating from him. Error entered the kitchen where he tested the temperature of the water Dust had warmed for him. Meanwhile, Error listened to the voice that he felt more than heard within the confines of his skull. It had been eons since he’d heard Fresh’s ‘voice’. It made him a little less panicked as he lowered his friend into the bowl. The parasite’s form gradually relaxed and his plethora of tentacles began to float along the water’s surface. He opened his eye ever so slightly to peer up at Error. The Destroyer lightly touched one of the longer tentacles unfurling to touch the perimeter of the bowl.

‘You and Nightmare need to talk to Red and Sans. Now. Don’t worry about me…gonna take a snooze. I’ll be a-okay.’

“Red. San-Sans,” Error stated as he made his way over to the living room with the bowl in hand. Fresh had drifted off knowing that he would be watched over. He’d kept an eye on the Destroyer countless times in the past, so he trusted that Error would do the same for him no problem. “No need to move, we’ll come to you.”

Nightmare stood beside his seated partner. “Tell us exactly what transpired.”

Sans detailed Sci’s behavior change since he’d returned. He mentioned seeing someone watching him as he showered, and pointed out that he was certain now it had been Sci. “He…that wasn’t him,” Sans explained, fresh fear coiling in his soul. “–the tentacles, t-tried to get in my mouth, and I felt them so close to my soul. I’m honestly surprised I’m here right now.”

Error sat stiff in his chair, his grip on the bowl increasing slightly as he was reminded of his own encounters with them. Nightmare’s hand on his shoulder squeezed as he undoubtedly sensed his panic.

“I agree, you are incredibly lucky,” Nightmare pointed out. “How did you manage to evade it?”

“Fresh,” Error responded, recalling the parasite’s rushed words and rapidly failing energy. “He took care of it, did-didn’t he?”

Sans nodded. “Yeah. Don’t ask me how, but he single-handedly took that thing out.”

“Sans told me to meet ‘em over in the rec room. He knew somethin’ was off. I got a bad feelin’, but if Sans hadn’t pointed it out…” Red trailed off, his expression reflecting the negative thoughts creeping up on him. “Anyhow, I called Fresh n’ the rest is history.”

“I’ve seen someone in my room,” the Guardian of Positivity said as a hollow sensation gripped him. “Twice, at least. I caught the reflection of eye lights in my bedroom mirror, but I wrote it off as stress induced hallucinations. Do you think…?.” He trailed off, leaving his question open ended as he glanced between them.

Error’s mouth felt uncomfortably dry as the image of the eye lights watching him from across the room manifested in his mind’s eye. He considered that it might have been a literal someone in their room rather than his overactive imagination that he’d originally attributed the sight to.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

“I saw some-someone, too,” he blurted, not wanting to explain how and when, but knowing that he couldn’t withhold the information any longer. He glanced up at Nightmare, who had stiffened upon hearing his statement. “I thought it wa-as a figment of my imagination,” he said more quietly, looking down at the bowl in his lap. His hands trembled ever so slightly.

Killer had taken a seat in the living room. He’d been thoroughly shaken after coming out of his room after the initial rush to witness Fresh’s brightly colored attire littered in dust. From then on, he’d come to realize that the situation was dire.

Cossi had been paranoid lately. Killer recalled him talking about a guy who he’d caught staring at him multiple times. Sometimes it had only been for a moment, but other times he’d described the figure lurking about just out of sight. It was making him feel like he was losing it. He wanted to go check on him, but he knew it was imperative that he understood exactly what was going on from the source. It appeared Sans had been the victim of the fallout, judging by the marrow-blotted cloth pressed to his face.

“It was pretending to be him. That th-thing was living in here with us for weeks,” Sans said.

“So it wasn’t him–that’s clear enough. Then what the fuck was that, exactly?” Red asked, and from inside of his watery napping place, Fresh scrunched his eyelid slightly tighter. Error set Fresh’s bowl down on the coffee table as he attempted to center himself. He’d known. He’d been right about Sci from the moment he returned to the suite. He really didn’t like being right, especially not in circumstances like this one.

“It was a being from the ri-ift,” the Destroyer said. “Thi-is-is wasn’t meant to happen…we need to leave this AU immediately,” he said, looking around the room. One of Nightmare’s tentacles rested against Error’s spine as his frame practically buzzed with increasing anxiety.

“We will,” he reassured his partner.

Error felt as though the building panic would burst from within him, but thus far, he’d miraculously held it all together. He glanced over at Sans who’d removed the damp towel from his face so that Red could inspect the damage. Raw and eroded bone opened into the more fragile, marrow-laden layers of his face. Red released a slow breath as he angled Sans’ jaw so he could observe the extent of it.

“Salve will soothe it, at least. If anyone here knows healing magic, that’d be peachy,” he said, encouraging Sans to apply the damp towel back to the wound.

“I can help,” Dream stated without hesitation. “I'll do what I can. While I can’t make any promises, I can at least make you comfortable.”

“Hey, buddy, trying is better than nothing. I’ll take it,” Sans said, relief clear in his features. “I appreciate it.” He glanced over at Error and Nightmare as the Guardian of Negativity’s aura became significantly more palpable. The facade of safety that accompanied this AU had now crumbled around them and everyone knew it.

“We leave today,” Nightmare said. “We can’t risk staying any longer.”

As soon as Killer heard his boss’ statement, he teleported out of the suite and down to Cossi’s apartment. He knocked on the door and waited. He tried the handle and found the door unlocked. Stepping in and closing the door behind him, he called out to announce his presence. He received no response. Glancing around, he noticed a few items were on the floor and the glass case housing Cossi’s collection of bottles was cracked. A few glass shards had been scattered in the carpet. Killer’s chest tightened in concern as he made a jump to the cafe.

He was met with a horned skeleton monster adding fresh pastries to the case. He was startleed by Killer’s sudden arrival, but he collected himself and asked, “Hey there, can I help you with something?”

“Yeah. Cossi’s yer boss, right?”

“Sure is.”

“Know where he is? I really need to speak with him,” Killer said.

“He went up to check out a noise complaint just a little bit ago. Apparently there was some commotion.”

Killer’s soul sank. “Thanks.” He made a jump back up to their floor and jogged in the direction of the rec room. He nearly missed the inconspicuous doorway, and skidded to a halt as he registered a silhouette in the middle of the space facing away from him.

“Cossi, thank Stars-”

“What the fuck is that?” He asked in a quiet voice. It reflected the immense dread he experienced upon seeing something that his mind considered impossible. He couldn’t fully comprehend the horror that was spread out on the ground of the rec room. Upon seeing the thing for himself, Killer questioned his ability to maintain a level head. His first instinct was to get the hell out of there. He wanted to place as much space between the amalgamation of bones, dark fluid, and gore and them as he could manage.

“Hey, Cossi, it’s really not somethin’ ya wanna be close to. Come here.”

“I-is this my life now? This? What’s…what the fuck is going on?” Cossi asked, his voice sounding far more frail than Killer had ever heard it. “That…he-he’s the guy who watched me. He was following me.”

“Hon, I know yer scared. We’re gonna take a little shortcut back to my suite. Hang onto me and close your eyes,” Killer ordered, tugging the other close to him. He’d have done just about anything to distance them from whatever the fuck was in that room..

“Wait, what does tha-” the room shifted and in an instant, they materialized in a bedroom. Cossi clamped a hand over his mouth as vertigo overtook him. He dry heaved before his soul settled enough to take some measured breaths. “Holy shit. I need a minute.”

“I know ya do. I’m sorry, but we don’t have time,” Killer expressed.

“What…does that mean? What the fuck is going on?” Cossi asked. His eye sockets brimmed with tears.

“Come sit with me. I’ll tell ya what’s going on, okay?”

Cossi obliged. He crossed his arms over his chest and his posture suggested that he wanted to disappear. Killer didn’t blame him. The surface of his bones still crawled at the image of whatever the fuck that thing was. The multiverse sure knew how to chew up and spit out some absolutely cursed lifeforms and they just happened to have a front row seat. Killer rested a hand on Cossi’s leg, hoping that he was conveying comfort, but he wasn’t sure how well he was doing on that front.

“We’re leavin’ and what ya just saw in the other room is the reason why,” he stated. Tears trickled down Cossi’s face and Killer felt an ache somewhere within himself that he couldn’t quite place. It had been a long time since he’d felt so morose while still taking his medication.

“…s-so I should say goodbye, right?” He asked. “I-I need to…I dunno, I need to do something. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know-”

“Cossi. I need ya to listen to me,” Killer said softly but insistently. “Are you listening?” The other nodded, his eye lights fuzzed out with the amount of tears being shed. “I want you to come with me.”

Cossi froze as he blurted out, “What?”

“Come with me,” Killer said. “I like you–I really, really like ya. I don’t wanna leave you. It’s not safe here any longer.”

“Are you serious right now? This isn’t the time to fool around, Killer. This…that is insane.”

“Cossi, I’ve never been more fucking serious. I never claimed to be mentally stable, either, so fair.”

It was all so much happening at once. “I couldn’t just leave…”

“You can, though. You really can just come with me,” Killer said as he took Cossi’s hands in his own. “To put it kindly, this AU is fucked. I don’t wanna leave ya in this mess.”

He hadn’t expected Cossi to throw himself into his chest. They both landed on the carpet and Killer proceeded to hug him tightly. It was a lot to take in and Cossi was feeling the impact of being told his fears were valid. Killer wished he could tell him otherwise, but there was no point in hiding things from him, especially not if he’d be along for the ride.

“You’re going to meet my boss,” Killer explained, rubbing Cossi’s upper spine.

“What does that mean?” Cossi asked, wiping the moisture from his face. Killer smiled.

“He’s an intimidating sight. He’ll want to make sure you’re not a threat to the group. He doesn’t tend to judge a book by its cover–can’t do that with the line of work I’m in.”

“You’ll be here with me?” Cossi asked.

“The entire time. You’re going to be just fine.”

Error and Nightmare took a walk down a few cobblestone alleys. Fresh was tucked away in the Destroyer’s jacket pocket, his keen, amber eye peering out as he surveyed their surroundings. They hadn’t gone far from the inn when Error felt a tug from his pocket. He reached inside and felt a tentacle wrap around his pointer finger.

‘Him. That one in the orange shawl, there. Get me close, home slice.’

Error leaned close to Nightmare to alert him to who the lucky target was. It all moved fast from there. Nightmare seized and gagged the skeleton monster’s protests, tugging him into an offshoot alleyway that was out of sight of the street they’d been on. Error felt the weight from his pocket disappear and the stranger’s eye sockets widened as Fresh did what he was designed to do. Nightmare’s tentacles released the monster, who then fell to his hands and knees as his mind was manipulated to make room for a new, tentacled presence. After a few moments his joints glowed a dim fuchsia as Fresh’s magic took hold. Fresh got up, brushing off the stranger’s attire as he adjusted to the feel of his new host body.

“Y’all are the bomb diggity,” Fresh said, pointing finger guns at the other two. “Thanks for all you do. Error, your pockets are seriously comfy, by the way.”

Error grumbled, his arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t mention it. You can thank Geno for that.”

“That was absolutely harrowing…but intriguing, nonetheless,” Nightmare stated.

“Totes, bro! Just another sickening aspect of the radical Fresh,” the parasite responded, cracking his back. “We should get outta dodge, though. I don’t want to tempt fate and risk meeting another rift freak.”

“Noted,” Error said as the Guardian summoned a portal back to the inn.

They stepped into the wide open setting of a homestead highlighted by the dimming, orange sky. Error felt relative ease settle in his soul. The scent of whatever was being cooked inside the farmhouse had his mouth watering and the breeze against his bones helped to distract him from the bad luck that ceaselessly followed them.

Killer’s voice was the most prominent as he chatted with the newest member of their entourage. The Destroyer could tell he was in good spirits, despite the circumstances. Apparently the guy hadn’t ever been out of his own AU before. Error couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have never been acquainted with the multiverse.

Nightmare looked up at the faint stars gradually appearing as the sun retreated behind the rows of gently swaying rows of plants and barely-there, rolling hills off in the distance.

“This appears promising,” he said as he looked over at his lover. The Destroyer offered a terse smile.

“I hoped it would-would be. It almost seems like it hasn’t been affected at-at all.”

“This is where you disappeared to when you accidentally teleported, isn’t it?” Nightmare asked. Error nodded.

“Mhm. Couldn’t ha-ave asked for a better place to acc-accidentally strand myself in,” he said. The Guardian scoffed and one of his tentacles found Error’s hand instinctively. The reminder of his partner’s sudden disappearance wasn’t a pleasant one.

Big H led the group towards the patio of the home. Smoke rose from the chimney and the inside was aglow with warm light. They ascended the steps and approached the door before knocking on the weather-worn wood. Big H was alerted to footsteps and the click of locks before he was met with a familiar face.

“Hey, H. You’ve brought quite a crowd, haven’t ya? Come on in,” Saejun said, stepping aside to allow the group inside. His brother had just finished laying out napkins next to the spread of freshly cooked food. Saejun showed them inside and encouraged them to find a place in their modest abode to relax. “Welcome, fellas. Don’t be shy now. We’ve got food and refreshments for ya. Just kick back and relax.”

Blue looked around the space and felt a wave of Déjà vu wash over him. The folk art decorating the walls along with the leather accents on the furniture in the living room reminded him of a place he couldn’t quite name. It all felt so familiar. It was insanely cozy and such a stark difference from the impersonal decor of the inn.

Looking at Dust, he asked, “Have you been here before?”

“Big H has been pals with Saejun for a long while. Came with him a couple times when I had a day off.”

“This feels so wistful,” Blue said as he observed the crackling fire in the hearth and the spread of food on the wooden dining room table. Dream also seemed to be taken by the space surrounding them. The way Cross watched the Guardian of Positivity’s shift in expressions was extremely endearing. Blue wondered if Dust looked at him like that…

“Hey. I lost you there,” Dust said, his gravelly voice reflecting a calmness that helped to ground Blue. “How about we grab some cider and take a seat on that couch? It’s calling your name.” Dust said with a soft smirk. Blue blinked a few times before smiling and nodding.

“Is it now? Well, lead the way, then,” he responded. Dust chuckled softly.

Meanwhile, Dream grabbed a steaming bowl of stew and Cross busied himself filling his own plate with a thick slice of bread and a cut of baked meat. Upon entering the space, Fresh took in his surroundings before grabbing a large mug of cider for himself. His new body needed sustenance and with the warm drinks and meal provided, he was certain he could replenish any magic he’d expended. He found a room away from the others to allow himself to adjust and settle in, taking a seat in a nook that was lined with pillows. The lack of lighting and the walls separating the others’ voices was a nice touch for now.

Cossi was still processing the fact that he’d left his AU behind. It all felt unreal and he’d been experiencing an unpleasant numbness in the recesses of his skull as he tried in vain to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

“Hey, you’re a new face around here,” Saejun said, his smile revealing his prominent canines. “I’m Saejun. My bro is the tall fella in the living room.”

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Cossi.”

“Well, Cossi, you seem a little rattled. You doin’ alright?” Saejun asked. Killer came up beside Cossi and placed a hand on the small of his back. Cossi blushed. Killer’s interest felt genuine, but Cossi was plagued by doubts. What did Killer see in him? He forced a soft smile.

“He’s new to the AU hoppin’ thing. This is his first time, actually,” Killer supplied. Saejun’s brows shot up.

“Oh, now that’s a big deal. So you’re prob’ly feeling disoriented, huh?” Cossi nodded in response. “Well, there’s plenty of seating, so please relax. If ya need anything, let me know. We may be from different AUs, but consider me your new neighbor.”

Cossi smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

“My pleasure.” Looking at Killer, he asked, “Are you hungry? My bro and I cooked enough for everyone. Heh, we actually may have leftovers now that I’m considering it. We went a little overboard.”

“Man, I’m always hungry. I may fix the leftover problem single handedly,” Killer remarked. Saejun snorted.

“Oh, yeah? I dare ya to try,” Saejun said with grin. His expression quickly reverted to the nonchalant, easygoing smile he donned before. “Seriously though, dig in. You guys have had it rough.”

Red and Sans had taken to standing in the kitchen where they’d found two conveniently placed barstools along the counter. It was a lot of commotion. Sans picked at his food, but he didn’t have an appetite after the day’s events. Dream had done what he could to healface, but the Guardian had explained to him that there were limitations to healing magic. The other worldly substance wasn’t something Dream was familiar with, but he put his all into mending the deeper layers of his face. The pain had gone from a searing ache to a dull throb. The bandages around his skull provided much needed protection for his still vulnerable wounds. He considered himself lucky. Things could have gone so much worse.

“How’re ya feelin’?” Red asked. He’d cleared half of his plate, but he seemed far more concerned with how Sans was faring. Sans sighed and shrugged.

“The pain is manageable. I just can’t get his face out of my head,” he admitted. Red set his plate down on the counter, offering his fellow researcher his full attention.

“I don’t blame ya. Can’t imagine bein’ in your place,” Red said. “I’m so glad ya had me come check up on ya. I’m…I feel like shit fer not seein’ the signs myself.”

“Me too. And don’t–I asked, and you came. That’s what matters,” Sans insisted.

Red remained silent as he considered what might’ve happened if Sans hadn’t asked. Would he have still found his new pal in time? How would he have known until it was too late? The thought of losing Sans felt soul wrenching. He must have been scowling pretty obviously because Sans nudged him.

“Hey,” Sans said, securing his attention. “You good?”

Red looked at Sans’ uncovered eye light and sighed. “I’ve been better. Just glad yer here.” Sans blushed as he looked back at his plate of food.

“Glad you’re here, too.”

Saejun, who was accustomed to the lack of light out in the countryside, had lit a lantern to guide his guests to their sleeping quarters. Killer, Cossi, Dust, and Blue followed their host through the night towards the looming shape of the restored barn. Saejun hung the lantern on a steel hook on the side of the steel barn as they entered an indiscriminate, slightly rusty door. Upon stepping inside, the scent of grains and cut wheat accented the very light smell of fragrant wood. Areas that used to hold animals had been renovated into storage and rooms for overnight guests. Saejun showed them to the available bedrooms and reassured them that if they needed anything not to be shy about it. Saejun bid them goodnight and made the trek back to his home.

Cossi looked worn out and Killer was feeling fatigue permeating his bones as well. He cracked his spine and considered the living spaces.

“So, I guess we’ll take the bed at the end there,” Killer said. Dust grunted. Killer tilted his head. “Is that your way of sayin’ you want it?” Ha asked as he leaned against an empty stall door. Dust shot him a look that radiated irritation.

“Nah, just used to you callin’ dibs,” Dust responded. Blue looked between Dust and Killer, before glancing over at Cossi, who seemed just as lost.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Blue stated. “I don’t mind taking the smaller room.”

“I agree, Blue.” Killer smirked. Cossi stood to the side, not quite sure what to do with himself. Blue, not in the mood to witness a squabble, joined Cossi on the sidelines, his arms tightly crossed over his sternum.

Dust was feeling prickly at the moment and he was aware that he’d been the one to voice his annoyance. He almost wanted Killer to take the bait and push back. They’d had their fair share of fights in the past. It seemed that his team lead wasn’t in the mood for arguing. He couldn’t say he blamed him, but it didn’t assuage the heightened irritation he felt. Dust shoved his hands in his pockets far harder than necessary before pinning Killer with a scathing look.

“Fuck it,” Dust uttered. “Forget it.”

“Nah, ya know what? Take the room at the end of the hall. You're right–I do call dibs on shit.”

Dust scowled. “No.”

Killer’s smile wavered. “No?”

“You’re gonna lord it over me. I don’t wanna play that game,” Dust stated. Killer’s smirk grew sharper and he chuckled softly. That was his ‘I’m done with your shit’ expression. Dust had seen it enough to recognize it for what it was.

“Alright, Dust, games aside–take the room or don’t. Ya pointed out that I’m a greedy fuck, and I’m tryin’ to fix it. If ya want that room at the end of the way, take it.”

Dust brushed past Killer without another word and entered the room at the end of the hallway. Blue followed after him, frustration flickering in his eye lights. Killer clicked his tongue and wrapped his arm around Cossi as they entered their bedroom. He closed the door before sighing.

“Leave it to Dust to bitch about nothin’. Dunno what his problem is sometimes.”

Cossi sat down on the bed. Killer tugged off his sweatshirt and kicked off his shoes. He flopped back onto the mattress and released a tired grumble.

“None of this feels real,” Cossi said as he looked over at Killer. “I…don’t really know how to process everything.”

“It probably won’t for a while yet. Yer doin’ great takin’ it all in stride, Starboy. I can’t emphasize that enough.” Killer yawned, the action causing more tarry substance to drip down his face from his eye sockets. “What’s on your mind?”

Cossi took off his own jacket before relieving himself of his shoes as well. “A lot.” He looked at Killer, numbness giving way to uncertainty as he thought about their dynamic. “I don’t…we didn’t talk about us. Our relationship, you know? W-what are we?”

Killer’s expression morphed into something unreadable. It didn’t give Cossi much hope as he prepared himself to be met with the harsh reality of the situation. Instead, Killer offered a hand to him, palms up. Hesitantly, Cossi slid his own hand into the larger. Even in the drafty, remodeled rooms of the barn, Killer’s bones were warm to the touch.

Killer contemplated for a moment. “I know this all moved fast…and that I made it move fast. If ya need space or–if ya want your own room, I can make it happen-”

“Killer. I want to be right where I am. What do you want?” Cossi asked. Killer’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing as he thought about it. What did it matter what he wanted now? He decided to humor Cossi anyhow. He smiled awkwardly, and it made Cossi’s soul tighten in apprehension.

“You’re a breath of fresh air. You made me think about ya long after we hung out. That doesn’t happen–at least not for me,” Killer stated. “I’ve got a fun affliction that makes it hard for me to regulate emotional input. My past ain’t too peachy, either, so I have that mess to boot.” He squeezed Cossi’s hands. “Ya make me feel things I haven’t felt since-” he paused mid-sentence as he decided whether to proceed. “You know, I think I should tell you more about myself. You okay with that?”

Cossi nodded. “More than okay. I’ve been waiting for this.” He tugged the quilt up over himself and snuggled into the soft stack of pillows.

Dream, Cross, Fresh, and Big H decided to occupy the basement rooms. Nightmare and Error took the larger of the guest bedrooms upstairs. Sans and Red took the smaller, which consisted of a single queen-sized bed with a very soft, hand-made quilt. The home had started to quiet down as everyone retired for the night. Pilsu was prepared to take on more than his share of the cleaning before Big H came up from the basement and stepped in, insisting that he relax and let him take over. He had an idea of just how much he and Saejun had put into the meal they’d provided for them.

Big H scrubbed the cookware after soaking it, and looked the pots and pans over critically before placing them in the drying rack beside the sink. Saejun had given up trying to clean alongside him when his larger pal gave him an unwavering glare with his singular, vibrant eye light. ‘Sit down’ it said. He obliged.

When the kitchen was cleaned and the food was properly stored, Big H tossed his apron over a chair. Saejun offered a smile, and Big H returned the gesture.

“Kinda wanted to go for a stroll. Would ya wanna join me?” Saejun asked. Big H nodded. They departed with a wave to Pilsu, who was filling out the latest crossword puzzle he’d grabbed from his last trip into town. He waved back as they exited the warm atmosphere of the house. Out here, the stars were clearly visible above, as barely any light pollution occurred this far away from the big cities. Saejun’s breath hung in the air, the plume of moisture dissipating sluggishly as they walked the paths between the crops. Big H was the first to break the silence.

“Thank you…for all that you’re doing for us,” he said, his focus trained on the other. Saejun shoved his hands in his overall pockets, pointedly looking away from him. Big H felt as though he should keep talking, so he did. “You didn’t have to make so much. We would’ve been just fine with leftovers. Not that we’re not grateful-”

“We wanted to cook for you. Pilsu helped me. It’s not that big of a deal, H,” he insisted.

“It is,” Big H insisted. There was a hint of an edge to his tone. “And I’m gonna make it up to you. We all are.”

Saejun barked out a laugh. Big H could hear the strain in his voice. “The multiverse has gone haywire and you’re worried about this right now? Seriously?”

“It’s not fair for you to…be tasked with this burden and get nothing in return. I refuse…to let that happen,” Big H grumbled. “Give me tasks you need done.”

“Ain’t some of your guests injured? I don’t want to push anyone too hard,” he responded. Big H huffed and Saejun grumbled his resignation. “Alright, alright–I’ll come up with some chores.”

Big H grunted. “And you’ll let me help…in the kitchen.”

“I–hey now,” Saejun said, tugging a hand from his pocket to lightly shove Big H’s arm. “I didn’t say ya could run the whole homestead. You’re still my guest whether you like it or not, big guy.”

“I’ll make the stew you like,” Big H offered, his eye light becoming half lidded as he smugly looked over at his pal. Saejun shot him a look. Big H knew he was winning him over.

“Which one? I like all of your stews, dummy.”

“You know the one,” he said, a wide grin curling the edges of his mouth. Saejun kicked a rock from the path into the treeline.

“Stars, you’re a dick,” he uttered before sighing dramatically. “Fine. You’ve got kitchen permission. Don’t make me regret it.”

Big H chuckled. “I’m a dick and yet…you still put up with me. Mir-miraculous, isn’t it?”

“Watch yourself, now,” Saejun responded. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia with Big H around. It had been too long, and yet seeing his pal under these circumstances felt wrong. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle having Nightmare’s group here for a while, but he didn’t regret opening his home to them. He was aware that Big H would have done the same for him, had their positions been reversed. He hoped that the multiverse would be merciful to his AU for a little while longer, but he was under no illusion–it was only a matter of time. It would come for them eventually. When it did, he hoped there was an out–if not for himself, then for Pilsu. He was prepared to die trying to save him, but he didn’t mention any of his mental planning to his brother. He kept things cordial and when Pilsu went to bed, he remained awake, staring at the textured ceiling. He’d continue to keep things light hearted until the time came that he needed to make tough decisions–he was good at disguising his fears. Perhaps that was why even as he joked with Big H, he felt concern manifest within his chest as a resounding ache. This was acceptance, he thought.

He was merely acknowledging the beginning of the end.

Saejun did as he said he would and informed Big H of the chores that needed to be completed around the farm. Big H had brought the team together and instructed them to choose tasks. Dust, Killer, Blue and Cossi opted to take care of outdoor and barn related work. Cross opted to work inside the house, but decided to join the others outdoors after a day of feeling stir-crazy. Big H cooked and tended to the kitchen, and Saejun, for all the protesting he’d done, felt that he could take a moment to himself. It was nice.

Days passed. Cross ended up borrowing a pair of drawstring slacks and a stained tee shirt. He wasn’t alone in borrowing clothing, considering many members of their entourage had arrived with sparse belongings. Killer was out working somewhere, as were Cossi, Dust, Red, Sans, and Blue. The sun only did so much with the air carrying a chill, but Cross was glad for it. It had been hours since they’d started working and he felt exhaustion gradually creeping up on him. He tugged the front of his shirt up to dab at the perspiration accumulating on his brow when it began to drip into his eye sockets.

“Hey,” a familiar voice had him turning around to see the Guardian of Positivity. He smiled. “I brought you some hot tea,” he said, offering a mug to Cross. “Also, I have an excuse to see you. I’m being helpful, yes?” He winked, and Cross chuckled.

“What excuse? You were bringing a guy some tea–someone’s gotta do it. And yeah, you’re supremely helpful,” Cross said, inhaling the spice laden scent of the tea in his hands. “There’s a little clearing over that way. Want to stay a while?”

“I was planning to. Let’s go,” Dream said, linking arms with Cross as they wandered away from the fields. Dream smelled of freshly cut wood and cloves. He’d donned a fuzzy sweater that had gone threadbare in a few spots along the shoulders. Cross admired the glimpse of clavicle he could see peeking through the sweater. “You like what you see?” Dream asked before smirking at Cross knowingly.

“How could you guess?” Cross asked as he sat with his back up against a thick tree trunk. Dream settled in close to him leaning his skull on his counterpart’s broad shoulder.

“You know, I just had this thought,” Dream said as he sat his mug down on the dirt. “You look so good in this outfit. Seeing you out there working really piqued my appetite,” he stated, his voice clouded with desire. Dream’s hand caressed the inside of Cross’ femur and as he drew back, his phalanges slipped beneath the waistband of his slacks. Cross felt a surge of heat pool in his pelvic cradle as his magic responded.

“Mn, yeah? You like all of this?” Cross asked, his cheeks heating up as heat spread through his body. He was very aware of the tent formed in the crotch of his pants, as well as the fact that Dream’s hand was now wrapped around the base of his dick. He released a muffled groan. “Stained slacks and all?”

“You know I do,” Dream said softly. He leaned in to slot their mouths together, and Cross responded with passion. The sound of leaves shifting in the wind and the slick movements of Dream’s hand over his shaft left Cross’ mind floating along somewhere between the present and another plane of consciousness. Cross so badly wanted to touch him.

“I wanna touch you, too,” he said, briefly glancing around to make sure no one was around. Seeing no one, he worked his own hand past Dream’s waistband and cupped the plush opening he’d formed for him. It made his mouth water as he pressed his middle phalange inside of the slick passage. Dream stifled a sound of approval, his golden eye lights hazy with lust as he pointedly squeezed Cross’ cock.

“You know…I think you should fuck me,” Dream expressed. Cross’ brows shot up.

“As in right now? Here?”

“Exactly.”

Despite any reservations he’d had, Cross indulged the Guardian of Positivity’s fantasy. Dream’s chest was flush against the tree as Cross took him from behind. The sound of their activities felt so loud in the near silence of the sparse forest. It only heightened the pleasure for Dream, who felt like his mana lines had been infused with molten steel. The blissful sensations only heightened with Cross’ handling of his ecto-lined hips, which undoubtedly were going to bear the effects of their tea break.

Cross was on the brink of letting go. He watched his dick disappear into the vibrant gold of his lover’s folds over and over. The urge to do more was present, but they weren’t exactly well hidden, and the risk of being caught was too great. Instead he doubled down, thrusting hard and fast into the Guardian until he felt the other’s insides tighten almost painfully around his dick. As his brisk pace was interrupted, his pleasure peaked as he listened to Dream stifle a throaty groan. Cross bit down on his knuckles as tension left his frame. Dream was trembling and Cross found that he too was trembling as he gathered himself after their fun. He pressed a kiss to the side of Dream’s face before readjusting his slacks and cleaning up. The Guardian did the same, his cheeks highlighted by a dusting of gold. Sometimes Cross forgot he’d gotten involved with such a powerful being. Dream often muted his aura, but after they’d loosened up, he often released his iron grip on his magic and Cross was reminded. The Guardian of Positivity’s eye lights were brighter as he picked up his spilt tea mug from the grass.

“That was fantastic,” Dream purred, capturing Cross’ mouth in a languid kiss. When they separated, he asked, “When can we do that again?”

“Later tonight?”

The Guardian of Positivity offered him a salacious smirk. “How about sundown?”

Nightmare had been seated in the wood and leather armchair in the guestroom he shared with Error. The Guardian had nearly finished the book he’d been reading and he had another he was planning to start laying on the small table flanking the chair. It was a well deserved break, since his morning had consisted of dedicating time to assisting Pilsu in labeling items he was taking to the market the next day and filing some of the brothers’ financial documents. He didn’t mind bookkeeping and it was no great task to assist their gracious hosts who’d offered them refuge. Pilsu had insisted that he could handle the tedious work, but when Nightmare insisted, he granted him permission. It was clear the brothers were used to being self-sufficient, but opening one’s home to Nightmare’s entourage was no small favor. He flipped a page, and sighed in contentment as the story began to wrap up loose ends. His attention drifted away from the novel only when Error appeared in front of him. He prepared to close the book and offer his undivided attention to the Destroyer, but Error stopped him and assumed a kneeling position before him.

“N-no. You read,” he insisted, the glow of his eye lights casting a red haze over the tops of the pages. “You’re so close to being finished. Don’t le-e-et me distract you.”

Nightmare eyed his partner critically before opening his book once more. The rustle of clothing and creak of the floorboards under Error’s knees tempted the Guardian to peer over the top of his novel. He tried, but Error pressed the book towards him, insistent that he remain reading. Nightmare huffed, but obliged. The Guardian’s soul began to respond to the touches that focused on his pelvis. Phalanges dipped into the space between his legs, where magic had begun to settle in and around his pelvis. He could detect Error’s blush without even having to look at his lover as he undid the tie of Nightmare’s pants and leaned in to lightly bite and lick along his iliac crests. Nightmare hummed under his breath and loudly flipped a page, acknowledging that he’d read the last paragraph at least twice before actually absorbing what was going on in the scene.

“Darling, what is the point of this? I’ll gladly fuck you if that’s what you want,” Nightmare stated, the directness and authority in his tone sending a pleasant chill up Error’s spinal column. “You don’t need to be coy or-”

“I thought you like-liked your book,” Error responded, his voice laced with faux innocence. He barely tamped down the smirk that threatened to end his game early.

“I do like my book,” Nightmare said, looking at Error critically. He was hooked. There was no going back to reading at this point.

“Then read. I can entertain mys-self,” the Destroyer said before returning to the magic forming the intricate, sizable cock he’d become so familiar with. A combination of interest and possessiveness culminated in Nightmare’s chest as he begrudgingly opened the novel once more. A low growl escaped him as his cock jutted out from his pelvis, the weight of it even more distracting as Error began to touch him. He clenched his teeth as Error’s hands encircled his erect dick and the words on the page ceased to have meaning any longer. His tentacles sought something sturdy as he felt the warmth of the Destroyer’s tongues engulf the tip. He let air hiss from between his teeth as Error took him deeper into his mouth, the ecto surrounding his shaft tightening as his partner pushed his limits to accommodate him. Upon hearing Error choke, he discreetly glanced over the top of the book to witness tears spilling over and trickling down the other’s face. Error’s eye sockets were half-lidded, and from the look of it, he was enjoying himself immensely.

The book trembled ever so slightly in Nightmare’s grip, and for all of his practiced restraint, he feared his clawed phalanges would damage his book. He set it aside pointedly, and bore witness to his partner, who’d already formed a rich, blue ecto body for him. Error narrowed his eye sockets at him, creating a spectacle that was simultaneously humorous and erotic. Nightmare observed him with an unreadable expression. A rush of excitement gripped the Guardian as the Destroyer pulled off of him with an obscenely slick sound before scowling. Error with attitude was a memory that would live rent free in his skull.

“Your book-” Error began, before the other cut him off.

“Screw the book,” Nightmare gritted out. “You know exactly what you’ve done, you little tease.”

Error scoffed. The back of the Guardian’s cervical vertebrae prickled pleasantly. “What have I done, the-en?”

Nightmare felt reservations creep into his skull as he considered this game they were playing. He wanted to be roped into it. This was different, intriguing, and he was painfully turned on by this point, but he wasn’t about to leave his concerns unvoiced.

“We should use a safe word,” he stated. Error beamed momentarily before he schooled his facial features, falling back into his role.

“White.”

“Promise me you’ll use it when you need to,” he said, his voice steely as he looked down at his lover. Error nodded and squeezed Nightmare’s right shin bone reassuringly.

“You, t-too, Night. You’ll do the sa-ame, right?”

“Of course I will.”

Nightmare’s expression morphed into one that Error couldn’t read. It gave the Destroyer chills as the Guardian leaned forward to loom over him. Suddenly Error felt his sense of power decrease as that teal eye light took him apart piece by piece. The Guardian of Negativity looked him up and down with an air of disdain.

“It’s humorous that you believe that you can order me around. What makes you think you hold any authority here?” He took Error’s chin between his thumb and first phalanx, forcing him to look at him. “I’m awaiting an answer. Mind you, I’m not a patient monster.”

Any appropriate response dissolved on Error’s tongues. A wave of heat surged to his core as he looked up at Nightmare. His Nightmare. Surely he didn’t realize how much of an effect this had on him. Nothing came out of his open mouth, and he blushed fiercely as the Guardian’s expression hardened. Nightmare rolled his eye light and heat flooded Error’s core. Cognitive dissonance told him he should be hurt by the harsh demeanor, but instead he felt immensely turned on by it.

“Nothing to say, hm? Well then,” the Guardian said, his voice splitting into the ethereal, multifaceted sound that Error craved. “You’ve interrupted my reading and you have the gall to tell me to ignore you as you attempt to deep-throat my cock,” he stated, sneering so that his canines glinted in the candle light. “You obey me, and only me. Don’t you?”

Error uttered a sharp, “No.”

Nightmare tilted his skull so that he could glare into his partner’s eye lights. “What did you say to me?”

“You fucking hear-eard me,” Error responded, his teeth clenched together in a snarl. Without warning, Error’s wrists were bound, and his waist legs were restrained by two more snaking tentacles. At some point, the Guardian had stood up from his seat. Error was being suspended midair by Nightmare’s ridiculously strong, dexterous extra limbs. Even as Error looked down upon Nightmare, the Guardian maintained his commanding presence.

“It seems that you’ve forgotten the order of things, Destroyer. Thankfully, I’m dedicated to your continued training,” he said, his focus on the alluring curvature of his lover’s body. “If you behave, you may even enjoy this. What do you think?”

Error glared at him and he truly dedicated himself to the role and attempted to escape his partner’s grasp. It was a fruitless endeavor, but he was well aware of the shift in the Guardian’s expression as he observed the struggle. The Destroyer was more worked up than he’d been in a while, and he’d always thoroughly enjoyed the sex they had. The giddiness he felt translated to a lust that burned hot within his pelvis, emanating to encircle his soul as the tension between them increased.

“Will you continue to be a brat? Do I have to wring the submission out of you?”

Error glared at him and Nightmare smiled wickedly. He made his way over to the bed where he laid his bound lover against the mound of cushy pillows at the head of the bed. He brought Error’s wrists above his skull and angled his legs so that he had unhindered access. Error’s attempts to struggle only spurred the Guardian on as he crawled up the end of the bed like a predator in pursuit of prey. Error was gorgeous spread like this. Nightmare’s mouth watered at the sight.

“You’re adorable when you’re angry,” Nightmare purred as he leaned down to lap at Error’s cunt. The Destroyer twitched and his voice caught as the Guardian proceeded to tongue his clit. “You want me to dominate you, don’t you?” He asked, his breath ghosting along the sensitive ecto. “You don’t want to have to ask for it, though. The Destroyer couldn’t be caught doing that, could he? Submitting to the likes of me.” He nipped ever so gently at the folds before plunging his tongue inside of Error’s folds.

“Hu–oh, fuck,” the Destroyer blurted out. He attempted to move, but found that his binds held him in place. A wave of heat spread through him as he watched his lover eat him out. It felt surreal. His soul felt as though it was on the verge of bursting, yet he couldn’t get enough of this. He groaned out as Nightmare’s tongue was replaced with two phalanges. Nightmare lapped at the swollen ecto of his partner’s clit. Error felt him smirking against his exposed ecto, the edges of his teeth barely there as he licked a long stripe between his folds. It was so much and not enough. He rolled his pelvis against his lover’s mouth, seeking more stimulation.

“Do you like that, Err? Do you like being held down like this, baby?” The Guardian asked, the glint in his eye light cuing Error into the fact that he was enjoying this as well. He placed a few teasing kisses against the inside of Error’s thigh, before lapping at his clit once more.

“Y-yes! I like it,” Error said without hesitation. “It f-feels so right.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re mine,” Nightmare said, moving up Error’s frame to lick and bite at his cervical vertebrae. The raw emotion in his voice caused the Destroyer to tremble.

“Please fuck me. Ple-ease, I want you so bad,” Error pleaded, giving up the facade. He couldn’t move from his pinned position on the mattress. It was up to Nightmare whether he’d give in to his plea. He wasn’t sure how generous his lover was feeling after his teasing session, though.

“Mm, I don’t know…maybe I want to have a little bit of my own fun, first,” Nightmare stated, smirking knowingly at his partner. Error huffed. He felt the Guardian’s length against his opening, but he wasn’t penetrated like he wanted. Nightmare slid his dick along the outside of his pussy, occasionally catching the tip of his dick at his entrance before continuing to tease him. Nightmare was far too smug as he chased his own pleasure, watching his lover’s annoyed expression quickly morph into one of need.

“Night…Night, please. Please,” Error whined as perspiration beaded up on his skull. He feared that nightmare would continue to tease him, but was pleasantly surprised when he was slowly filled. He threw his head back and released a soft, breathy sound of approval as he was stretched. “Oh Stars, y-yes.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” Nightmare nipped his cervical vertebra. He then kissed his lover as he slowly fucked him. He didn’t want to rush this. There was no need. “How did I do?” He asked softly, his hands finding the softer ecto of Error’s thighs.

“So good. You’re s-so good,” Error babbled, his insides fluctuating around Nightmare’s dick. “You’re so hot…you don’t ev-even realize how, mnn go deeper, please.”

“So you enjoy it when I talk down to you?” Nightmare asked, his voice reflecting the pleasure he was feeling as he indulged in his lover. “And I thought you would have loathed that side of me. You’ve experienced it firsthand, after all.”

“You know I d-don’t–f-fuck,” Error bit out as he was spread further when Nightmare changed the angle of his pelvis. “It’s different,” he said, his hands balling into fists above his head. His face glowed so nicely when he became worked up.

“You like to imagine how it could have been. Is that it?”

Error scoffed. “You never would’ve giv-given me the time of day. I never would’ve ad-ad-admitted that I wanted it, either.”

“I was awful to you,” Nightmare stated before licking along the ecto spread over Error’s sternum. The Destroyer whimpered at the addition of yet another pleasant sensation. “But now, knowing that I adore you, you like to pretend,” the Guardian purred, tightening his grip on Error’s hips. “This is a lot of fun, you know.”

“G-good,” Error breathed as his larger partner maintained a steady rhythm that had the Destroyer seeing stars at the edges of his vision. “Want your knot in-inside of me,” the Destroyer said in a measured tone that seemed out of place. It made the Guardian chuckle.

“Would you now? Is this not enough for you?”

Error groaned and tossed his skull back into the pillows. His breath suddenly caught as pressure increased between his legs. It was slow and purposefully prolonged, and Error’s mouth fell open as the strain at his opening became so profound that it made it difficult to think. Looking down, he gathered that Nightmare had stilled his hips when he’d gotten the knot halfway inside of him. The Guardian seemed to be enjoying the spectacle, too, as he had his eye light locked onto where they were connected.

“Look at you, Err. You’re so pliant,” Nightmare said, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “You take me so well, even now. Before I thought you were tight, but with my changes…let’s just say I’m impressed.”

“N-Night–it’s so much,” Error said, his voice strained as his frame stiffened in response to the warring pleasure and pain.

“But you can take it, can’t you?” Nightmare asked in a lilting tone. “My powerful, immaculate mate can take me,” he said, his teal eye light fixated on Error’s face.

“O-of course I can,” Error responded, his spine bowing as he attempted to make the Guardian move. It didn’t work, because of course it didn’t–Nightmare knew what he was trying to do. Nightmare’s expression took on a smug edge as he watched the Destroyer squirm.

“You’re so good to me,” Nightmare purred. “What do you deserve?”

Error’s joints began to ache from being bound, but he pointedly ignored the burn in favor of focusing solely on Nightmare’s visage. Momentarily, he was taken back to his spine being pressed up against a wall as he was held up by his cervical vertebra. Even in an instance where he believed he’d be dusted, he saw Nightmare looking back at him. He hadn’t forgotten the helplessness that dawned on him at that moment in time when the universe seemed to freeze. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the flicker of the Guardian staring back at him. His soul shifted in his chest as he admired his indomitable partner. Error experienced the meshing of past and present as he registered Nightmare’s hand cupping his jaw.

“Error? Are you still with me?” The Guardian asked. Error leaned into his touch. He could live in this moment forever.

“I des-deserve everything you have to give,” the Destroyer said firmly. The Guardian smiled softly. Error recalled the first moments he’d seen him actually smile…heard his charming laugh. Those memories gave him confort when the worst of their experience returned to haunt him.

“That’s it, Err. Tell me more,” Nightmare said, his hands moving to caress his exposed abdomen before trailing down to massage his neglected clit.

Error moaned before gritting his teeth as white hot pleasure shot up his spine. He felt like a live wire. “The d-darkest parts of you–I’ll take them all,” the Destroyer insisted. “I love you. Noth-othing scares me more tha-an losing you,” he bit out. The air left Error’s chest as Nightmare pressed the rest of the way inside. It brought flecks of dark matter swarming into his vision and the ecto of his abdomen seized up as he came. It was so intense that it left him floating in darkness, the sound around him drowned out by the rush of magic through his mana lines and the crackle of glitches swarming his eye sockets. He experienced the bliss of nothingness, while very aware that he wasn’t alone. He trusted the Guardian fully as he slipped into a hard reboot.

The team gathered around the brothers’ patio after a day of hard work. Pilsu took some aged apple cider out of storage, which he heated up and poured into mugs for everyone to partake in. A well-fed flame crackled away in the fire pit as everyone sat around it on chairs fashioned from chopped tree trunks. The stars overhead were bright and plentiful, and the wind carried the scent of decomposing leaves.

Blue was tucked beside Dust with a blanket draped over his shoulders. He’d pushed himself too hard that day. His limbs felt like leaden weights and his skull ached. He’d gotten into a small argument with Dust in the morning.

Blue hadn’t expected Dust to approach him after their work was done to apologize, but he was relieved nonetheless. Blue had broken down in tears afterward. It felt like a tidal wave of emotions had been released all at once. Even with Dust’s earnest apology, the events of the morning replayed in his mind’s eye. He wished it would stop.

Dust hadn’t spoken to him. Blue was reminded of the day of their arrival and the manner that Dust had approached the topic of the bedrooms. It made him anxious to consider that Dust may be more confrontational if he was feeling off. He seemed to have less control when he experienced his off days, and Blue didn’t blame him for it. He wanted to talk about it without coming off as insensitive.

“Dust?”

“Yeah?” He responded, his voice sounding void of emotions.

“I know you and Killer have a…less than stellar relationship,” Blue began, instantly regretting how he phrased that. Who did he think he was, Dust’s therapist? Dust had turned to look at him, wearing an indecipherable expression. Blue’s soul felt like it would fall out of his diaphragm and onto the concrete floor.

“Good eye. You’re correct,” Dust stated sarcastically. “What about it?”

Blue’s nerves were getting the best of him. Sweat prickled at his bones as he thought out what to say and how to say it. “Well, you seem to be having a bad day. Um, if you feel like it gets to be too much, I’m here for you.”

Dust remained silent for several seconds and his eye lights felt piercing as he continued looking at Blue with scrutiny that he hadn’t been subjected to before–at least not from Dust. Blue felt exposed, and he wasn’t sure why. He should’ve stayed silent. He’d broken an unspoken rule–shattered the illusion that they were exempt from misunderstandings

“It bothers you, doesn't it?” Dust asked, his expression steely as he awaited an answer. Blue felt his soul sink.

“I wasn’t meaning for it to come off that way.” Blue paused, unsure how to go about this. His mouth was dry. “I was just wanting to offer some support.”

Dust took a few measured steps forward. “You thought I was about to pick a fight today, so ya thought you’d bring it up casually. That sound about right?” Dust asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Blue responded, his voice wavering slightly. He hadn’t planned for this. He didn’t know how to clarify what he meant. At this point, he couldn’t remember what his original point had been.

“Nah, but you were thinkin’ it, though, right?” Dust asked. “Listen, don’t pussyfoot around it. Say what you were gonna say.”

“I wasn’t, I…” Blue stated. “Nevermind. Please forget it.”

“Mhm,” Dust rolled his eye lights before turning around to pull on his hoodie. Embarrassment stung Blue’s cheeks as heat rushed to his face. He felt as though his soul had wilted. Not wanting to appear weak in front of Dust, he immediately left the room. His eye sockets brimmed with tears as he exited the barn and began his work early.

Dust wrapped an arm around his waist upon taking a seat next to the fire. He asked him how he was doing and Blue shrugged. Dust accepted the unspoken answer and rubbed the other’s spine. He’d make sure the other fully understood how sorry he was. It was entirely his fault for jumping to conclusions earlier and a bad mental health day was no excuse. He felt like the multiverse’s biggest moron after he’d cooled off and had gone to apologize. Blue hadn’t deserved any of that and he was going to make sure to make it up to him in any way he could.

Sans’ face was healing, but it wasn’t a quick process. Dream was an absolute saint as he helped him heal the open and raw wounds. Red was also incredibly helpful, if not too helpful at times. Sans would jokingly tell him to stop hovering when he felt like he was being focused on too much, but it rarely discouraged the Underfell resident from doting on him hand and foot. Sitting in front of the crackling fire pit with him, Sans couldn’t help but scoot a little closer. It was cold, so he had an excuse, and he pretended not to notice when Red glanced over at him. It nearly floored him when he felt Red’s phalanges slide over his own. He looked down between them where their hands rested on the bark of the log.

“This okay?” Red asked. Sans nodded.

“Yeah. This is good.”

Dream and Cross chatted quietly, occasionally chuckling as they talked about their recent games. It was thrilling and rewarding, and it was a pleasant distraction from the mayhem that they had all begun to be accustomed to. The apple cider made Dream feel warm through and through, and he contemplated what it would cost them if they wandered away into the thick of the forest right then. Cross snorted.

“It’s too suspicious. Wait until after they’ve all gone to bed,” Cross said softly. “Then we can have our fun.”

Dream sighed. “It’ll be eons before then–but if you insist, I suppose.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Cross responded.

Cossi looked up at the foreign constellations and wondered if anyone missed him back in his AU. He hadn’t spoken to his parents in at least a decade. The inn became an obsessive hobby, then something that consumed all of his time. His siblings hadn’t reached out, most likely in response to his parents fully cutting ties with him. It had been a lonely existence, and he really hadn’t tried all that hard to make friends when he had the chance. He felt himself getting choked up as he recognized that he’d probably never go back, even if given the choice. There was nothing left for him back there. It was almost a relief that no one would miss him.

Almost.

“Hey,” Killer said softly. Cossi glanced over at him, irritatedly wiping away the tears that had spilled over. “Ya wanna go back to the room?”

Cossi’s shoulders slumped as he nodded. Killer waved at the others who were paying attention before tugging Cossi close and descending the patio steps. Only when they’d made it halfway to the barn did Cossi stop trying to disguise the fact that he was crying. Killer frowned and rubbed his back as he reassured him that it was alright to cry. He knew this was rough for him. Opening the entrance door to the barn suites, he glanced back over his shoulder to check his surroundings. He figured that the prickling along the back of his cervical vertebra was a response to Cossi’s distress. He securely shut the door behind him and followed the other back to their bedroom.

Blue stepped out of his and Dust’s room at some ungodly hour of the morning. If he had to guess it was around 2:30am and the stars were still clear in the sky as he initiated a jump to the outside of the barn. The chilled, dew-covered grass was a stark contrast to the indoors and Blue questioned whether it was the best idea to be wearing such porous shoes. He considered turning back to find something else, but he would risk waking up Dust. He didn’t want to rouse him–he wanted a few minutes alone, and Dust wasn’t exactly a heavy sleeper.

Blue opted to deal with his feet getting wet. He wasn’t planning on staying out long–he just needed to tire himself out a little bit. He crossed his arms over his chest as he made his way through the pathways within the rows of produce. The sound of the tall plants swaying in the breeze was slightly jarring without any of the daily activities happening around him. He sighed as he glanced over at the tree line. He made his way unhurriedly towards the moonlit trees and shrubs.

Blue still felt off after the small argument he’d had with Dust. It had felt so surreal between them for a while, as though they were untouchable and exempt from the confines of reality. He liked that feeling. When Dust’s tone gained an edge that didn’t sit right with him and he’d rolled his eye lights, it cut him deeper than it probably should have. Maybe it was because the action had been such a common expression of annoyance done by his brother when they’d lived together.

Stretch hadn’t gotten along with Blue, but it had been manageable for a long while. Blue finally hit his limit when Stretch took up mocking him rather than discussing their differences. It made Blue feel incompetent and infantilized. He was used to being treated like a child by those who saw his kind demeanor as immature. Considering he’d been an adult for thirty plus years, that stung.

He knew Dust was probably just feeling the pressure that the rest of the team was experiencing, along with his own personal demons that deemed today to be the day to torment him. He didn’t blame him, he really didn’t–he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a passing fad for Dust. The ball was going to drop eventually. Dust would grow bored with him. Maybe he also viewed him as immature and laughable. It wouldn’t be the first time Blue was informed that he was juvenile for his age. Scowling, he attempted to purge his mind of the unpleasant thoughts that had his skull practically bursting at the seams by now. He already felt bad enough as it was. The walk was supposed to help him clear his head! He wasn’t good at this.

After a while of walking through the trees, he came across a clearing. It brought on a wave of Déjà vu as he gazed out across the random expanse of shivering grass bordered by trees. Vines clung to many of the flora, and he felt as though he’d stepped into a scene out of a storybook as he walked through the veil of plants. The vines made him shiver as he entered the serene area. It felt like it existed on its own away from the farm and the other unfortunate events impacting the multiverse.

He felt hollow as he contemplated what would become of him if the multiverse ended. He supposed it would be quick, but he couldn’t wrap his skull around simply ceasing to exist. He’d planned on having time, living for himself, becoming someone he could be proud of when he looked back on his life. When it came down to it, he wasn’t sure how to feel about anything anymore. He’d drifted into open water, and while it should scare him, he was beginning to accept that he didn’t have control over any of this. He never had any to begin with.

Blue had never felt so small.

Was his existence meaningless?

He nearly fell back upon catching a glimpse of a silhouette across the clearing. He released an uneasy chuckle before waving tentatively. It seemed like someone else from the group had the same idea as he had and came out for some fresh air. A few of the team members had sleep issues, so it wasn’t absurd to consider someone else wanted some alone time, too. The figure mirrored his wave and began to walk towards him. He wasn’t sure out of the group who it was. He squinted, hoping to get a better idea of who was joining him, but now that they were getting closer, he second guessed himself. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. He’d never done well during sleepless nights like this.

Suddenly they were right in front of him and he was confronted with the fact that he had indeed assumed wrongly. He had no clue who he was looking at. After the initial shock faded and sensation returned to his extremities, he recognized the all too familiar features. It was like looking into a mirror. While the guy was weather-worn and slightly off in ways that he couldn’t fully name, he could see aspects of himself in the stranger. It petrified him. He opened his mouth to speak, possibly to yell out for help, but nothing came out. His hands trembled as he considered just how accurate his aim would be if he made a return jump to the barn. He initiated a teleport, momentarily becoming one with the void before the bottoms of his feet connected with tilled soil.

He could see the structure! It was right there–he could make it. He launched himself forward before being wrenched back by the bandana he wore around his neck. He hit the ground hard, his face making impact with the soil he’d helped to turn over not even a day ago. Rolling over onto his back, he kicked at his aggressor, who just so happened to be the stranger he’d attempted to flee from. Raw fear gripped him as he witnessed his copy’s face morph into a sneer as both of the stranger’s hands caught one of his legs firmly. Blue experienced a split second of terrifying confusion before soul-wrenching pain followed a loud ‘crack’. He screamed into the night as liquid fire shot up his leg and climbed the extent of his spinal column. As he looked down at the leaking mess of what had once been his shin bone, it dawned on him that the psycho had just snapped his lower leg in two. The two sections of bone were hanging on by mere fibers and Blue was rendered immobile by the debilitating agony that surged upward and outward as he leaned over to vomit magic onto the damp ground. His vision blurred as he gagged and groaned out what he hoped was a plea for help. He couldn’t be sure at this point.

The metal door to the barn slammed open and Dust and Killer sprinted out across the fields. They’d heard Blue’s screams–he’d just been here. Dust summoned an orb of magic to illuminate the darkness and searched frantically around the fields, calling out for him the entire time. Lights had come on in the farmhouse and others were coming to assist in the search. A blue, marrow-flecked bandana was spotted. Dust scooped it up without hesitation and held it up to identify. He knelt on the ground where he was met with a glistening layer of both marrow and magic intermingling with the dirt. At that point, Dust stared down at the only evidence that Blue had been there.

All focus shifted to searching for Blue. Nightmare, Error, Dream, and Cross teleported many miles out to scour the land bordering Saejun’s property. Dust, Killer, Cossi, and Big H searched closer to the farm. The brothers accompanied the group headed by Dust, using their knowledge of the terrain to increase their chances of finding him.

Dust was not okay. He led the search alongside Saejun and only spoke when he needed clarification on the route they were taking. A few team members attempted to offer reassurance, but it fell on deaf ears as he pointedly avoided speaking about the situation. He was living it, he didn’t need to talk about it. He didn’t deserve to be comforted when he’d made Blue feel like absolute shit yesterday after overreacting in response to something so menial. He recalled the expression on his face before he left the bedroom; Dust hadn’t seen him until the day’s work was done. Blue had cried and Dust felt like his soul had been skewered on a hot poker as the compassionate guardsman broke down. He’d gathered him into a hug and apologized profusely, telling him that he’d been a fucking fool. He wished he could take it back.

When he was awakened by Blue’s blood curdling scream, he was on his feet in an instant. He was initially confused when he discovered the other wasn’t in bed next to him, but it switched to terror as Blue’s pained yells continued. He threw the bedroom door open and saw Killer looking back at him from the hallway. They both teleported to the barn entrance and sprinted in the direction of the yells, but it was all wrong–Blue’s voice was no longer intelligible and all that remained was the knowledge that he had been there. If he didn’t find him, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He didn’t know why Blue had gone out of the barn during the night, but he was certain that he was the reason for his impromptu decision. It had been hours, and it felt like they were no closer to finding him than they had been to start out with.

Night fell, and they hadn’t uncovered any evidence. They’d covered a lot of ground, but it seemed the odds were not in their favor. Any attempt to comfort Dust was met with cold indifference. Nightmare wasn’t surprised by this, nor would he condemn him for mentally spiraling in these circumstances. When most of the group was talking over dinner, Nightmare excused himself and spoke with him discreetly. He was on the patio looking out into the night. The Guardian approached, only stopping when he stood next to him.

“I know you’re not alright,” Nightmare stated, not bothering to suppress his voice as he had in the past. “I will not pretend to have solutions that are outside of my control. What I will promise, however, is that we will do all that is within our power to find him. I have seen what he means to you.”

Dust looked over at him. He was overtired, but he knew it was likely he wouldn’t sleep a wink that night. “Thank you. I don’t…know how to function right now. We had an argument–I caused an argument. Then this…I feel responsible for it.”

Nightmare nodded. He understood the feeling. “You recall the way I treated Error before, yes?”

Dust nodded. “Yeah, boss, I remember.”

“It haunts me. If I could change the past, I would do so in an instant,” Nightmare stated. “I care very deeply about Error.”

“You love him,” Dust stated matter of factly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I know.”

“Yes,” the Guardian admitted. “I might have loved him before, too, if I’d given myself the chance to know him.” Nightmare released a long sigh. “When he almost dusted…I couldn’t fathom losing him. I wouldn’t accept that.”

“I won’t, heh, I can’t. I’m gonna find him,” Dust insisted, his voice cracking with emotional distress. “I have to.”

Nightmare stood there with Dust for a while longer. The silence between them was unremarkable. Dust had never been overly talkative at the best of times, and with the added stress of Blue missing, his silence wasn’t questioned. The offer to seek the Guardian out if he needed anything was unspoken, yet Dust knew the option was there. He genuinely appreciated it, but he was incapable of showing it at the moment. Surely, Nightmare knew.

The days went by painfully slowly. When Dust ended up falling asleep on the brothers’ couch, everyone maintained a low volume within the home. He hadn’t slept in days straight, so it was to the team’s utter relief that he’d finally caught some shuteye. Error and Nightmare took time to search the areas that they hadn’t reached in the previous days. Dream and Cross worked on tasks around the homestead while Killer, Cossi, Big H, and Saejun searched nearby towns, asking around for anyone fitting Blue’s description. Red and Sans took on the chore of gathering produce for meals.

It didn’t bode well with Sans that there had been absolutely no sign of Blue. He’d witnessed what was following them firsthand, and he was still haunted by its image. Red was on edge as well. The both of them remained inside the home from sundown until the morning light trickled in through the window blinds. Red was much more aware of their surroundings and took time to scope out the area every now and again. They’d gathered loads of potatoes, beets, turnips, and a few other varieties of greens which they’d tucked into a wheelbarrow. Red took the handles and began to walk the spoils of their labor back to the house. Sans followed close behind with the bundle of tools they’d used to unearth the produce from the layers of soil. There was a chill in the air, and paired with the situation at hand, it left him feeling extremely uneasy. It was all taking a toll on both of them. Sans tried to keep things semi lighthearted even when the situation began to feel hopeless, but even he had a limit.

“So, ya think we should prep the vegetables on the patio? I think Dust is still sound asleep,” Red said before parking the wheelbarrow next to the patio steps. Sans propped the bundle against the railing.

“Yeah, let’s stay out here. The guy’s been through hell. Least we can do, right?”

It took a few trips to bring all of the produce up to the porch. They filled a bucket with water to wash the produce and separate the ripe and ready vegetables from the ones that could use a few more days sitting out. Sans glanced back out across the fields and scowled. Nothing had felt right since their cavern incident. He wondered if Blue did survive if he’d be himself or a twisted amalgamation parading around pretending to be him. A deep set dread had made its home inside of his rib cage. He could have easily met the same fate as Sci, or worse. He still felt ill equipped to deal with all of this.

“What’s yer favorite pastime back home?” Red asked, pulling Sans out of his darkening thoughts. He leaned into the comfort of conversing with Red to distract himself from their new reality.

Chapter Text

Saejun became far less talkative the longer his guests resided with him. When the team happened to catch wind of him, it was when he and Pilsu were bickering, as they often did. Turning the volume up on the television in the living room, Killer settled his hand over the side of Cossi’s skull to block out the increasing volume. Cossi shifted slightly, but didn’t move his head from Killer’s lap. The frequent arguments had become grating for Killer, but he wouldn’t dare mention it to either of the brothers–he was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid enough to risk the roof over their heads. He leaned his head back and stared at the cracks in the corners of the ceiling. The house felt far too small for all of them at this point.

The den room bore witness to most of their arguments. It provided enough privacy, but Saejun was aware it wasn’t soundproof. He hoped they could come to an understanding, but he doubted this time would be the last time that they bickered.

Saejun sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “No–no way you’re goin’ into town,” he hissed.

Pilsu glared at him. “Life doesn’t stand still just because there is trouble afoot. I refuse to remain here as we run out of food.”

“We still have food–there’s enough for all of us. Listen, we have time-”

“No, you listen for once,” Pilsu commanded abruptly. “I’m headed to town because it’s necessary and I can handle it. Have a little faith, brother–or at least pretend to!” Pilsu threw his arms up and turned on his heel to leave the study.

“I’m coming with you.”

Pilsu paused mid step. “No, you’re not. One of us needs to stay.”

“Don’t be a fool-”

“Do me a favor and shut up,” he bit out as he slammed the door behind him. Pilsu stepped into his first floor bedroom and locked the door, smirking when he heard his brother’s muttered curses.

Later on in the day, Dream and Cross offered to accompany Pilsu to town. Saejun remained apprehensive, but Pilsu disregarded his concern. He wasn’t about to entertain another argument. Pilsu was accompanied by the two after the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows. The car motor sputtered to life and Saejun watched from his bedroom window as the junker rolled onto the dirt road and escaped his field of view.

It was a day of rest and the team used it to the fullest extent. The hum of the television and the crackling of the fire in the hearth made for a cozy atmosphere, but it didn’t calm Saejun’s nerves. He hadn’t been okay since Blue had disappeared. The whole situation horrified him. It felt like someone or something was toying with them. He hadn’t dealt with anything like this before. He was terrified that he was missing vital information. He would be the reason his brother and the others would suffer, he was sure of it.

“Hey.”

He turned to see Big H. Saejun didn’t have the energy to pretend like he felt okay. “Hey,” he uttered. Restless energy coursed through his mana lines. He’d been idly scratching his right forearm bones as he paced.

“Want to tell me…what’s going on?”

Saejun scoffed. “What gave it away?”

“What do you think?”

Saejun released a heavy sigh. The ticking of a nearby clock on the wall punctuated the silence.

“Do you want to be alone right now?” Big H asked. Saejun rubbed the back of his cervical vertebrae.

“No, stay.” He crossed his arms. “I’m scared. Everything was fine and now it isn’t. What the hell am I supposed to do? That guy’s blood is soaking into my soil out there…fuck, all of it is just terrifyin’.”

Big H leaned against a bookshelf as he settled in to listen. “I’m sorry that things have been this way. I wish…they hadn’t been.”

Saejun balled his hands into fists. “I didn’t ask for this.” Pale green magic fizzled to life at his joints. “This…this is all I have. This was supposed to be a safe haven. What the fuck did I do to deserve this?”

“Nothing,” Big H said. “Bad things happen. Don’t mean you…deserve it.”

Saejun held his skull in his hands and laughed. “What if something is out there now? I mean, look what happened to Dust’s buddy. That could have been anyone in this group.”

“Your bro’s got…two strong monsters with him,” he said.

“What if they’re not enough, though? Whatever this is, it’s out for blood…and we’re sitting ducks.”

“Won’t…let anything hurt you,” Big H emphasized. He looked into Saejun’s eye lights. His magic reflected his tumultuous emotional state and Big H related to that completely. He’d been waiting for the next ball to drop, and now that it had, the process would begin again. He was tired, but he knew everyone else was, too.

He wasn’t special. He didn’t feel like there would be a happy ending for them, but he’d had more time to adjust to that idea. Saejun was just now wading into the deep end. Saejun walked over to stand beside him. He sagged against the wall, his shoulders slumped as the weight of the world appeared to accumulate upon him. Big H tentatively reached out to brush his hand against Saejun’s upper arm. “You have more to lose…than I do,” Big H said softly.

Saejun shot him a glare that lacked any malice. “It’s not a competition, dumb ass,” Saejun remarked. A blush had darkened his cheek bones, and as he peered up at his friend, he felt his chest tighten. “I don’t wanna see you hurt. Don’t do that,” he grumbled

Big H released a baritone chuckle. The sound brought Saejun back to starry nights next to a fire pit with strawberry wine. It was a comforting distraction from Saejun’s persistent and all-consuming anxiety. The baritone, gravelly notes of his voice were always attractive to Saejun. His own voice was deep, but it paled in comparison to Big H’s gravelly vocals.

Saejun’s soul clenched in his chest and every sense had suddenly become heightened. Existence narrowed down to the two of them in the study. The light filtering in through the shutters, the dust suspended in the air from his pacing, and the shivering of the window panes as wind rushed past outside accented the momentary silence. He placed his hand over the one resting on his arm.

What was probably a few seconds felt like eons. Saejun’s rib cage felt tight as he gazed up at his friend’s vivid eye light. Throwing away any reservations he carried with him previously, he tugged Big H towards him.

The muffled sounds of Saejun being railed by Big H was something that Red wasn’t the least bit surprised by. It just so happened that their bedroom sat directly atop the study, and that for the last half hour at least, the two had been thoroughly enjoying each other’s company.

“Fuckin’ called it,” Red said smugly. Beside him, Sans rolled his eye lights.

“I’m shocked. Who could’ve seen that cumming?”

Red snorted. “Seriously, though. I’m surprised they made it this long without jumpin’ each other.”

“Mhm.” Sans yawned and stretched. Red’s attention was grabbed by the blankets slipping down to reveal more of Sans’ sternum. “What can be said? We live amidst horny bastards.”

“Heh, yeah we do.”

Speaking of, Red was very pent up. It almost felt like he was breaking some unspoken rule of the universe by jerking it when things were going to shit. The cognitive dissonance of experiencing high levels of stress and fear while also feeling turned on was a strange conundrum.

The tented crotch of his shorts wasn’t subtle. He faced the dilemma of hoping Sans hadn’t noticed or shifting while trying not to draw more attention to the fact that he’d popped a very noticeable boner. Sans’ uncovered eye light focused on the red-tinted bulge and he smirked. Red’s face heated up and time seemed to slow as arousal washed over him.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’ve already seen your dick on more than one occasion,” Sans commented nonchalantly.

Red sputtered and looked over at this roommate. “You sayin’ you watched me?”

Sans chuckled. “You aren’t exactly subtle. Seems like every time you’d jerk it, you’d time it so that I got a good view.”

“You-you know what?” Red asked in mock offense. “Maybe I did.”

“You know,” Sans said, as he propped himself up on an elbow. “The vent ambiance got me a bit hot and bothered, too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sans’ ecto filled in the space underneath his rib cage and the rich blue hue lit up his white tee shirt. Casting off the blanket, Sans unabashedly slid his shorts down his thighs, exposing an average sized dick with soft folds beneath it and an ass that immediately piqued Red’s interest. He was convinced was dreaming as Sans gripped his blue dick and gave it a few languid tugs. Sans’ eye sockets were half-lidded and his eye lights became hazier as he said, “What can I say? It’s been a while.”

“For me, too.”

Red’s soul fluttered in the confines of his chest as Sans offered a sly smile and asked, “Do you want to fuck?”

“Is that even a question?” Red replied, kicking off his shorts and moving between San’s spread legs. The back of his neck prickled with anticipation and his mouth watered as he nudged the tip of his dick barely past the inviting folds. He pressed into Sans’ pliant ecto and was gritting his teeth by the time he bottomed out.

“That’s real good. You’re big,” Sans said. Red smirked wickedly as he gripped the other’s hips. He was riding a euphoric high and they hadn’t even gotten to the main event. “Maybe you were more discreet than I gave you credit for.” Sans chuckled, but Red could feel the tension in his bones as he adjusted to his girth.

Red released a throaty chuckle. “How inconsiderate of me.”

A smirk overtook Sans’ flush face. “I might forgive you, on one condition.”

“And what’s that, Sansy?”

Sans scoffed at the nickname before stating, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Red was absolutely entranced by the spectacle of his crush being spread by his dick, his hand gripping and his skull thrown back as Red pounded into him. If this was a dream, Red was going to be pissed. Sans made strangled, breathy noises that caused delightful prickles to ascend Red’s vertebra. The way Sans’ insides gripped him had intense pleasure shooting up his spine as his restraint was put to the test. He was thankful to have been well versed in edging before getting it on with Sans.

Sans’ phalanges dug into his back, undoubtedly leaving scratches in his bones. He sped up his thrusts and leaned his skull into the crook of Sans’ neck and shoulder. Sans began to plead, his shins tightening around Red’s waist as his frame stiffened. Red’s thrusts stuttered as Sans came, but he worked him through it, reveling in the soft moans and the hands settled on the back of his neck. Not too long after, he painted Sans’ insides, his orgasm strong enough to white out his vision momentarily. He relaxed into the feeling of hands cupping his jaw as he was pulled in for a soft, languid kiss.

Red readily reciprocated, closing his eye sockets as he let himself float in the afterglow with Sans’ scent surrounding him. It felt right.

Morning light filtered through gently fluttering curtains. He stood from the bed and approached the window. He felt a wave of awe engulf him as he gazed down upon scenic cliffs and a wide expanse of water that spanned as far as the eye could see. The air against his bones was a placating sensation, and his hands against the cavity in his rib cage soothed the concern prickling at his soul.

Nightmare stepped up to hug him from behind as he settled his jaw against Error’s cranium. Error shivered at the gentle, yet purposeful touch, and he turned his head to kiss his lover. The Guardian’s hands against his forming ecto satisfied the part of him that craved contact, and Error sighed as one of Nightmare’s hands traveled lower. Error’s breath hitched as phalanges rubbed between his legs, coaxing him to spread his thighs to give his partner more access. He was fully immersed in the sound of Nightmare’s voice and the growing arousal coiling in his pelvis before it all dissolved before him. It was so sudden that he staggered forward, expecting the window sill to be there to catch him. He glanced around in confusion and apprehension.

Error stared out across nothingness. A sea of chairs surrounded him, all scattered about across the pale, disconcerting landscape. He felt utterly exposed, but he didn’t dare move. He knew that building– that was where the sanctity of his mind was forcefully invaded via his damaged eye socket. His mouth was uncomfortably dry. He felt that if he blinked, the building would inch closer. Anything was possible in the accursed dimension. He barely managed to suppress the panic that threatened to choke him.

He stiffened when he witnessed a silhouette in the distance. Tattered garments hung off of the figure’s frame, the tattered material reflecting their troubled existence. He stood, ready to put space between himself and whoever was closing the distance between them. Turning to flee, he ran into someone else and promptly did a double take. He recognized Dream, and stilled. He felt his vision begin to spin as dread accumulated in his chest.

One of Error’s eye sockets began to glitch as he asked, “What’s going o-on?”

Dream appeared uncertain, as if Error’s question had shaken him from a trance. The Guardian glanced around him before training his expression. His eye lights shrunk. “You’re safe. I promise-”

“What’s that supposed to me-ean?” Error hissed out, before turning to see that he could now identify exactly who it was. He froze.

“I won’t come any closer. You have my word,” Ink said, his voice reflecting exhaustion. “I just need a few moments. Please hear me out.”

A wave of déjà vu hit him with an intensity that had darkness creeping into his peripheral vision. This didn’t feel like his other dreams. Error had begun sweating and he was certain that at some point he’d experience a reboot. Until then, he was trapped in liminal hell with him.

“Why would I t-trust a thing you have to say?” Error bit out, backing up so that he stood alongside Dream. He looked between Ink and Dream. Ink offered a sad smile.

“I know I did some awful things and I know it was…traumatic for you,” he said. “There is a disconnect, and I know it has to be affecting you.”

Error gripped his skull. He looked from Dream to Ink, and back to Dream. “You can’t be serious. Even in fucking dreams you’re still relying on ex-excuses!”

“I know it sounds off. I should’ve told someone. I’d gotten so used to forgetting. I truly fear what I did during that lost time.”

“No…no, you don’t get off th-that easily. You cornered me at my weakest and-” Error’s brows pinched as he fumbled for words. “I’m not playing this-this game, you fucker,” he spat, his voice breaking as he attempted to reign in his emotions.

Ink was silent for a moment. “I honestly wish I had answers for you, but there are gaping holes in my memory. I’d like to know why, too.”

Error uttered a harsh laugh before pinning the Creator with an icy glare. “I’m tired of playing this game. Cut it out, Ink.”

“I’m trapped,” Ink stated bluntly. Error stilled and narrowed his eye sockets. “It opened up in the depths of the Doodlesphere. I wasn’t sure how it got there, but I decided to try and hide it. I should’ve told everyone,” Ink said before releasing a stilted chuckle. “I reached in. I don’t know why I did it. That thing pulled me through.”

The caves. The fucking caverns. Sci. The gouged portion of Sans’ face, the horrid sensation of someone watching him. It had his soul tightening and his surroundings shifting unnaturally. He released a shaky breath before taking a few steps back. “Shut up,” he said with an absence of conviction.

“Dream, can you help me out here?” Ink pleaded. Error frantically glanced between them before his attention settled on the Guardian.

“He maimed you,” Error bit out. “He split your sk-skull. Do you ac-actually believe this?”

Dream’s expression shifted slightly as he said, “He means what he says. I wasn’t exactly eager to hear it, either. He was pulled into the Rooms, Error.”

“I know I’ve fucked up countless times,” Ink said. “It’s entirely my fault, I’m aware–but things are going to get a lot worse if you don’t listen to me right now.”

“No, no m-more fucking chances–wha-at is wrong with you?” Error asked, his hands clamped along the sides of his skull. His phalanges dug into his cranium as he shook. “Why can’t you ju-u-ust-” His vision trembled before blurring as the overwhelming grip of panic flooded his mind. He uttered a helpless groan as he experienced the awful sensation of falling.

Error sat up ramrod straight in bed. He was drenched in sweat and the atmosphere felt stifling as he glanced around the space. Nightmare wasn’t in bed, although it seemed he had been recently. The blankets were wrinkled and still retained the impression of the Guardian’s frame. Error scratched at his cervical vertebrae as tears burned his eye sockets. Casting off his blanket and sliding off of the mattress, he made his way into the bathroom attached to their bedroom. He could hear muffled voices from downstairs. The creak of the floorboards under his feet felt far too loud.

He didn’t recall running the bath or slipping into it. He stared up at the ceiling, his eye lights drawn to the inconspicuous cobweb in the far corner of the ceiling and the unremarkable details of the peeling paint. He felt separate from his body. Moving didn’t seem like a feasible option as his limbs were far too heavy to maneuver. He trembled, yet he wasn’t cold–the hot, soapy water lapping at his rib cage made sure of that. He gripped the sides of the tub with his hands, hoping that maybe he could ground himself, but it didn’t grant him the solace he sought. Error blinked up at the ceiling, his skull resonating with the echoes of his distressing dream. He drifted in and out of focus, losing track of time, and occasionally the sensation in his hands and feet. He was drawn out of his haze by a hand under his chin that had begun to cradle his jaw. He couldn’t focus his vision, but he didn’t have to see clearly to know who it was.

“Nighty,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse as it echoed around the bathroom. Tentacles had submerged into the water to support Error’s weight as he was lifted from the cold water. He was enveloped by a towel and held against his lover’s chest. Error released a shaky sigh as he met with the warmth radiating from the Guardian’s bones.

“I can’t believe you’re still in there. I heard you enter the restroom hours ago,” he said, his tone reflecting his concern. “Tch, the bath water is ice cold. You’ll make yourself sick,” Nightmare chastised as he carried the Destroyer to bed.

“S-sorry…didn’t realize,” Error admitted. His joints clicked as he shivered. Nightmare slid under the covers with him, pulling him against his frame whereupon he surrounded his bones in tentacles. “Had b-bad dreams,” he muttered, his eye sockets closing as he nuzzled into the Guardian’s clavicle.

The Guardian sighed and felt a pang of sympathy. He hugged Error before whispering, “I’ve got you, dearest. I’m right here.”

Dream sat at the kitchen table with a mug of tea. That Guardian was alone, accompanied only by his thoughts and an over-steeped beverage. He didn’t enjoy being alone with his thoughts, especially not with what happened to Blue. He looked down into his mug and wondered whether it was worth drinking after he let it get bitter. Maybe a bit of cream would help…

He hadn’t heard him enter, but he was immediately made aware of his presence as tri-colored hands planted themselves on the table in front of him. He jolted before looking up to see Error looming over him. The Guardian set his mug down before he spilled tea all over the table.

Dream stood up from his seat. He’d never been on the other end of the Destroyer’s anger before, and he wasn’t looking forward to facing it now.

Dream hesitated. “I don’t want to disturb the others.”

“Outside,” Error uttered, looking unimpressed as he slunk around the kitchen table and walked through the door to the patio. Error descended the steps and looked back to make sure that Dream was following him. They walked a short distance away from the porch and the house before the Destroyer faced him. “Tell me why my d-dreams were tangible and included you,” he demanded, glitches appearing in his field of vision. Dream took a few steps back as he gathered his wits.

“Are you alright?” Dream asked.

“Just answer the ques-question.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen the way it did,” he explained. “I’m incredibly sorry.”

“Oh, well that fix-fixes it, doesn’t it?” Error remarked, his phalanges fidgeting with the ends of his scarf.

“...I can’t pretend to understand how that affected you.”

“My mind isn’t an o-o-open door,” Error snarled. Dream nodded, guilt apparent in his expression.

“I crossed a line. You’re absolutely right, what I did was intrusive and inexcusable.”

“Then why?” Error asked as he placed his forehead in his hands. “Why would you do that?”

Dream was silent for a moment. He felt sick as he witnessed Error’s distress. He’d done that. Dream felt absolutely inept as he attempted to explain what had happened. “I truly didn’t intend to involve you until we talked it over,” he admitted. “I slipped up.”

Error’s expression fell. “So you just acc-accidentally drag others into limbo? Holy shit,” he muttered, covering his mouth as fear accumulated in his chest. He couldn’t do this right now. Dream’s concerned expression wasn’t helping the Destroyer’s over-stimulation.

“It won’t happen again,” Dream said. Error took a few steps back. His cervical vertebrae itched.

“Stay the fuck out of my head,” Error bit out. A familiar, thrumming sensation built up somewhere within the core of his being as his emotions hit a fever pitch. “Don’t follow me.”

Before Dream could respond, Error dissipated, and he was left looking at the remnants of his magic in the air.

Fresh stirred in the basement of the brother’s home. He counted himself fortunate to have a small, rectangular window to peer through, because he’d seen Error and Dream. They appeared to be arguing and with the time he’d spent down there recovering, he’d grown bored. It was an opportunity for entertainment at the least, and otherwise would provide something other than the innocuous walls of the basement.

He ported out of the basement and was sure that this was the first time that he was glad to be dressed in neutral colors. He approached carefully and remained out of view. He listened to the two until Error entered a jump and disappeared from view. Fresh narrowed his eye sockets. While he was apathetic to nearly all beings scattered throughout the universe (including his own kind) he wasn’t a fan of others creating issues for Error. He couldn’t identify exactly why it mattered, but he wasn’t about to question what made him tick.

He donned his signature smile as he made his way over to the unsuspecting Guardian. A twig snapped and Dream whirled around and placed a hand on his chest.

“Oh–Fresh. Long time no see.”

Fresh put his hands in his slacks pocket and shrugged. “I’ve seen you, pal,” he said in a faux cheery tone. Dream’s eyelights shrunk to pinpricks. “Don’t mess with Error. This is your only warning.”

With that, Fresh was gone, and Dream found himself wondering if the parasite had actually been there. He glanced towards the basement window and froze as he witnessed a fuchsia glow retreat from view. He’d be sleeping with one eye socket open.

A chill had moved in and the ground had begun to freeze as night fell. Big H prepared a thick stew for dinner, and it was graciously accepted by the household. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the drone of the television accented the silence as they ate. Dust ate a few bites before discreetly storing his leftovers in the fridge. He slunk into the hallway and slipped into the shadows of the unoccupied study. He waited a few moments and listened intently, making certain that no one had followed him. Then he teleported outside.

Dust had begun leaving the house in the evening when the others were preoccupied a little while back. He couldn’t stand doing nothing. All he thought about was Blue. It was torturous and he was pulled between restless energy and exhaustion. As he walked towards the still, silent forest, his soul ached. His hands were shoved into his hoodie pockets and his breath lingered in the icy air as he walked along a new path. He gritted his teeth as the thought of Blue’s hurt expression haunted him. He was such an idiot–he didn’t even remember why he’d been so pissed off in the moment, but he’d do just about anything to go back and keep his mouth shut. Dust fished a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. The click of the lighter seemed so loud in the frigid silence as he struggled to ignite the flame. The thing was out of juice. He’d forgotten to ask Pilsu to pick one up the last time he went to town. When the crackle and a dull glow lingered at the end of his cigarette he inhaled deeply.

This had been his routine. If anyone had noticed, they hadn’t brought it up with him. Maybe they realized it was a waste of time trying to convince him to stay inside. They’d be right–Dust didn’t want to be around them when he didn’t have the energy to mask the fact that he was miserable. The hand that held his cigarette to his mouth trembled, but it wasn’t from the chill. He felt the weight of the crumbling universe on his shoulders as he reminisced on his time with Blue. He ignored Papyrus’ voice emanating from the recesses of his mind, accusing him of being weak and finding it humorous that Dust was hurting. He wiped at his eye sockets as he looked up past the tree tops.

He wasn’t okay.

When the cigarette was burned down to a stump, he tossed it on the frozen ground and crushed it under his boot. Shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets, he continued down the path. He zoned out for a while, allowing the familiar wave of dissociation to disperse his concentration until it felt like he was watching himself walk through the empty woods. A prickle along his cervical vertebrae grounded him slightly as he stopped mid step. He glanced around, the sensation of wrongness only grew until he could feel it gripping his soul. He conjured a few sharped bones behind him as he took a few quiet steps towards the trees to his right.

There was a muffled sound. He remained still and waited. Upon hearing it again, he cautiously advanced through the trees. Not knowing if he should respond or not, he continued to track the sound in silence. As he closed the distance between himself and whatever it was out there, he identified that what he was hearing was a voice. Dust paused and weighed his options. It could be one of them, but then again…his chest tightened.

Stupidly hopeful, Dust pressed on. He called out, ready to teleport back to the house if he sensed any sign of danger. He was disappointed by the following silence. He wondered if he was exhausted enough to be having auditory hallucinations, before his call received a response.

“Help,” they pleaded. “Please…help me.”

Dust’s soul clenched in apprehension and anticipation. “Where are you?”

“D-don’t know,” the tired voice conveyed. “It’s s-so cold. Are you actually there? Or is this just another dream?” The voice asked, trailing off towards the end.

“I'm here, I'll find you,” Dust said. “Just don’t try anything stupid.”

“..won't,” the voice responded, before it gave way to a painful-sounding cough. “Just please hurry…don’t leave me out here.”

There was a shape on the ground in the near distance. Something–no, someone, Dust realized as he jogged towards the crumpled silhouette. It felt as though he was moving in slow motion as he sprinted the last of the distance separating himself and the skeleton before him. He scraped his kneecaps due to his momentum as he knelt and tugged the other close. His vision tunneled as he took in familiar blue eyelights that seemed to glow just a bit brighter upon seeing him. He was momentarily convinced he was dreaming as he clutched the cold figure tightly to him.

Blue’s voice broke as his frigid phalanges became tangled in the fabric of Dust's shirt. “It’s ac-actually you…you…” he trailed off as tears bubbled over and trickled down his scuffed cheekbones.

“I’m here,” Dust said, his voice wavering with emotion as he pulled Blue to his chest. “I have you, Blue,” he stated, his hands trembling as he lifted him. When Blue’s left femur seemingly phased through his forearm, he tried to figure out what went wrong. It became very clear as he realized the rest of his leg was gone. The tibia, fibula, and his foot were nowhere in sight; all that remained was the kneecap and the soft blue glow of the leftover joint. Dust’s survival instincts kicked into gear as he held the other tightly and initiated a jump back to the house.

Blue sagged in his grip as he ascended the porch stairs at a breakneck speed, and nearly broke the door as he forced it open. Everyone was on their feet in an instant, rushing to the kitchen to witness their teammate holding the monster they’d believed had expired. Dream was the first to break the silence.

“Living room couch. Now.” Dust obliged, and Blue was situated so that he was lying down with his skull in Dust’s lap. While the others were careful not to crowd them, the shift in atmosphere had all parties alert. Dream immediately began siphoning magic to Blue, and Saejun arrived next to him with bandages, disinfectant, and blankets. Dust caressed Blue’s forehead, speaking to him softly and reassuringly as the other’s gazed up at him in awe and confusion. Amidst the blur around them, Dust's vision didn't stray from Blue's face. There was an irrational fear that, if he looked away, he'd be met with nothingness. He felt like the center of the universe as Blue seemed to be memorizing the minutest details of his face.

It was okay. Things were okay. He repeated it internally until it became a dull hum. Or maybe it was his brother trying to resurface after being dormant for the last little while. Regardless, Dust leaned into the sensation of hope gripping him.

Tension in the brothers’ household was palpable. Saejun’s and Pilsu’s arguments continued. Killer and Cossi kept to themselves for the most part, as did Sans and Red, who decided their bedroom was the best place to be with all of the recent chaos. Error was withdrawn, and while Nightmare attempted to draw him out of his shell, he hadn’t been able to coax his lover into mingling with the others. Big H maintained the kitchen and took it upon himself to provide the meals for the residents of the homestead. Otherwise, he’d be checking in on Saejun, especially after the tense skeleton would sulk after an argument. The study room door would click shut and Big H would make him forget for a while.

Pilsu had taken to spending time with Dream and Cross. He’d enjoyed their company while running errands in town, and since then he’d opened up quite a bit. He and Cross had gotten into a card game recently, and it seemed to pass the time in a way that wasn’t dwelling on the fact that the universe was decaying. Dream had spent less time with him recently as he tended to Blue’s injuries.

It was difficult. It wasn’t only because he had to witness his friend’s pain, but due to the fact that Blue didn’t recall who he was. It wasn’t only limited to him, either–whatever Blue had experienced, it had taken a toll on his long-term memory. The Guardian’s chest would ache when Blue became visibly distressed when he couldn’t remember. Blue recognized that he should recall certain things, but there was a mental block, or maybe a void, that took away that ability. Sitting alongside the bed that Blue was lying in for the past two days, Dream witnessed Blue’s determination as he looked at him. Dust sat in a cozy chair near the head of the bed, and Blue glanced over at him momentarily, before refocusing on the Guardian.

Blue released a frustrated sigh. “Can you remind me of your name again?” He asked. Dream smiled softly.

“Of course. My name is Dream.”

“Dream,” Blue uttered quietly, as though he was hearing it for the first time. “I, uh…keep forgetting, you know.”

“It’s alright. It happens.”

The edges of Blue’s mouth turned down as he looked down at the covers over him. He was gradually adjusting to witnessing the absence of his lower leg. Before this point, he hadn’t seen it–he intrinsically had known it was gone, but there was no recollection beyond that.

Blue was silent as Dream inspected the end of his femur before re-wrapping it in a soft gauze and flexible wrap. He watched the monster toss out the used materials before returning to the stool at the bedside and smoothing out the blanket over his femur.

“Can I get you anything from the kitchen?” Dream asked.

“Coffee with creamer, please? And if there’s any of that soup left…I’d like that, too.”

“Of course,” Dream replied, before looking to Dust. “How about you?”

“Plain coffee for me. Thanks.”

“I’ll be right back,” the Guardian said as he retreated from the bedroom. A dull headache had begun to make itself known, the throb along his forehead worsening as minutes ticked by. He poured coffee and reheated a generous helping of soup. He looked over his shoulder towards the hallway and a pang of sadness gripped him. When his eye sockets blurred, he quickly wiped away the evidence of his tears, and retrieved the bowl from the microwave. Setting the beverages and bowl on a tray, he made his way back into the hallway towards the guest room.

Blue drank the broth from the bowl, not bothering with the spoon that had been provided. His eye sockets closed as he enjoyed the flavors lingering on his tongue. Beside him, Dust idly sipped at his mug, focusing on the hairline cracks in the wallpaper on the other side of the room. He hadn’t slept more than four hours in the past few days, and it was taking a toll on him. A pang of guilt gripped Dust’s soul when he glanced over at Blue to see his soft eyelights looking back at him. A barely there blush spread across Blue’s cheekbones, and he looked down at the faded quilt covering his lower half.

Dust rested an open palm on the mattress and watched the flush darken as Blue settled his hand atop it. Blue’s hand trembled as he laced their fingers together, and when their metacarpals touched, Dust’s hand was squeezed tightly. Dust’s attention shifted to the sound of a sniffle, and Blue’s failed attempt to stifle a whimper as tears trickled down his face. Blue had been relatively emotionless for the past 48 hours, so Dust had figured the composure would shatter at some point. The subtle thud of the tear drops punctuated the pained, partially muffled hiccups filling the silence. Dust leaned forward, moving his thumb in soothing motions over Blue’s phalanges as his exhausted mind sought an answer to Blue’s despair.

“Can you sit in bed with me?” Blue asked, wiping his wet face with his free hand as he looked helplessly over at Dust. Dust’s first instinct was to object as he considered Blue’s injuries and his fragile mental state, but he just nodded instead before sliding in beside him on the mattress. He wrapped his arm around Blue’s waist and held him as he leaned into his shoulder and wept. He leaned down to rest his chin on Blue’s cranium, and he tugged the blanket up so that it encompassed the both of them. “This d-doesn’t feel…real…”

Dust said, guided one of Blue’s hands to his sternum. The tips of his phalanges felt like they’d been submerged in icy water as they made contact with his chest. “We’re tucked away behind locked doors, and we’re together. I’ve got you, Blue. This is real.”

Blue nodded, pressing his hand against Dust’s sternum. “Please d-don’t leave me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He stared at the cracking wallpaper as a hollowness descended upon him.

Red’s senses were heightened since Blue had returned to the home. He wouldn’t be caught off guard again–not after the situation with Sci had nearly cost Sans his life. He’d found it harder to sleep during the night, and found himself planning his day around Sans’ schedule. Luckily for him, Sans didn’t need to be told twice that Blue’s disappearance and sudden reappearance was unnerving. He’d been in immediate agreement with Red’s decision to stay out of the way–at least until they had a definitive answer whether or not Blue was still Blue.

Sans’ face still bore the wound from his encounter with the being that had overtaken Sci’s body. The bone was gradually mending, but his magic had clearly taken a heavy hit. He typically sat on the edge of the bed and let Red dress the wound. He was good at it, and clearly had some experience applying wrappings. Sans was content to let his eye sockets close and listen to the sounds Red unconsciously hummed under his breath as he adjusted the bandages. Sometimes he’d look up and watch his expression shift ever so slightly as he concentrated. More often than not, he’d get a pang of bittersweet emotions, and he’d sit there wondering why it was happening.

Red took a step back to inspect his handiwork, and Sans took that as his initiative to follow him. Almost tentatively, he closed the space between them, as though he expected Red to say something. Red wouldn’t though. He liked Sans’ nuances. He really, really liked the games they played.

Red expected the kiss, and responded with enthusiasm as Sans guided one of his hands past the waistband of his shorts. Sans wasn’t patient today, and Red wouldn’t put it past him to wait. He wasn’t the most patient guy himself, and he felt his magic coalesce into a stiff, throbbing erection that Sans already had his hands on.

He looked up at Red from under half-lidded eye sockets. “You like taking care of me?” Sans asked in a soft voice. Red smirked in response and tugged Sans’ pelvis flush with his own.

“Fuck yeah.” He rolled his hips. Sans shivered. “How do you want it, Sansy?”

“Rough. Fuck, just bend me over the bed, or something, I don’t know,” he trailed off, looking off to the side momentarily. Red lifted Sans’ chin so that they made uninterrupted eye contact.

“That all?”

“I’m basic, what can I say?” Sans asked before releasing a chuckle. “Now are you going to do me or what?”

The next thing he knew he was chest down on the mattress and his shorts were roughly tugged down. Pleasure skittered up Sans’ spine as two phalanges slipped inside of him and spread, the sting complimenting the divine sensation of Red stroking an ultra-sensitive area. He groaned at the loss of Red’s phalanges before his roommate bottomed out in a single thrust, causing him to freeze up as his ecto accommodated Red’s girth. He gasped audibly, and Red squeezed his hip in response.

“Too much?” He asked, an unspoken apology lingering between them as Sans posture became less rigid.

He glanced back with a lazy smile. “More like not enough.”

Red took that as a challenge, and Sans contemplated that maybe he should’ve waited to egg him on as he was pounded into. He couldn’t form words, nor did he care to as he bit down on the blankets to stifle his voice as he was fucked within an inch of his life. Red ended up leaning over him, his sternum against his back as he somehow managed to find a deeper angle, which he used to his advantage. Sans was sure he was making some gross sounds he’d definitely regret later, but currently, he couldn’t care less. Red was talking to him in that commanding, gravely voice and Sans was mentally floating. He was sure there was a way to be fucked stupid. Maybe he could achieve that at this rate. Nothing mattered but the tightening sensation in his lower abdomen and Red’s delicious utterances of pleasure as he neared orgasm.

He wanted cum inside of him and he wanted sleep. Preferably beside Red, wrapped up in the same covers they were currently fucking on. He spread his legs further as Red’s rhythm became sharper and less fluid, and then he was cumming. Red’s deep voice prickled along the insides of his cranium, sending him over the edge, descending into exhaustion and pleasant over-stimulation. Time stood still. For once in a long while, his smile didn’t feel forced.

Wind surged around the exterior of the barn, creating an eerie hum as it passed over the edges of the structure. The inside echoed with the sound of it, and Cossi had startled when the intensity of it increased and caused the metal roofing to creak. They’d just recently begun sleeping in the barn again, at Killer’s request. He knew they were safe behind the numerous locks and reinforced walls, but Cossi’s mind was great at convincing him otherwise. He couldn’t help but remember how Blue looked on the night he was found.

Propping a hand up on the cold steel of the barn wall, he stared across the large, indoor training pen at Killer. Killer looked nonplussed as he tossed his knife in the air before catching it by the handle, before repeating the action. Cossi was face to face with how out of shape he’d allowed himself to become. He’d probably be ashamed of his ability to hold his own if he wasn’t seeing spots in his periphery from exhaustion.

Cossi expressed interest in wanting to learn to defend himself and Killer was more than happy to teach him. This was the third day of his beginner-friendly training. Perspiration coated his bones and Cossi wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. Pushing off of the wall on lightly trembling legs, he resumed a defensive stance.

“You sure you're ready? Lookin’ a little worn out.”

Cossi shook his head before stating, “I’m ready.”

Killer blipped out of existence temporarily before showing up behind Cossi and knocked the back of one of his knees with the toe of his shoe. Cossi grunted and whipped around, taking a swipe at Killer as he stepped back and out of his reach. Cossi did the same, taking a few steps back as he surveyed the scene. Killer chuckled.

Killer’s empty eye sockets squinted with his toothy grin and his frame faded into the shadows. Cossi’s magic spiked and a pleasant chill descended his spine. He whirled around, assuming that the other would show up in one of his blind spots again. His joints were stiff with anticipation as he awaited Killer’s reappearance. He listened intently for the sound of magic dispersing in the stale air of the training ring. The wailing of the wind caused his cervical vertebrae to prickle.

“Killer?” He asked aloud. It was quiet enough to hear his voice echo back at him from the rafters above. His breaths were deafening as he strained to tune out the creak of metal and the roar of wind.

“You called?” A voice rumbled right next to his skull. Cossi gasped aloud and abruptly shoved him. The action barely established space between them and Killer chuckled in response.

“You absolute dick,” Cossi snapped, his soul shifting unnaturally as he gathered his wits. He nudged Killer’s shoulder playfully. “What was that?”

“A little surprise,” he said smugly. “I can tell you liked it.”

“Loved it,” Cossi replied and crossed his arms over his chest. “Where’d you go anyhow?”

“I was just around the corner. Thought I’d change it up a little. Feelin’ a bit jumpy today?”

Cossi nodded. “Yeah, you can say that…this helped, though. I don’t think I’ve exercised this much in years.”

Killer wrapped his arms around Cossi’s front so that he could feel along his ecto. Cossi tensed momentarily before relaxing and leaning back into his touch. Killer pressed a kiss to the side of his face and Cossi blushed. “You’re making good progress, ya know.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Cossi mumbled. “I feel inept next to you.”

“Well,” Killer said in a sing-song tone against his skull. “You’re inexperienced–that's completely different from being stupid. Let’s try something different tomorrow. I’ve got a few things in mind.” Killer chuckled as his hands roamed over Cossi’s abdomen. He shivered in response, knowing that the other was very aware that what he was doing was riling him up.

“Should I be worried?” Cossi asked.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

Big H applied a bit more force than necessary as he made his way through chopping the small pile of produce on the counter. The garlic, smoked meat, and fat in the stock pot was aromatic and filled the entirety of the kitchen with a mouth watering scent. Sticking the blade of the knife into the cutting board, he turned around with a bowl in hand to add onions, golden shallots, and herbs to the mix. He dumped a cup filled with broth in as well to avoid over-drying the meat. He covered it before returning to the produce that still needed to be chopped, which included squash and a hardy, deep purple gourd.

He’d attempted to tune out the brothers’ argument, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Saejun’s voice carried, especially when he became impassioned. Pilsu wasn’t quiet either, and with the both of them being stubborn to a fault, the situation often spiraled into a shouting match. Big H expected it to go on for a lot longer than it did. The door to the study was flung open and shut, and Pilsu entered the kitchen carrying an aura of annoyance. Briefly looking to Big H, he sighed.

“I’m sorry you had to listen to that.”

“You’re fine,” Big H said reassuringly. “You goin’ out…I take it?”

“Yeah. Be back before sunset,” Pilsu responded as he pulled on a sunhat and a jacket. Pausing momentarily, he turned around, and said, “Thank you for all you’ve been doing around here. It means a lot to us.”

Big H stopped what he was doing. “Of course. Don’t sweat it. I wanted to…do this.”

Pilsu offered a gentle smile before departing. Big H resumed chopping, trying to avoid the image of his own sibling being conjured in his mind. It hurt to think about him, yet it hurt more to forget him, so he remained in limbo with the off-limits remnants of his past haunting him. He’d failed in his job as an older brother, and it didn’t matter that it had been decades since Papyrus’ eyelights held no familiarity any longer. The monster he once knew was no longer present. There was no understanding of the past, present, or future. It was a mimicry of his brother, a shell of the lively, vibrant, and caring sibling he once knew. For both of them, it was better to part ways. So Big H never returned.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by someone sitting on the opposite side of the counter. He knew it was Saejun by the long sigh the skeleton uttered before leaning his forehead into his hands.

“He left, didn’t he?” Saejun asked. Big H grunted.

“Sure did.”

“Fuck,” Saejun uttered. Big H returned to the stock pot to add the rest of the vegetables before adding more broth and sealing it with the lid once more. “I don’t know what to do.”

Big H wiped the residual condensation from the lid on his apron as he turned to face Saejun. “Do you want advice?” He asked.

Saejun shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

“Give him space. Let him come…to you, and when he does…listen to what he says. Don’t argue.” Big H felt eyelights on his back as he turned on the oven.

“You think I haven't tried that?”

Big H grunted, but didn't turn around.

Saejun pinched his nasal ridge and growled. “I can’t just sit back and do nothin’. He’s-”

“An adult,” Big H said pointedly.

“I’m aware,” Saejun bit out. “What’re you getting at?”

Big H leveled Saejun with his red, steely eyelight. “You’re pushing him away.”

“Heh, wow, alright. Because you’re the expert when it comes to family disputes, right?”

The resounding impact of Big H’s hand against the counter caused Saejun to jump in his seat. He was met with the realization that he’d overstepped, and he watched on helplessly as Big H undid his apron and turned down the active burner so that the stew would simmer. He tossed the apron onto the counter and left the kitchen without another glance in Saejun’s direction. The basement door opened and closed and the fading footfalls cued Saejun into the fact that Big H had retired to his sleeping quarters. Cursing his temper, he let his forehead rest on the counter top as he contemplated an appropriate apology for his tactless comment.

Nightmare was glad when Error began to gradually open up about his recent sleep issues. While his lover had become anxious since Blue’s return, the Guardian of Negativity did everything he could to reassure him of their safety. He’d decided to relieve Error of his particularly bad night terrors that had him muttering and jerking in his sleep. He’d discussed it with the Destroyer beforehand, and since then he’d been able to provide him a temporary cure for the haunting memories plaguing him.

It was no surprise when the Destroyer found himself stumbling in the direction of the bathroom. In the dark, he sought out the bathtub and turned the knobs before splashing his face with the tepid water. His bones crawled with the flashes of imagery that had only now begun to fade. He pressed his palms against his eye sockets and released a shaky laugh.

‘Fucking Dream.’

“I-it was an accident,” Error muttered in a mocking tone, his soul twisting as frustration flowed through him.

He stepped into the tub and groaned at the sensation of warm water engulfing his bones. He recalled Dream’s expression the last time they spoke, and it only served to feed his annoyance. Error was tired of reliving the fear that they’d experienced in the Rooms, but since Dream’s unwelcome visit, his unconscious narratives surrounded him in his own personal hell. He traced the hole in his rib cage, his phalanges exploring the hardened ends of the bones that had been severed. He recognized that Dream had a large part in saving him, but he couldn’t deny that he was upset with him. He sighed and forced himself to relax back against the back of the tub.

Time passed as the Destroyer zoned out, and the first rays of light filtered into the bedroom. Nightmare stepped inside with a mug of coffee, quietly settling it on the bedside table. Upon realizing that the bed was vacant, he glanced over to the dark restroom before making his way over.

His Destroyer was in the tub, his arms draped over the sides while the rest of his frame was submerged in cold water. Nightmare flicked the tentacle that he’d dipped into the liquid.

“Darling…tell me why you are in a freezing cold bath,” Nightmare stated, looming over his drowsy lover. Error’s eye lights were slowly revealed as the Destroyer looked up at him.

“Cold?” Error shifted and shivered as icy water flowed past his bones. “Oh, shit. You’re right.”

“How long have you been sitting in here?” The Guardian asked as he knelt down. Error shrugged as he glanced back at the dim light of the bedroom.

“Don’t know. A while,” Error said, watching as Nightmare’s expression hardened slightly. “It was hot whe-en I got in.”

“That makes it all better, doesn’t it?” Nightmare asked in a mocking tone. Clicking his tongue, the Guardian stood up. “You’re going to make yourself ill at this rate. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I…yeah,” Error admitted in a tired voice. He watched Nightmare’s tentacles initiate the drain before turning the knob for hot water. “What-”

“Sit up,” Nightmare commanded. Error obliged, and the Guardian stepped a foot into the bath behind him. “I won’t have my bonded isolating in a frigid bath. You were having bad dreams again, weren’t you?”

Error scowled as guilt ate a way at him, but nonetheless he leaned back against his lover’s chest. “Yeah. I was,” he stated as Nightmare’s hands settled on his pelvis. His sharp phalanges felt along his iliac crests and the light pressure morphed into teasing pressure as the warm water rose around them. Error’s ecto filled in his torso and lower, creating a soft exterior for the Guardian to massage. Error released a soft groan.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to alleviate them,” Nightmare said. His multifaceted, deep vocals soothed the persistent ache in Error’s skull from lack of sleep. “Next time come to me.”

Error grunted. “You des-deserve rest, too. I’m fine.”

Nightmare’s right hand descended and settled between the Destroyer’s thighs. “I sleep well enough. Anyhow, I haven’t spent hours in cooling bath water, have I?” The Guardian asked.

Error grumbled something under his breath. As Nightmare’s phalanges found his clit, the Destroyer twitched and huffed. “And he-ere you are prolonging my stay.”

Nightmare rumbled as he pinched the soft nub between his phalanx tips. “I simply considered the most effective way to warm your bones.”

“H-how practical of you,” Error said as phalanges traced his entrance. He sucked in a breath as they pressed in shallowly and one of Nightmare’s tentacles twisted the knobs to cut off the flow of water from the faucet. Error spread his legs as tentacles wound their way around his femurs and joined his lover’s phalanges at his entrance.

“Talk to me, Err,” Nightmare requested, his breath tickling the side of Error’s cranium. “Let me take care of you.” Error’s breath hitched as phalanges were replaced with a tentacle, the pressure dizzying as he was stretched by the girth of it. The Destroyer’s head fell back as pleasure shot up his spine. He clutched onto the tentacles that filled the bottom of the tub and trembled as the tentacle inside him squirmed.

“Nighty…S-Stars, yes.”

“There you go,” the Guardian said softly. “I know this is all weighing on you–I’ll do whatever I can to relieve it. I refuse to watch you withdraw into yourself.”

“I d-don’t want to think,” Error said as he rolled his hips against the tentacle penetrating him. “I thought it was get-getting better. And then-” he stopped abruptly, biting a knuckle as a moan threatened to slip between his teeth. “Fuck, I want you.”

“You have me,” Nightmare said, his hands squeezing at his lover’s hips and lower stomach. His own teal magic had coalesced into a hard cock that pressed against Error’s lower back. Lust pooled in his soul as the Destroyer writhed in his grip. “Finish your thought, Err.”

Error groaned. He didn’t want to think at the moment–being fucked senseless was much preferred to disclosing his recent struggles to his partner. He didn’t have any idea how to go about it either. He hadn’t planned to tell him at all, but with Nightmare’s involvement in his mind, there was a chance that he’d figure it out himself eventually.

“Fuck me,” he pleaded. “The-en I’ll talk.”

Nightmare released a rumble and the Destroyer felt the vibration of it through his bones. “How demanding,” the Guardian said as he lifted his lover and turned him so that he slid into place. “I suppose I’ll comply with your outrageous command.”

Error looked over his shoulder and the corners of his mouth tugged into a subtle smirk. Nightmare’s attention was drawn to the dark circles under his eye sockets. The Guardian was reminded of strange hallways, desolate spaces, and the constant sound of water echoing from some unseen corner or crevice. He experienced a strong sense of déjà vu as his mind connected Error’s current expression with one that had been burned into his memory.

“I don’t know if this will be reversible,” he stated, breaking the silence between them. Error nodded and reached out to run the back of his hand along Nightmare’s jaw. The Destroyer explored the planes of his face with his phalanges before ending upon the softer bone of Nightmare’s lips.

“You’re still you. I see you…s-saw you the entire time, actually,” Error stated. He took one of his hands and offered a barely there smile.

Nightmare blinked and became aware of the growing pleasure coiling in his lower abdomen. Error was grinding back against him. He’d leaned forward so that he was on his forearms and knees, and he was evidently enjoying the added stimulation. Nightmare’s mouth watered at the pitiable sound that Error uttered as he withdrew the tentacles from his cunt.

“N-Night, come on,” he whined, leaning into the tentacles that supported his new position in the tub. “Don’t tease me.” The Guardian smirked at his smaller lover’s irritated huff and reached out to trail his phalanges down Error’s crimson spinal column. Error arched his back and shivered, shooting the other a playful glare before grinding back and downward so he made contact with the sizable dick beneath him. The tentacles surrounding his torso squeezed possessively, and Nightmare’s hands found the curve of his ass. The sharp tips of his phalanges threatened to draw blood as he admired the Destroyer’s vivid ecto.

“Is my mate impatient?” Nightmare asked. Error shivered, and the glow of his eyelights over his shoulder brightened ever so slightly. He liked that a lot. “That is what you are…my mate. You’re mine,” Nightmare stated firmly. Error hissed as a few of his lover’s phalanges pricked his flesh.

“Mhm,” Error replied. “All your-yours.”

The Guardian’s cock throbbed and he decided to give his partner what they’d both been wanting. He guided the tip to the velvety entrance between Error’s thighs before urging him to seat himself on his lap. Error obliged without hesitation, and time seemed to still as he took his length inside of him in a fluid movement.

“That’s it. You take me so well,” Nightmare purred. Error gripped the sides of the tub as he lifted himself and sunk down, establishing a delectable rhythm between the two of them. Nightmare’s focus was on the sight of his length being swallowed up by his lover’s pliable folds accentuated by thin rivulets of magic resulting from his overenthusiastic grip on his ass. He contributed as well, thrusting languidly into him in time with his own deliberate motions to create a delicious, pleasurable cycle. The Guardian swore he heard the tub creak as Error’s grip increased, and pleasure intensified in his pelvis as his partner groaned loudly. Nightmare gritted his teeth as the grip on his dick increased, and he watched the Destroyer arch his spine as he neared climax. Somehow Error’s ecto felt more plush in his hands as he squeezed his hips, undoubtedly drawing blood as Error tossed his skull back and stiffened.

“Yes,” Nightmare hissed as he thrust in and out of his partner’s flexing cunt, his own lust reaching a fever pitch as he listened to the breathy pleading that Error uttered as his oversensitive insides were stroked.

“Night…Nighty, please-”

“Do you really want it that badly?” The Guardian asked, his voice taking on a slightly patronizing edge. Error nodded as a choked whine was ripped from his rib cage.

With a tentacle the plug was retrieved from the drain and Nightmare stood from the cooling water with Error before stepping out and approaching the counter. Looking down at the mirror from his angle, he could see the glow on Error’s face and the unsteadiness of his forearms as he tried to prop himself up. Nightmare supported him with his tentacles so that he had a clear view of where they were connected. Error was a delicious sight to behold.

Error leaned back and allowed his partner to take control as his frame was directed by the tentacles wrapped around his midsection and thighs. He shivered as he looked at the predatory glint in the Guardian’s eye being reflected in the large mirror in front of them. When Nightmare began to move, Error shivered in his hold as sharp pleasure spread throughout his pelvis.

‘Maybe I’m getting a little carried away’ Nightmare thought as he watched his lover’s expressions, reveling in the way he squirmed as he was spread by his cock. One of the Guardian’s hands had moved to caress Error’s lower abdomen and the other had found the hint of a dick that Error had formed. He massaged was was essentially a large clit, and began to fuck him in earnest. Regardless if he’d gotten a little too enthusiastic, Error appeared to be drunk off of the sensation of being railed senseless in front of the vanity. Nightmare growled as he felt Error’s insides squeeze his dick to the point where it became challenging to continue his established rhythm. He switched it up to thrust intentionally yet slower into the other, and that seemed to increase his own sensitivity as he nipped at Error’s cervical vertebra.

“In-inside me,” Error said, his phalanges digging into the tentacles surrounding his torso. “Fuck, Night...bite me,” he pleaded. “Please”

Nightmare obliged him, clamping down firmly on his right shoulder as he reached his climax. It was strong enough that the edges of his vision darkened and the sound of their activities was replaced with a dull ringing. Peering into the mirror, he witnessed the faint color of his magic inside of Error’s abdomen and his glistening azure ecto dappled with perspiration. The Destroyer smiled softly and Nightmare released a sigh of contentment as he loosened the grip of his tentacles and gathered his lover close to him.

Dream knocked on the slightly ajar bedroom door before entering after Blue’s enthusiastic ‘Come in!’ The Guardian obliged, and stepped into the bedroom where he was greeted by the sight of the other sitting up in bed with a soft smile adorning his features.

“Good morning, Dream,” he said, almost beaming as he awaited his response. Dream couldn’t help but smile back.

“You remembered,” he replied as he set the tray with tea and oatmeal on the bedside table. “You’re feeling well today, I take it?”

“I’m feeling hopeful,” Blue replied, though his smile wavered. “Do…do you mind staying a little while?” He asked.

Internally, Dream rejoiced. “Of course. Has Dust been by yet?”

“No. He’s sleeping in. He needs it,” Blue insisted. “Can I ask you something?”

Dream nodded as he sat in the chair alongside the bed. “Go ahead.”

“Who am I to you?” Blue asked. His expression was neutral, aside from the flicker of curiosity in his eyelights. Dream’s mind halted momentarily as he struggled to figure out where and how to start this conversation.

“We were friends. We worked together, along with another skeleton monster named Ink. It didn’t take long for us to become close.” Dream fidgeted with his phalanges and his hands trembled ever so slightly. “We have a lot in common.”

Blue nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“You-you don’t have to be sorry,” Dream said quickly.

“I am, though. I want to remember,” he said in a shaky voice. “It hurts to be alone, t-to not be able to connect the feelings…because I feel the emotional presence, but I can’t fucking remember!” Blue wiped at his face with the bed sheet. “But you also lost someone. I’m not the Blue you knew.”

“In no way is this your fault,” Dream said. “I’m so thankful that you’re here, that things weren’t worse-”

“What would make it worse?” Blue asked. “I’m here, sure, but I’m a burden.”

Dream stiffened before stating, “You are not and will never be a burden. You’re still my friend. You are the Blue I know,” the Guardian insisted.

“How? I don’t…what if I never remember?” Blue asked, his voice cracking with emotion. “It’s not fair.”

“You remember Dust, right?” Dream asked. Blue nodded and wiped his face. “You remembered my name this morning.”

“Y-yeah…”

“You are doing the best that you can,” Dream said in a soothing tone. “Your best is enough, Blue.”

“You’re sure?” Blue asked.

Dream offered Blue his hand and he took it. The Guardian’s eyelights were intense, yet soothing. Blue felt his soul ache depleting as he held Dream’s gaze.

“I am positive. I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to tell me more about how you’ve been feeling? You don’t have to, so don’t feel pressured to continue if you’d like to move on-”

“Yes. I’d like that.” Blue offered a shaky smile.

Dust sat in one of the chairs in the living room and slouched into the cushions. Big H, Cross, and Killer occupied the other seats and they were only half paying attention to the drama-filled TV program as they chatted about inane things. Their attention shifted to Dust.

“Come to spend some quality time with the boys?” Cross asked. Dust grunted in response. “Bad day, huh?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Dust shot back. Cross narrowed his eye sockets in response to the hostile response.

“No need…to be an ass,” Big H stated firmly. His large, red eyelight focused solely on Dust as he scrutinized him.

Dust turned to face them. “I’m not going to pretend everything is peachy. Because it’s not.”

Killer scoffed. “Blue is back–yet here ya are, still taking out your frustration on everyone else. I’m tired of the bullshit.”

Dust leaned forward in his seat, his eyelights glowing brighter as he focused on Killer. “Color me surprised–Killer is done. For being the leader you sure have a short fuse,” he snapped. “You have no idea.”

“Fuck you,” Killer said firmly. “Maybe if you confided in me then I’d know, but you’d rather stew in your misery. You don’t offer any of us a chance to understand.”

“Okay, and?”

Killer cursed under his breath. “Get your skull out of your ass and give us a fucking chance. I can’t read your Star's damned mind,” he hissed, standing up from the couch to look down at Dust. Dust got up from his seat, not willing to give Killer the satisfaction of being the dominant figure in the room. Cross and Big H stood up as well and exchanged a look that confirmed they were both planning to step in if things heated up.

“You really wanna know? Fine,” he bit out. “He doesn’t remember shit. There’s a vague memory of us being together and aside from that...I’m having to accept that he’s not the Blue I knew. ”

Killer’s face shifted into a concerned expression as he looked past Dust towards the entrance to the kitchen. The back of Dust’s cervical vertebrae prickled with apprehension as he looked over his shoulder. His soul dropped upon seeing Blue, who’d made his way into the living room with Dream acting as his support as he learned to hobble on his remaining leg.

Time seemed to freeze as Dust cursed himself. He experienced a wave of déjà vu as Blue’s expression morphed into one that reflected his pain and humiliation. Blue spoke quietly to the Guardian who nodded and responded by turning around as he helped Blue back towards the hallway to the guest bedroom. Dust felt as though he couldn’t move. He knew he should, that was the right thing to do–but he couldn’t.

“Great,” Killer said as he sat down on the couch. “The way his face fell...” Killer released air through his teeth as he pinched his nasal ridge. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asked.

Dust cursed under his breath as he gained the ability to move from his invisible prison holding him to the spot in the living room. He was at the guest room door in an instant, where he was abruptly faced with Dream. He took a step back as he was faced with the Guardian of Positivity whose absolute lack of eyelights and furious aura shook him to the core.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” Dream growled before shutting the door. After listening to Dream’s departing footsteps, he could detect Blue’s muffled sobs. Dust smacked a hand to his face and sulked off down the hallway towards the den space.

He needed time to think about how he would solve this fuck up, because at the moment, he didn’t see a way to undo the damage he’d caused.

Sans knew it wouldn’t last, so he savored each moment they could stay on the homestead. He and Red had broken into a routine and it felt right. Of course he was aware that it would shatter at some point by the multiverse deterioration, but for now, he enjoyed the late morning breakfast and coffee with Red while everyone else was preoccupied with their own activities. They’d both become more comfortable living among the powerful beings and maintained a healthy distance when things became tense. Not that he thought they would intentionally hurt them, but he’d seen the power Nightmare’s team were packing, and it made him that much more cautious. He could be simultaneously thankful and wary as a result of their circumstances.

There was a palpable tension between Dream and Dust, and all of the residents within the home could sense it. Dream had become Blue’s full time assistant, and he took his job very seriously. Recently Cross had begun to accompany him in checking in on Blue and helping him learn to use a prosthetic lower leg and foot. Dust remained on the sidelines, watching and listening to others discuss Blue’s progress. He wanted to speak to Blue, but he knew that giving him space was vital at this point in time.

Nightmare had responded to the situation as a mediator, and Dream was thankful to have the other Guardian there to help diffuse the heightened emotions. Error frequented the downstairs alongside Nightmare and it just so happened to coincide with Blue taking a practice stroll with his prosthetic. Cross was there to support him if he needed it, but thus far Blue was handling the task fine on his own. Error locked eyelights with him momentarily.

“You…I’ve met you before,” Blue stated. “I’m sure of it. I don’t recall your name.”

He made his way over to Blue, and offered a hand. Blue took it. “I’m Error. We’ve met man-man-many times before.”

Blue tilted his skull. “Oh…so we were friends?”

The Destroyer contemplated for a moment before responding, “Yes.”

“Would you like to chat later? You don’t have to, of course, but if you'd like to, my door is open.”

Error nodded. “I'll bring my crochet. I can grab my project an-and we can catch up.”

Blue beamed. “That sounds amazing…Error.”

Error’s face felt warm as he made his way back to Nightmare, who harbored such affection in his singular eyelight that the Destroyer was sure everyone else must have sensed it, too. Error grumbled as he settled in against his taller lover’s side and he was greeted by the gentle touch of tentacles along his spine.

Killer and Cossi were preoccupied with a movie playing on the television, and Pilsu had taken the armchair to join them in viewing the new release. Big H and Fresh had been a part of the movie viewing until the plot slowed and Fresh retreated to the basement while Big H meandered towards the study. Red and Sans had made their way back upstairs, bantering along the way. Dream stood at the entrance to the guest room and had witnessed Blue’s reaction to Error’s presence. Further down the hallway, he caught a glimpse of a faded blue sweater and recognized it as Dust’s. Dream welcomed Blue back into his quarters and glanced back down the hall in the direction he’d glimpsed Dust. He pondered for a moment before returning to Blue’s bedside.

Big H opened the door to reveal Saejun facing away from him and staring out of the window. The area below his eye sockets was dark and it was clear to Big H that he’d missed out on some much needed sleep. Upon hearing him enter, Saejun whirled around.

“H…it’s you,” he said. His voice was hoarse. His eye sockets seemed raw now that Big H could see his face.

He grunted. “Didn’t think…anyone would be in here.”

“Do you have a minute?” Saejun asked.

Big H narrowed his eye sockets before sitting on the love seat next to the window. “How long have you been…in here?”

“Um, a while. That’s not important, though.” Saejun scratched at his forearms bones before sitting in the rocking chair facing Big H. “I’m sorry for what I said to ya, and how I’ve been acting. I’m a coward and a moron Should’ve never said those things to you.”

Big H reached over and effortlessly pulled Saejun and the rocking chair to the love seat. Saejun appeared thoroughly spooked and although Big H enjoyed the shocked expression, he wasn’t trying to scare him. He took Saejun’s hands in his own.

“You’re not…a coward or a moron. We make mistakes,” he said. Saejun looked down at his lap. “I lost my temper, too. I’m…also sorry.”

Saejun met his eyelight then, his expression reflecting relief and exhaustion. He sighed. “You’re too good to me, H.”

“No, I’m fair to you. Anger can bring out…parts of us we don’t like.” Big H gave Saejun’s hands a squeeze. “You’re not your…mistakes.”

Saejun breathed out a sigh of relief as he nodded. “You neither. Thanks.”

The Destroyer hadn’t imagined that he and Blue would begin spending time together again as a result of trauma-induced amnesia. However, he found the scheduled quality time comforting amidst all of the recent disarray. Dream gave him space when he arrived to see Blue and Error appreciated the gesture. He was still unhappy with how Dream had handled things, but he was working himself up to discussing the incident in further detail.

In the meantime, he was content to put aside the chaos and spend time with an old friend. Blue was endlessly curious and Error had to scour his memory for times past that he hadn’t thought of in eons. It had truly been a long, long time since they’d been friends.

“So, Error,” Blue began, propping himself up and adjusting the pillows behind his spine.

“Mhm?”

“What was it that you did as a job? Or did you have one?” Blue asked.

The Destroyer paused his crocheting and contemplated how honest he wanted to be about his past. Blue sensed his discomfort and was quick to follow up his statement.

“If you’re not comfortable disclosing that, it’s okay. We can move onto something else,” he suggested.

Error shook his head. “No, it-it’s fine. I had a nontraditional “career”. It involved interpreting universe code. If the code-code-code was too far gone, I destroyed it.”

Blue’s eye sockets widened before he schooled his expression. “Oh. So universes can become corrupted?”

“They can,” Error replied, searching for any sign of trepidation in Blue’s features. “It happens more of-often than you’d think.”

“What happens to the beings within them?”

‘Shit.’ Error released a sigh. “They are erased along with the universe.”

Blue was quiet for a moment and he seemed to become less lucid as he stared past Error. The Destroyer was prepared to give him space. It wasn’t how he thought their conversation was going to pan out, but he didn’t want to lie. The truth would unearth itself eventually even if he’d given Blue a pleasant sounding lie.

“I can leave-”

Blue sat up straighter and gasped as he uttered, “You kidnapped me!”

Error froze and blinked a few times. “Uh, yes. Yes I did.”

“Oh my Stars, I-I remember,” he said, smiling so that his eye sockets squinted in his excitement. “My world was corrupted a-and I didn’t go back. I stayed with you for a while, didn’t I?”

Error nodded dumbly. “Yeah…”

“Error–I-I’m so happy,” Blue exclaimed, moisture gathering in his eye sockets. He swung his leg over the side of the bed and glanced around. Error’s mind lagged as he attempted to catch up to Blue’s sudden change of mood. “Do you see my leg?” Blue asked before chuckling and adding, “The prosthetic I mean, mweheh.”

“You’re happy I kidnapped you?” Error asked, narrowing his eye sockets. Blue laughed aloud and wiped at his face.

“I met you that way, so yes–sounds crazy doesn’t it?”

Error caught sight of it at the end of the bed and he stood to retrieve it. Before he touched it, strings sprung from his phalanges and drew the prosthetic into his palm. The Destroyer was dumbfounded at the timing of it and wasn’t prepared for the triumphant laugh that bubbled up and out of him.

Blue mirrored him as Error gave him the prosthetic. “I-it all just came back to me–how could I have forgotten that?” He tightened the straps on his stump and stood with more force than was necessary, causing him to stumble before catching himself with Error’s help. “It’s all…really overwhelming, actually.”

Error nodded, and turned his skull towards the bedroom door as it opened. Dream peered in and upon seeing him, Blue was beaming once more.

“I remembered him–our meeting, th-the past, there’s so much. I can do it. I can do this,” Blue stated with conviction in his voice. “Can I hug you?” He asked the Destroyer.

Error opened his arms and Blue flung himself against him. He was trembling, but his hold was firm around Error’s diaphragm. He met Dream’s gaze as he returned the embrace, knowing that he needed to speak to him. The Guardian seemed to sense his intention and his expression shifted in discomfort. A surreal atmosphere fell upon them as Blue made his way over to Dream to hug him as well. Error felt his skull become fuzzy as the sounds within the room shifted into a hum and the sensation in his phalanges ebbed.

Clenching his phalanges and retrieving his crochet, he slipped out of the room and waited a few paces down the hallway. When Dream exited the bedroom and shut the door behind him, Error spoke up.

“I’d like to speak with you. A-again.”

“You’d like me to bring you into the Dreamscape?” The Guardian asked, furrowing his brows in concentration. “Won’t that be triggering for you?”

“I mean, I wo-o-on’t be enjoying it by any means, but…what Ink said before–I think I need to hear it. Everything.”

Dream nodded. “I have hesitated to bring this up to others. Just in case Ink wasn’t reliable, I didn’t want to cause undue panic. The more I have looked into it, though, the events align with what we have experienced on our end.”

Error released a sigh. “Can we do it tonight?”

“We can. I’ll arrange it.”

It was a tense conversation between Error, Dream, and Nightmare. The Guardian of Negativity wasn’t thrilled, to say the least. Error did his part to reassure his partner that he’d worked through the side effects of the unwelcome sleep intrusion, but Nightmare wasn’t yet prepared to let it go. This was new information to him and the fact that he was only now made aware of the occurrence didn’t sit well with him.

When the conversation felt as though it had come to a close, and Error had established that he was willing to reenter the Dreamscape under his terms, the Destroyer made his way to his bedroom. Nightmare pinned the Guardian of Positivity with a steely glare.

“Tell me why I am only hearing of this now?” He commanded.

“It was my intention to tell you. I’m sorry this is how you heard of it.”

“Was it your skull injury?” He asked, a hard edge to his tone. “How is it that you experienced such an incredible lapse?”

The den space felt stifling under the scrutiny of his sibling’s gaze. Dream shook his head. “I don’t know. If I had an answer-”

“How dare you,” Nightmare snarled. Dream was much more alert as the Guardian’s voice split into something ethereal and uncanny. “You don’t belong in his head. You have no place there.”

Dream watched the other Guardian’s tentacles become more active as emotions escalated. He held up his hands and cast his eyelights down. “You’re absolutely right.”

“He is mine,” Nightmare growled, the bass of the lowest voice among the many creating a tangible hum in the air.

“I never had any misconceptions about that. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Nightmare remained silent as he glared at him. The overwhelming swell of animosity and possessiveness had begun to subside into a much more manageable emotion that balanced out into vexation.

Dream glanced up and tried to gauge the situation. In this moment, it was blatantly clear that the Guardian had been changed by the other dimension. The Guardian of Negativity was a blend of unpredictability and otherness. Dream didn’t want the situation to devolve into something he couldn’t handle.

“You have my word,” Dream emphasized.

That seemed to appease Nightmare as he stood from his seat and departed the room. The sound of the tentacles positioned lower on his spine trailing behind him sent a chill along Dream’s cervical vertebrae. The Guardian of Positivity flinched as the door shut behind him.