Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The music, though muffled by closed doors and 2 floors, was still easily audible, sadly. You couldn’t make out the words, but everyone in the castle knew what was being played.

Killer did this every single year. December 1st, 8 AM was greeted with Mariah Carey’s song. That one.

Aside from the blaring melody, it was dead silent. Considering how Christmas was supposed to be a joyful time, Killer sure seemed intent on making the first of the season as miserable as possible.

Dust stood up on tip-toe as he tried to reach for a mug on the top shelf in the cabinet. When that didn’t work, because God hated him and made him the shortest, he just climbed onto the counter, getting the mug easily. He jumped back down, and stuck it into the coffee machine.

A few mechanical whirrs needled its way through the holly jolly silence.

“I think I’m gonna kill myself,” Dust said flatly. Horror twisted to look at Dust in shock.

“don’t do that,” he said weakly. “please..?” Dust just shrugged.

“Calm down. ‘m not actually gonna do.. that. But if Killer plays that fuckin’ song one more time, then let’s see what the highest ladder in the world is.”

Horror wasn’t actually sure if Dust was joking or not. He decided it was better to take it seriously, just in case. “…don’t,” he insisted. what else should I say? …He had nothing. Words were hard. But considering Dust’s… less-than-okay mental health, he’d keep a closer eye on him.

Dust shrugged again, grabbing his coffee. “I won’t,” he said. “But somebody’s gotta shut up Killer, and if the song doesn’t end in the next three seconds, I’m doing to do something bad.”

“you’ll do… what?”

“That depends entirely on who walks through the do-OH, uh, hey, boss,” Dust quickly greeted, lifting his mug slightly as a substitute for waving. Horror nodded at him.

Nightmare stared at the two coldly. “…Hi. Don’t expect me to engage in any conversation, because the season of chronic, unflinching pain has begun,” he said, storming past them.

The multiverse was known to be strange, mysterious, and illogical in every possible way. One strange fun fact is that every universe followed the exact same time and date. If it was 11:59 PM on November 3rd in Underfell, it was 11:59 on November 3rd everywhere else.

That meant that every December 1st, an uncountable number of small children woke up with absolute euphoria over the start of Christmas season. As you can imagine, it definitely wasn’t the best feeling in the world for Nightmare.

And it only got worse as the beloved— or rather, the dreaded season continued, until January 1st finally came.

Until then, Nightmare became a chronically pained blob of a spirit, basically out of commission for the entire month, and was an absolute— no pun intended— nightmare to deal with.

Hey, at least it wasn’t Valentine’s Day yet.

There was a surprised yell of shock with the sound of giddy— almost maniacal— laughter, followed by a high ping! that signaled teleportation, and Killer appeared downstairs with a shit-eating grin, Cross in tow behind him.

“It’s fuckin’ time,” Killer announced, and Horror shivered. For the third year in a row, he thought about everything he’d have to deal with this month, and he wondered if he was gonna make it out alive.

Killer’s sheer, childish glee, the way Dust was absolutely going to get drunk at some point, the bright, blinking lights and loud music that was already making his head ache just thinking about it, Nightmare’s perpetual aggression, Error’s pure excitement and dramatics, and Cross had only joined the gang a year ago, what happens when he joins the chaos…

i’m going to die, Horror accepted his fate calmly.

just gotta hope we prepare right. at least i sorta know what to expect.

Ink hummed thoughtfully, swinging his legs. “…Hey, Dream?” he asked, turning to the golden spirit.

Dream glanced back at him with a curious smile, glowing cheerfully as the positive magic from the season flooded his soul in a steady stream. Stars, he loved this time of year, it always felt so good… “What is it?” he asked.

“Y’know what would be really cool?”

“Hmm.. snow?” Dream suggested with a small giggle.

“No,” Ink dismissed immediately, missing the joke. “What if we threw a Christmas party?”

The spirit paused. “…Oh… and what does that entail?”

“Wha?”

“I mean.. what would we do during the party? What’ll be the date for the party, since we obviously can’t have it Christmas night.. how should we organize this?”

Ink thought for a moment. “No clue!” he said. “I just wanna do it! It’ll be really cool! Or, I guess, cold. Coold. Get it? Like ‘cool’ and ‘cold’ mixed together, if ‘cool’ and ‘cold’ had a ba—”

“I get it,” Dream interrupted, before Ink got distracted and tried to describe a graphic inappropriate scene of two words having a baby, or whatever went on in the god’s head. Dream didn’t want to know.

“Well… we can do that,” Dream agreed. “But… there can’t be a gathering without people. Who should be invited?”

“Uhh…” Ink stopped swinging his legs, before getting an purely evil grin on his face. “Everyone.”

“I- I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Everyone.”

Chapter Text

“OH MY GOD, SANS!”

“mm?” 

“THERE’S A LETTER FOR ME!” Papyrus burst into the house with an excited grin, flourishing a green and red letter that somehow had tiny blinking lights taped to it. Sans wondered silently where the battery pack was. no way it just lights up on its own. “AN ACTUAL LETTER!”

Sans blinked sleepily, sitting up to look at him. “oh, that’s cool. what’s it say?”

“UM… I HAVEN’T CHECKED YET,” the former admitted. “BUT IT SAYS INITIATION! …SCRATCH THAT, INVITATION! THEREFORE, IT MUST BE GOOD! BETTER THAN INITIATION. THAT SOUNDS MORE LIKE JOINING A CULT, AND I ADMIRE THE SENSE OF COMMUNITY BUT CULTS AREN’T EXACTLY…”

“c’mon, read it, bro.”

“I WILL!”

Papyrus rushed over to the couch and sat down, before deciding he didn’t want to sit actually, he was fine standing up and besides, there was a lot more movement to be done when not sitting. He carefully opened the letter— WHO USES WAX SEALS NOW? THEY MUST BE REALLY FREAKING COOL!!—and took out the card.

Said card was cheerfully decorated with hand-made stickers of Christmas cookies and candy canes, which were plastered over a blurry photo of a grinning skeleton with the two brothers in the background.

Sans faltered. i… i have no words. “uhh… bro? d’you remember, uh.. seeing that guy before?”

Papyrus glanced over at Sans, with that expression he always had when he was keeping a secret. “UM.. DON’T BE ALARMED. BUT. YES. THE FUNNY CLONE OF YOU, INK.”

wait, he knows him?

“I GUARANTEE THAT INK IS HARMLESS! …I THINK,” Papyrus added. 

“yeah, bro, i know,” Sans said.”

“YOU- YOU WHAT.”

“i know ‘im.”

“OH THANK ASGORE I DON’T HAVE TO KEEP THIS A SECRET ANYMORE!” Papyrus flung his arms up. “I FELT LIKE I WAS GOING TO EXPLODE!!! NOT LITERALLY, OF COURSE, BUT SOMETIMES I THOUGHT—”

“hey, what about the rest of the card?” Sans reminded him, lifting a hand slightly to float a cup of water to himself. Ah, breaking physics was fun.

Papyrus paused in his rambling. “OH, YES, RIGHT! AHEM. ‘Dear Sans and Papyrus—‘ IT’S US!!— ‘This is your old pal Ink! I had a wonderful idea to throw a Christmas party, because it’s December! The date is right now. Teleport to the—‘“ Papyrus faltered. “THE… THE VA- THE AN.. ANTI.. ANTIVOID..?”

Sans froze, magic flickering, and the cup dropped to the floor, shattering against the tiles of the kitchen. oh, damn, better clean that up. ..later. 

“the, uh… the antivoid?” he repeated. “y’sure that’s what it said?”

Papyrus blinked at the card. “…FAIRLY CERTAIN. YOU SOUND LIKE YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS.”

Sans shrugged. “somewhat, yeah. been, uh.. i’ve been there. it’s sorta like.. blank.”

“BLANK?”

“like, ‘s just white. forever. there’s one homeless guy who lives there, dunno much ‘bout him.”

“OH, ERROR!” Papyrus chirruped.

“…how do you know any of this.”

“INK TOLD ME! HE SAID THAT ERROR WAS A VERY GRUMPY GUY. HE DIDN’T LIKE ART, WHICH, HOW DO YOU NOT, IT’S ART! ALSO GRUMPY. DID I MENTION GRUMPY?”

“might’ve mentioned that already, yeah. so christmas party, right now, in the destroyer of world’s domain. real jolly.”

“WELL, IT SOUNDS LIKE FUN!” Papyrus said. “…EVEN THOUGH THE HOST HAS PROBABLY KILLED A MILLION PEOPLE AND HATES EVERYONE.”

“welp. what’s the worst that can happen?”

“WE COULD ALL DIE,” Papyrus suggested. Sans’s eyelights flickered.

“…yeah. that’s, uh.. definitely the worst-case scenario. welp.”

———

“WE’RE NOT GOING,” Papyrus— Edge said, glaring down at his brother. Or maybe that was his version of an amused smile. Sans— Red shrugged. “yeah, they seem p’ weak, boss.” 

funny, nice weaklings, but still weak.

“IMAGINE HAVING AN ENTIRE DAY DEDICATED TO BEING NICE,” Edge scoffed. “SOFT, ALL OF THEM.”

“heh, yeah… spent a day with one of ‘em, just to see what they were like.” Red hummed, annoyed. “really fuckin’ pathetic, actually. all ‘do you want a drink,’ or ‘where do you wanna go,’ like it’s the guest’s decision. corny.”

Edge paused. “ACTUALLY… SANS, I HAVE AN IDEA.”

“yeah, boss?”

“WE SHOULD GO.”

“i- boss, what the fu—”

“OH, DON’T BE SO STUPID, NOT FOR FUN. SCOUT THE PLACE OUT, I MEAN. MAKE SURE NOBODY IS A THREAT.”

“thought we did that a few years ago..?”

“THE MULTIVERSE IS BOUND TO HAVE CHANGED SINCE 6 YEARS AGO, SANS. WE SHOULD SEE WHO TO BE WARY OF. NEUTRALIZE THEM.”

“what, kill ‘em at a christmas party?”

“IF NEEDED, SURE.”

“gotcha… right then. let’s go.”

“THE CARD SAYS HERE THAT WE NEED UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS…”

“god fuckin’ DAMMIT—”

———

Nightmare stared at the card in disgust. “…Cross, read this for me. I fear that I may have suddenly become illiterate.” 

Cross glanced at him weirdly. “I-I— w-what—?”

“Perhaps I’m hallucinating, but this is a goddamn Christmas party invitation.”

“No need to be this dramatic,” Killer said casually, plucking the card out of the confused guard’s hands. “Your theatre-kid energy is showing.”

“My what—?”

Killer squinted and tilted his head slightly, scanning the note. 

“…Oh, what the fuck.”

“So sadly, I am not merely suffering a delusion,” Nightmare sighed. “How wonderful.”

“Uh.. that’s not all,” Killer added. “It’s, um… it’s from Ink.”

“I’M SORRY, WHAT?!” Nightmare roared, whirling towards the skeleton furiously. Cross stumbled back nervously.

“Yeah, it’s from the Stars.” Killer merely shrugged, unfazed by Nightmare’s near-demonic possession. “Tis the season, I guess.”

“This is not the time to make fucking jokes,” Nightmare hissed angrily. “What kind of idiotic game is Ink trying to play here? I just— ¿Qué carajo pasa por su cabeza vacía?”

“…Uhh..” Killer glanced at Cross, who shrugged helplessly. Stars, I hate when he’s like this. “…Okay, well. Um. Criss-cross, got a plan?”

Cross froze.

”…No, then,” Killer translated from his panicked, anxiety-riddled silence. “Well, that’s just great. Uhh… القرف. Okay, well, we’re all more than capable of fending off 3 idiots with cheesy monologues. We can go to that party.”

“But why on earth would we ever do that?” Nightmare asked coldly. What is Ink even thinking? What the hell is happening? What are they planning? And then came a stream of a different kind of thoughts. What are they planning? What are they going to do to us? People are cruel, so what’s the plan behind this one? To capture us? Kill us? Or simply humiliate us? 

“Chill, chill,” Killer said carelessly. “Calm down.” Cross edged out of the room silently.

“CALM DOWN?” Nightmare hissed. “WHAT THE FUCK IS INK EVEN TRYING TO DO HERE?”

Killer hummed in thought. “Okay, yknow what, I’ll go get our resident unaware genius, and we’ll figure something out,” he decided, snapping his fingers with a small spark of red and blue magic.

“…Fine, fine,” Nightmare said, restraining himself by a single mental thread. “Get Dust.”

”’m already here,” Dust said from the couch, looking up from his phone. “Been here the whole time. But the fuck do you mean by—“

“Well, then, emo,” Killer continued, “what d’you think we should do? Because I have no clue what to make of this, and Nightmare looks about ready to set an orphanage on fire.”

“I would not,” Nightmare interrupted with a glare.

“Fine, fine, how about setting a nursing home on fire?”

“…Better. Mostly.”

“Uhh…” Dust paused. “Lemme see the card.” Killer crumpled up the note and threw it to Dust.

“…Thanks,” he said dryly, before reading it slowly. “Well, Ink’s an idiot.”

“We know,” Killer and Nightmare said at the same time.

“So he probably didn’t even think about the whole ‘we’re wanted criminals’ thing,” Dust added. “Probably just wants to fill the guest list, and hey, look, there’s 5 people we know right here. I don’t think he actually means any harm.”

“Yes, because that definitely makes sense, Ink is the most harmless being in the multiverse,” Nightmare muttered. “He wouldn’t even think about trying to kill us.”

“Ink’s a pussy,” Dust said flatly. “He doesn’t kill people. And it says the party’s happening in the Antivoid.”

“…So?” Killer asked.

Dust just stared, deadpan. 

“Oh,” Killer realized. “The Antivoid. Error.”

“Yeah.”

“So… I mean, if Error’s cool with it somehow…”

“Error is a literal child,” Nightmare pointed out, frustrated. “He has the mind of a 10 year old and we all know it!”

“So does Ink,” Dust added. “…More like a 9 year old, actually. So they’re both just thinking about the party, not about the war. Should be fine to go.”

Nightmare sighed, exasperated, frustrated, and generally annoyed. “…Fine. You can go to the party or whatever. But I’m not going.”

Killer scowled. “…Boss, when’s the last time you’ve talked with anyone aside from us or Ccino? Like, an actual conversation.”

“…”

“Yeah, you’re going to the party.”

“And here we have a natural partnership,” Dust narrated, deadpan, “between the two common species, introverus… blobbiness (I don’t know Latin), and extrovertrious stabster or whatever the fuck it should be called. The extrovertrious has just adopted the introvertus. Nature’s friendships.”

“You did it wrong,” Killer said. “You forgot the deep British accent. Like David Attenborough.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, you.”

“Also, the card says ugly christmas sweaters are mandatory, but I dunno how to wear your sorry face.”

“Screw you.”

Chapter Text

“Omigosh, I’m so glad you agreed to this!” Ink squealed, bouncing in place excitedly.

Error scowled. “O-o-onl-l-ly-yyy  ‘c-c-cause-e  y-y-youuu  p-prommmi-i-ised-d  t-t-t-to-o  l-l-leave-e  m-mme-e  alone-e-e  a-after-r  this-s-s.”

Ink giggled. “Yeah! So- where should we start?” he asked breathlessly. “Decor? Getting food? Setting up tables?”

“Y-y-youuuu  rreallyyy-y  t-t-thiiink-k  w-w-we-e  s-s-should-d  g-g-get-t  f-fo-ood-d-dd  b-b-beforee s-s-setttting-g t-the-e t-t-tables?” Error asked, annoyed. “I-i-idiot-ttt..”

“I never said that!” Ink balked. “I just asked where to start!”

“Mm-m-mmmm..” Error hummed thoughtfully. “I-iIII’ll-l  d-d-dooo  t-t-the-ee  decor-r-rati-i-ions-s.  Y-y-you-uu s-s-sett-t th-theee t-tables-s.”

”Okay!” Ink chirped. 

———

“ERRRRROOORRRR…” Ink groaned from the floor. The glitch giggled mischievously. “H-h-heehh-heh..  t-t-hought-t  y-y-you’ddd realize-e-e…  y-yoou’re  t-t-toooo s-s-short-tt t-ttto d-d-rdrag-gg tttables-ss-s arrroundd..”

“So you tricked me!” Ink screeched, pushing himself up. “ERROR!”

“H-h-hey-y-yy, III-I-I g-got-t-tt the-e-eee easyy-y stuff-f,” Error said with a self-satisfied smirk. (Wow, try saying that 5 times fast..) “S-s-so-oooo t-tt-t-thankk-k-k yyyou-u.”

“HUMAN SOULS DON’T COUNT AS DECORATIONS!” Ink wailed. “Where’d you get those?!”

“D-d-d-do youuuu really-y-y wann-nn-na-a-a kno-o-ow-w?”

“…No.”

“E-e-exactttlyyyyyyyy.”

Chapter Text

Blue and his brother had a tradition. It was a bit stupid, but they still liked it.

Every December, they’d bring out this little rubber duck. They’d wash off the blue and orange paint from the previous year and repaint it with a different design, a different pattern.

Then, one of them would hide it, somewhere around the house. They’d time it, while the other person tries to find it. They’d switch, and repeat. Compare times.

Whoever found it the quickest would get the first Christmas cookie. The loser would be the one to buy them.

It was a bit childish, really, but it was always nice.

Blue couldn’t do that anymore.

His world was gone, destroyed. Every single timeline. Because of some stupid, little parasite. He’d only escaped because he wasn’t even in Underswap at the time.

Stretch and Alphys had nearly made it out, but their code was connected to their world, and without Ink or Error, they couldn’t severe it from the dying AU.

Blue didn’t watch, he couldn’t watch as they dusted. But he held their hands tightly, and felt them crumble away.

He took a breath to compose himself, before going inside. Nobody would get it, anymore. But Blue still secretly hid that little rubber duck around the Stars’ base. Nobody had found it before, though. Papyrus would’ve found it within 5 minutes.

He glanced around to be sure nobody was watching, before he poked his head into the empty fireplace and reached up to grab the little toy from inside. There was a small ledge, from an uneven brick in the chimney. That’s where he hid it last year, and he’d forgotten to take it out.

He took it over to the kitchen sink, and washed off the soot and ash, because it would be really weird to leave it like that.

It looked like dust. It looked like their dust.

At that thought, he hesitated, before putting the little rubber duck aside. He felt sick. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have gone inside, he wanted fresh air, actually. He didn’t want to be here anymore.

———

The sounds of Mariah Carey didn’t match the way Blue felt right now. All he wanted was some coffee. Faintly, he recognized that the dreaded song had ended. Oh, thank the stars. 

And then it started playing again.

’I don’t want a lot for Christmas—’ 

“他妈的！” Ccino shouted, kicking the speaker angrily, and the music shut off suddenly. “操你，你这个愚蠢的小回声扬声器！明天我就要把你卖掉，这将是我最后一次见到你，你这个廉价的 40 年代垃圾，爱流鼻涕的塑料盒子！”

Blue’s jaw dropped.

“Sorry about that!” Ccino apologized quickly, suddenly as sweet as honey. “Sorry, sorry.. this little thing just keeps playing the same song.. it’s been doing this for a few hours.. I’m not even trying to play Christmas music, (I was gonna play Jack Stauber..) so I think someone might’ve tampered with it.. sorry about that!”

“UHH… YEAH, YEAH.. THAT’S— THAT’S FINE..” Blue managed. I Didn’t Know He Was Capable Of Being Mad..

I Guess Music Is Magical…

“Geez, Ccino, I didn’t know the therapist needed therapy,” someone said from the booth behind Blue. He twisted around, and for the second time in 2 minutes, his jaw dropped.

“…KILLER?”

“Oh, shit, Blueberry?”

“PREFERABLY, DON’T CALL ME THAT. ..EVER.” He wanted to scream at the sound of that name.

Not just because it was annoying. ‘Blueberry’ was the name of the parasite that… destroyed his AU. It looked like him, but.. wrong. He never wanted to hear that name ever again.

“Right, ‘kay, then, Blueber— Blue. Just Blue,” Killer muttered. “So what’re you in for?”

“I’M.. SORRY?”

“Only people with issues come here. He—” Killer waved a hand in Ccino’s general direction “—told me that. So what’s fucked up with you?”

Blue hesitated. “…SOMETHING.. PRIVATE.” The feeling of hands disintegrating, cracks in the ground, swallowing up his beloved town, and he knows he’ll never see it again, he’ll never see them again, it feels like his Soul is being wrenched out of his body—

“Ah. Gotcha. Me personally, my life is crumbling to the ground, no I will not elaborate because fuck you.”

“OOOKAY THEN..?”

There was an awkward silence, penetrated only by the sounds of Ccino muttering angrily as top-40s generic Christmas stuttered to a halt again.

“..Okay, here’s the deal,” Killer said suddenly. “We never met here. Got it?”

“I… OKAY?”

“‘kay, great.”

“….UMM…” Blue felt awkward in the silence. Silence was weird. He needed to talk. “…IF I MAY ASK.. DO YOU GUYS CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS? I’VE JUST BEEN WONDERING, BECAUSE THE WHOLE.. NEGATIVITY THING.”

“Mmeh,” Killer said a shrug. “Yeah. ..Well, I didn’t. Didn’t really know a lot about it. Dust and Horror introduced it, and honestly, I’m hooked.”

“WAIT, YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHAT—”

“I knew what it was!” Killer interrupted. “Just wasn’t something that was really celebrated at- at ‘home,’ I guess I could call it, ‘cause I lived in Saudi Arabia, so… yeah. A bit ironic, though, I’d say I’m the most excited about it.”

“BUT ISN’T NIGHTMARE… Y’KNOW, AGAINST POSITIVITY AND EVERYTHING?” Blue asked. 

“Geez, you’re sure curious. Generally, yeah, he fuckin’ hates Christmas, but he tolerates our celebrations. Oh, speakin’ of which..”

“YES?”

“Can I just ask— why the fuck did Ink invite us to a Christmas party?” Killer spat. “Like, just— huh?”

“I- WHAT?”

“You fuckin’ heard me, what’s going on? Did Ink get a concussion?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

“Oh, don’t lie, you work with the bastard, you know exactly what he’s doing—”

”I SWEAR, I DON’T,” Blue growled. “I HEARD ABOUT THE CHRISTMAS PARTY, BUT WHY WOULD HE INVITE YOU?! I- I MEAN— N-NO OFFENSE, OF COURSE! IT’S JUST… IT’S YOU? THE CRIMINALS?”

“None taken,” Killer sighed. “And honestly— and I’m wondering the same thing, rea—” ‘I DON’T WANT A LOT FOR—’

“他妈的闭嘴！”Ccino growled, kicking the speaker again. “SHUT UP!”

“…”

“…”

“…So did you know he was capable of getting pissed?” Killer mused.

Blue shook his head.

“Uhh… did you hear me?” Killer asked, annoyed.

“I SAID NO.”

“Well, I didn’t see. But, geez, maybe…” Killer trailed off. “Wait, actually, I got an idea, bye, Blueber— Blue, I gotta go do something.”

“UH.. BYE.” Blue waved goodbye, feeling weird. He heard Killer ask Ccino something about taking the speaker, but he didn’t want to listen.

He silently teleported out. Where he meant to go, he didn’t know, but he ended up in Outertale. 

As though he had planned to go here, he sat on the ledge, looking up at the stars. Paps would’ve loved this… 

Blue didn’t really believe in anything. In his mind, once someone died, they were dead. Nothing else to it. But if he believed in ghosts, he’d hope that Papyrus was haunting Outertale. He’d like it here. Maybe he was here, actually.

“Um… Hey, Papyrus. It’s— It’s Me.” He didn’t know why he was whispering. It just felt right, to whisper right now. “…Well, You Know It’s Me.” 

This Feels A Bit Dumb. I’m Talking To Air. Actually, No, Not Even Air. Just Space. Nothing.

“It’s December Again… And Things Are.. Weird. Um. There’s a Christmas Party. I Think I Should Go? Except For The Fact That Actual Criminals I Fight Every Week Will Be There. For Some Reason. Which Is Just.. WHY DID INK INVITE THEM?” he burst out. 

“I MEAN, KILLER WAS.. SURPRISINGLY CIVIL. I.. DON’T KNOW ABOUT THE OTHERS. BUT IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE? ALTHOUGH, IF WE COULD HAVE THE PEACE TREATY, THAT WOULD BE NEARLY AS COOL AS ME! BUT, UH… I’M NOT SURE IF— WELL, IF KILLER WASN’T LYING ABOUT INK— DOES INK KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING?”

He paused, as though waiting for an answer. 

“…BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THIS… REMEMBER THAT LAST PARTY? A FEW YEARS AGO?” he asked the empty space. 

I Wonder If Outer Thinks I’m Hallucinating. If He’s Here. 

“THAT OTHER TIMELINE OF ME— HE— I— WOWZERS, LANGUAGE IS HARD WHEN TALKING ABOUT ALTERNATE ME’S, MWEHEH! WELL, FINE THEN— HE SPIKED THE PUNCH. SHOULD I?”

I’m Sitting In Space, Talking To Empty Air. Very Cool And Magnificent. Very Sane.

“WELL, UM… I’LL DECIDE LATER! BUT, UM… IS— Is There… An Afterlife? Are You Happy..?”

Blue sat, waiting for… what? A sign? A ouija board to pop up out of nowhere? 

“…” He hesitated.

“WELL, UM. I- I BET I MUST LOOK VERY STUPID RIGHT NOW, MWEHEH… UM… MERRY EARLY CHRISTMAS IF YOU’RE THERE, PAPS. ..BYE.”

Chapter Text

Cross was fairly certain that this was a bad idea.

Honesty, the only reason the gang decided to come was due to 4 different factors:

1: There was food. A large amount of good food that tasted like heaven and had the same nutritional value as dog shit. How often do you find Christmas cookies after December? And they didn’t even need to buy it! Free food!

2: If the Stars were hosting this, and invited THE GANG, then surely they could pretend they came in peace and collect information.

3: Error was apparently fine with it, since it was hosted in his Anti-Void, so apparently there wasn’t any harm there.

4: Honestly, the last time Cross was allowed to celebrate Christmas was when he was 12. 13 and up, it was treated as a regular day, except there was a secret, tiny party with the guards after midnight to watch Home Alone. So being able to actually do something for once, he was psyched. 

Of course, he pretended like he didn’t care, but he let them drag him along. 

They filed through the portal, and the second the others forgot about Cross, he slipped away. Not because he didn’t like them, he just didn’t know how to act around them when it was like.. this. Also, he was looking for someone.

Funny thing— he found him immediately. “Epic!” 

Said skeleton turned around to face him with a grin. “Didn’t know you’d be here, bruh!” Cross let out a puff of laughter. 

“Yeah, um.. Ink invited us.”

Epic blinked in confusion. “Wait, like… ‘us’ as in.. that gang you joined, bruh? Like. Nightmare, that guy you like… them?”

“Uhh… apparently?” Cross squeaked, sounding a bit more like Mickey Mouse than he wanted. Oh, stars, that was horrible.

He cleared his throat, quickly repeating himself, “Uh, well, apparently? I don’t know why, though.. I mean, apparently, Error’s fine with it, so… I guess we’re not gonna die.”

“If you get attacked, bruh, I’ll protect ya!” Epic offered valiantly. “Or you could do some ‘epic’ romance scene with K—”

“NO,” Cross protested. “No corny confession scenes!”

“…From the earth I rise and to the earth I one day shall return—”

“Dude, we’re at a party, we’re not chanting about corn right now, forget the inside jokes, it’ll look so weird—”

“What’s up mothershuckers, my name is—”

“EPIC.”

“Fine, fine..” Epic chuckled. “Loosen up, bruh! …Although, d’you even remember where that joke came from, actually?”

“..Um.” Cross thought back for a moment. “…No, actually. But can I just ask… what’s with the sweater, dude?”

Epic grinned chaotically at him, glancing down at the truly horrendous ugly christmas sweater, which was purple and black, with MEMES written in a bold, white font across the front. “Ink made ‘em for everyone, bruh. We’re s’posed to wear these ugly things… but this one kinda grew on me, so I don’t mind.”

“Dude, it looks horrible.” 

“I know, bruh. I love it.”

“Of course you would.”

“Ink was handin’ ‘em out… think he made one for everyone on the list.”

“Even..”

“Yep. Go get your ugly christmas sweater, bruh.”

“..Oh, mierda.”

———

classic was used to a schedule. or something like it, anyway. maybe he just got conditioned to expect everything, ‘cuz of the resets. but this wasn’t something he could predict.

he didn’t like it.

“uhh bro, don’t look now, but y’see that pissed-off looking version of me, with the hood?” he asked.

“OH, WHERE?” papyrus asked, glancing around very obviously. 

“i said don’t look,” he whispered.

“..DO YOU WANT ME TO SEE HIM OR NOT?”

“just don’t look for ‘im now.”

“OKAY?”

“but, uh.. when ya do see him. don’t talk to him. pretend he’s a ghost or something.”

“WHY?”

“he’s, uhh… not really good. every single thing that could happen in the multiverse… it does happen. there’s a world where everything’s made o’ candy. there’s a world where one of us kills everybody. …that guy did that. used to wear your scarf..”

“…AH. UM. I… I See Now,” papyrus said in a whisper— or the closest he could get to a whisper, anyway. “So He’s… He’s A Murderer-You. And… And He Killed Me..?”

“yeah.”

“He.. Must’ve Had SOME Reason?” he tried, though very clearly nervous.

“prolly. didn’t really ever ask. not really the kinda company i’d-” sans broke off, realizing that the guy— dust was his name, right? jesus christ— was right behind them.

“Hey,” the murderer said flatly. “D’you know where the table with the alcohol is?”

“UHHHHHHHHH…” Papyrus glanced around awkwardly. OH GOD, IF HE GETS DRUNK, WILL HE MURDER ME?!! “WELL. I. Uh. WELL, ALCOHOL CAN BE VERY DANGEROUS,” he said instead. “SO MAYBE DON’T! I REALLY WOULDN’T WANT TO SEE ANY VERSION OF MY BROTHER DIE A PAINFUL DEATH AFTER DRINKING TOO MUCH AND GETTING MAGIC POISONING AND SLOWLY CRUMBLING AWAY INTO DUST!”

“Uhh… yeah…” dust muttered. “That’s… yeah. Uh. Thanks for that.. graphic PSA, Paps.”

HE CAN STILL CALL ME THAT???? “Y- YOU’RE VERY WELCOME!” papyrus said instead. “ENJOY A SOBER AND, UM… NOT-VIOLENT NIGHT… UM. I NEVER GOT YOUR NAME? BECAUSE I HIGHLY DOUBT EVERYONE HERE CAN BE A VERSION OF MY BROTHER OR I WITHOUT THERE BEING SOME CONFUSION, SO THERE MUST BE NICKNAMES, RIGHT?”

oh, god, paps, don’t ask him, it’s bad— sans didn’t believe in any god, but he found himself praying desperately that dust didn’t say anything, because his name is dust, and that’s terrifying enough—

“Uh. Call me, um…  Dust,” the hooded skeleton muttered.

“…OH,” papyrus said. “THAT’S A VERY… NICE NAME… DUST. NYEHEH… UM… WELL, AS GREAT AS IT WAS FOR US TO MEET YOU, I’M AFRAID THAT I (THE GREAT PAPYRUS WHO PREFERS NOT TO BE BEHEADED) HAVE TO GO DO… UM… DRUGS!”

paps, that was horrible, sans thought, unimpressed. wish i recorded that.

“Thought drugs were bad for you,” dust said dryly. “Welp. Have fun snorting coke.”

sans could actually see papyrus dying inside.

“UM.. YES… WE’LL HAVE MUCH FUN… DOING SUBSTANCES AND DYING HORRIBLE DEATHS,” the latter said in a strained-smile voice.

there was a moment where none of them moved for a few seconds…
before dust suddenly dived forward, hugged papyrus tightly, and quickly teleported away.

the two brothers stood there dumbly for a second longer.

“…huh.”

“DOES, UM… DOES THAT MEAN THAT ‘DUST’ THINKS THAT WE’RE DRUG ADDICTS NOW?”

———

Nightmare had decided that if this were the Middle Ages and he was about to be slowly tortured to death, this would be the easiest way to execute him. 

He only came because Killer insisted that he needs to actually socialize with people more. In his opinion, that was a horrible idea. Besides, people were avoiding him, anyway, and he quite preferred it like that.

No complicated double-meanings behind every word, no awkward silences where they’d be expected to find something to chat about (what are you supposed to talk about, the weather? Politics?), no general discomfort… 

If there was, in fact, some type of Heaven, isolation would be just fine with him. And this party would be his Hell.

Actually, scratch that, this is Hell. Especially since..

“Oh, hello, brother!”

Goddamn it.

“How are you doing tonight?” Dream asked cheerily. Nightmare felt his ‘brother’s’ positive aura burn him, and he inched away.

“How do you think I’m doing?” he asked coldly.

Dream faltered. “…Healthy and happy?” he tried weakly.

“Wrong. I’m currently being stabbed repeatedly by positivity, and everything is horrible and I’m considering running directly at Reaper to test whether or not he can kill us.”

“…Ah. Well… um. It’s only the 4th, the positivity’s not that bad, yet, is it..? You’ve— you’ve always been dramatic, haven’t you?”

“This is no exaggeration, Dream, I’m in unimaginable pain.”

“Whenever you say that, you always admit later that you are being dramatic,” Dream muttered.

“..Fine, then, but it doesn’t feel like an exaggeration, is that better, brother?” Nightmare snapped.

“Um… sure…”

“And you know full-well that Reaper is going to come talk to us.”

Dream bit back a groan. “Well… he means no ill-will…”

“And he’ll treat us like problematic, hormonal teenagers. As he always does.”

“…Okay, well, I’m not looking forward to that,” Dream admitted.

“Neither am I,” Nightmare said irritably. “…Maybe we can leave the party, avoid him altogether,” he suggested.

“I don’t think Ink would like that… Reaper would be disappointed…”

“That’s the whole point.”

“No,” Dream decided firmly. “We should stay.”

“Give me one reason to,” Nightmare said.

“Well… I… Ccino is serving coffee,” Dream remembered, perking up. “For free.”

“…Fine.”

“I’m beginning to think you have an addiction,” Dream sighed.

”Perhaps,” Nightmare admitted. “But there’s no possible way to deal with my idiots— or deal with this disgusting holiday— without it.”

“…I suppose that’s fair.”

Chapter Text

Actually, why did Error agree to this? Why did he agree to have… a million-ish people in his AntiVoid? Or.. however many people there were. He wasn’t good with numbers, so he estimated… 10 to a million. Pretty accurate guess.

He was really beginning to regret this.

And why? Why did he go, look at Ink’s stupid plan, his stupid face, and go ‘yeah, okay, I’ll invite a bajillion people into my private void!’ Because he wanted 3 months of isolation? 

Now that he was here, in the Antivoid with who-the-fuck-knows-how-many-people, bordering on a crash and catching himself fantasizing about the best way to murder everyone at once, he wanted to die.

…Not that he could. And he didn’t wanna die, actually, but HE FELT PRETTY DAMN CLOSE. One more touch, one more obnoxiously loud shout, one more replay of that goddamn Mariah Carey song, and he’d kick everyone out. And that was why he was sitting a hand-made swing, made from his strings (one could call it a string-swing), high above the whole party and avoiding all forms of social interactions.

Man, if he just left the AntiVoid, everyone would be kicked out… that would be so much nicer…

Have a happy fuckin’ Christmas floating in the nothingness, you blue-faced bi— 

“error.. something’s happening?” 

Horror. 

A bit hard to hear him from all the way up here (god, he was so quiet, speak the fuck up—), but still audible.

Error calmly added a few more colorful, R-rated variations to his mental list of insults. “W-w-Whaaat-t-t?” he finally groaned, sending down a string to attach to Horror’s soul.

A few seconds later, the skeleton was dragged up to his level, hovering in place like he was just possessed. ..Or rather, yoinked by the soul.

“well… someone must’ve…” Horror paused, unsure how to describe it. “… pretty sure the eggnogg’s.. spiked.”

“..U-u-u-uhh-h-hhhhhh…” Error bluescreened— not literally. Mentally, though, mind BLANK. “W-WWWWHA-A-A-TT-T-T?” he hissed.

“yyyeah. ‘s… not really good.” Horror glanced behind him awkwardly. “outer’s out of it, heh. …not actually funny. he’s, uh… actually insane.. right now.”

Error glanced down below him, squinting as he tried to make out the starry blue-ness of Outer. Nope, too many people—
Holy shit, I hear it, though.

“…D-d-dd-damnnnnn-nnn, he-e-ee-e’s lou—u—u—ud.”

“yeah..” Horror agreed. “‘s like… really happy. but in a freaky way.”

“F-f-f-freakkkky-y a-a-as-s i-iiin-n c-craz-zy-yy, o-o-orr frreaky-y-y a-a-as in-n-n s-s-sexua-a-al-l?”

“just crazy.”

“G-g-goo-o-od-d-d. N-n-not-ttt m-m-m-m-m-mmy p-p-problee-em-m-m.”

“fine,” Horror said with a small shrug. “was kinda just hoping… i could stay up here. escape the chaos.”

“G-g-got-t-tcha-a-a.”

Error nearly reached for his eyesockets out of habit, before changing his mind and violently tugging down some older tangles of string, shaking away the souls that decorated the loose ends. He never played with those souls, anyway, Killer or Dust could have those. He grabbed at the string that held Horror’s soul, and bent it over in a way so that Horror would be floated along with it.

Error released his soul, and Horror had a perch of his own, perfect to watch whatever happened next.

“I-I-I b-b-bbet-tt-t t-t-two-o-o b-b-bucks t-that-t-t I-i-Inkk-k-k t-t-throws-s- u-upp o-o-on-n R-r-Red-d-d.”

“..deal.”

———

A well-known fact— wait, no, it wasn’t well known. A little-known… no, actually. A sort-of-known-but-also-kinda-obscure fact around the multiverse was that Killer and Lust were friends.

Their favorite pattimes? Talking shit. Love advice. Joke-flirting. Talking more shit. A LOT of shit-talking.

“Oh. My. God, that’s so fucking dumb,” Lust said, slicing a hand horizontally through the air, like he was trying to cut atoms in half. 

“I know, right?” Killer giggled mischievously. “An’ I gotta better one… you know Cross?”

“You mean the guy you’ve told me about a hundred times?” Lust teased, laughing as Killer went absolutely red in the face. “Yeah. You’ve mentioned him, oh, let me think… maybe once, for a minute? Or two? Over a few text conversations? All year?”

“SHSHSHSHSH,” Killer shushed him urgently. “Okay, okay okay but oh god what if he hears, shut up shut up shut up—”

“Babe,” Lust interrupted dryly. “He’s on the other side of the fuckin’ void. I saw him with Epic, laughing their heads off over a rubber chicken.”

Oh, my god, that sounds so cute… 

”He’s not gonna hear it from here. But, anyways, you were saying? That sounded like you were about to say something reeeaaalllll interesting…”

“So, I was talking with Cross— I mean, you know it’s Cross, kinda stupid to say that— but anyways— I was talking with him, right?” Killer rambled. “And we were in this AU, Farmtale, you know it? Right?”

“Yeah..?”

“And we go over to the house, say hi to Farm and Crops, and then we hear this, like, dramatic moo from one of the cows,” Killer continued. “Like— damn, bitch, get your cow to a doctor, because that cow sounded like she was being tortured.”

Lust snorted. “What, like— a full-on scream?”

“Basically, yeah!”

“Tell me more,” Lust insisted. “What was the cow’s name, because if she’s not named Queenie, or Drama, or- or- or Harley Quinn, I’m suing Farm.”

“Holy crap, Harley Quinn would be a great cow name, though. Better than Bessie.”

“Okay but why is Bessie such a cow-like name, though?” Lust mused.

“Dunno,” Killer said with a shrug. “But we never found out the cow’s name, ‘cause Criss-Cross just fuckin’ bolted. Just- tearing away.”

“I… why?”

“Bovinophobia,” Killer said grandly. “…He’s scared of cows.”

“Ho-ly. Shit.” 

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“YEAH.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Lust said skeptically. “Cows? Really?”

“YEAH,” Killer insisted. “Cows! Oh- also- where’s the snack table? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn I saw someone with what looked like the best, fanciest, greatest chocolate ever made.”

Lust shrugged. “Over by the bar. Ccino’s really not happy about how we gotta share it, though..”

“Hm?” Killer tilted his head slightly.

“I’m working at the bar,” Lust reminded him. “Ccino’s doing the coffee. I’m starting to think he, like.. hates me.”

Killer scoffed. “The only thing Ccino hates is dogs and Mariah Carey. He doesn’t have a hateful bone in his tiny, cat-fur-contaminated body.”

“Okay, well, yeah, but he’s kind of a prude,” Lust said. “I mean- don’t get me wrong, the guy’s great! …Or maybe it’s just ‘cause he has to deal with the crazy drunks right now while I hang out with you. I’d be pissed too, to be fair.”

“I- the what. On the card, didn’t it say that alcohol would be limited and stuff…? Like.. yknow. Not getting drunk?”

“Honestly, yeah, Error really hammered it in that I didn’t give anybody too much,” Lust said. “But, uh… I think something’s spiked.”

“…” Killer paused.

“Wait, did you do it?” Lust asked.

“No!” the murderer protested, throwing his hands up. “I mean- I wish I did, but no!”

“Do you know who did?” Lust pressed. “Because that is a very guilty look in your eye.”

..Do I look guilty? Killer wondered. Damn, my face hates me, then. 

“No, I don’t know who did it,” Killer defended. “…Okay, I did something, but not that.”

“…Killer. Sweetie.”

“Yyyyeaahhh…?”

“What did you do.”

“…”

“…”

“…You’ll find out in—” Killer glanced over at his phone, squinting slightly at the large text. “—2 hours and 31 minutes.”

“KILLER.”

“Whaaaaat?” the guilty one whined. “It’s nothing dangerous!”

Lust gave Killer a cold stare. “Honey, your definition of ‘nothing dangerous’ is VERY different from mine.”

“I promise! If it was something horrible, Core would’ve popped up and scolded me already.”

“Fair,” Lust hummed considerately, before narrowing his eyes furiously. “But if it involves any explosives or- or knives or whatever—”

“No knifes!”

“Good, then. Can’t wait to see what happens~”

Chapter Text

Ccino hated alcohol. The smell of it, the way it blurred his mind and made everyone look like a fever-dream, the way other people acted— everything.

He and Lust were the people manning the drinks. Ccino stuck to what he was good at— coffee, tea, cocoa, stuff like that. Lust was handling the beer, the wine, the vodka and whiskey.

Lust was.. fine. Ccino could get along with him, he considered Lust a friend… when he wasn’t talking trash about everyone and trying to weasel out gossip. 

Just because Ccino knew a lot of rumors did not mean he was going to share it with the intoxicator. Was that mean? …Maybe a little bit, actually.

But he couldn’t help but grumble when Lust left him alone to deal with everyone. Yes, even the drunkards.

“..’n I just.. uh… I dunno,” Geno mumbled, slumping over on the table. “‘S just so.. weird, Imean… yknow.. other me’s. Other Paps. I miss ‘im… wanna see him again… the real him…” he sniffled, before dropping his head down, and Cccino didn’t know if he was passed out, dead, or just really stupid. “Missim.. so much..”

“Um.. yeah,” Ccino muttered, turning away in discomfort. He felt sick with Geno’s sadness. “That’s.. that’s called grief. Depression. It’ll take some time, but eventually, all pain fades—”
He broke off, realizing that yeah, that wasn’t the best line to use with someone who’s half-dead.

“I- I mean— eventually, you’ll feel better.. there, there..” 

Stars, I don’t know how to deal with drunk people…

“Hhhhhh…” Geno answered intelligently.

“Um.. yeah. What you said,” Ccino tried. When can I leave? When will Lust come back? 

“Y’know,” Geno began drunkenly, “I used to… be, uh.. scared, yknow.. ofReaperrr.”

“Uh. Sure.”

“Whijisjust… soooo dumb. Sooooooooo realllyyyyyy dumb,” he slurred. “Like… hecan’ ki’me.. ‘e’s just some.. some guy. I coufighhim.” 

“Uh-huh.” Ccino wasn’t sure if he even understood Geno at this point. Fighting… Reaper? 

“Hey~!” a voice called out. Lust’s voice.

OH THANK FUCK.

“Hey, so, uh— sorry ‘bout leavin’ you back there,” Lust said, nudging Ccino’s arm affectionately. “Just saw an old pal, so, yknow, had to catch up. Well! Back to business, then?”

“Er- yeah,” Ccino agreed. “You can take Geno.”

“In what way~?” Lust purred.

Ccino stared, unimpressed. “You know I mean to just go talk to him,” he said flatly. “Not like that.”

“Aw, no need to be so annoyed,” Lust teased. “Oh- by the way- I got something good to tell you… so I was talking with Killer, and he told me something about Cross..”

“I already know,” Ccino said briskly, “we should get back to work.”

“…Fine.”

Chapter Text

Sci was the one in charge of the music.

Why, exactly? He didn’t know. Ink had just handed him the speakers, grabbed his phone, and connected it to said speakers. “You probably know a lotta cool songs!” he’d chirped. “Like, uh… My Chemical Romance?” he tried.

Yeah, no, emo music was Dust’s forte. Sci knew one song, Teenagers, and he only liked it because as a 19 year old, a TEENager, it made him feel like he was about to take over the world. 

And thus, his ambition was formed.. IN THEORY OF COURSE.

He wasn’t ACTUALLY going to take over the world… probably.

So, to spite everyone at the party, Sci decided to play anything but Christmas songs. The speakers had only played Mariah Carey 5 times before Sci disemboweled fixed it, and now he had full control. Just like he was going to have control of the multiverse someday…

As ‘This is Halloween’ faded out, Sci smirked as he heard an anguished groan from Epic. Oh, yeah, it was all coming together. Screw with everyone as much as possible: check.

He’d often wondered who he was going to be— would he just end up as another Classic Sans?
Chances are, no, Classic didn’t like the scientist gig as much as Sci did. 

He had some similarities to Dust— they both liked rats (for very different reasons), they both were mentally ill, and they both liked the color green. But that was about it.

But with these latest shenanigans, maybe he was destined to become the next Killer. Annoying people was surprisingly fun.

He glanced down at his phone, trying to think of a better song to play. A nearby crash distracted him, and he bolted up, startled.

Reaper, trying to back away from a severely drunk Outer, clearly on the brink of panic in this crowded place. The crash was from a garbage can that had been knocked over by the death god’s wings.

“Hey, uh- listen, mate, y’might not wanna get too close— really not a good idea, yknow…”

Outer scoffed. “Pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s fine!” he insisted, playfully trying to swat Reaper’s arm, but not before the god jerked away. “Y’can’t die here!”

“You’re thinkin‘ of the void, buddy,” Reaper corrected, paranoid. He tucked his wings in as close as he could, glancing around to see if there was a less-crowded place. “This is the Anti-Void. You can still die. And bein’ killed by me isn’t your fate.”

“…Oh,” Outer said. “Ihmean… if iz m’fate… then ‘kay then. Y’know— Papz an’ I… we- we, uh…” he trailed off.

Watching from a safe distance, Sci scoffed. I’m never gonna try alcohol. I don’t wanna be an idiot, thanks.

“Yknow,” Outer continued, starting to lean against the wall, “w’used to, like… we didn’t have snowball figh’s, so we jus’… co- compare… not.. compre… co— …balled up a lotta magicckk an’ whooooopppp, throw it a’ someo’e…”

“Yeah, okay,” Reaper said. “Cool, cool… please don’t be so close to me.”

Damn, Sci thought, unimpressed. Whoever spiked the eggnog again, it’s stronger than last time. …Oh, wait, that was an Underswap Sans.

“An’ we’d chuck it at whoever,” Outer continued drunkenly, somehow getting a Russian accent, “an’ there’d be a lotta damage done, ‘cause we’re usin’ magic… an’ there was always a lotta… a lotta noise,” he added. “Like, screaming, an’ stuff.”

Oh, yeah, Outer’s Russian, Sci remembered. Huh.

Oh, I have a horrible idea.

———

“I- I don’t know what to do,” Killer stressed to Blue. “I just- am I sure I should do this?”

Blue hesitated, absently patting his pocket to be sure that the little rubber duck was still there. Good, I Didn’t Lose It… 

“Um- Blue?” Killer asked.

“Huh— OH, UM.” Blue thought for a moment. “WELL— WELL, IF YOU FEEL LIKE IT’S THE RIGHT TIME TO DO IT… THEN YOU SHOULD! …MAYBE PRACTICE WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO SAY FIRST. JUST IN CASE. YOU DON’T WANT IT TO COME OUT WRONG, MWEHEH..”

Killer nodded, glancing at the ground. “Uh- yeah, yeah… makes sense. But, uh. What should I do if..” he trailed off. “If.. y’know? He doesn’t..”

“UMMMM. I DON’T KNOW,” Blue admitted. “DON’T CRY?”

Killer gestured, deadpan, to his leaking eyesockets. “I’ll try not to.”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!” Blue huffed. “…WELL. I HOPE THAT’S GOOD ADVICE, I DON’T KNOW, I’VE ONLY EVER WATCHED ROMANCE MOVIES BUT I FEEL LIKE THIS MAKES SENSE FOR THE SITUATION, RIGHT?”

“Yeah, seems pretty good,” Killer laughed nervously. “Oh god I wanna throw up.”

“OH, THERE’S A TRASH CAN NEARBY, I CAN—”

“No, no, not literally,” Killer protested. “Just ‘I’m so nervous’, not actually si-what the fuck is that.”

“MWEH?”

“The fuckin’ RUSSIAN QUEEN?” Killer gaped.

“OH, I LOVE THAT SONG!” Blue chirped.

“…Oh god. Uh. Outer’s singing it. In Russian. When did he know Russian?”

“..OH. UM.. MY STARS. THAT’S.. THAT’S BAD.”

“I hate this fuckin’ party.”

“SO DO I.”

Chapter Text

The mic screeched as Ink climbed onto the stage. …Or rather, the wooden box that was supposed to be a stage. They didn’t actually have a stage, because money, it’d take too long to build, Error refused to have that in his Anti-Void… a lotta reasons. But anyways-

“Ahem!” Ink cleared his throat importantly. “So! Happy Christmas!” he chirruped. “And, uh… what else was there? Hanukkah… Kwanzaa… uhhh that’s all I can remember.”

“Bodhi Day,” Dream volunteered. “Las Posadas, Diwali, Yalda, and… well, every culture’s version of New Year. I.. I don’t think it’s exactly similar to Christmas, but it’s still in December. That, um.. that counts, right?”

“Check the calendar,” Nightmare muttered. “If it’s December, then it counts, Dream, that’s the whole point.”

Ink paused. “Uhh… that. What Dream said. Yes. Happy all-of-that!” he cheered.

Nobody really cheered back. A few ‘whoo!’s, some unenthusiastic ‘yay’s, but no smattering applause, except for Outer’s cheer. Does that even count? He’s drunk, so… no.

Boring…

“So, uh..” Ink paused again. “Remember last time?” he asked.

A few groans came up out the crowd. 

“DON’T FUCKIN’ REMIND US,” Red barked loudly from the back. “I’D RATHER BE PUT OUT O’ MY MISERY THAN DEAL WITH LAST TIME!”

“i’m still waiting to see if i’m gonna die,” Classic added shakily, eyelights blinking out. 

“イエスキリスト、一体何が起こったのですか？” Red asked, looking mildly weirded-out.

“…what.”

“ALSO, I THINK THERE’S AN ISSUE,” Papyrus spoke up. “UM. LAST TIME. ABOUT THAT… THE EGGNOG? DID WE EVER FIGURE OUT WHO DID IT? BECAUSE I THINK THAT SHOULD BE A VERY IMPORTANT THING TO DISCUSS. REALLY REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT.”

“Well..” Ink hummed. “…No,” he finally admitted. “I don’t know who did it.”

“It was Blue,” Sci called from the corner of the void. 

And all eyes turned to the little blue guard.

Blue stared, confused. “…MWEH?”

“yeah, don’t be so surprised,” Classic pointed out. “you literally told me. hardcore whiskey, remember?”

Blue paused, thinking. “NO? ARE WE SURE YOU’RE THINKING OF AN ALTERNATE ME? I MEAN.. UNDERSWAP HAS— I MEAN IT… It Had… A Lot Of Timelines. Before… Everything. It Was Pretty Diverse.”

“True,” Edge mused. “Your Little Goody-Two-Shoes World Had A Lot Of Idiotic Marshmallows Such As Yourself. Could Have Been Any Version Of You.”

“Alright then,” Red interrupted suddenly. “I was there. …Well, we both were, duh, but I spent some time fuckin’ around with you idiots. An alternate you, huh?”

“I’D REMEMBER IF I WENT TO A CHRISTMAS PARTY WHERE ‘Everything Went To Shit’,” Blue said, using air-quotes. “AND I DON’T REMEMBER.”

“Or you’re lyin’,” Red accused.

“I Would NOT!” Blue gasped.

“Oh, yeah, you would.”

“NO!”

“You spiked the friggin’ eggnog, don’t lie,” Red growled, baring sharp teeth.

Blue stared, confused. “WHY WOULD I DO THAT? WHAT IF SOMEONE WAS ALLERGIC?”

“yeah, i don’t think he did it,” Classic spoke up. “he-”

“SHUTUPYOULAZYBITCHI’MTRYINGTOMAKEADRAMATICEXPORESURE,” Red hissed.

“..k. but i mean, just look at ‘im. different eyelights, for one.”

“Well, yeah, but- who the hell cares about eyelights?” the edgy skeleton barked. “Eyelights can be changed!”

“OOOOKAY,” Ink suddenly interrupted, realizing that he should probably not just watch. “Well! Great show, everyone!” he clapped, trailing off when nobody but Outer joined in. He couldn’t sworn he heard a sob from Geno, but maybe that was just the voices!

“But, uh- back to my original point!” he tried. 

“Wow, Ink actually sticking to his train of thought for once?” Killer called out with a dramatic gasp. “A miracle!”

“…Shut up,” Ink pouted. “But anyways! Uhhh… right! The, uh- the- the thing!”

Silence.

“I mean, like— sweaters! Ugly christmas sweaters for everyone!” Ink announced. “Made ‘em myself! So when I call your name, c’mon up! …Well, some people got ‘em already, right? Yeah?”

More silence.

…That was quickly interrupted by a loud, agonized scream of a rubber chicken. It suddenly shut off, and there was a few squeaks, like it had been thrown to the floor and was being curb-stomped by people wearing heavy boots.

“Sorry, bruh!” Epic called. 

“Holy crap I didn’t think it would be that loud, sorry, sorry, we were just messing around and I twisted the stupid neck wrong and it just screamed and I feel really bad now and I’m really sorry—”

“Cross, bruh, chill.”

“..Fine. Fine. I can— fine. Sure. Okay. Yeah. Um. …Yeah.”

“Daaammmnnn, I thought your moral code was to not kill people!” Killer teased. “Yet here you are!”

Cross silently put the fluffy hood of his coat over his head and sank down. Epic laughed.

“UHhhANYWAYS!” Ink said yet again. “Who wants an ugly Christmas sweater?” he cheered.

One wobbly hand raised, belonging to the clearly-intoxicated Outer.

“…Great… great,” Ink said. “That’s uh… nice…” 

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

…NAHHHH it definitely was~!

Chapter Text

“Okay but what the actual hell am I doing,” Killer stressed.

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Dust said. “This whole thing’s your idea. I’m just the wingman. A terrible decision, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know,” Killer snapped. “But you’ll see it from an outside perspective, so I thought ‘yeah, seems smart.’”

“I’m aroace. I have a grand total of 5 friends, and most of the time, we just try to stab each other. I don’t even like romance. I’m like the worst person to talk to about love. Or… any type of monster connection, period. If this were a video game, my EXP would be 2.”

“…Yeah, actually,” Killer admitted. “But HELP ME,” he begged. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Uhh… talk to him?” Dust said. “I mean… seems obvious.”

“Okay, well, uh. Um.” Killer glanced around nervously. Damn, the Anti-Void is fuckin’ bright, hate it. “There’s music playing.”

“No freakin’ duh, Sherlock,” Dust muttered. “How very observant of you.”

“Okay, jeez,” Killer hissed. “But consider: I ask Cross to dance.”

“…Okay, sure. Doesn’t seem bad.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

A few seconds of silence passed.

“…Y’know, you’re gonna have to actually talk to ‘im, Kills.”

“Grrreeeaaattt… wish me luck.”

“No.”

“HHhhhheeeeeyyyyyy, Criss-Cross…” Killer said, sliding up to the ex-guard. “So, uh…”

Cross blinked at him, unsure what to think. Oh, god, is he gonna annoy me again? What’s he gonna do? …Will it be hot? WAIT NO WHAT EVEN WAS THAT THOUGHT, HE’S MY CO-WORKER GROSS ARFGHGFIEFJKVNWEKF. WHY IS HE STILL SO CUTE.

“So…” Killer trailed off awkwardly. “…y’like this song?” he tried lamely.

Cross paused to focus on the music. Oh, shit, I love Jingle Bells Rock. “Well… it’s- it’s fine,” he said. WHY AM I SAYING THAT.

“Cool, cool,” Killer said with a few small nods. “I like it too. Jingle Bells is kinda overrated, so this is better.”

“Um.. yeah,” Cross agreed quietly.

“Sooooo… ya wanna dance?” Killer asked with a mischievous grin.

And Cross’s brain broke. 

Dance? Did I hear that right? I think I heard it wrong. I must’ve heard it wrong. Was I hallucinating? Did he ask if I wanted to dance? Dance, or dance WITH HIM? Oh god I can’t dance. More of a foot-to-foot bounce. Would he be mad if I said no? Is this a joke? It has to be a joke, Killer’s never serious. Wait, no, he has to be serious sometimes. But right now? No way. Right? Right? Right? RIGH—

“UhhhhhIcan’thearyou,” Cross blurted. WHY DID I SAY THAT, I CAN HEAR HIM JUST FINE???

“Wh- oh. Uh. Okay,” Killer shrugged, before darting away, as though he’d seen something shiny.

Cross stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. …Okay that was a joke. Kinda just.. skipping away cutely. NOT cutely. Nobody does that after asking someone seriously to dance. Probably a prank. Or a dare. Okay, uh. Glad I avoided being embarrassed. 

…What if I said yes?

“HOLY SHIT,” Killer wheezed. “HOLY SHIT.”

“You asked ‘im?” Dust pressed.

“YeahIdidanditwasreallyfuckin’weirdandterrifyingwhatthefuckhelp.”

“What’d he say?”

“…”

“…No?”

“I don’t know,” Killer admitted. “He said he didn’t hear me.”

“Damn.”

“This isn’t a ‘damn’ situation, Dust—”

“The fuck else am I supposed to say?” Dust argued. “I don’t know!”

“THINK.”

“Okay but did you ask him again?”

“Fuck no! That would be worse?”

“How, exactly?” Dust asked dryly.

“I…” Killer paused. “It… just is?” he tried. “I dunno, it’s just one of those things!”

“You’re a bloody idiot.”

“Don’t make me feel worse.”

“Goddamn, this is painful. Ask Lust. Not me.”

“Too late,” Killer groaned.

“Well, why not ask him?”

“…C’mon,” Killer said flatly. “You know why. He runs a goddam gossip podcast. He’s started so many internet wars, I’m scared to add my 2 cents. He’ll tell everyone if I ask him for advice. It’s risky enough just letting him know at all. I mean- I love him, platonically, but you know him.”

“True,” Dust admitted. “He’s like that Indian lady from The Office. …But a guy. And Canadian. ..And also a prostitu—”

“I get it,” Killer interrupted. “..Sorry. But I get it. So anyways. The question is… what would Romeo or Juliet do?”

Dust stared. “…Seems a bit too far. Don’t they die?”

“Everyone dies, Dust. And the whole point is that it was true love.”

“Is it true love if they die miserably without enjoying an ounce of happiness?”

“…”

“…Fine, fine, yeah, you’re destined for true love, blah, blah, blah, pretend I’m saying all the right things.”

Killer nodded absently. “So… any other brilliant ideas?”

“Nope.”

“…I’m screwed.”

“You sure are.”

Chapter Text

It’s not that Blue didn’t like the party. Ink and Dream had put a lot of effort into this! Really, he liked it… but he couldn’t focus on appreciating the decor or snacks right now. All he could think of was what was missing.

It had been a year. A year since Blue had last been able to say ‘hello’ to his brother. A year since Blue had been able to spar with Alphys, or pretend to have a tea party with Chara.

A year since his world had been destroyed.

According to Google, a year was enough time to get over grief. And Blue fully accepted that he’d never see them again.

And yet.

He still wanted them here. Ink, Dream, Error, Core… they were all nice friends. He loved them as he loved everyone back home. But it’s not the same. He wanted his brother. He wanted to see them for just another moment.

He didn’t know why the grief was suddenly slamming back into him as it had on that day. Maybe it was because December was supposed to be a time to spend with family. Maybe it was just a bad day. He didn’t know.

But he just didn’t want to give presents, drink eggnog, make cookies, any of that right now. He just couldn’t do that.

Blue hesitated, before taking out his phone and clicking the number. Error didn’t pick up, leaving him on voicemail. …Although, Error always did that. His voice was incomprehensible over the phone— completely garbled, it sounded more like dial-up than a voice— so he made a point of never answering. 

’Leave your message after the beep.’

Beeeeep.

“…Error?” he asked quietly— or as quietly as he was capable of. “Um. So… I Don’t See You. But Well, You Obviously Must Be Here, Or Else Nobody Would Be In Your Anti-Void, Mweh-Heh… But… Is- Is It Okay If You Can Make A Portal For Me To Leave? I… I Don’t Want To Be Here Right Now. Um. That’s It, Really. Hope You’re Having A… A Magnificent Time, Mweheh! Uh… Bye…”

A few seconds passed. Blue found himself counting the moments under his breath. 
One-Mississippi. Two-Mississippi. Three-Mississippi. Four…

A flickery, pixelated portal opened up in front of Blue, revealing a darker gradient of gray and black, with criss-crossing blue strings. 

…That’s Still The AntiVoid, Error, Blue thought, annoyed. But he stepped through, carefully watching his footing as he navigated the thin, vivid blue lines.

He found a small section of string where they crossed over each other in a way that was almost hammock-like, and settled himself cautiously.

Blue glanced down— and immediately regretted it because Holy Crap, I’m A Million Feet Above The Party.

…If I Fell And Died, My Dust Would Be Scattered Everywhere.

And Then I Could See Paps Again.

He shook off the thought, horrified. NOPE. BAD THOUGHT. He missed him, but he had a lot of life left to live, thank you. 

It’ll be lonely.

“blue..?”

He glanced up, mildly startled. Horror. 

“O- OH, UM, HELLO! HI, HORROR! What, Uhh… What Are You Doing Here?”

Horror shrugged. “wanted to leave the.. party. ‘s pretty chaotic. …and loud… and ink’s bein’ stupid.. again.”

“..Ink’s Not Stupid,” Blue tried to defend. “He’s…” he paused, trying to think of something. “…He Thinks Differently.”

“so i’ve noticed… you okay?”

The question surprised him. “I- Well— WELL, OF COURSE? WHY WOULDN’T I BE?”

“‘cause you look like you’re.. gonna cry and i.. don’t know what to do.. for that.”

Blue paused, before rubbing at his eyes irritatedly. “I CAN PROMISE YOU, THERE’S NO REASON WHATSOEVER FOR ME TO START CRYING!” It Happened A Year Ago, I’ve Moved On, Why Does It Still Hurt, Why Do I Still Feel So Bad—

“…you say as you’re crying,” Horror observed.

“ARGHHH. I’M NOT CRYING! I JUST HAVE SOMETHING IN MY EYE!”

“what, then..?”

“…”

“…”

“…Tears,” Blue admitted quietly, with a weak laugh. He swung his foot out, feeling as the ‘hammock’ under him swayed gently. “I… I Miss My Brother… And Alphys.. And Chara..”

Horror paused, trying to remember something. “the… the parasite thing..?” he tried. Blue gave a small nod.

“oh… oh jeez,” he sighed. “that. i… i understand… my— my timeline got destroyed.. too.”

“Really…?”

“yeah… it… it wasn’t pretty. happened slower. so they were jus’ really.. suffering for a while.” Horror trailed off for a few seconds. “…i miss my brother too… he’s a lot like you.”

Blue gave a small huff. “That’s The Whole Point Of Me. I Act Like A Papyrus.”

“still unique,” Horror added. “something about the way… you two speak, or move. just… really quickly… always bouncing your leg… glancing around… you both like ducks.”

“Mweh?”

“the thing… in your pocket.”

Blue glanced down at himself automatically, even though he knew what Horror meant. The little rubber duck. The paint, chipped and cracked from a year’s neglect. He didn’t know why he took it with him— he just wanted to.

“OH… THAT,” Blue said, unsure what to say. 

“smart,” Horror offered unexpectedly. “bringing entertainment… ‘s kinda boring, so… bringing a toy’s useful… something to do.”

“OH, I- I DIDN’T THINK OF THAT,” Blue admitted. “IT’S MORE OF A…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. “…I WAS SUPPOSED TO PAINT IT,” he said instead. “I- I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO DO IT. BEFORE THE PARTY. SO… I JUST BROUGHT IT HERE.”

“hm,” Horror hummed. “‘kay… paint it? why..?”

Blue hesitated again. Jeez, he was doing a lot of that lately. “IT’S… IT- IT WAS, REALLY, A TRADITION. ..HARD TO EXPLAIN.”

“oh,” Horror said. “one of those weirder.. things?”

“UM… YEAH, BASICALLY.”

Horror nodded. “‘s cool… my bro an’ i never… had any traditions.” (that i remember, he added silently against his will.) “about the one who did.. that to our worlds?”

“YES?”

“fuck him.”

Blue was startled into a quiet-ish laugh. “Ha Ha- I- Yeah. Screw It. I’m Glad Dream Killed It.”

“core’s lookin’ into… other parasites,” Horror added. “just in case.”

“H- HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?”

“core told dream, dream told.. ccino, ccino told lust… lust told killer.”

“…SO THAT’S WHAT A GOSSIP TRAIN IS.”

Horror shrugged. “..an’ killer told error,” he finished. “tryin’ to see if… there are any others.. hiding.”

Blue shivered. He remembered the way it had stared right into his eyes, like it was trying to reach in and grab his Soul. He remembered seeing the small, tentacled body crawl out of its host’s eye socket.

That host had been a child. A child from a younger Underswap timeline. Disguised as a younger him, it had managed to hide among the others with only a fabric eyepatch. That alone had been enough to blend in for months as it ate away at whatever worlds it could find.

“—ue? blue…?”

“MWEH?”

“you.. okay?”

“Yes, Of Course! ABSOLUTELY MAGNIFICENT, MWEH-HEH! WHY WOULDN’T I BE?”

“…blue,” Horror repeated. 

“I— I-IT’S FINE! I AM JUST FINE!”

Horror stared at him, unimpressed. “no, you’re not.”

“W-Well— You’re Not Either!” Blue shot back childishly, before clapping a gloved hand over his mouth. WHAT DID I EVEN JUST SAY?!

To his surprise, Horror simply shrugged. “true… but who is?”

“Most People, I’m Pretty Sure?”

“mm…” Horror pointed at Blue. “clearly not okay.”

He gestured down at Epic and Cross, who were— probably?— having a heated debate over something, but Blue couldn’t hear it from up here. “mentally ill… traumatized. …both of ‘em.”
Over to Ccino now. “depressed.”
Nightmare. “dunno what… but clearly not okay.”
Sci. “pretty sure he’s planning… to take over the world. dunno. but he has issues.”

“…How Do You Know All This,” Blue asked, glancing over in concern and mild fear.

“not saying.”

“PLEASE Tell Me.”

“nope.”

“I’M ACTUALLY BEGGING, TELL ME.”

“mmm… nah.”

Blue sighed in defeat, slumping over. “…I Want To Leave The Party.”

Horror nodded. “i’ll see if error will… make a portal out… find someplace else. alone. quiet.”

“Yeah… That Sounds Better Than Here.”

Chapter Text

Error decided to join the party for 2 seconds. And only because he wanted food and saw Snickers bars. Also, Outer was drunk, he was vaguely sure Geno was drunk as well(?), and he wanted to see that in person.

But he’d only been down from the “rafters” (well, the canopy of strings, but he liked to call it that) for 2 seconds.

Apparently, 2 seconds was all it took for literal hell to slide over to greet him with a stupid grin.

Which is to say, Fresh. Fresh slid over to greet him with a stupid grin.

“Heyyyyyy brotato-chip!”

Error stiffened, trying to focus intensely on the bowl of Snickers so he didn’t have to look at the menace. He felt static, pins and needles. Don’t crash, don’t glitch— oh, great, is my foot asleep or am I just glitching too much— keep yourself together— hey, is there an AU where everyone’s a ragdoll, because I bet craft stores would be like hospitals—, don’t punch him… 

“Whatcha up to, hah?” In his peripheral, Error saw Fresh pointing finger guns at him. Stupid.

Alright, rules for dealing with Fresh:

1. Keep yourself together.
2. Glitch as little as possible.
3. Don’t respond. DO NOT ENGAGE, I REPEAT, DO NOT ENGAGE.
4. Pretend he doesn’t exist.
5. Don’t swear, or he’ll give you a lecture on drugs and ‘tsk-tsk’ at you and that’ll make him stay longer. Nobody wants that.

Error ran through the list in his head, as though repeating the words would burn them into his mind and he’d follow through. Don’t say anything back, don’t say anything back, don’t say anything back…

“Yo, bro,” Fresh continued, “so there’s this, like, sick new AU, like all made up of chocolate and stuff.

“W-w-wai-i-it-t-t, w-w-what-t-t?” Error asked, glancing up to be visually assaulted by whatever neon hellscape chasm Fresh crawled out of.

GODDAMN IT, ME. …Wait, even the people? Could someone EAT them? …Would that be murder or cannibalism? Both. It’d be both.

“Yeah, it’s like sick,” Fresh repeated. “It’s all up and hyped, broski. Which, I mean.. don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome! But what da heckity heck is up wit’ em? Like… all vibrate-y ‘n stuff, yo. Think they’re doin’ coke,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

‘And here we go again…’ one of the voices sighed. ‘That’s just a sugar-rush, probably.’ Error narrowed his eyes, annoyed. “…Y-y-y-yeah-h-h, funk o-o-offff-f-f,” he spat.

Fresh frowned, pushing up his sunglasses. ‘R-U-D-E.’ “Hey, broski, swearin’s really not a cool-guy thing to do… that wasn’t very cash-money of you.”

Error let out a groan— goddamn it, EVERTHING is ruined by him— before glitching away, finding himself next to an unfortunate mistake of nature. He didn’t specify where he wanted to go. He just thought of getting away. And so, Fate had brought him next to the third most annoying person ever.

Goddamn it, another annoyance. What is this, an infestation?

“Oh, hello, Error,” Dream greeted him serenely. “The party’s very nice, isn’t it? Did you want anything from me?”

“N-n-no-o,” Error muttered, edging away. “I-I-I w-w-was-s-s j-j-just-ttt t-tryyyyingg-g-g t-to g-g-gett-t a-away-y f-f-from-m F-f-Fresh-h-h.”

“Oh… well, Fresh is nice,” Dream defended. “He may seem a little…” he trailed off, thinking back to his own experiences with the 90s-stuck skeleton.

—

“Yo yo yoooooo, dreamboat! My broskiiiii!” Dream had jumped back, startled, stiffening as Fresh slung an arm over his shoulder. “What’s good, gramps?”

“I-I— I beg your pardon?”

“Yo, so I was at this SICK karaoke place de other day,” Fresh said, ignoring him, “an’ you’re p’ good at singin’, so I was thinkin’ you could all up an’ SMASH da sound barrier!”

“Um…” Dream paused, trying to comprehend whatever the bright skeleton was saying. Singing… karaoke— what was that? ‘Smash the sound barrier’— what was- how do you- he’d better be making up words. Right? 

“Hahaa, listen, my sick medieval skele-bro, it’s riiiiigghhttt over in Dancetale, y’hear? Dat one timeline, the, uh— #76, right! Yknow it?” Fresh asked, taking away his arm. His sunglasses flashed bright cyan and yellow. ‘D-A-N-C-E!’ “Like, right in da middle. ‘S called da Broken Record. Pretty cool. Check it out sometime.”

“W-well- I- okay,” Dream squeaked. Sure, his schedule was busy with the whole ‘saving the multiverse’ thing, but he could find time later. “S-sure, I’ll find a day to go there..”

“Niiiceee,” Fresh said with a grin. “Hey, is Saturday good? ‘Cause I dunno if I wanna leave ya alone wit’ all dat stuff. You’re pretty good with tech… not!”

“…Sure,” Dream said with a strained smile. Yes, I get it, I’m bad at adapting, any other brilliant, jaw-dropping news?

“Kay, see ya Saturday! Gotta dip!” And the neon mess rolled away. …‘Dip?’ Dream wondered.

Dream had shrugged, dusted himself off, and went on his merry way. By a startling coincidence, Dancetale Timeline #76 was destroyed on that very same Saturday. Probably Error. But still… lucky that Dream wasn’t there when it collapsed. He would’ve been killed.

—

“…D-d-dDream-m-mm?” Error asked, annoyed. “H-h-hhe-e s-s-seems-s a-A-a l-l-littttle-e-e… w-w-whatt-t?”

“…Uh…” Dream paused. “Never mind.”

To be quite honest, Nightmare preferred to sit in a dark corner and do nothing, rather than get out in the open and talk to people.

Having been stupid enough to not bring a book, or his phone because technology was an enigma, he had nothing to do. On the bright side, it’s not like he’d ever had much to do anyway. Back before things.. happened, he was left alone for most of the day, so he’d find ways to make the hours pass quickly.

The only problem was that not even that would work.

Most of what child-Nightmare did in his free time was sit, read, stare at bugs, imagine himself saving the village from some great beast and becoming a famous hero, try to imagine what insanity felt like, and more sitting around. Very productive.

So obviously, when stuck at a party with nothing fun to do, he’d start talking to people, right?

You fool. You utterly idiotic fool. Wrong.

Nightmare had resorted to people-watching instead. Dangerously close to socializing, but so much easier than actually doing it. So he got to watch as Error was once again harassed by what’s-his-name. The neon one. He found it entertaining, though he couldn’t hear their exact words, so he didn’t interfere. …Also, he didn’t know what to do.

But he saw Error glitch out and disappear, and spent a few more seconds blissfully ignoring everyone else…

…until the thing popped up next to him in an absurdly colorful puff of smoke. “‘Eyyyy, Night, my man!”

Nightmare bit back an equally colorful insult. “…What.” The neon skeleton grinned, pointing finger guns at him.

“Whatcha all up ‘n doin’ here? Lurkin’ around like an angry shadow?” 

Nightmare decided to take offense to that. “Nothing of any concern to you. Are you here to kill me slowly and agonizingly, or can we make this as short as possible?” He paused. “Or better yet, not make it possible at all. By leaving. Right now. …Please.”

Fresh chuckled, shaking his head as though Nightmare were a mischievous child who would grow up to regret his words. “Ah, buddy… 110% p-i-s-s-e-d, hah? All that an’ a bag of chips, man. You really are all that.”

Perhaps he was missing something, he never was good at math anyway, but Nightmare was fairly certain 110% wasn’t even possible. To avoid saying that, he instead went with “The fact that you can spell is a basic achievement, and I’m not at all impressed.”

Fresh whistled. “…Hey, bud, y’know what?”

Nightmare stayed quiet, hoping that the nuisance would leave if he didn’t get an answer. That occasionally worked with bullies. …2% of the time.

Alas, this was not that 2%.

“I think I got a p’ good PSA for ya,” Fresh chattered on. “The dangers o’ social isolation an’ intoxication, man!”

Nightmare felt insulted, but also extremely fucking confused. …Intoxication— does he think I’m drinking? He stared at him in a mix of confusion, annoyance, and disgust while he searched for the thing’s aura to find out.

…Funny. There’s nothing there.. 

It was like if the furniture in one’s house had suddenly vanished. Something was supposed to be there. There were supposed to be things there. But it was just empty, hollow.

Nothing was there. …Is that what it’s like for mortals? Just… nothing? At all?

Nightmare blinked quickly, mildly startled, glancing up at the monster— was he even a monster?— with a sinking, churning feeling of anxiety. The thing’s smile didn’t flicker for an instant.

“I-I— w-what’s—?” Apparently, words were too much right now. Nightmare suddenly realized that he was cornered, and felt like he was being put in a hydraulic press. 

Fresh laughed, slinging an arm over Nightmare’s shoulders because according to him, personal space was an illusion.

“Fun fact,” the thing said casually, “social isolation can lead to a lotta problems, broski.” 

WHY DOES EVERYONE TELL ME THAT.

“Stuff like depression, anxiety… sleepin’ problems… heck, even gettin’ sick, or migraines.”

What a coincidence, I believe those are also symptoms of your prescence.

“An’ about the intoxication dangers…” Fresh paused with a hum. “Mmmmaybe don’t chug the eggnog. Got some weird effects on ya, man.”

Are you aware that I couldn’t even get drunk if I wanted to? Nightmare thought coldly. Well, actually, no, he could. But it really only worked with whatever they had in Reapertale, because those drinks were brewed for non-mortals. Mere eggnog would do nothing.

“Also,” Fresh continued, in the tone that people used when they were going to take at least several more hours to finish. “there’s—”

Nightmare melted away from Fresh’s death-grip, reforming at least a quarter-mile away from him, in yet another dark corner. Well, that was certainly better.

I’m never going near that thing ever again.

Chapter Text

“Sooo,” Epic started with a grin, sliding towards the ex-guard. “Gotta ask— your life is like an anime, bruh.”

“Um—” Cross ripped himself out of his thoughts, blinking hard. “I- no—?”

Epic gave him a look. “…Bruh. Think about it.”

“I don’t… oH MY STARS YEAH,” he realized.

“Exactly, bruh!” Epic said. “Like- actually. ‘My Life As The Henchman Of An Evil Spirit.’ With the full cast of characters: the edgy, sullen tsundere— ”

“That’s a horrifying way to describe him,” Cross interrupted. “Never call him a tsundere again. ..Also, he’s aroace—?”

“..Huh. Welp. The edgy sullen not-tsundere one,” Epic amended, “the friendly giant, the ominous, supernatural leader with a soft spot, and.. heheh.”

“…What?” Cross asked. “What?”

“…And the love interest.”

“Who?” Cross asked, playing dumb.

“…C’mon, bruh. You know who. The cheery, mischievous prankster of the bunch— ….uhhh. What’s his— right, Killer.”

If Cross had been drinking, he’d have choked and died right about here. “Wh— what—? I- I j— WHAT. HUH.”

Epic giggled mischievously in a way that was honestly scarily close to the topic at hand. “…And the traumarized main character who is absolutely hopeless,” he finished. “Guess who.”

“Ha, ha,” Cross muttered, sinking into his seat in a way where the back of his mind was screaming that that would NOT be good for his posture, but honestly, it felt good. “V-very… um… very funny..” he paused. 

“So, on a scale of one to ten… how good are you at giving advice?” Cross asked. 

Epic hummed. “Mmmmm… 5?” he tried.

“…Well, that’s not good,” Cross muttered, “but okay, sure. Have you, um… …n- nevermind.”

“What, bruh?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” Cross insisted.

“What?” Epic pressed.

Cross let out a long-suffering sigh. “…Have you.. have you ever fallen in love?”

“Nope,” Epic said. “Not really into that stuff. Aroace, bruh. …Like most of the Sanses and Papyruses— Papyri?— in the multiverse.”

“Mhm.” Cross fidgeted in his seat, glancing sideways. “…What would you guess, um.. love feels like?”

“Uhh..” Epic paused. “I dunno. But a lotta people say it’s like the best feeling in the world. So, I guess… like drugs, but without the whole dying thing.”

“Yes, that definitely makes sense,” Cross deadpanned, “because we’re extremely high drug addicts who smoke weed 76 times a day. We crave romantic love and lung decay.”

“HAHAHA!”

Epic burst out laughing, doubling over the table. Cross let out a small laugh as well, but his mind was mostly preoccupied.

“Hey, um… Epic?”

“Hehe.. y- yeah, bruh?”

“D- do you think this is the sort of thing that’ll just- yknow- fade away? Like a…” Cross paused, not knowing the word. “Is- is there a word for when you think you’re in love, but there’s no way it could be love, so it’s not actually romantic love, but more of just a— a fascination, I guess, where it’ll fade away sometime?”

“…Bruh. You overthink wayyy too much.” Epic patted Cross on the back, not quite sure what else to do. “And nah, I don’t think there’s a word for that. …Except crippling anxiety.”

“What—?” 

“Nothin’, bruh, nothing.”

“Um, okay— but also— do you think this— the- the thing… is it temporary?”

“Mmmmeh, I don’t think so,” Epic said. “It’s not an illness, bud. It’s the ‘magical power’ that will ‘cure all evil.’ Chances are, if you picked a guy named Killer to love, then I don’t think that’ll fade by watching him kill someone. …You know what I mean, right.”

“Yeah, I do..” Cross mumbled. “So.. so I’ll just- feel like this. ..Forever.”

“Bruh, you’re acting like you got diagnosed with something,” Epic teased with a small nudge. “Like.. I dunno, cancer. Deafness. Something.”

“…” Cross didn’t know what to say. “…Sure,” he said.

The two sat quietly for a few minutes. A rare thing for them.

“…Yknow, bruh,” Epic spoke up finally, “if this were, like… a Christmas movie..”

“Mhm?”

“if this were a movie or something, I’m getting the feeling that tonight would be the great confession scene.”

Cross paused, bright purple blush practically glowing to announce his thoughts to the world, as he sank lower into his seat.

“…Maybe,” he mumbled after a second.

Epic grinned mischievously. “‘All I want for Christmaaaassss is you—’”

Cross slapped a gloved hand over his face. “Nope.”

…Although, I guess it fits..

Chapter Text

Papyrus had always been very observant. It was one of his many talents.

So he definitely saw that there were more variations of his brother than of him. Which was quite odd. He was the Great Papyrus. Which meant that his other variations were almost, if not just as, great as him.

Perhaps they were just nervous! The pure Cool Energy was too much, then. Yes, that had to be it. …Probably.

Well then, the other Hims had to be interesting… I WONDER WHAT THEY’RE LIKE!

And then he spotted a Papyrus that definitely looked really fucking cool. Lots of spiky bits, and oh, would you look at that, a lot of red! His favorite color! …Do ALL variations have the same favorite color? Probably not. But red was definitely cool, and that guy was as well (though, not as cool as himself, surely, but EXTREMELY CLOSE), so Papyrus simply had to go talk to him. 

And then he whipped around and glared at him angrily. VERY UN-COOL.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” he barked. “WHY ARE YOU OGLING ME LIKE THAT?”

Papyrus blinked, quite confused on what to do. …He did NOT prepare for this. “UM… HELLO, OTHER ME!” he tried to cheerfully greet. “I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! OF- OF THE ORIGINAL UNIVERSE,” he added, because revealing your universal address is apparently a custom among the Aware, incase you ever want people to know exactly where you live.  “AND YOU ARE…”

The other-him scoffed. RUDE… “I AM THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS AS WEL—”

“AND TERRIBLE?” he interrupted. “THAT DOESN’T SOUND VERY NICE, AND QUITE FRANKLY, CALLING YOURSELF TERRIBLE IS JUST SAD! YOU’RE NOT TERRIBLE, I DON’T THINK. I MEAN, PEOPLE CAN DO TERRIBLE THINGS, BUT I THINK YOU CAN BE A GOOD PERSON IF YOU TRIED!”

Other-him stared in disgust. “…OH, I SEE NOW. YOU’RE ONE OF THOSE WEAK ‘FEIND’-LOVERS. THE PACIFISTS.”

“…I SHOULD HOPE SO, YES,” Papyrus said. “I’D MUCH RATHER BE A PACIFIST THAN A CANNIBAL, FOR EXAMPLE. …DO YOU HAPPEN TO BE AN AXE-MURDERER?”

“DO I WHAT?”

“NOTHING!” 

Silence.

“…YOU DON’T SEEM LIKE YOU WANT TO BE HERE,” Papyrus commented. 

“OBVIOUSLY, I DON’T,” the other-Papyrus snapped. “WHY MUST EVERYONE HERE BE SO SOFT? DO THEY NOT HAVE DISCIPLINE? INSTINCTS?”

MY INSTINCTS ARE TELLING ME TO SLAP YOU WITH MY SPECIAL ATTACK, Papyrus thought calmly. BUT LUCKY FOR YOU, ALAS, I HAVE JUST ENOUGH SANITY TO TELL MYSELF NO.

“CHANCES ARE, YOU WEREN’T RAISED THE SAME AS US,” Papyrus said. “SO, IF YOU WOULDN’T MIND- I’M QUITE CURIOUS TO SEE HOW EVERYTHING’S DIFFERENT FROM OUR OWN WORLDS!”

Other-Papyrus huffed. “WELL, TELL ME ABOUT YOUR OWN FIRST.”

“OKIE-DOKIE, THEN, EDGE!”

“…EDGE?”

“WE CAN’T BOTH BE PAPYRUS, FOR THERE’S ONLY ONE! SO I NICKNAMED YOU!”

“…THAT IS…” ‘Edge’ changed his mind mid-sentence. “…UNDERSTANDABLE. VERY WELL, THEN, CREAMPUFF.”

“…” Papyrus vaguely considering forcing Edge to eat a pipe bomb. He discarded the idea, because he didn’t want to get his battle body messy when it exploded. …Oh, and that would be murder. That too.

“ANYWAYS! YOU WANT ME TO EXPLAIN MY WORLD TO YOU?”

Edge paused. Well. This would be easier than he thought. Creampuff was just about to straight-up give the information to him. No interrogation, torture, threats needed. “…YES, EXACTLY. EXPLAIN YOUR UNIVERSE TO ME.”

Papyrus hesitated. Explaining a world sounds… somewhat easy on paper. But actually, HOW do you describe an ENTIRE UNIVERSE? Not even a city, or a country. A WHOLE WORLD.

“SO… LONG AGO, AROUND THE TIME OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE, MONSTERS LIVED ON THIS LITTLE ISLAND—”

“NO, NO, I’M FULLY AWARE OF THAT,” Edge snarled. “I’M NOT AN IDIOT, CREAMPU—”

“Hello?” a different Papyrus interrupted. He looked exactly like Papyrus— er, Creampuff, if they were using nicknames, except in a mailman uniform, with a fluffy white scarf and— for some reason— small, fluffed-up pigeon wings.

“DO YOU KNOW WHERE…” he glanced at the small package, before sighing exasperatedly. “…Oh My God,” he muttered. “…Do You Know Where Ink Is?”

(author’s note: stuff happened. i’m rewriting this part for the third time. might be lazy. i’m gonna lose my shit. :)

For lack of a better description, Geno’s eggnog exploded suddenly. The bleeding skeleton jerked back as his red cup (you’ve seen in movies) spewed out eggnog that turned an inky black, shaping into none other than Ink himself.

“Oh, hi, Courier!” he called out cheerily, skidding to a halt in front of the tired postie. 

“…Hello.”

“Ooh, a package! Whozit for?”

“It’s For You.”

“OOOOOH, lemme see?”

Courier tossed the package to the artist, who caught it with an ‘oof!’ “Sign Here, Please..”

“No thank you, but thanks so much!”

“…You’re Supposed To Sign.”

“Why?”

“To Confirm That It Was Delivered?” 

“Oh, well—” Ink waved a hand dismissively— “you still have eyes! …Eyelights. …Wait, no, you don’t, actually, how do you see?”

“The Same Way You Do,” Courier pointed out. “Now, Really—”

“Okie, thanks, postie!” Ink called, melting away. “See ya!” And he was gone.

Courier stared at the puddle in annoyance, with his feathers ruffled. “…I Don’t Like Him.”

“NEITHER DO I, HONESTLY,” Papyrus agreed. “WELL— HE’S NICE, BUT, AH…”

“MORONIC,” Edge suggested. “IDIOTIC. STUPID. DENSE. SKINNY. SHRIMPY. SCRAPPY. AN ABSOLUTE PAIN IN THE A—”

“EXACTLY,” Courier interrupted with relish. “ALL OF THAT! I MEAN. HE ALWAYS TIPS ME! …BUT PERHAPS THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S A BIT DENSE.”

Papyrus didn’t really want to bully the poor artist. But at the same time… “HE CALLED ME A CINNAMON ROLL, AS THOUGH I WAS 5. I THINK IT WAS A COMPLIMENT? BUT ALSO… NO.”

Edge scoffed. “I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR 5 MINUTES AND THAT IS QUITE INACCURATE. YOU’RE A PETTY BITCH, NOT A.. ‘CINNAMON ROLL.’ SOFT AND WEAK, YES, BUT NOT… WHAT’S THE WORD? ‘CUTE.’”

Papyrus nodded in satisfaction. “WHY, THANK YOU, EDGE!”

Edge stared at him. “…YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY ‘FUCK YOU.’”

“WELL, THEN, FUCK YOU!” Papyrus said innocently. “THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”

Edge nodded. “ACCEPTED.” 

Chapter Text

Dream was fairly certain he’d never seen this… thing before.

“Um…” he paused, not sure what to say. She wasn’t on the guest list. “…Greetings. Who might you be?”

The blue-shaded thing stared at him for a few, uncomfortable seconds. “Oh Hello. My Name Is Serial Number Q5U4EX7YY2E9N. But You Can Call Me Queen.”

“Er.. Queen. Alright,” Dream chirped. He nodded. “I… don’t believe I saw your name on the guest list?” He tilted his head slightly.

“Oh I Just Found A Gash In Time And Space And Traveled Through The Fabric Of Reality Itself For The Sake of Exploring.”

“…Hah?”

“I Found A Cool Door And Went Through LMAO.”

“Ah, okay.” Dream nodded again. “…‘El-em-ay-oh?’” he echoed.

Red type scrolled across the Queen’s eyes- visor- mask? Whatever it was. ‘LMAO.’ 

“L.M.A.O.: Abbreviation For Laughing My Ass Off.”

“…Oh.”

“Did You Not Know That?”

“No,” Dream admitted. “I’m not… s-so who.. who are you? Actually.”

“…Serial Number Q5U4EX7YY2E9N.”

“I’m aware,” Dream said patiently, even though he’d already forgotten the number, “but… you don’t seem like a monster. And being a human, well… no.”

“Oh I’m A Computer: Smart,” Queen said pleasantly. “And a Darkner.”

“A- a what.”

“A Darkner.”

“I’ve… never heard of that?”

“. . .”

“…”

“Oh Damn.”

“What?” Dream asked.

“Whoopsie Daisies LMAO, Wrong Multiverse!” And the Queen ran off and promptly disappeared.

Dream stared. “…Huh.”

———

Somehow, by a cruel twist of Fate, Dust and Classic ended up bumping into eachother. If you ignored the whole ‘I killed everyone you know’ thing, they got along somewhat okay. 

Or maybe he was being optimistic. But they hadn’t started stabbing each other, so that was a win. 

“so, uh… dust,” Classic started, with a mistrustful expression. “hey, bud.”

Dust stared coolly back, studying their differences. 

• Classic’s eye sockets were more rounded, compared to Dust’s narrower, more triangular sockets.

• Dust was about an inch shorter than Classic. (Oh my GOD, am I shorter than EVERYONE? REALLY?!)

• He was also skinnier than Classic, more angular, like a goddamn beanpole. Like a starving teenager.

• Classic’s clothing  had brighter colors, sky-ish blue instead of Dust’s own muted, blueish grays and blacks. (Fine, yes, Dust was an emo, are you happy now, Killer? He admitted it.)

• Classic had an American accent, whereas, Dust had a small accent because when he learned English, he chose the British version. (If Horror says ‘bo’wl’o’wa’er’ or whatever the fuck ONE MORE TIME, I’ll boil him alive.)

Funny, how we even look a bit different, he thought silently, trying to ignore Classic’s disapproving stare.

I should say something.

“…So. The multiverse, eh?” Well, that was dull.

“uh.. yeah. p’ big place.” Classic shrugged, glancing around like ‘wow, look at these universes’ before faltering. “…was that guy invited?”

“Mm?”

Dust followed his gaze, until he caught a glimpse of black. When he said black, he didn’t mean just any shade of black. Straight-up vanta-black. Like the sun had decided that ‘hey, this guy’s too 미쳤어/michyeosseo, let’s leave him alone.’

And then the guy turned around and Dust’s Soul nearly flickered out.

Gaster.

And a thousand memories of torture and experiment flooded his mind. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to will himself to ignore the echoes of screaming, the sound of cracking bones and the whirr of the drill that still left chronic pain in his right hand to this day.

After a few long moments, he looked back up. 

He isn’t that Gaster. Gaster’s gone. He’s dead. This isn’t the same one. He’s not him. He’s not him. He’s—

…Oh, he’s a loony.

This Gaster… he wasn’t the same cold, ominous presence that Dust had come to associate with pain and objectification.

This Gaster was, simply put, a nutjob. Giggling to himself in the corner, like he’d just downed the essence of insanity.

Both skeletons stared for a moment.

“…He’s bonkers.”

“yep. that sums it up. i’m gonna go fuck with him.”

“You’re gonna what—?”

Classic casually teleported next to the poor crazy with a ping! and stuck out a hand. Dust privately thought that was a very stupid idea; what if this guy drills a plate of metal into his bloody hand?

“heya, bud. what brings you here?”

The Gaster stopped giggling. “…✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎ 💣︎☜︎✍︎”

Dust shivered at the sound of the all-too-familar Wingdings. No. Nope.

“uh… yeah? of course i can see you?”

The void-black blob slowly turned to Classic with an eerily ‘no-thoughts-head-empty’ expression. 

“💧︎✌︎☠︎💧︎ 👍︎⚐︎💣︎✋︎👍︎ ☞︎⚐︎☠︎❄︎📬︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎ 🕈︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ 💣︎☜︎✌︎☠︎💧︎✍︎”

“just sans is okay, no need for the whole name, please—”

“☠︎⚐︎👌︎⚐︎👎︎✡︎ ☜︎☹︎💧︎☜︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎✋︎👍︎☜︎👎︎ 💣︎☜︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ✋︎💣︎🏱︎☹︎✋︎☜︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ⚐︎☠︎☹︎✡︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎ 💣︎☜︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ 💣︎☜︎✌︎☠︎💧︎ ❄︎☟︎✌︎❄︎ ⚐︎☠︎☹︎✡︎ ❄︎☟︎⚐︎💧︎☜︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ☼︎☜︎☹︎✌︎❄︎✋︎⚐︎☠︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ✋︎ 👍︎✌︎☠︎ 💧︎☜︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☼︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ 💣︎✡︎ 👍︎☹︎⚐︎✌︎😐︎ ⚐︎☞︎ ✋︎☠︎✞︎✋︎💧︎✋︎👌︎✋︎☹︎✋︎❄︎✡︎📬︎“

“uhh… i don’t follow.”

“✡︎⚐︎🕆︎❼︎☼︎☜︎ ✋︎💣︎💣︎🕆︎☠︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 💣︎✡︎ ☼︎☜︎✌︎☹︎✋︎❄︎✡︎📫︎🕈︎✌︎☼︎🏱︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 💧︎🏱︎☜︎☹︎☹︎💧︎📬︎”

“or you’re crazy,” Classic muttered to himself. Somehow, Gaster didn’t hear.

“❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ ✋︎💧︎ ☞︎✌︎☠︎❄︎✌︎💧︎❄︎✋︎👍︎📪︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ ✋︎💧︎📫︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ ✋︎💧︎ 💧︎✋︎💣︎🏱︎☹︎✡︎ ✌︎💣︎✌︎☪︎✋︎☠︎☝︎⑤︎ ✞︎☜︎☼︎✡︎ 💧︎⚐︎⚐︎☠︎📪︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ ☜︎☠︎⚐︎🕆︎☝︎☟︎ 🏱︎☼︎✌︎👍︎❄︎✋︎👍︎☜︎📪︎ ✋︎❼︎☹︎☹︎ 👌︎☜︎ ✌︎👌︎☹︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ ☜︎✠︎🏱︎☹︎⚐︎👎︎☜︎ 🏱︎✌︎☠︎👍︎✌︎😐︎☜︎💧︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎ 💣︎✡︎ 💣︎✋︎☠︎👎︎📬︎”

“…huh?”

Gaster started giggling maniacally again. 

Damn, he’s fuckin’ crazy, Dust thought flatly. How sad. I wanna go home now.

Classic awkwardly pat the guy’s back, blinking when his hand came away, stained with some black, goopy substance. “…oh. uh. that’s.. something. welp, i’ll leave you to it, buddy…”

With another ping!, he teleported back to Dust. 

“yeah, let’s stay away from that guy.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. I’m going to try the eggnog.”

“ya sure, buddy? people are getting pretty drunk..”

“Good. I didn’t want to be conscious tonight anyway.”   

Chapter Text

Nightmare shifted uncomfortably, realizing something… quite unfortunate.

He was pretty sure he was alone right now. Horror had completely disappeared from the party, Dust was chatting with Outer in a corner, and Cross and Killer were nowhere to be found.

So he was alone.

…Well, not alone, exactly, he was surrounded by people. But people he knew? As companions? Zero. Zilch. Nada.

And people-watching was getting boring. Nothing seemed to be happening. People laughed, joked around, chatted, or ate. That was about it.

He’d had some fun watching Geno cry on the floor, but Geno had since been dragged next to Sci and fell asleep. No negativity came from being dead asleep.

A horrible, absurdly ridiculous idea popped into his head. 

What if I talk to people? …Wait, no, that’s a terrible idea. Memories of teasing laughter and sparks of pain flashed through his mind.

He thought back to what he’d always found better: Silence. Isolation. Climbing trees in the forest, watching bugs, trying to tame a crow and failing… the good things. The good things were always rooted in being alone. With nobody else there. That was pure bliss.

He considered leaving the party, except, wait, no, only Error could allow people to leave the Anti-Void. And Error was too curious about everything. Nightmare had no good excuse to leave. What could he say— ‘oh, there’s a family emergency.’ His mother had been dead 2 hours after their creation, and he cared not for Dream.

Nightmare paused for a few minutes to think, trying to block out the music that had frankly annoying amounts of loud bass. What would be his excuse? 

He had nothi—

“Wow, you look sad,” Ink said bluntly, making a face as he clutched a black-cloth box to his chest. “I thought this was s’posed to be a party, not a…” he trailed off suddenly, thinking. “…Not a depression orgy.”

“I- I’m sorry, a what?” Nightmare hissed, jerking back. 

Ink giggled. “C’moooonnn, the whole point of a party is to have fun!”

Nightmare decided to ignore Ink’s previous comment. Everything Ink had ever done or said was a spur-of-the-moment thought. “…I am having fun,” he lied coolly. …Well, I’m not miserable. He paused to evaluate his emotions.

Oh, wait, no, he was miserable, actually. Absolutely miserable.

Well. That was interesting.

Ink scoffed. “PSHHHH. You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

“People say that a lot.” That was true, at least.

“All you’ve done is stand in a corner,” the tiny artist whined. “Like a boring person!”

“…I’m not boring,” Nightmare muttered. I can be interesting! I know 5 Corvus species. Most people only know ‘crow’ or ‘raven.’
Is that BORING?

Okay, fine, it is. 

“You really are boring,” Ink complained. “What’ve you done so far here?”

Nightmare paused. “…Only boring people think things are boring.”

The artist gasped, as though he’d been mortally wounded. “I’m not!”

“You have about 3 personality traits total,” Nightmare said coldly. “Stupidity, Mischievous, and Sociopath.” 

Ink huffed, plopping down his box to cross his arms angrily. “You’re being real mean right now, you know that?”

“Oh, imagine that. The spirit of negativity being mean.”

Ink wallowed in his pity for a few (awkward) minutes. The relative silence was so much better… until Ink shot up, grabbed his hand, and dragged him across the room and let go only when Dream and Error were in sight.

Oh, dear Satan, save me.

Nightmare didn’t even believe in Satan, but this seemed like the right way to pray for a release. From the party, or from life, it didn’t matter which. He wasn’t picky. 

“Hey, look!” Ink cheered, waving Nightmare’s hand as though he were some doll to play around with. 
Let go of me let go of me let go of me let go of me—

“The gang’s all here! Immortal Squad!”

“…T-t-the-e na-a-ame-e n-nee-eds w-w-work-k-k,” Error muttered, twisting a string lazily around his finger.

“Oh, hello, brother!” Dream said with a wave. “It’s nice of you to join us!”

Fuck off, Dream. “Er… hi. Greetings. Hola. ….Nevermind.” I shouldn’t have said anything.

Was that too formal? Or informal? What the hell was the tone here? All of the emotions were too jumbled up to properly tell them apart unless he really concentrated, and he was too busy trying to think of what to say. Or was there some silent cue for someone else to talk? Was he supposed to say something?

He and Error both started to talk at the same time, before they both broke off.

“Um. …You go first.”

“N-n-nah-h. Y-y-you-u-u g-go.”

“…” Nightmare didn’t have anything interesting to say. He was just going to say something like ‘interesting party, isn’t it?’ And then he’d ask what time it was. That was it.

“…So… the multiverse,” he tried.

“Y-y-yeah-h-h?”

Nightmare tried to think of a point to make, before pausing. Oh. There was a conversation-starter. Let’s hope it’s not too strange.
“…Wait, so- children are lied to and told that an immortal man dressed in red breaks into their house every year, right?”

Error and Ink stared blankly. Dream didn’t look phased. 

“I mean… yeah, basically,” Ink mused.

“And of course, that’s a lie.”

“Unless you believe in him,” the artist teased.

Oh, dear stars, did that sound like I ACTUALLY thought he was real? Nightmare was beginning to regret existing. He wished he could’ve had a talk with Nim before the whole ‘being alive’ thing.

“I don’t,” Nightmare hissed. “But, my point is… the whole point of the multiverse—” fuck, I said ‘point’ twice “..is that anything that could happen… does happen.”

“So… where exactly are you going with this?” Dream asked curiously.

“Theoretically, does that mean that there’s some obscure universe where there actually is an immortal Christmas burglar?”

. . .

“…O-o-oh-h, w-w-w-what-t-ttt the-e-e fffuck-kkk,” Error whispered. 

“Santa Clause real..” Ink breathed in awe.

Dream thought it through carefully. “Well… there’s no evidence against it.”

Nightmare felt a small pinch of pride. Look at that, I’m having a conversation. Are you happy now? ..Can I go home now?

Wait, am I supposed to say something after that? I don’t have any other interesting topics! The HELL am I supposed to say?!

“Oh, by the way,” Dream started, “I’ve heard some news from the Omega Timeline, on a potential arena for young children to learn about their magic…”

“Huh,” Ink hummed articulately. “Cool! Whazit called?”

“It’s not official yet,” Dream admitted. “It’s just an idea floating around the Council..”

“S-s-se-e-eemss c-cool-l-l,” Error said. “T-t-Theyy-yyy sh-s-shoulddd build-d-d itt. I-i-I w-wanna s-ssssee t-toddler-r-rs b-b-brawl-l.” 

Nightmare could not care less about fighting toddlers. Well, he didn’t mind, but surely there were more interesting topics.
Such as… um. Something. Probably. He didn’t know what. But there was surely something. Oh, wait-

“I once heard something,” he mused, “about how younger children are more likely to find new ways to use magic. Because of how inexperienced they are… they don’t have any ideas of limits. You know. Like… levitation was created by a 9-year-old boy, named Lendrae Webbs.”

“Nice!” Ink said, giving a thumbs-up. “Ooh, yeah, also, I got these awesome alcohol markers just now—”

Okay, so that failed horribly, Nightmare thought coolly. Note to self, nobody cares about the history of magic. And that definitely did not wound his self-esteem. It’s not like he only knew history of magic! He knew about… crows. And snakes. Ants. A lot of misunderstood animals and bugs.

See? That was two very interesting topics!

…That nobody cared about. Wonderful.

Nightmare was absolutely done with this. He suddenly came back to reality, realizing that the conversation had moved on and he had no clue what they were talking about. Something about annoying Christmas songs.

So Nightmare just nodded, throwing out an occasional “oh, really?” or “interesting,” or “hm”. If they sounded more shocked, he just said “oh, stars.”

Did he have any idea what they were discussing? No. Did he want to put in the effort to find out? No.

He’d only been here for about an hour and he felt like shit.

I would like to go home now, Nightmare thought grumpily.

Chapter Text

Error surprisingly didn’t ask.

Killer just asked if he could let Cross and himself get past the border that the glitch established in the Anti-Void. Killer didn’t know why Error did that. But sure, they had invisible walls now to keep the party in one area. 

So now they were here. In the Anti-Void. Alone.

Killer had pictured a more… romantic scene. Something like leading Cross out of a portal to a nice little meadow at night, in the rain. That was the sort of thing Killer thought would be really cool.

But no, they were in the middle of a white void, Cross looking visibly uncomfortable at the amount of nothing that surrounded that. No romantic flowers. No cooling rain. Not even a little bit of darkness to set the scene.

But the show must go on, right?

“So, uhh…” Killer shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Okay. This is fine. I’ve done harder. …No, I haven’t.

“I know that I haven’t exactly… really known you. You just… it’s like you don’t want to make connections, but.. you really do. I’ve heard you laugh. And smile. And just… it’s— it’s really cute, yknow?” 

Looking at Cross’s face felt like something impossible right now. He didn’t want to see how Cross felt.

“I mean…” Killer hesitated. He wasn’t usually good with impulse control. He said and did whatever came to mind. But this.. he couldn’t mess it up. Which lead to the problem of ‘how do I say this?’.

“…Okay, okay, okay… um. So just a warning, I didn’t want it to sound cheesy. But… I’d say the first time I saw you smile was… I think that’s when it hit. That ‘hey, maybe this is a little more than just being curious about you.’ I.. I wasn’t really sure. But, uh. I don’t know when, but it just- finally sunk in at some point. That maybe… this was… oh, god, it feels weird to say out loud.” 

He paused again.

“…Okay, you know I suck at feely stuff, y-you know where I’m going with this, right? Just- I don’t know, I didn’t memorize any speech. I can’t…”

Cross had rarely seen Killer all.. panicky and nervous like this. It was.. weird. But he understood why.
And he hoped he understood what he was going to say.

“I love you?” Killer squeaked. “…I- I love you,” he repeated, more firmly.

Cross froze. 

I.

Love.

You.

He- he heard that wrong. He was hallucinating it. That wasn’t what Killer just said. ..Right?

Wait, no, he was expecting some sort of answer. He wanted to say— but what if he heard wrong— Cross paused. “Can— can I, um. I- I need a moment. Please.”

Killer glanced at the floor awkwardly. “O-oh. Um. Okay. Yep. Sure..”

Okay. He… he was pretty sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Cross scratched his metacarpals roughly, as a test. He couldn’t feel pain, but the feeling… yep. Real.

So what Killer said… was also real. He really just said those 3 words. 

Cross hesitated. He needed to say something. 

He was supposed to say ‘no.’ He wasn’t supposed to feel the same way, right? But… that wouldn’t be true, would it?

“Um…” Nope. Words had abandoned him. But all he had to do was echo the same thing, really.

“I love you too.”

There was silence for a few, uncomfortable seconds, before Killer started laughing quietly.

Cross didn’t have clue what to do. …Is this a prank? 

Wait, oh, shit, did he finally snap?

“S-sorry, sorry,” Killer giggled. “I don’t really.. know what to do? What are— what are we s’posed to do now?”

Cross paused, realizing. “..I- I don’t know?” he admitted. “..Um. In- in movies, usually…” he thought for a moment.

“Kissing in the rain?” Killer suggested. “…Except, um. Probably not as romantic in the Anti-Void.”

Cross shuddered slightly, but nodded. “Uh.. yeah.”

More silence, but it felt more… nice. They were just alone. Together. Understanding eachother.

Killer sat down and crossed his legs. “So… maybe just sit here, then?”

Cross let out a puff of a laugh. “Heh.. not exactly romantic, but… we- we could go back to the party.”

Killer shrugged.

“…I think here is better, actually,” Cross agreed, before sitting down as well, leaning into Killer. He felt the other freeze for a moment, before relaxing.

“Yeah,” Killer said in a mumble. “It’s nice..”

“I love you.”

“Love ya.”

Chapter Text

Dream considered himself to be an extrovert, but he was getting tired of conversation. Ink and Error had completely forgotten about him and Nightmare, excitedly talking about… something… over each other. Dream caught only snippets— something about Undernovela lore.

Nightmare subtly inched back, before Dream summoned his staff to lightly nudge him back into the circle because just leaving would be rude. Nightmare gave him an annoyed glare, Dream simply shrugging in response.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Auras were always very colorful, so being packed in a room with about 50 people was a bit… how to put this politely— headache-inducing. Only a few more hours left, probably. He could do this!

Maybe I won’t do this if Ink keeps chattering about Undernovela, he thought with pinched annoyance, before immediately discarding the rude thought. That was a bit rude actually, he shouldn’t be thinking this about his friend. Agh, what kind of guardian of POSITIVITY am I if I keep THINKING—

“Hey- hey, Dream!” the small artist piped up, interrupting his thoughts. “Random question— when’s your birthday?”

If this is another ‘old’ joke, I’m going to leave, Dream thought, irritated.

“…Oh! Um…” he paused. “…This month.”

Ink gasped excitedly, clapping his hands over his mouth. Error’s eyes widened slightly, like ‘oh, would you look at that.’

“WHEN?!” Ink asked. “IS IT IN A FEW DAYS?!” 

“T-t-tomorr-rr-row-w?” Error suggested.

“TODAY?!” Ink tried. 

Dream paused, catching Nightmare discreetly shaking his head ‘no’.

Nightmare, REALLY?

…Fine, fine, he’d play along. Age jokes were not exactly something he wanted to deal with, and birthdays weren’t something he was used to. He preferred enjoying the smaller things, not giant celebrations. 

“Oh, well, it’s nothing too important—”

“NO, IT IS IMPORTANT,” Ink insisted. Error glanced at Ink, annoyed, before nodding sagely. 

“I-iiiI d-don’t-t-t li-i-ike the s-s-squiiid, b-but h-he’s-s ri-i-ight-t.”

Dream bit back a sigh. Nightmare didn’t even try to hide a groan.

“Wait, you guys are twins,” Ink remembered, “which is weird, ‘cause you don’t look at ALL alike, but that means you have the same birthday! Niiigggghhttt, why didn’t you say anything?!” he whined.

Nightmare glared coldly. “I didn’t want to. And if you call me ‘Night,’ I will be sure that every time you sleep, you see your worst fears. You will live in fear and wish for death, to rot away and dust, and there shall be no release.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Okay, boomer.”

Nightmare stared at Ink like he was insane, lost for words. Yeah, I didn’t plan this far ahead, what do I say here— 

“Y- you do realize. I can actually do that,” he said. “That’s.. quite literally something I’m capable of. I can bend your dreams to my will. That’s.. the whole point.”

“I don’t dream,” Ink said, eyelights flicking momentarily to white dots. It gave him an eerie, empty look that was quickly replaced with mischievous superiority. 

Nightmare’s concerned stare deepened. “…Shit.”

“Language,” Dream whispered.

“Okay, but, uh- what was I…” Ink paused blankly. “…Um.” He glanced at Error with a lost, anxious look. “W-what was I…”

“T-t-ttheir b-b-birthdays-s-sss,” Error prompted flatly. 

“Oh, yeah!” Ink snapped his fingers, bouncing up happily. “Right! Juuusssttt gimme a sec!” He jumped up, and with a stroke of his brush, he dived into the puddle of ink and disappeared. The inky black evaporated as he teleported away.

Dream had a sudden sense of doom.

“Ahem!”

Oh, stars. He was at the mic. 

“Hey, everyone!” 

The music (Five Nights At Freddy’s by the Living Tombstone) stopped. From his peripheral, Dream saw Nightmare literally melt a bit lower to the ground, like he was going to hide in a puddle.

“Hey- so, uh- it turns out that we have some birthdays today~!” Ink sang from the mic. “Um- well, maybe not today. But this month! Which means it’s gotta be celebrated here, because we AAALLLL know and love ‘em! Dream and Nightmare!”

Oh.

Oh, dear stars.

Dream felt what could only be described as an impending feeling of Death. And the pure anxiety-embarrassment from Nightmare was NOT helping him keep a clear, calm mind.

A few people glanced over at the stone-still twins, and more people followed their gazes until they were all looking at them.

Dream was usually fine with public attention. He got it a lot really, so he knew how to deal with people. 

But this was a bit… no. No thank you. He didn’t want this.

A puddle of chartreuse moss-green pooled out beneath the two and they were dragged in, spat onto the stage in a very undignified way.

“Ya like it?” Ink asked cheerily. “‘Cause Dream’s yellow an’ Nightmare’s dark cyan, so those mixed together make this, like, ugly pea-soup green! So it’s like- both of you!”

That’s just what I’ve always wanted to be, Dream thought with pricking irritation. Ugly pea soup. Thank you SO MUCH for that thoughtful detail.

“You wanna make a speech?” Ink chirped, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “C’mon! You’re, like, THE reason why most people have emotions! They’re all REALLY grateful, I bet!”

“Uh- I don’t really-” Dream waved his hands in a ‘nope, no thank you, please’ gesture.

“Speech, speech, speech, speech!” Ink chanted, shoving them closer to the mic. How such a tiny person could be so strong, they’d never know. “C’mon! It’ll be so cool!”

Both twins froze like a deer in headlights.

“…Um,” Dream squeaked. Every thought in his head disappeared.

Nightmare looked like he’d just seen the exact date, method, and time of his death, absolutely frozen.

“…Uhh…”

Someone from the audience spoke up.  “Ink, honey, just let them chill,” Lust said flatly.

Ink frowned. “But they gotta make the epic speech!”

“Speeches have to be prepared,” Lust countered. “And I don’t think either of ‘em are up to it. Let’s just enjoy the night, eh? D'accord?”

Ink sighed. “…D'accord…”

More ugly moss-green ink pooled under the two spirits and vomited them back into the crowd as the music started up again. Uneasy chatter floated through the room.

Dream took a shaky breath. Nightmare sat down.

“…I hate this party so much.”

“I think I agree,” Dream said faintly.

Chapter Text

“Ah, well..” Ink paused. “…Wait, there was something I had to do, right..?” He paused, with a look of mild anxiety. 

“T-t-the-e s-s-wea-ate-r-rs,” Error called from the back of the room. 

Ink brightened. “Oh, yeah! Those!” He cleared his throat importantly. “Okay, so- Error an’ I made sweaters! Ugly christmas sweaters for everyone!” Mutters, groans, a few ‘ooh’s, and general emotion-implying sound swept through the party.

One person (take a wild guess) screamed “AH, FUCK!” in pure agony, just as it quieted down.

“…I mean… yeaahhh.. cool. Itchy fuckin’ sweaters.. it’s the real shit..”

“Aww, thanks, Red!” Ink chirped. “Anyway, um- when I call your name, come and get your sweater! …I mean, a few people got theirs before-hand, like Epic and Outer, but most people haven’t! So yay, they’re here now! Hand-made, with love!”

“W-w-with-h-h sp-p-iiiite-e-e,” Error corrected, grinning evilly. Ink paused. 

“…With love! That’s how it’s s’posed to go!”

“Y-y-y-yeahhh, b-b-but-t, t-t-that-t-t w-w-would-ddd b-bbe-e a-a l-lie-e. Y-y-you-u f-f-dorced-d-d m-m-me to-t-to m-mmake-e a-a f-f-few-w.”

Ink scowled. “..Look, the point is, we made sweaters for everyone! Hand-made, with some kind of emotion! Better?”

“B-b-bett-t-tter-r.”

“Mind getting the box—?”

Error flicked a hand lazily, opening up a portal. A large cardboard box, about the size of a person, thumped loudly and got turned on its side. “T-t-there-e-e.”

Ink grinned. “Thanks, buddy!”

“F-f-fuckk-k y-y-you.”

———

Ccino and Lust stared at their two sweaters. “…It’s a bit.. brighter than I imagined,” Lust mused. “I like it.” 

In Ccino’s opinion, ‘a bit brighter’ was a huge understatement. Lust’s sweater was bright, neon magenta, with a few rose-pink snowflakes, and had the words ‘FIND ME ON THE NORTH POLE’ in bold, bubbly white letters.

Oh, Ink must’ve made a mistake, Ccino thought. It says— …oh. That… that fits, actually.

Lust slipped it on over his head with a pleased smile. “Nice. Lemme see yours?”

Ccino glanced at his own sweater— a chunky pale blue cable-knit sweater, decorated with simple, white circles to represent ornaments. ‘merry meows-mas!’ was the complimentary cheesy one-liner.

Dust would come around with the furry jokes soon, wouldn’t he?

…Well, it would be worse. The material was soft— like it was coven with clouds. Really comfy, fuzzy.. he liked it. 

“Aaaah, it looks so cute!” Lust said. “Just like you~!”

Ccino’s brain broke. “W-what.” 

“Nothin’, just a little joke, heheh.” Lust shrugged. “Error and Ink both made ‘em, right? Who do you think did yours?”

Ccino paused. “I don’t know,” he mused. He slid his arms out of the sleeves so he could twist the sweater around to see if it had a label.

It did, actually; ‘You’ll never know who made this sweater, you nosy bitch.’

“…Error made mine.”

———

“I’m quite sure that this is a trap,” Nightmare muttered. “I can’t find Horror, Cross, or Killer.”

Dust hesitated. “…So. Okay, Horror, yeah, that’s definitely weird. But, uh… no need to worry about Cross or Killer, I think.”

“And why is that?”

“…How did you not sense this.”

“W-” Nightmare paused. “S- sense what? What am I missing?”

“You gotta know about Cross and Killer, it’s fuckin’ obvious. You’re an empath.”

“And that’s related to Cross and Killer.. how?”

“They’re… extremely gay for each other?”

“Well, of course I noticed that they seem happier around each other—”

“Boss,” Dust interrupted. “Night. Gay, as in homosexual. Like.. romance. Not ‘gay’ like happy. Nobody really uses that anymore. They’re in love.”

“..Oh. Oh.”

“How the fuck did you miss that?” 

“I didn’t recognize that emotion, okay?” Nightmare hissed. “Most of what I felt from them was pure panic and anxiety, so I thought they were scared of each other, but I later realized that it didn’t make sense, because if they spent more time together, they always ended up more cheerful and I didn’t know what to make of it, so I just decided to forget about it until I found an explanation—”

“Jesus Christ, you suck at emotions.”

“I’m fully aware,” Nightmare sighed miserably. 

“It’s almost impressively bad,” Dust continued. “I mean, to miss a fat fuckin’ crush like that, you’d have to be, like, deprived—”

“I GET IT,” Nightmare interrupted. “I’m horrible at this, I know. Back to the point— we’re the only ones here now. What happened.”

Dust shrugged. “Last I checked, Cross an’ Killer, they, uh.. had a talk. Haven’t seen ‘em since, but I bet they’re fine. And Horror disappeared. I can call him, actually, let me just—”

“Hello!” Ink called out cheerfully. “You didn’t get your sweaters yet, so I went to find ya! 

Dust turned to Ink slowly, like a horror movie character. “…What.”

Ink’s smile faded slightly. “Um- here!” he said, tossing the sweaters to Dust, who caught them by pure reflex. 

“뭐—?” 

“Alright, see ya!” Ink waved, before skittering away like a feral raccoon.

Both criminals stared. 

…

“How much d’ya wanna bet there’s a bomb in here?” Dust asked coolly, holding up the bundle of sweaters.

“I.. highly doubt that.”

“Ah, man, Next time, then.” Dust tucked the red sweater under his arm and unfolded the black one.

It was fairly simple, just a knitted black sweater with thin, cyan letters that read ‘Ghost of Christmas Future’, and a little white ghost underneath it.

Neither of them spoke for a few, long seconds.

“…It’s hideous,” Nightmare said finally.

“I know it’s s’posed to be ugly, but this is like a record.” Dust studied it coldly. “It’s yours.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Fair. Hold it for me, though, ‘cause I think this one’s mine.”

Dust tossed the ugly christmas sweater to Nightmare, who held it like it was a soggy piece of piss-filled trash, with a single dry spot.

Dust’s sweater was light grey, with a dark-ish red snowflake pattern. The same red as HIS old scarf. In the same haunting red shade, bold words were written: ‘It’s The Bloody Holidays! >:D’

Damn, that’s two jokes in one, Dust thought with annoyance. A murder joke, and a British joke. Very funny.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna wear mine either. Feels itchy, anyway.”

“How long will this last?” Nightmare asked, flicking a tentacle in irritation.

“…Probably another hour or two.”

“Well. That- that’s just… wonderful. Great.”

“Hell,” Dust said flatly.

Nightmare nodded sagely. “Indeed.”

———

Reaper was decidedly against the idea of ever being at a party again. Well, he liked it. He would’ve loved to come to more parties, but he wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk of maybe-killing someone.

He’d accidentally brushed Papyrus’s arm with his wing about an hour ago, and Papyrus didn’t die immediately. Weird. But he was very clearly not having a good time now. 

On the other hand, he wasn’t the only reason the party sucked. He’d been lurking in a corner with an absolutely miserable Geno for a while now, and he’d witnessed, in no particular order:

1)  Outer passing out

2) Fresh harassing people

3) Classic getting (mildly) drunk

4) Edge and Epic brawling

5) The twins suffering

6) Error crashing 5 times

7) Geno throwing up

8) Courier getting mugged

9) Ccino sobbing loudly

10) Lust tormenting Sci

11) Ink drinking too much blue

12) and a partridge in a pear tree~

Sorry, he couldn’t resist.

But it was crazy at this point. So much misery, it was almost enjoyable. (WAS Reaper a sadist? Well, that would explain a lot. The whole party was just funny to him. So meaningless, really. Mortals just trying to have all the fun they can before they die. And yet, here they are, failing miserably. You had to admit, it was a LITTLE funny, at least.) 

Reaper had already extracted the alcohol from Geno’s magic (he was a god, he could do that), so Geno wasn’t drunk.

A drunk Geno, as he’d unfortunately found out, was not a fun Geno. And alcohol made chronic pain worse apparently. Maybe. he wasn’t what pain even was, really, but he read about it somewhere. Either way, no matter the reason, alcohol made Geno pretty boring. So, better to get rid of it.

“Reaper!” Ink suddenly called, popping up in front of him. “Hiya!”

“G’day,” he greeted. “Whatcha need?”

Ink tossed him two lumps of knitted-somethings, told him “you’ll know what’s yours, sorry, gotta go!” and disappeared again.

“..Huh,” Reaper mused. “Well, that was weird. Right, Geno?”

“Mhgnm… sure,” Geno muttered from the floor.

“You seem pretty miserably down there, ya sure I can’t just—”

“I die when I say I die,” Geno hissed. “An’ I’m not dyin’ yet. Y’hear me, you stupidd fuggin.. skelegod? I defy you.”

“…You sound just as drunk when you’re miserable,” Reaper noted. “Boring. Welp, let’s see what Ink made, eh?”

He flicked a hand, letting one of the sweaters float beside him while he looked at the other one. It was white, with a bloody-red zig-zag pattern, with little red puff-balls. Blocky maroon letters proclaimed ‘I LIVE FOR THE HOLIDAYS’

“Ah, that’s yours.” Reaper lazily tossed it over to the suffering glitch, before studying what had to be his own sweater.

His was black, with an electric-blue pattern of dead trees, and a white skull over crossed scythes. In fancy, gothic blue-and-white letters, there were the words ‘I’D KILL FOR COOKIES’ across the front.

“…Oh,” Reaper said, unsure what else to say. “Creative, eh?” he shrugged, before slipping it on, over his cloak. “Nice. Put yours on, bud.”

“Nooo,” Geno groaned. “I just wanna sleep. Fuck everyone else.”

“I mean… by everyone else, you’re including me, right?”

“Well, duh, you’re not m— wait. No. We’re not doin’ that shit again,” Geno hissed, sloppily getting up, using the wall for support, before freezing. “Gggggooooddddd, I hate this stupid party,” he muttered, sitting back down.

Reaper chuckled lazily. “Again, you’re a masochist, this is perfect for you~”

“Fuck you— wait, no. Don’t say anything you’re thinkin’ right now, ‘cause that’ll be worse.”

“Mmm… what do you think I’m thinking?”

“A whole lotta sadistic shit.”

“Maybe. But again, face it, you love this.”

Geno groaned. “You’re half-right and I hate it.”

“Translated… ‘you’re completely right and you’re so awesome, I’m jealous.’”

“Shaddup..”

“I’m going to tell you the true meaning of life if you tell me to shut up.”

Geno paused. “…Shut up.”

Reaper hesitated, before shrugging. “Okay, but you gotta promise to tell nobody else.”

“Sure, whatever, tell me.”

“‘Kay. So you know about Halley’s Comet?”

Chapter Text

Lust paused, before sauntering up to a clearly-miserable Nightmare. This was a death wish. But he had to make sure of something.

“Hey~!” he greeted with a smile.

Nightmare stared coldly, freezing in place. “…Um. Greetings. Lust, was it?”

“Mm-hm. So, uh… you’re Killer’s boss?”

“Yes, why?”

Lust hesitated. “So… we were talking earlier, and he mentioned that he had something planned? Do you know if he did anything like, uh… spike the eggnog?”

“I- i-if he what?” Nightmare hissed.

“Did Killer mention anythi—” Lust broke off. “…What’s that sound.”

“What’s… oh.” Nightmare paused. “Oh, dear stars.”

Under the blanket of chatter and laughter, there was a faint hissing, fizzing noise, like a fuse set lit… a high-pitched whistling noise… the colors came first.

An explosion of color, light, and sound.

BOOM.

Both skeletons went silent. Actually, everyone went silent.

BOOM.

“…Well, shit,” Lust blurted.

Nightmare nodded sagely. “‘Well, shit’ is right.”

———

“and so i told ’em—”

BOOM.

Sans faltered. “…and i asked them wa—”

BOOM.

“water you gonna do abou—”

BOOM.

“…yknow what, nevermind. that punchline is ruined. welp. thanks a lot, fireworks.”

Papyrus glanced around. “SUCH A SHAME THAT INANIMATE PLANNED PARTY EXPLOSIVES HAD THE AUDACITY TO TARGET YOUR JOKES SPECIFICALLY.”

“paps, i was kidding.”

“SO WAS I, SANS. I’M CAPABLE OF SARCASM.”

“…oh. you sounded serious—”

“WELL, NO MATTER!” Papyrus nodded confidently. Sans watched his scarf billowed in the the wind, despite there being no wind to speak of. 

BOOM.

“WE SHOULD GO WATCH!” Papyrus announced. “WHAT’S THE POINT OF SUCH A COOL THING IF NOBODY LOOKS?”

“yeah, bro, we should wa—” Sans was cut off as two people shoved past him at the goddamn speed of light. 

-0.00000000001

“Sorry, Classic!” Killer called over his shoulder, dragging Cross by the hand. The two skirted around a couple of people and disappeared into the crowd.

“…” Sans stared. “…how many times am i gonna get interrupted tonight?”

“WELL, THAT’S FIVE SO FAR,” Papyrus mused. “I’LL KEEP A TALLY!”

BOOM.

“…IT’S GETTING ANNOYING, ACTUALLY,” he muttered. “BUT NO MATTER! THE FIREWORKS STILL VERY BEAUTIFUL! LIKE A REALLY PRETTY PERSON WHO HAS THE PERSONALITY OF A PLASTIC KNOCK-OFF BARBIE FROM THOSE SHITTY GUMBALL DISPENSERS!”

“exactly, bro. welp, let’s find a better spot.” Sans shrugged, before taking a step back and disappearing into nothingness. 

Papyrus stared at the spot where his brother was. He sighed, exasperated, before floating up above, to scan the crowd for his brother.

SANS, YOU LAZY LITTLE BITCH, YOU COULDN’T JUST WALK?

———

Dream flinched at the loud noise. Not thunder. Not thunder. Not thunder. Not—

BOOM.

Dear stars, it’s close to it, though.

Ink studied him, confused. “…Ya good, Dream? It’s just fireworks.”

“Um—”

BOOM.

“It’s—

BOOM.

“It’s really close, though— s- sorry, sorry,” Dream quickly apologized. “It’s, ah- pretty childish of me..”

“Close to what?” Ink prodded.

“N-nothing, it just— it’s a lot like thunder, and— and I’m not exactly fond of it.”

“Ohhh,” Ink said. “Okay! I can make some headphones or something,” he suggested. 

Dream shook his head. “No, it’s really—”

BOOM.

He stifled a squeak. “It’s— it’s not necessary.”

Ink hummed skeptically. “Well, I’m gonna do it anyway! Gimme, like.. 7 minutes.”

BOOM.

“That’s, ah… oddly specific.”

“Well, it’s more than 5 minutes, less than 10, but I dunno how long EXACTLY.” Ink reached behind his back, pulling a sketchbook out of nowhere. Because gods could break the laws of reality as they wished, and Dream would never get used to that.

“But yeah, gimme a few minutes!”

“Oh, well, um- thank you.”

———

“A-a-and-d-a-a-aand— a-aa-and-d W-W-WWHATTT-T THE-E-E F-F-FFUCKK-K W-W-WAAS-S T-THAT-T, HH-HUH-H?” Error ranted, throwing his hands up. “W-W-WHAT-T K-KKIND-D O-O-OF-F F—FUCKING-G-G ANIMA-A-A-ALL-AL-L W-W-WAS-S I-I-IT-T?!”

“Uh huh,” Reaper hummed lazily. “Wow.”

“A-a-also-o-oo—”

BOOM.

Error paused. “…F-f-fuckk-k t-the-e s-s-st-storyy-y-y, I-i-IiiI w-w-wannna-a g-ggo-o w-watch-h-h.”

“Kay, then. Say goodbye, Geno.”

“Fuck you..”

“I mean, we CAN…”

“NO.”

———

“Can— can I just ask— how did you smuggle fireworks here?” Cross pressed, ignoring the loud BOOMs from said fireworks.

Killer laughed lightly, sitting down next to the stage, pulling Cross down as well. “Error knew,” he said. “He let me bring ‘em real high up beforehand, along with the faulty speakers. So nobody would, y’know, die in an explosion or anything. ”

“Oh,” Cross said. “..Wait, what faulty speakers?”

“…Mmmegh.” Killer shrugged, leaning into Cross. “They’re not faulty anymore. Ccino had these speakers, kept playing ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You.’”

Cross had sudden PTSD. “…Oh. THOSE speakers.”

“Yyyeah… so, struck a deal, swapped out the real speakers for these, but some BITCH-ASS named Sciencetale Comic Sans Font—”

“Damn, the full name, huh?”

“—FIXED THEM, and YES the full name.”

“Well, do you WANT to listen to Mariah Carey for 4 hours straight?” Cross pointed out, reaching over to hold Killer’s hand.

The whole ‘love’ thing still felt awkward— and honestly, a little scary— but it also felt… really good. It was nice.

…Minus the part where the chorus of ‘Every Time We Touch’ was stuck in his head. Accurate song, but also it was not the sweet romantic song Cross wanted right now. Can’t I just have some ‘We Found Love’ or something?

…‘Careless Whisper’?

Alas, that didn’t happen.

Killer paused. “…Fair point.”

The two sat by the stage and watched the fireworks.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

“…This could be the moment where we romantically kiss, right?”