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Chapter Text

"D- D- D- DReEAAh-!~" Error made a sound that was a mix between an early 2000s computer having a thermal meltdown and a cat having it's tail stomped upon as he came on Dream's cock.

For the eighth time in a row.

Holy shit-

"Er- Error...! I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry-!" Dream was physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut at this point. It was either he kept babbling, or moaned out how much the Destroyer's tight cunt was driving him insane.

It wasn't even supposed to go this far...!

But now his hips were moving on their own, pounding away and away into the rich, black-blue ecto and throbbing everytime Error’s insides clung around him. Molding itself to better fit his shape-!

"FUCK-!~" He cried a little as he came, unbidden. Hissing in pleasure and apology at once as Error whimpered upon the fiercely hot magic pooling in his already stuffed dummy womb. Without thinking too hard about it, one of Dream's hands found the Destroyer's mandible and pulled him into a heated kiss; a purr that he'd never heard himself make before - low, deep, and very thick - vibrated down within his core. It began to build up as the other skeleton's tongues lolled out in a lewd display once he pulled away.

His cock never stopped pounding, only growing harder the more Error flustered and gave himself away to the pleasure. The more his face bloomed with that very charming golden flush.

Suddenly, the spirit realized why Nightmare was so possessive of the Destroyer in particular.

He knew his twin was territorial over the things he saw as his own- including his men. It never passed Dream's notice how furious and combative his counterpart would become whenever Dream would try reaching out to his subordinates. It made sense. Nightmare relied more on his thralls than Dream had his teammates.

But he never quite understood why Nightmare extended that same ferocity to the few times he's approached Error.

The two were allies, but anyone who knew either of them at least in passing, knew that Error took loyalty under no one. The glitch was as fickle as Ink- if perhaps not moreso with how his mood was in tune with a pendulum. It was a mystery to him how Nightmare could tolerate such attitude.

That didn't mean however, that the few times they have cooperated with one another didn't leave the Stars severely crippled. Error was a powerhouse all on his own, but with Nightmare and his gang?

Ink often had to portal them out of there while they still had all of their bones intact.

Which was why, in the wake of a particularly harsh blow, after the bad guys managed a power grab for FellDeep and Frozentale at once, Dream had resolved to find a way to put a rock in between his brother and the Destroyer.

"StARs- s- S! PlEeeaSE...!~ D- dREaM! DoN't sT- sToP!~" Error’s etchings radiated such a vibrant blue, only further accentuating the yellow dusting his entire skull, down to his shoulders where his ecto had burned intensly with Dream's marks.

He stared, transfixed and dazed from how fuzzy Error’s pleasure felt in his soul. The Destroyer was always such a heavy and powerful well of rage and bitterness. Just by existing alone, Nightmare must've had several boosts to his strength.

But this...!

Dream made a wounded sound as Error’s cunt convulsed around him in another silent orgasm, massaging his length with such warm, velvety heat. He kisses away the tears that broke through, licking the messy magic streams away before they could coagulate into more silken textures.

To manage such positivity from such a blackened source like Error was intoxicating. Error’s fluttering feelings and sweetened intent was thicker than honey, it was lighter than clouds- was this what Nightmare felt when he fed from his negativity all of the time?

If Dream had known ecstasy like this sooner, he'd be hesitant to let it go, too.

"Error...!~ You feel so good!~ Oh my stars...! You're so good, Error!~ You f- feel amazing...!~" Dream didn't know what exactly he was even saying, but just knew he had to let Error know how good he made him feel, how wonderful he was being like this...!

Both of their thighs were splashed and soaked with a combination of their releases, causing a loud clap, clap, clap to bounce off the walls of the room. It made his head feel even more dizzy and heavy.

Dream was only planning on forging a truce of sorts. Maybe figure out how Nightmare earned Error’s favor so well...

Oh, he certainly found out how...!

He wondered how many times Nightmare managed to seduce the Destroyer like this. The thought made something burn inside of him, and he groaned in satisfaction when Error gasped, blurry eyelights flaring as Dream's pace excelled.

"You’re a natural, Error! Hah!~ L- Look at how well you're taking my cock...!~ It feels so hot and-! And ti- tight...!~ Fuck! I'm gonna cum again, Error!~" Dream felt his brain entering the last of it's processing. He was sure he could be forgiven the lack of creative dialogue, Error’s cunt was just so tight and sweet around him...!

The other skeleton said something, but Dream was already too far gone to catch it. He clung closer, wrapping his arms tight around his partner, fingers hooking into the back of his ecto as he jackhammered up into the sloppy, slick heat.

Dream couldn't help his eyelights snapping into hearts at the sensation, from all of the sweet, fuzzy positivity clouding his head and stuffing it with molten desire. He watched Error sob from whatever look he was giving him, felt his pussy suck down and threaten to break his dick off.

That was it.

"ERROR...!~" Dream had the biggest orgasm of his life. Right inside the Destroyer of Worlds' pussy; filling the other god up with so much magic that he'd be feeling the aftereffects for weeks.

"Haah...!~" A deep-seated satisfaction curled in his soul as Error moaned in delight, sockets blurring with glitches as he leaned fully into the other in his exhaustion.

As the pair slumped over and fell into a heap, Dream felt his heart skip a beat as his cock slipped out of Error’s pussy. Gaze unable to tear away from where his spend was now dribbling out, pooling between them as Error gave such a needy shudder.

He felt his mouth go dry, watching the liquid honey slosh out from between the other's fluttering lips in fat, lazy streams, with thighs trembling in phantom sensations of euphoria as the cum only prolonged his heat.

Distantly... Dream realized that maybe... just maybe, Nightmare was right to try to keep Error from him.

Chapter Text

The council chamber was in an uproar- which wasn't really all that uncommon an occurrence considering the vast diversity of personalities collected within one place. What did set things apart however, was the four skeletons hogtied within the center of the room.

Killer smiled like a fox that had gotten away with sneaking into the chicken coop as Red was being physically held back by both Classic and Outer. The Fell monster screaming all sorts of profanities as Killer continued to just keep watching.

To his left, Dust watched the sad display with little interest, more invested in picking at the ropes binding them to their chairs. It was a lost cause, with how the material was bolstered with magic, while they currently had their own suppressed, but the small act of defiance served to keep him from getting too wound up.

After he ignored the first few people outright, and simply gave a look to the first and only monster to scrounge up the courage to get in his face, the rest of the room deemed him a lost cause.

On the other side of him, Cross was glaring at everyone who dared to make eye contact, warning anyone that if they tried to get anything out of him, there would be a lot of trouble to pay. His expression was a mix of annoyance and defiance, as if to say that he would rather die before being made to talk.

The strangely accurate tongue lashing he'd given to his first interrogators greatly dissuaded anyone else from stepping up to the challenge.

Horror - as far as the rest of the multiverse was aware - wasn't even worth their time. He took a nap once it became apparent that one: they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. And two: no one was going to bug him.

That didn't last long, unfortunately, once Red finally had to be slammed back into a wall with a burst of blue magic, before he actually got too close to their very dangerous, and very valuable prisoner.

"MotherfuCKER-!" Red sat up and gave the laughing skeleton a fierce look, shaking off Alter's concerns with a snarl. "You sorry sonuvabitch! You're gonna tell us where that sorry fuckin' goopy ass boss of yer's is! Or I'm gonna-!"

"Red!" Classic gave his friend a pleading expression, forcing the other monster to grimace in embarrassment, before Killer started up laughing again.

The entire room leveled the hate-filled monster with a glare as he madly cackled in entertainment, not having once even shown any irritation for his situation at all. "Heheheheheheh...! Or what? Ya gonna 'beat' it outta me?~ Hmm, I'd like to see ya try, but I think we all know you're too soft fer that!"

Another voice, calm yet laced with sharp annoyance, cut through Killer's laughter.

"Enough," Sci said, adjusting his glasses. His usually composed demeanor had thinned into visible irritation. "We're not getting anywhere with brute force and empty threats."

Several people made way as the smaller skeleton stepped down from his seat, everyone knowing better than to get on the bad side of one of the multiverse's most brilliant minds.

Dream greeted him at the bottom of the stairs, expression troubled. "Sci, please tell me you have a better idea than... this." He gestured toward the chaos in the chamber, where Red was now being gently led back to his seat by his friends- but now G has seemed to find it timely to step up next, already looking close to wringing Killer's neck from whatever shit he was spewing now.

Sci crossed his arms, adjusting his glasses once more before shoving his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "Actually, I do."

The spirit nearly melted with relief, slumping in on himself slightly as he felt his stress ease at the reliable and confident response. "Great...!" Dream could've wept, "what do you have in mind?"

"It’s simple. We’ll use my truth serum," Sci explained, pulling out a small vial from his pocket. "I’ve been perfecting the formula for weeks. It’s non-lethal and should have them to answer any question we ask truthfully."

The room fell into a tense silence. Even the bound monsters paused, each of them giving Sci varying looks of suspicion and wariness. A vaguely murderous intent began to coagulate around the group.

Dream blinked, his smile twitching in the corners as he processed what he heard. "A... truth serum? Sci, are you serious?"

"Completely. It’s a specialized magical composition that temporarily overrides one's ability to lie, compelling absolute honesty." Sci continued confidently, ignoring the shifting energy in the room. "The full dose should last a few minutes, so if we split it amongst them, we'll have quarter that time- long enough for us to get useful information out of them, either way."

"You’re Kidding," Blue said, looking absolutely scandalized. "Sci, We Can’t-! This Is Unethical! You’re Talking About Forcing Them To Speak...!"

Dream nodded in agreement, his expression deeply uncomfortable as he stepped away from the vial. "...We’re supposed to be better than this. Using something like that... crosses a line I can't agree with."

"Why do you even have that on you?" Crow interrupted with unease, flapping his wings reflexively to signal his discomfort. A few monsters eyed the bottle both warily, and pensively, whispering amongst themselves in hushed voices.

Sci remained unfazed by the growing tension. "I didn’t bring it here for this purpose specifically," he explained with a little snark. "It was meant to be a research project I wanted to bring up among today's topics of discussion. This is still a prototype, and the materials needed to synthesize the-"

Before Sci could go on a tangent, Ink stepped forward, a grin spreading across his face. "Unethical, schmunethical," he said with a carefree but shining gleam in his eyelights. "They don’t exactly play fair either, Blue!"

"But-!" Dream tried to protest, but Ink had already grabbed the vial from Sci’s hand.

Without warning, and to the utter horror of his fellow Stars, Ink unbottled the concoction and splashed the serum over the four skeletons with an exaggerated flourish. Green liquid shimmered as it settled on their bones, dripping down their skulls and seeping into gaps around their joints.

"INK!" Dream shouted in alarm, but it was already too late. Even as Blue tugged the artist back and confiscated the empty glass from him, the damage had been done.

Dust recoiled slightly, but otherwise didn’t react much, still fiddling with his ropes. Cross let out a smothered yelp, shooting Ink a deadly glare once he recovered. Killer flinched back from the initial splash, then tilted his head in amused curiosity as it soaked in. Meanwhile, Horror simply yawned, seemingly unfazed with the entire situation.

The tension in the room thickened as the Star Sanses waited, unsure if the serum was taking effect. Killer’s grin faltered slightly, and Dust shifted uncomfortably in his chair. But as the seconds ticked by, nothing of noticeable consequence happened.

Well then.

“Okay, how do we know if it worked?” Blue asked after a beat of silence.

"I got it!" Ink grinned mischievously, his free hand shooting into the air as if he were answering a question in class. The chaotic energy radiating off him made Dream’s stomach twist with unease, but before he could even turn his friend down, Ink was already wiggling out of Blue's hold and approaching the Bad Sanses with a cheeky grin.

The guardian knelt down, hands on his knees as he balanced himself on his tippy-toes. He stared at Killer, and Killer stared back. It was a strange exchange, as Ink slowly tilted his head as if in thought, before rolling it in the other direction, never blinking.

Just as a thin sheen of sweat began to bead along the back of Killer's skull, Ink's grin turned nefarious.

"Alright, serious question time!” he announced dramatically. “Here’s something that’s been bugging me for ages...! Everybody's probably heard this rumor before, so I can't be the only one who wants to know too!"

A few people in the room leaned in, curious as to what the Creator would find notable enough to remember for the amount of time needed to pass for it to actually bother him.

"...Are you guys Nightmare's bitches?"

Dream turned bright yellow, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he barely kept himself from leaping out of his metaphorical skin. “INK-!” he hissed. “What is wrong with you?! We don’t need to know that!”

But it was too late. The question was out in the open, and Ink was already grinning like a kid who’d just set off a firecracker.

"But Dream...!" The other skeleton whined, too cheerful to be genuine. "Everyone's said it before! I gotta know! Aren't you even a little curious about what Nightmare's relationship is with these guys? I mean- Nightmare’s private life is one of the biggest mysteries in the multiverse!"

“NO?! No! I do not want to know that!” Dream looked like he was on the verge of combusting from sheer embarrassment. “I don’t want to know anything about Nightmare’s- his- ugh! P- P- Personal matters...!”

The rest of the room seemed to be divided between where they stood. Classic looked like he was reconsidering his entire existence, and Blue appeared seconds away from fleeing the scene in scandal of the turn of events. A SwapShift Torial pulled a face as if she couldn't decide upon being excited or scared. Red though, seemed to have been much too invested in the turn of conversation; Sci having even suddenly pulled out a notebook and started to furiously scribble in it?!

Killer’s grin widened into something devilish, his sockets growing hooded with a heat Dream did not like seeing. "Well...!~" He shifted in his seat, the husky purr in his voice about to be a star in Dream's nightmares to come. "Damn, Inky... If you guys really wanna know-"

Before Killer could utter a single word, a blur of grey and red suddenly flew in from out of nowhere, slamming right into the other skeleton with a violent crack and toppling his chair - with said skeleton still tied to it - into the floor.

It took Dream embarrassingly long to realize that Dust had somehow hurled himself, chair and all, at Killer. His entire body was still strapped to his chair, the magical suppressants were still working- yet against all manners of logic, he had managed to summon his ecto body, and was now actively trying to smother Killer with his thighs.

The entire room erupted into chaos as Dust straddled Killer, hissing and growling murderously with a low chant of "shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup...!" He squeezed tighter and tighter, eliciting a series of choked gags and gasps from the skeleton below him as his hands and feet flailed uselessly in desperation.

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!" Cross shouted from his chair, his voice rising hysterically as he struggled desperately with his own bindings. "Dust! Kill him before he says anything!" His face had never been such a thorough coating of purple.

All around them, people were raising up a storm of various shouts, some ranging from, "I knew it...!" To, "I'll never be able to forget this...!" Others simply froze in utter disbelief, unable to comprehend the insanity unfolding in front of them.

The spirit was abruptly shaken from his state of shock as Blue seized him by his shawl, looking like he was seconds from a complete meltdown. "DREAM...! I'M...! I DON'T KNOW HOW I'M SUPPOSED TO BE FEELING RIGHT NOW?! HOW DO WE PROCESS THIS...?!"

Dream had no idea, but didn't voice as such, not wanting to add to Blue's hysteria right now.

Ink was on the floor, clutching his ribs with too much strength as they subtly creaked, howling with laughter so loud that black tears streamed down his face and nasal ridge. His eyelights were blurred as they flipped through too many shapes at once, but nobody seemed to be too worried to check up on him as he flailed and rolled around the floor.

Amidst the chaos, Killer - despite literally being choked by Dust’s thighs - still managed to wheeze out a garbled laugh. “Heheh-! D- Dusty...! I know you like it rough...! B- But I don’t...! Thhhink this is what... you meant by... 'riding the hell outta m- UGH!"

Dust snarled, squeezing his thighs tighter, ignoring Killer’s teasing as if his life depended on it. “SHUT. UP!” He snapped through clenched teeth.

Dream - who heard that, mind you - had buried his face in his hands, his entire body glowing a deep gold from the sheer embarrassment radiating off him. “This isn’t happening. This is not happening.”

"Y'know..."

The spirit froze from the deep voice. Now peeking through his fingers, his eyelights shrunk in dread as he met Horror's predatory grin. “Please don’t-”

But Horror ignored the protests. With a smug look and an almost lazy drawl, he delivered the final blow to Dream's mental state, "when we're intimate, the boss ain't the one doing the bitching."

Dream let out a strangled sound somewhere between a scream and a groan, completely mortified as he sunk to his knees, letting Blue cradle his head to his core. Somewhere behind him, Ink finally couldn't take it anymore, and retched as the ink in his system came flowing out.

With his magic no longer keeping the gang firmly trapped, the skeletons quickly and silently portaled out of there while they had the chance. Leaving everyone all the more burdened with forbidden knowledge. But none moreso than Dream.

. . . .

Poor Dream couldn't look his brother in the eye for a month.

Chapter Text

Ink watched the hunter from the safety of his atoll. Enchanted. Enraptured. The fluttering in his ribcage made his throat tremble, caused the marrow rooted in his bones to curl with a heat never once experienced. The black markings outlining his predatory nature, the stripes and swirls cascading over his ivory figure, softly burned with faint glimmers of colors he hadn't even the name for. Sparkling along the outlines and bleeding with his magic.

Each strange hue was highlighting intent he couldn't yet understand. Feelings foreign and new and wonderful and colorful and his were slowly coming to life inside the empty cavern of his chest. Here and now. And Ink could only sit back on his mantle and emulate shock at the majesty of it all, of the sight before him that had given rise to such delight.

More. Observe. Watch.

His body shuddered as the hunter released a cackle, their voice crinkling and alive in a way that made his body physically ache all on its own. As if on command, his jaw snapped shut as the trembling reached its strongest, and felt his magic imitate the sensation of swallowing. A claw flew to his teeth, eyes widening in surprise at such a pure reaction.

Ink moaned, enthrallment and astonishment blending together into one singular throb of heat, sweeping over his cheeks and flooding his skull with a fuzzy, squirming rush that made it feel too heavy to keep up. He collapsed against the coral, cradling his cloudy head against the stony coral as he felt his eyelights pulse, changing shape into one that felt similar to diamonds or ovals.

He moaned again despite himself, limbs curling and sliding mindlessly through the sand, his mantle flapped delicately in his joy - so many new emotions and colors! - wondering what meaning were the new symbols meant to portray? What was this new color in the forefront of his being trying to project?

Empty and predatory as he was, Ink couldn't figure these feelings out for the life of him... But something told him that the hunter would know. They would definitely be able to recognize these colors, being the one responsible for drawing them out.

They slaughtered each mermaid deftly, not a single blow being wasted as he pulled each one, writhing and sobbing from the trenches as they were, and slid a magic attack right between their ribs. The intent of their magic so bloody and dark that the color was more vibrant and striking than even the guts and frothing seafoam pooling over the deck of their boat.

Each mermaid, big and small, young and old, strong and weak, had pled for mercy at his hands, had called out for Ink to come to their rescue- as always. If he concentrated enough, he could feel the faint pops of red behind his eyes. This school had served him so well, after all; it took little effort to acclimate himself to their ways, they spared no hesitation or suspicion towards his otherness, not a single stir of doubt was attributed to his lack of innate understanding.

No one even considered him being a siren.

They had taught him new things about yellow and purple and green: how joy could be blended into courtesy, or how fear could give way to resilience, and kindness being useful for mixing diligence and generosity... It would be a shame to cut things off here after so much progress.

He imagined that if he chose to follow the drops of red down, anger may find its way to him. A reason to fly to their rescue would come upon him, surely...

But this time, Ink did not intervene. Too enamored with the inexplicable myriad of emotions washing over him to bother playing the innocent mermaid any longer. He knew yellow and purple and green well enough already- too well, in fact. These were fresh and unknown to him. They were vibrant, raw, and burning in a way that made the rest seem dull in comparison. As if the past few centuries spent among the shallows were nothing but a waste.

Why hadn’t he experienced this before? Why now? What had changed?

He only needed to consider the question for but a moment, attention quickly seized as the hunter yanked upon their strange cords, making the hefty capricorn dropped along the deck tense up in their useless flailing. The mermaid seemed paralyzed, and Ink marveled over how richly the ultramarine of the cords shined bright with the hunter's magic. The coloration was abundant, told him the monster was strong and healthy. It painted quite the pretty glow over the capricorn's horrified features.

Seek. Wait. Listen.

Ink watched attentively, as the hunter cackled in that poppy, fizzling voice that made his head rattle and skitter with hot magic rising to the surface. They were speaking to the capricorn - oh how he wished he could get closer without notice! - words just as fizzy and buzzing as their laughter, and rhythmically tugging on those cords, each pull causing the mermaid to wince in different ways.

The capricorn mouthed something- or perhaps they whimpered, Ink couldn't have heard it. But whatever it was, it made the hunter go still, a fierce expression of... disgust? Anger? Guilt? It was too difficult for Ink to tell. Nonetheless, they bared their teeth in a hostile display, mandible curling it into a grin as they rumbled darkly. Not even a second later, the mermaid was splattered across the deck in a bloom of red and blue-grey.

Blood dribbled over the sides of the deck, droplets branching around the hull of the ship and slowly flowering into glittering seafoam. Instead of dumping it over the side like they've done for the others, the hunter was content to watch this corpse dissolve into a molten puddle of bloody froth and brine.

The look on their face...!

Ink shivered again, his mantle rippling softly and splashing against the surface as he absorbed the sight. It was the first time he had seen the hunter falter. The myriad of new colors swirling in his being intensified, almost frantic- if he could attribute consciousness to these sensations; it was as if they were urging him toward something primal. His magic simmered along his form, whispering things Ink had no words for, instincts he barely understood.

Following his instincts, he pulled himself together enough to regain control of his writhing limbs, sliding into the water and propelling himself towards the grisly cloud surrounding the ship. The moment he crossed the waters, he could smell how thick the stench of death and monster seafoam polluted the area, but overlaying it was a sharpness and sensile tang easily attributed to the hunter.

The smell made something deep in his ecto pulse to life. There was a physical snap and the siren got distracted for a moment, looking down to investigate. Nearly folding himself in half, Ink followed the tingling sensation to his beak, snapping and clicking in short little twitches. There was a glow hidden within the opening - one that he was unfamiliar with - and with an experimental parting with his claws, he tilted his head in curiosity to find an organ having manifested itself within his pelvis.

It felt hot to the touch and prehensile- something like a shorter version of his tentacles, but smoother, more sensitive. Unfortunately, the organ was burrowed too far within his beak to really get a proper investigation, but his attention was quickly brought back to the boat when the surface began to ripple. Glancing back over, he could vaguely make out the shape of the hunter spraying something over the deck- likely to clear away the carnage left behind.

Deciding to leave investigating the new organ for later - it was the one thing that couldn't get away from him after all - he zipped over to the vessel, carefully clearing away most of the particles trapped within the water column to get a better look.

Hovering just below the surface, Ink paused, eyelights throbbing - still in that new strange shape - as he took the opportunity to admire the features previously unnoticed in his hunter.

He was fairly certain before, but now he could clearly see that they were in fact a land monster. A skeleton monster like him, in fact! Unlike him, however, this one had bones of black. Their sockets gleamed a menacing crimson that blazed in stark contrast to the etchings framing their face, the same rich ultramarine as their cords...

There was so much magic woven into their very being, Ink could almost feel it in the water. The residue of their magic attacks still burned even after they were long dispelled, humming with dark intent. The swirling ultramarine etched down their cheeks pulsated in time with a silent living rhythm Ink couldn’t help but sync himself to.

The skeleton-hunter seemed to have been collecting their cords, spinning them all in a loose coil with quick, slight movements with their fingers. Methodical. Dexterous. They were completely focused on their task, giving Ink all the time he wanted to get a good look at the other monster.

...He considered pulling them under and devouring them.

Mermaid souls always tasted sweet and supple- granting him a momentary high in which he could freely float along. Most times, his marrow would rush with inane happiness, from which he would giggle and dance along to until the yellow paled and his gut ached from the continuous strain. Other times, he'd be flooding with green or blue instead; sympathy - while enjoyable - did not agree with him in such high concentrations, and any instances in which he'd devour one too many would result in a lethargy most unbecoming of him. Blue wasn't as bad, but did come along with a mighty headache.

A being whose very presence seemed to draw heat from him...

Now what would that taste like...?

Ink truly thought about it. Slowly, he stared into the hunter's face, their hands that bore no proper claws, the strange tenseness in their spine. It would be easy to overpower them.

...But no.

He wanted more than just their soul. He wanted their emotions. He wanted to learn these new colors and feel these new sensations again and again, as intensely as he did now- for a long time to come. And the only way to do that was to keep the hunter alive long enough to understand them.

Ink tilted his head, mimicking the way the mermaids often did when curious. The markings on his body flashed brightly, all yellows and cyans- the most soothing colors among his repertoire. He saw the exact moment the hunter had caught sight of the flare up, his chest rattling with a roll of heat as their eyelights darted to the water, unknowingly looking right at him through the dark curtain. Ink's throat swallowed on its own again, as the hunter's eyes sharpened into something bloodthirsty.

He smiled, though the expression was hidden beneath the waves.

"OoOoOHh...? D- DiD i mISs oNe...?" The skeleton leered over the side of their boat, mirroring Ink's grin as his eyelights searched the surface for his lights. One of his phalanges slid up and traced his etchings, and Ink had to physically restrain himself from lighting up in amazement as the hand pulled away with a brand new cord wound around it.

The string crackled with a violent buzz, and the siren couldn't help but coo at the bright and vibrant display. His ecto tingled with the impulse to light up with that new emotion- and he was tempted, if only to actually get a good look at this brand new color, but no. The look in the skeleton-hunter's eyelights told him that answering would not result well for him.

"cOMe oU- oUT, CoMe ouT, liTtLE mERmAi- aID... i'LL rEuNi- ITe yOu wITh tHE r- ReST ssssOON eNouGh...!~" They crooned with a saccharine fluttering. Cords never once fading in murderous intent, pulling taut in anticipation, facial features twitching in eagerness.

Ink dared to drift closer to the surface, knowing his massive form was still concealed by the dark, clouded waters below the ship. His magic whispered again, this time forming a thin film over his sight, the color was... sweet. Similar to red but very, very different.

Closer. Touch. Learn.

It bid him to take that final step forwards.

"wELl? wHat's tHis...? too sCarEd tO Sh- shOw yOUr PreTtY lItTLe faCE...?~" Error taunted, his grin sharp, but Ink could see the tension beneath the facade. His fingers twitched slightly as if eager to lash out with those brilliant cords. "c’moN, pAL, i doN't haVE aLl daY..."

Ink rose slowly, breaking the surface with deliberate grace. Water cascaded off his form in shimmering droplets, following the paths of his stripes as they dribbled downwards, his bioluminescence glowing faintly in the fading sunlight. His gaze locked onto the hunter’s, unblinking and intense. He felt that hot coil in his ribcage squeeze and flutter up voraciously once they startled back, making room for him to crawl up onto the deck.

Unbidden, his mouth watered. He swallowed again, only mildly offput to find a significant lack in substance.

“WhAT TH- tH- THE HeLL-?!” The monster snarled, his magic flaring defensively as he slid away one step at a time, putting distance between himself and the strange mermaid climbing up the side of the vessel. “WHo- wHAT ARE- ARe yOU?!”

Ink let his magic flood outwards, this time intentionally flaring with those strange, vibrant hues he didn’t fully understand - those not-reds and not-purples that fizzled and made his bones feel so hot and pleasantly inflamed - bright and new and utterly captivating. He wanted to see how the hunter would react. Would they recognize these colors? Would they understand what Ink himself could not?

"Y- yOu'RE noT... yOU'rE NOt a mERmaId," they muttered, his voice quieter now, the tension in their frame shifting to something more uncertain. His eyelights flickered warily, scanning Ink’s massive form. It made him want to seem even bigger, for some reason. "f- f- fUck..."

The way the other monster looked at him made his ecto throb again with unspoken intensity. This close, he could see the fizzling specks and sparks of magic that danced over their figure, it made their entire presence seem more. More alive. More loud. More powerful. More, more, more.

A pulse of exhilaration rippled through Ink’s form, his mantle shimmering with soft waves of those new colors, hues he barely understood but craved to explore. The hunter’s confusion only fueled his curiosity. They had stopped moving, their cords still crackling but no longer as threatening. Were they waiting? Preparing? Ink couldn’t tell, but he didn’t care. He was closer now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from their intent. The ship creaked under his weight, but he didn't mind.

He did mind one thing, though.

"What's your name?"

The hunter blinked- entire body going stiff as he eyed the sea monster warily. A few heartbeats passed before he answered. "E- ErROr..." he muttered, the tension in his voice masked poorly by a scowl. His hands twitched again, phalanges brushing the cords between his thumb and forefinger. Eager to be used.

They didn't ask for his name. But Ink had all the time to give it to them, he was more focused on the way the heat was starting to burn in a good way. It was too hot but he didn't want it to stop, it was as if new senses were slowly breaking him open from within. He needed moremoremore-

Error's sockets narrowed further, his defensive stance hardening as if sensing the shift in Ink’s aura. Ink couldn't help but giggle at the sight... odd, he didn't feel any yellow...

“I... want to understand,” Ink said, his voice calm, but with an undertone of something far deeper. His eyelights gleamed, unblinking as they locked onto Error’s. They kept throbbing, making his skull feel light instead of heavy now. Light enough pop off and bob away with the currents. It made him slightly dizzy.

Error narrowed his eyes. “...UNDeRstAnD wH- WHat?” There was paranoia now.

That won't do, Ink didn't want that.

“These colors,” Ink replied simply, motioning to his tentacles, curling and waving around as if to bring attention to them. He leaned closer, only to retract when Error's magic crackled warningly. His grin twitched up at the corners, feeling a sparkle in the back of his eyes.

“You made me feel something. Something new.”

This time, Error’s sockets flickered without blinking, flooding with tiny patterns he didn't have the time to discern before his expression was twisting into something that was equal parts alarm and annoyance. He looked at the tentacles warily, shifting on his feet as if wanting to break into a run. Ink couldn't see it, but he could smell the traces of sweat building on his person.

"wH- WH- wHaT?! aRe y- YOu tRyiNG tO Say i gO- gOt yOU tiCKleD p- p- pINK, Or sOMetHi- iNG...?!" He growled, trying to mask his unease with irritation. "geT LOst beFoRe I FRy y-yOu!"

Pink? Was that the name of this color...?

What a nice name...

Ink smiled faintly, the expression alien on his face but genuine. Maybe that was why it felt weird.

"You’re... pretty," he murmured, voice carrying a strange undertone of hunger and wonder. Was he hungry? He didn't feel hungry. But for some reason it felt like hungry...

"Different from anything I’ve seen before..."

Error's face became unreadable for a moment, caution flickering back into his eyes as he skid back- until he nearly tripped himself overboard. "wELL- yOU’rE A frEAk tOo," they spat, though their voice trembled slightly, betraying their unease. "AnD WhY dO yoU- yOU keEP LooKIN' aT- at Me LIkE THat...?"

"...Like what?"

Error sputtered. Oh, it was such a curious, strange sound. It was like barking off seals caught within a repetitive cycle. It was cute.

"w- WiTh-! ThoSE stUpiD hE- hEaRTss iN yOUr eYeS...!"

Ink froze for a moment, genuinely perplexed. Hearts in his eyes? Was that the name for these strange not-diamonds, not-ovals...? He blinked slowly, a ripple of pink sweeping across his form as his mind tried to process the other monster's words. He didn’t know what Error meant, but he liked the way it made him feel. His chest buzzed with that strange warmth again, and his ecto practically hummed with pleasure.

He liked the way that Error made him feel...

Oh... Oh...!

Was this what they called... love?

Taste. Embrace. Take.

The throbbing of his eyelights expanded, it was like a filter watering down his own vision, making it hazy, giving it tunnel vision, until all he could see was the colorful little skeleton-hunter and his ultramarine magic cords. They burned his sight until he was sure he could picture them with his eyes closed. Until he was sure he could remember.

Just the thought of forgetting this gave him pain. It made him inhale sharply, an odd ache sliding past his defenses and lancing through his empty center. Even this pain was new, and he treasured it already. He felt his entire body glow, embracing the warmth and fuzziness- which must've been attraction! Yes, the heat was likely lust.

Did his body want to mate with Error...?

Well...

There was only one way to find out, wasn't there?

In one fluid motion, Ink lunged.

The other monster barely had time to react before Ink's limbs lashed forth, immediately latching onto and coiling around anything and everything they managed to grab. The siren was pleasantly surprised to find that Error's little flickers could be felt upon touch. They were fizzling over his ecto, sensation similar to cytotoxins he's experienced in the past. It was painful... but in a tiny, funny way... If given enough time and exposure, Ink was certain he'd come to enjoy it.

Error took a step back too late, gasping with alarm as he was tugged back up too quickly, unable to make any distance between them as the powerful limbs snapped around his joints and torso. "ST- sTay bACk...! y- Y- yOu sQuI- UiD fR- FR- FreAk...!" He warned, cords snapping to life, crackling with energy that Ink knew would be ineffective at this distance. "lET gO OF mE...! I- i’M WArnIN’ yOU...!"

“You’re afraid.” His words weren’t meant to be mocking, just an observation. Another wave of pink danced over his stripes as if to soothe the poor little land monster, softer this time, gentler, as if trying to brush away Error’s tension. “Don’t be.”

Error grit his teeth, glaring up at the siren with a mix of defiance and unease. It made Ink want to smother him... not-violently, though. “WhY SHOulD- sHoULdN’T i bE?! aRe yO- YoU st- St- sTuPid...?! YoU ju- jUST gRaBbeD mE- E o- ouT oF no- nO- noWHerE...!”

Ink blinked, momentarily thrown off by Error’s trembling voice. He didn’t quite understand why the hunter was so resistant. The mermaids never acted like this. They always let him come close, always trusted him before he... before he ended things.

But Error wasn’t like the mermaids. Error was different.

And Ink wanted to keep that difference.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ink said slowly, calmly. His tentacles kept his prey trapped, hooks out but not grappling with bone just yet, he didn't necessarily want to hurt the other. “I just want... you.”

Error’s jaw clacked open and closed, and for a moment, genuine fear flashed across his face. Ink tilted his head again, trying to understand the expression. It made the fluttering in his chest swell and bloom even more, made him crave something he couldn’t name. The ecto organ within his beak throbbed like it was in pain. Like it wanted to be released.

“You’re confusing.” Ink admitted softly, his voice almost wistful. “But I don’t mind... I like it...”

“yOU’Re Nu- nUTS- tS!” Error snapped, stumbling and flailing as he tried to slice and stab through tough and flexible ecto. His magic continued to spark, erratic and powerful in his hands. It was like he was holding fire. “Go gEt yOUR kIcKs sOmeWheRe- eRE ELsE, y- YOu frEAkY FIsH!”

"No." Ink shook his head, slowly starting to retreat back into the water. Watching his beloved struggle so pleasingly. "I don't want to lose you."

The statement was simple, but the weight behind it was immense, reverberating through the air between them. Ink didn’t fully understand why he said it, but the feeling of need swelled in his chest, consuming all reason. He didn’t want Error to leave, didn’t want him to disappear like the mermaids did after he became bored with them. Error made him feel. He made the new, beautiful colors bloom.

And that was all he ever needed.

Error thrashed again, eyes flicking towards the water in growing panic as Ink’s grip tightened. “ST- St- sToP! I’M WArnINg YoU...!” his voice cracked, cords sparking before they splintered and died as he strained against the hold, but it was no use. Ink’s limbs were too strong, too overwhelming. Error's magic crackled helplessly against the damp ecto surface.

“Don’t fight,” Ink whispered softly, his voice laced with something akin to a lullaby. His tentacles pulsed with warm hues of pink and cyan, colors swirling in soothing waves. “It’s... okay. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

“w- WhaT aRE YoU tALkiNG AboUT?! YoU’Re CRAzY! I- i- I’M nOt...! I’m nOT GoiNg ANyWHere WiTh YoU!” Error stammered. Once he seemed to realize that magic wasn't going to work anytime soon, he began to writhe and squirm like a little starfish. The slips of red that would flash whenever his clothes rode up his figure made Ink's eyes wander curiously - and his ecto to flash with heat-pain - but he mostly kept stubbornly to his task.

“But you already are.” Ink’s grin twitched wider, his voice carrying a strange kind of vibration he'd never heard from himself before, as if in song. It was all perfectly natural, he supposed. Sirens were meant to sing for their mates, were they not?

His limbs shifted, lifting Error slightly off the deck. “I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’ll teach you what I’ve learned... and you’ll teach me, too.”

“NO-!” Error struggled harder, his strange bone-colors flashing wildly as he realized how close he was to being dragged underwater. “LeT ME gO, yoU siCK FrEak!”

"Shhhhhh..." The siren simply shushed them, a stroke of brilliance coming upon him as he shot up from his way halfway down the hull, meeting Error with a kiss.

The skeleton-hunter immediately settled down, and as his mate-to-be was distracted by their romantic embrace - making such the prettiest churring sound - he took the opportunity to snag him under to drown nice and proper.

Ink may not know much about love quite yet, but don't let it be said that he was a bad mate. It was only fair he turn Error into a siren as quickly as possible so they could start learning together.

First thing they would figure out? Doing something about this persistent fire in his pelvis...!

Chapter Text

Nightmare had two tongues. Many people knew this fact, whether by seeing it for themselves or through his voice alone. From this fact, there was a common sentiment that would arise:

"The King of Negativity is a snake. Of course his mouth would be forked like one." Is what those same people conclude without anymore thought.

What fewer people knew, was that Nightmare's tongues were more than just another result of his corrupted nature. They carried a burden. A trick only vexing himself.

With one tongue, he could only tell lies.

The other only spoke the truth.

Nightmare could never tell which tongue from the other.

And somehow, Dream had discovered this trick- even more vexing? Dream could tell which one he spoke with, despite Nightmare himself being unable to do so.

"I hate you from the very bottom of my soul, brother."

And then Dream would beam at him. Dazzling him with a disorienting burst of positivity and simply rubbing in his temporary victory.

His companions would give him odd looks, much kinder than the glowers and sneers from which his men would holler out insults amidst their retreat.

Nightmare would shy away - rather disturbed in his own ignorance - and return to his domain, with his nerves tucked between his legs.

Wondering with which whose tongue, did he speak lies? And who spoke the truth?

Chapter Text

Like all things in his life, Error's latest crisis can be traced back to a certain Squidiot. That irritating, hyperactive, paint-splattered excuse for an artist. Just the thought of that moron made the glitches around his skull skitter and swarm irritably. He waved them away with a huff, even if it didn't really do much but spread the sizzling cloud down his phalanges. Ugh.

Over the absolute buttfuck number of years that they have been stuck with one another, Error has come to find a pattern in the Creator's little 'creativity binges' and whims. See, the stupid anomalies kept praising and imagining Ink to be some inventive genius or a brilliant storyteller. Hah! Truth was, most of his 'artworks' weren't even original! Each and every one, Error bet he could trace back to some no-name AU or timeline.

The soulless idiot would just take existing concepts from the Creators, change it up a little, and then make a gazillion variations of the fucking waste of space! And people wondered why there were so many copies?!

So, when word spread out, like the announcement of a limited edition line of OG MTT brand 'Goo-Goo' boots, that Death and his annoying not brother had an anomalous little mistake - Goth, they called it! What kind of name even was that?! Not better than Anomaly #281! That's for sure! - he should've known better than to think that Ink wouldn't get caught up in the hype.

Sure, Error expected the usual annoying rambles and nonsense from his rival, maybe some half-baked joke or two about how ‘cool it was’ that Death of all people had a kid. Or asking into how the glitch felt about 'being an uncle.' But nope. Ink just had to find a way to make his opinion of him get lower and lower.

The first week after Goth's announcement - and subsequential baby shower - Error hadn't heard shit from the artist. Which- thank the fucking stars for, because the Voices were already blowing his head up about it enough to know every little thing about the mistake without even having seen its code yet.

It was another week later, when he finally scrounged up the nerve to give Geno a piece of his mind - seriously, the miserable motherfucker made his phone fucking short-out with the number of notifications he was blasting him with - that Error collected his first red flag.

"So... what the heck's going on with Ink?"

"Hu- uUuhH...?" Error blinked up at his not brother from where he had been looming over the abomination's cradle, strings fizzling out of existence at the distraction and dropping the doll - that Error just so happened to have brought with him - into the stupid, adorable little anomaly's arms.

He sneered down in offense as the little glitch squealed out in nonsensical delight, blunted, soft teeth numbing over their father's imitation as their wings and feet swatted in the air. Geno had the audacity to snort at the sight, before walking up to the cradle himself and standing just a few steps away from Error's side.

"He came to congratulate us during the baby shower - despite me and Reaper not having even made the public announcement yet, mind you - and when he saw Goth he kinda just... froze. Just stood there, really. And then right when we were about to call the Stars, he bowled over, puked all over my starsdamn floor, and started asking us about 'how we made him.'" Geno's face screwed up like he bit a lemon.

"...ThE Cr- cReaToRs weRE aLl mAkiNG a B- B- BIg fuCkiN dEaL oVeR yoUr ANomAly. wOulDN't BE suRpRiseD if hE wAntED- eD To mAke cOP- oPieSss." It wasn't strange for Ink to poke his metaphorical nose into things if it caught his benefactors' attention; often with the intention of 'spicing' things up, or potentially replicating the occurrence.

Error didn't bring attention to the pricklings of code sizzling within his right socket; a very, very, deep part of him crawling with discomfort at the idea of having to eliminate imitations of Geno's little abomination soon... "IT wAs all Th- tHe voICeS CoUlD tALk ABoUt," he griped lightly, forcing the thought from his mind.

As long as he didn't think about it, then maybe it wouldn't happen...

Geno didn't look very glad to hear that, pixels buzzing a little louder as he heaved a deep sigh. There was momentary silence between them, only interrupted by the babybone's excitable squirming and burbling yowls. He reached down into the cradle and scooped Goth out, much to the little anomaly's delight.

Baby Goth wauled in delight, tiny hands reaching toward Geno's face while fluffy, puffed up wings flapped in excitement. Error watched the scene with affection distaste, his glitches flickering up as he tried to tune out the cacophony of high-pitched squeals.

He crossed his arms and shrugged more into his scarf, leaning away from the baby to avoid making eye contact.

"sO... DiD thE pA- PaInT fReAK dO ANytHInG afTeR th- tH- ThaT...?" Error prompted, voice tight with irritation. He didn’t want to be here longer than necessary, but if the idiot was up to something involving babybones now, he needed to know sooner, rather than later.

He really hated having to clean up Littleverses.

Geno shrugged, gently bouncing Goth in his arms and petting the back of the baby's head to calm the little monster down. "I ended up kicking him out. He didn't press it, strangely enough; he was muttering about 'mixtures' and 'magic substitutions,' y'know, usual, weird Ink stuff... I figured he’d leave it at that, but now Reaper's telling me he’s been interrogating him with weird questions about reproductive magic and sex positions for the past two weeks."

Error made a face. What the absolute fuck? Don't tell him the freak was cooking up some Littletale-Lustverse combination? Or- or worse. A Littletale that transitions into a Lustverse...?!

The Destroyer had to suck in a breath and hunch over the crib to keep himself from crashing in sheer disgust at the thought.

"FuCk meEeeEUuGHhh..." Error groaned, massaging his temples as the glitches began to cloud his vision. "i doN't HAve tIMe FOr tHIs SHI- sH- ShiT...!"

"Liar," Geno scoffed. "All you ever do is watch TV until you either run out of chocolate or get chased out by Fresh or the Voices."

"H- h- HUSh, yOu! UndErnOveLa iS hAVinG aN eVEnT wIth cHArIctEr spEciaL OVAs...!"

Geno huffed at his brother's dramatics, cradling his son close as the babybones slowly cuddled up into the crook of his neck, drowsiness evident in his babbling as he mouthed over Geno-doll's fleece scarf. "Then just don't. Your lazy ass won't be able to stop Ink anyway if he's really fixated on this, so you should probably just wait and roll with whatever comes."

"Sh- SHUt uP- UP- uP!" Without thinking, Error reached into his sleeve and pulled out the matching Reaper-doll - which he also just so happened to bring - just to throw it at Geno's head and miss spectacularly. It plunked against his shoulder, splatting on the babybone's face. Goth scrunched his face up and huffed in indignation, leaning back with a glower too much like both of his parents, before he seemingly realized what it was that assaulted him and promptly released the loudest screech yet. Error felt his stomach do a complicated twist when he swore he saw stars in their sockets.

The Destroyer made his escape then, briskly pulling up a portal out of the Save Screen as Geno was still fighting for his life to settle the starry-eyed, ferally screeling babybones. The glitch chuckled darkly as he stepped into the Anti-Void, feeling vindicated as his not brother's clamoring cut off mid-sentence, just as he stepped through.

Ah. Inner peace.

The ambient hum of blank code surrounding him was a comfort after the cacophony of Geno’s little family moment. He didn’t care much for sentimental nonsense, and he certainly didn’t have time for it when Ink was clearly cooking up something weird again.

Ugh. His good mood was instantly sucked down the drain as he recalled the conversation he had.

Ink had pulled some major ridiculous shit over the years, but this was shaping up to be one of his most nonsensical - and potentially heartwrenching - whim yet.

He had a bad feeling about this...

For all of his concerns and dread, the Destroyer wouldn't actually see from the Creator until the entire matter had nearly left his mind. Call him petty, but it was hard to keep the idiot in his thoughts when all of these worlds were just up for grabs in his absence!

It was just another destruction run; Error was actually feeling pretty great! Five worlds in three days! And not a single freak had come to rain on his parade- no emo assholes riding on his ass, no parasites intruding on his hunting grounds, and certainly no goody-goody Stars and the soulless hobo they adopted jumping in to harass him! He was on a roll!

So of course, karma had to come and slap him across the face in the most obnoxious way possible.

Error had barely finished with another AU when it happened. One moment, he was admiring the shattered remnants of another Alterfell - the Creators were being strangely fixated on Alterverses these days for some reason - satisfied with the smooth and clean way it dissolved into nothingness around him. He was about to move onto an Oceanmob he's had in his periphery, when a ripple of familiar, chaotic magic struck his senses.

Like the splatter of wet paint being slapped across his skull.

"NnRgHh-!" His claws flew up to tear into the elastic, purple blob wrapped around his eyes, but Ink was already yanking him backwards before he could put any real strength into it. Error gagged and choked as he felt himself sink through a disgusting, oily portal, fighting back against the urge to crash as he was spat out the other side, sans the bindings.

Shaking away the glitches swarming his figure, Error took a few precious moments to reorient himself before settling back into his own bones. Once his vision returned - or at least returned enough - it took a bit of open staring to realize where he ended up.

Outertale...? Why would that Ink-stain take him here-

“Error!” Ink sidled up to his side in his usual careless way- effectively startling him out of his moment of serenity; balancing on thin air, Ink laughed at his startled jump- as if waiting for it. His face was too cheery for the shit he just pulled. But Error knew that the moron never gave a damn about things like tact or boundaries. If he could ever remember they existed in the first place.

Seeing the distinct lack of red in his eyelights, and a seemingly untouched vial on his bandolier, Error reluctantly forced his prickling LV to settle its ass down. He'd rather not fight Ink after burning through so much magic if he could help it, so if the Creator wasn't looking to hassle him for all the universes destroyed, he'd try to avoid a confrontation about it if possible.

...If possible. That is, if the brainless excuse of a monster didn't just drag him through one of his ink-piss portals!

"wH- WHa- wHAt THe fUCk w- wEr- ER- erE yOu THiNkiNG?! pULliNg tH- Th- THaT sHit WiTH m- Me- ME- mE?!" Error snarled with a flashy billow of his glitches rolling over his body, his etchings were radiating with a very irritating and itchy warmth, practically begging him to yank out some string and fuck it, blow steam off this joke of a protector.

Nobody dragged Error across dimensions like some cheap collectible...!

Ink only giggled, completely unfazed by the fury and violent static snapping around Error’s bones- dare he say, even looking amused with the reaction. The Creator's eyelights gleamed in that nauseatingly conniving little expression that made Error both want to thrash him around and retreat at least four AUs in distance.

“Oh, lighten up, Glitchy!” Ink chirped, effortlessly dodging a bone attack flung at his face by casually twirling around it. “I have something super fun planned! Trust me, you’re gonna love it!~”

Nuh uh. Fuck that.

“NoT IntEReStEd. GeT L- losT.” He turned on his heel, pulling between the lines of code to open a portal back to the Anti-Void. He wasn’t about to waste time entertaining whatever the fuck this was, when there was a perfectly good stash of chocolate and an upcoming premiere of Asgoro's event episode calling his name.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that...!” Ink’s voice held a mischievous lilt as he abruptly 'short-cut' in front of Error with a splash of paint; close enough to make Error flinch back and retract his hand with a slight jump of fear from the proximity.

“It’s not every day I get inspired by something as neat as this! And I really put in a lot of work for it this time! I spent like-! A super long time to figure it all out! Pleeease! Ruru! C'moooon!”

Inspired. Error bristled at the word, glitches crackling with audible static as his body tensed. Ink’s ‘inspirations’ were never good news, especially if his little Star buddies weren't involved to keep him somewhat in line. The entire situation was only made worse, hearing that the artist actually sounded like he put work in this. More than with a typical whim.

Error’s sockets narrowed in suspicion. “WhaT tHe fUCk arE yOU up tO?” He didn't have enough patience to dance around whatever the artist was on now.

Ink lit up in a way that made Error feel like he was in danger - despite the red paint still being untouched - and felt his magic crawl up his spine when the Creator stopped fidgeting. His gaze was intense.

Ink chuckled at the distrustful look he was given, continuing to sway his body back and forth as he got closer with every slowly swept step. The movements were likely meant to be hypnotic, disarming in their fluidity, but Error has been accustomed to such antics for much too long to fall for them anymore.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Error!” Ink had snickered, grin turning coy as he seemed to realize his method of distraction wasn't working. Undeterred as always, however, he continued to get closer anyway. “I’ve been thinking about a new project, and you’re the perfect candidate!”

“fOr wHaT...?” He bit his tongues from saying anything more as the artist curved, starting to circle him. Error was fighting with himself on whether it was worth turning around to keep Ink within his vision.

Letting him out of his sight was dangerous, but showing too much interest could be doubly so.

“Just something I whipped up after I saw something really cute the other day!”

Error's face twisted in a frustrated scowl, his sockets narrowing as he stared into the beyond. He locked onto the direction Ink would be appearing in again. “WhAt The hElL ARe yoU tAlkINg- iNG aBOut, sQuID?”

“Babybones!” Ink chirped brightly as he jumped back into his line of sight, as if it was some grand reveal.

Error sneered, "wHaT? GoNNA maKe a sTupID nUMBer oF lITtLevErSEs nOW...?" Why the fuck the artist thought he'd find the prospect of all the neonaticide he'd have to get up to as fun was beyond him.

"No silly! I want to make a real babybones!"

“...whAT.”

“You know, offspring! Progeny! Crotch goblins!” Ink had said with a wave of jazz hands, only looking more enlivened at the prospect. “I’ve been thinking about making something new for a while now, something extraordinary! And then I saw Death's babybones and thought to myself, 'woah! That's so cool! I want to make one too!'"

Error had to sputter for a moment, completely frazzled by just how stupid his rival was.

"YO- YOu CaN'T HAVE k- KI- kIDS, YoU iDIoT! YoU NEEd A SOuL FOr THAT...!"

Ink gasped, raising a finger with a smug grin, "Ah-! Only one parent needs a soul, actually! The one who deposits the magic just needs viable intent!"

Error did not want to know what the paint freak had been doing to learn that bit of information. "WhY thE HeLL WoULd yOu EVE- EvER- eVen f- FuCkiNg tHinK aBoUt THAt?!"

Ink leaned in, clasping his hands behind his back with a disturbingly innocent grin. "Because I was inspired!" he cheered, as if that explained everything.

Unfortunately, it did. So much.

"But the thing is, if I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna need someone to carry the babybones! And I can't just ask anybody! They're gonna be half-me and half the other! I need a strong monster with unique magic! One who wouldn't make the result too predictable or meh-! Average!" He made a motion with his hand to express his displeasure at the idea. "I need someone who can make something just as incredible as me...! And won't mind me keeping them."

Ink spun in place, giggling as he turned back to face Error, his eyelights now a strong pair of stars that made Error physically recoil. “And then I thought of you! You’re perfect, Error! You’re powerful, you’re unique, and your magic is sooo chaotic! Our babybones would be a masterpiece! Don’t you think?!”

. . . .

What. The fuCK-

Error almost crashed right there and then. His body froze just on the verge of a crash as his mind struggled to process the sheer audacity of Ink’s suggestion. Kids? With Ink?! What sort of twisted thought process had led to that conclusion?!

“no,” Error had snarled, throwing his arms around himself as if to ward off whatever lunacy Ink was trying to spread. “N- n- No waY- Ay IN HeLl...!”

“Oh c'mon, Glitchy! You wouldn't even have to see them again! And aren't you even the smallest bit curious? I mean, think about it!” Ink pressed on, either oblivious or unconcerned by Error’s incoming meltdown. “We’re both gods, right? Balance-holders or whatever? Imagine what kind of amazing creation we could make together! It would be like... the ultimate character! A living mix of creativity and destruction-!”

“ssSsToP- OP tA- tALk- tALkINg!” Error cut him off, his voice rising and falling with panic as rage and hysteria warred in his system. Glitches flickered wildly around his form as he stumbled back, putting as much distance between himself and the deranged artist as possible. “yOu’Re fReAKiNg In- iNSaNe! I wOUld sOOnEr- eR jUMp iNTo tHe cOrE oF nEg- nEGATiVetAlE tHaN eV- EveN tHInk aBoUt DoINg...! ThAT!”

Ink slowed down in chasing after him, the stars in his eyelights settling down before transitioning into a square and swirl respectively. "But... But Ruru..." Error felt his breath hitch when he moved to step back- only to realize belatedly that Ink had him cornered at the edge of the viewpoint they were at.

Chancing a glance, the Destroyer felt sweat bead down his skull to only see endless darkness staring back at him from below.

"It has to be you, Ruru...! You, and no one else!"

Error gasped, feeling his glitches sizzle precariously as Ink leaned in far too close. The Creator's eyelights pulsed, wobbling and breaking down until they both shifted into hearts: one orange, the other a blend of cyan and pink. A horrible flush slowly bled over his cheeks when they made eye contact again; a hooded, smoldering expression falling over the Creator's face that Error had never once seen before.

"Besides. You're the only one I'm interested in... doing the creative process with...~" Ink rasped in a husky mumble.

There was a beat of tense silence, not a word shared as they simply took in each other's features- or more accurately, Ink was taking in his expression and likely admiring his colors, while Error was fighting not to fucking crash with his nemesis practically near starsdamn crawling over him and begging for baby-making sex...! Holy shit?! What the fuck was his life right now...?!

The final nail in the coffin was the moment Ink closed his eyes and drifted forwards to-!

NOPE!

Without even thinking it through, Error fell back into the endless void of Outertale's space. Until he remembered halfway over the side that he could fucking teleport, and simply opened a portal directly beneath himself.

He landed on his beanbag in the Anti-Void, soul racing miles per hour as his jumbled thoughts tried to register the confrontation again, and again, and again...!

"You're the only one I'm interested in... doing the creative process with...~"

His face erupted into a yellow mess rife with static and errors, only managing to let out a squeak that sounded like a dying fire alarm before his body finally had enough and forced him into a hard crash.

Stars, he was so fucked.

Error had hoped that after enough time, or maybe with just enough head trauma, Ink would forget about this ridiculous idea and move on to whatever insane whim came next. But no, of course not. Because that would imply the multiverse ever let him have a moment of peace.

For the next three months, after Outertale, it was the only thing the Creator would yap about.

The Destroyer couldn't take one step out of the comfort of his own home and do his fucking job, without Ink popping up at some point to either beg, play it subtle - which really wasn't - or flirt in a way that was both so fucking insincere and earnest that it was just uncomfortable.

The soulless bastard couldn't even find the decency to keep it in his pants when they were in company.

The first time Ink had turned up with his Star buddies- with Nightmare's little posse dropping in uninvited soon after - likely in a display of 'commitment' for the little 'alliance' the tyrant insisted they had - Error had mistakenly assumed that Ink would drop the act; at least in this instance, if only to preserve his image in front of the moral police and the peanut gallery. After all, even the idiotic, soulless paint freak should have some semblance of shame. Right?

Wrong.

Dream wasn't even halfway through his righteous little speech before Ink cheerfully waved him down, flashing a stupid grin with too much pep before opening his mouth. “Hey Ruru~ Did I ever tell you how sexy your glitches are? They're totally hot and spicy...! You’d totally pass on the coolest traits to my baby!”

. . . .

Error never wanted to kill. So. Badly.

Dream nearly shot his pre-drawn arrow into his own foot in sheer whiplash of what he just heard. Eyelights having snuffed out completely, even as his sockets rounded out and gaped in disbelief. Similarly, Blue blinked a few times before his face fell flat. Mandible narrowing in a mix of exasperation and anxiety, making him appear like a disappointed brother as he looked between him and Ink.

Error pointedly did not turn around to see whatever mocking grin Nightmare and his menagerie of boytoys had. He could already feel the slitted eyelight burning into the back of his skull in judgement. Or in scandal. Either would never let him hear the end of this.

"C'mon, Ruru!" Ink whined when he didn't get the response he wanted, hands fidgeting with his bandolier as if in uncertainty of what color to use. "Just one babybones! I'll even make a few Fellverses for you to destroy...?"

That was the final straw.

"i WiLl deStRoY- Oy YoU." Fuck it if they had an audience. Ink had already done enough to humiliate him for years to come. What face did he have to keep at this point?

Ink lit up as Error advanced, phalanges already grabbing for the pink vial. "Oh-! In the kinky way?!" He gasped in hope.

"iN tHe 'i'm GonNa kIll yOu' wAY!" Error launched a fuckton of blasters the moment he was close enough to see the finer dots around his splat mark.

"Oh..."

In the end, Error did not get to splatter the squidiot across the dimension. Once the other Stars - and the gang - finally managed to kick themselves out of spectator mode, everyone was notably off-kilter for the rest of the battle. Everyone except Dream, for some fucking reason.

Despite his shitty brother being right. there! Somehow the fake little skeleton knock-off found plenty of times to shoot him on multiple occasions!

If Error didn't know any better, he'd have thought the little goody goody was gunning for him in particular. Which- hah! That would be rich! But no. It was more likely that Nightmare was simply slacking off and using his twin to get some second-hand, cheap shots. Why he was annoyed with the Destroyer was anyone's guess.

But the way he viciously thrashed the artist around like a dog with a chew toy made Error decide to call things even in his books.

After that particular shitshow, Error resorted to simply fleeing whenever Ink appeared, abandoning whatever he was doing - even if it was a destruction run - and vanishing before the Creator could spew more nonsense.

It worked. Mostly.

Until the one time it didn’t.

Error knew something was off the moment he step foot in the AU.

There was a distinct lack of life in the Underground that seemed out of place, even for a Lustverse. Especially in Waterfall. It was slightly eerie in its stillness, with none of the usual sultry voices, moans just around every corner, or lingering scents that typically overwhelmed the air in such a place.

Instead, the atmosphere felt... sterile. Too clean. The kind of clean that would typically be associated with... Wait a second.

He pulled up a window of this AU's data, only to scoff once he made a second glance at the name: ScienceLust.

Well that explained things a bit. This place must take more after Sciencetale than Underlust; or perhaps they were all the type of nerdy freaks who got off more to a screen than another living monster- not that Error could really judge... Or maybe he could? Dunno, Lustverses never really interested him, nor the concept that they revolved around. All he knew for certain was that they were disgusting anomalies that shouldn't exist.

Whatever. Error was tired. Too much hopping between AUs, too many worlds needing to be disposed of, and definitely not enough chocolate in his system. He'd just destroy this one last glitch of a universe and then retreat to his Anti-Void to decompress, preferably in complete and utter silence.

He dismissed the lingering unease - and the window - with a wave of his hand, shoving his doubts to the back of his mind as he swiped a hand over his face, blue strings trailing after them with less robustness than usual. He scowled at the way they flickered precariously in his hands within the dark. "let's jUsT geT thiS oVeR wiTh," he muttered, starting to rummage thought the AU's code in search of the human.

But before he could unravel so much as a single line, a too-familiar voice chirped behind him.

"Ruuuuruuuu!~"

No. Please... Error closed his eyes and felt his shoulders drop in a resignation most bitter, knowing that his magic wasn't quite ready for a quick retreat. Stars, why now...?

"You've been so hard to find lately!" Ink's voice dripped with faux casualness as he bounded into view, his stupid, cheerful grin already in place as he hopped closer- but thankfully kept a fair distance this time around. Error was grateful for the small mercy, noticing right off the bat that most of the cyan vial was drained.

The Destroyer glared at him blankly, body stiff and aching as he kept Ink in his sight, but didn't say a word. His patience had been stretched thinner than a spider’s thread over the last few months, and he wasn’t about to risk exciting the idiot when he was so fatigued.

"Woah..." Ink actually stopped to take in his appearance. "You look... like, super messed up, Error! Even for you!"

His sockets creased as if in concern, but the amused smirk playing along his mandible told a different story. "If Blue saw you right now he'd probably get super mad!"

He scoffed, irritation prickling at the back of his mind, but not having enough energy to be used. "WhO'sss fAu- fAU- FaULt dO y- Y- yOU sUuupPosE tHaT iS...?" His throat was gunked up with glitches, making it harder to hear him through the static than usual, but Error didn't really give a rat's ass.

Let Ink struggle to hear him! It was the least inconvenience he could give the other for all the torment he's been giving him over this stupid baby-abomination business!

The Creator just shrugged, not looking the least bit guilty at all. "Yours, probably."

Error growled halfheartedly. "jUsssT... dOn'T GeT in mY- MY w- Way," he muttered, turning his attention back to the AU’s code and away from the one and only truest moron in his life. His threads reached out sluggishly, combing through lines of code in search of the human soul.

Unfortunately, Ink didn’t seem inclined to leave him be... In his exhaustion, he forgot this bastard was capable of premeditative scheming. And had a preference for luring his prey into pretenses of security before making his move.

A fact that he realized when a certain chill crawled down his spine.

"iNk-" he turned around to tell the artist off again, only to have something thrown into his face.

Glass smashed over the bone and let forth the contents, soaking Error's face and front completely with a liquid that smelled strongly of something sweet and spicy in a very heavy chemical sort of way. It made him gag as a bit of it went up his nasal cavity, slipping into the etchings on his face, dripping past his teeth.

"Wha- AT THe he- hELl diD- Id yOu Just- uSt DOOo?!" Error snarled, scrubbing at his face furiously as he scrambled back to press his back to the wall.

When the wall be fell into suddenly wrapped an arm around him, Error felt his ribs jolt with a sudden kickstart of heat. His eyes bolted open, only to look back to see Ink smirking up at him with blatant mischief in his mismatched eyes. One of them a bright pink.

Ink tilted his head, his grin softening into something almost tender, focused intently on his facial expressions. “Aw, don’t be like that, Glitchy. I promise you’ll like it! I mean, I had the Alphys here design it just for you!”

Error's vision flickered erratically, distorting and blacking out as heat rushed through his body. His magic fluttered and fizzled in protest upon the sensations now overcoming him, barely responding to his intent as the potion worked its way through his system.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck- why did he keep forgetting that this freak was a literal soulless psycho?!

"iNk- nK- k- K, wH- WhaT t- T- tHe HE- hELL iS tHiSszz- z- z?!" Error growled, his voice jumping through static and  sparking out from sheer incredulousness. His knees felt weaker by the second, a sickly warmth pooling in his chest and lower abdomen that made him want... something...!

Ink ignored the outburst, his free hand sliding down Error's chest with a slow, deliberate motion. "Relax, Ruru~ Just go with it! Doesn’t it feel nice? Doesn't hurt at all, right?" His tone was a disturbing blend of curiosity and predatory intent, his grin softening into something more intimate as his fingers trailed dangerously close to the buttons of his coat.

But now that Ink had brought attention to it, Error had realized - quite belatedly - that his touch didn't hurt. In fact... if he concentrated on it too much, it was starting to feel...

“See! It's nice, isn't it? Just relax, Ruru!~” The Creator crowded him closer, the arm around his waist now tightening as he leaned in; his grin was tender, eyelights nearly blowing out in his skull as he greedily took in this new side of the Destroyer.

Error flushed under that intense look, something in him preening and glowing from the attention, even as the rest of him screamed in pure, unadulterated rage. However, the more those lithe phalanges traced over his bones - when did Ink open his coat...? - the more that anger began to fizzle out and turn over into something hotter.

"aaHhh..." He opened his mouth and hissed in pleasure as those hands brushed over something sensitive. A good sensitive. All at once he felt the marrow in his bones practically melt, making him boneless as the tips of those fingers continued to tease that place in his ribcage.

"...I've had dreams like this before," Ink breathed, there was a soft shudder in his voice, a mix of wonder and exhilaration that made the magic between them prickle. His voice was soft, like a secret. "You, like this... relaxed, actually letting me touch you... You're so angry and grumpy all the time, Ruru. It's... nice seeing this side of you."

His skull bumped against the rocky sides of the cavern with a soft plnk as Ink gently rolled them over. Now, Error was pressed between him and the actual wall. Only further instigating the fizzles of glitches pitter-pattering along the bone, blending with the angry flush of magic and filling the empty space behind his eyes with a syrupy, oozy mess of want.

"iN- iNk- k- k...!~"

Something fluttered restlessly in his chest as Ink crowded him, sandwiching him so that the pressure could be felt in his ribs against the stone- and it felt hot...! Without even thinking, he spread his legs to give Ink a little more room, a low static-laden groan slipping past his teeth before he could stop it.

“I’ve waited so long for this, Error,” Ink whispered. His fingers traced patterns along the lower ends of Error’s ribs as he pressed his pelvis to the back of his sacrum, grinding slow and unhurried in its exploration of touch. He could hear the way the artist's breathing grew labored. “We'll make something beautiful together. You’ll see. Just let me...”

Ink's hands traveled lower still, growing dangerously close to the hem of his pants now. Error panted and squirmed, feeling the condensation in the air finally begin to coagulate, making the anticipation inspire him to buck back and squirm in impatience. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted...!

Ink's movements teased, both calculated and curious, as if savoring every reaction and wanting to prolong them. "I'm gonna take such good care of you, Error," he cooed, his tone dipping into something almost loving. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise!~ Make you want to have even more babybones, maybe...!"

The words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over Error's heat-addled senses.

Babybones. That's right... That's right...! Ink caught some stupid idea in seeing Geno's brat and...!

And he was only coming onto Error because he wanted to make a stupid abomination, too...!

Error’s sockets snapped wide open, a snarl erupting from his throat as the realization ripped through the haze in his mind. Despite his eyesight being twice as shit as usual, thankfully, when it came to being up close and personal like this, aiming wasn't as much of a necessity. Not that Error really thought that shit through when he blindly summoned a bone attack, bucked Ink off his ass, and whirled around to smash it right across his stupid, asshole face!

This wasn’t about him...! Ink didn’t want him- he wanted what Error could give him. A child. An abomination. Another creation Ink could dote on, experiment with, and inevitably ruin, just like everything else he touched.

Without even waiting for his vision to clear to see the damage- or give the paint freak a piece of his mind, Error already tore open a portal and stumbled through it. His entire body seemed to crackle, magic tangling up and screaming in protest in being used while trapped in this hot and uncomfortable state.

His vision cut out...

And that was how Error found himself tripping over himself into the floor of his Anti-Void; bits of unstable code swarming his figure, enflaming his already tottering magic, before succumbing to a crash.

. . . .

Or... at least, he felt like he should've crashed.

But instead of that familiar sensation of his bones flaring up with static, and his vision buzzing out in a world of crunchy pixels and illegible code- instead, his magic seemed to congeal. He felt it surge forth, collecting within the cavity of his chest - surrounding his sputtering, hodge-podge of a soul - before growing thicker, more unbearably potent, until-

SNAP-!

Error startled as he felt his magic fill out, spontaneously forming his ecto body with a weary hiss. His chest spilled out into the fabric and caused him to choke as everything felt too small. His nipples were pebbled and hard and squished against the fabric, making every little twitch and jostle too damn intense...! In-between his pants, something squished most unpleasantly with an ache, soaking through the polyblend material in moments.

He groaned lowly, trying to shift and adjust himself, but every movement only seemed to amplify the horrid itchiness pooling in his core. Error didn't last long before he eventually broke. He shoved his hands down his pants and started to pump and scratch furiously into his sopping entrance, uselessly trying to bid the discomfort away.

"N- nNNnGhhhha...~" It felt good. Almost as good as how it felt watching Asgoro and Toriel's wedding play out in Undernovela's fifth season finale. But no matter how hard he dug into the slippery folds of his ecto or rubbed into the nerves frazzling inside of his quivering false-flesh, it wasn't fucking. enough...!

Instead, it mocked him, growing hotter, deeper, more insidious, until it consumed every rational thought and left him panting, writhing in frustration. His clumsy, inexperienced claws were scissoring uselessly, practically teasing himself at this point- but he couldn't stop!

He hated this...! Hated that Ink of all monsters had done this to him...! Hated that he was too weak to purge the concoction from his system! Hated that, despite everything, his body burned for something. For someone...!

It was demeaning...! Besides, it wasn't like anyone would actually want to lie with the abhorred Destroyer...

No one but Ink, apparently.

He snarled in instant offense, but it was too late to turn the thought away. It rolled around in his heat-addled skull, turning about and cycling, gaining more appeal as it gathered momentum. The idea of going back just to tie the stupid little sleaze up and use him instead!

"A- Ahh...!~" The Destroyer gasped as his ecto fluttered around his phalanges, liking the thought immensely. He could already picture the splatterbrain's stupid face when Error pinned him down... forced him to release his ecto... and... and...!

Just as his imagination began to spiral into something completely depraved, a low, familiar chuckle echoed through the emptiness, smooth and rich like poisoned honey. “Well, well... this is certainly unexpected~”

Error - much to his utter mortification - felt his ecto seize in response to the sound, a jolt of shock shooting through him and momentarily breaking through the clouded haze. His sockets snapped open, his vision blurring and glitching as he struggled to process the figure materializing in front of him.

“NooOo...” Error rasped, his voice hoarse. “No, NO, nO, yO- yoU’Ve gOt To bE- bE kidDiNg M- mEEE...!” He buried his face into his scarf, clamping his teeth into the fabric to stifle his heavy breathing as a very sharp, very intent eyelight peered through the darkness blooming in his void.

Nightmare took a single step forward from the maw he had appeared in, grin widening as he surveyed the scene before him.

Error shivered, gritting his teeth as he practically swooned with a vicious dizziness from the weight of the Guardian's critical eye. How Nightmare's serpentine eyelight thinned as it trailed lazily over his hunched over body, taking in the dishevelment of his clothes, lingering over his half-thrown coat, giving view of the soaked pants; or how it failed to hide the black arms diving into said wet patch, with an audible rhythm of shlick! Sqlich! Skilsh! Coming from between Error's legs without stop.

"Ge- G- GEt oUt...!" Error shuddered as he shoved his face back into his scarf, toes curling in pleasure as his ecto pulsed in response to Nightmare's chuckle. His magic preened, practically glowing from the unspoken approval alone. How humiliating...!

"My, my, Error," Nightmare's voice drawled in a rich purr. It reminded the Destroyer of a dark chocolate mousse. "I always suspected there was something... indigent... hidden beneath that hardass exterior of yours, but I never imagined I'd find you like this."

Something in Nightmare's eye was predatory; the glitch recognized it, knew it meant nothing but trouble, yet still all that came across his thoughts was how hot it made him feel.

Nightmare perked up, as if hearing his thoughts. "So needy... It's almost endearing."

Error snarled through his haze, in vain he attempted to cover himself, if only to preserve what little he had of his dignity today. In the back of his mind, he tried to call upon a blaster in intimidation, only to choke on a whine when his magic protested.

“G- geT ouT! YoU... YOu fREAK! THIs... THiS iS No- nONe oF YoUr DaMN b- bUSinEss- eSs..!”

Nightmare raised a browbone, unperturbed.

"Oh, but I think it is," he countered smoothly, taking another step closer. When Error didn't immediately lash out in a tantrum of disastrous proportions, the spirit's grin only widened tenfold in smug triumph.

"See?~ You're hardly in any state to do much of anything right now." Error snarled again at the insult, but it tapered off as Nightmare inched even closer- enough so that the damp and cold aura he put out could be felt skating along his bones, making the Destroyer's soul jump.

The laughter he was given in response felt like a warm, fuzzy blanket rolling over him. Without realizing it, he had already melted under the sound with uncharacteristic docility. Glitches calming down along with his mood.

Nightmare grinned to himself, getting comfortable just outside of range, and Error heated up, feeling a lance of indignation at the idea of the Guardian taking this for a show. But the look he was given held his tongue. "...And, it would hardly behoove me to leave you in such dire straits." Nightmare's grin turned into an audacious leer.

"So, why don't you do us both a favor and lie back for me, hmm? I promise to take care of this little problem of yours, thoroughly~"

The phalanges currently clawing within his pussy curled to the knuckles in shock, and Error gasped, eyelights shuddering and blurring out as his entire womb ached from both the scratches left and the change in pressure.

They felt thicker folded inside of him...!~

Frantically shaking himself out of it- he leveled the tyrant king with a furious baring of teeth, a snarl stiff and twitchy as his magic fluttered and begged like the traitor it was. His fingers sunk deeper, now irritably swirling around the walls of stung muscle, both trying to force him out and draw him in further.

His face was practically flaming as he faced the threat in his Anti-Void. "yOU Ar- aREn'T cOMiNg- INg aNYwHerE nEaR- eAR mE yOu fUckiN' sLIMy-Ass ABoMInATIOn...!"

The God didn't look put-out none by the outburst, in fact, Nightmare clicked his tongue as if speaking with a child, "and let you tear yourself apart? Error, darling, you can't even finger yourself correctly."

"ShUt uP!"

As if just to spite his words, Error pulled himself up onto his knees, only to shove his fingers deeper; clumsy, unskilled phalanges dug painfully into the ecto and scrambled, feeling that horrible itchy spot inside inside him being just out of reach.

His temper flared up to a peak, unable to withstand the frustration any longer.

Casting aside any appearances of having any propriety, the Destroyer let his pants sag into a messy puddle around his shins, allowing him to spread his legs wider. He started up a rhythm as he rocked onto his claws- desperately trying to soothe the ache growing larger the more he sought it out.

Neither monster broke eye contact, even as Error's thighs began to slap noisily with each drop of his hips. Each of them just daring the other to look away first.

Instead of looking cowed, or even disgusted as Error had hoped, Nightmare seemed to light up at the display of defiance, eyelight flooding out in his socket with a rich, teal flush along his zygomatic ridge.

"Oh..." The glitch shuddered as Nightmare's gaze finally trailed down to his pelvis. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look too deeply into the spirit's expression.

"Error, oh, darling- slow down." He sounded half-starved and wounded. "No, no, no, no... You're being too rough, Destroyer! That sweet little cunt of yours needs a proper throne... Something that will fit you perfectly."

"ShUt... u- uP!"

"Look at how enflamed that magic is...! It's fluttering so beautifully- it needs something bigger, doesn't it? Those phalanges aren't nearly enough to sate you..."

"SH- sH- ssSHuT...! UP...!"

"It needs something thick and strong, something that can pin you down and pound you straight to the womb; you want to be stuffed full of cock and fucked silly until that squirming little flower is drowning in my-"

"SHUT tHE FUCk UP!"

Unable to ignore his taunts any longer, Error tore his hands away from their place inside his throbbing pussy, spiting the way the ecto burned and gushed in protest to the loss of stimulation.

With a feral growl very rarely heard from the lazy glitch, Error lunged out and seized the closest tendril - mid-sweep through the air - and dug his slick claws into the corruption. He didn't startle when the tip wrapped itself around his wrist.

Instead, he gave the offending appendage a glare with a scoff. Eyes trailing back to the king now shadowing over him; unimpressed.

"yOu W- WanT tO fUCk mE." He challenged.

"Yes," Nightmare groaned, as if a huge weight was lifted from him by the admission.

Error looked over the Guardian, assessing the way his corruption was trembling in his hold, the way the arrogant king was willingly letting him do so...

He frowned, feeling his core twist in on itself in knots and webs as his empty cunt began to scream like a bitch. Yowling at him to stop fucking stalling and just ride Nightmare's dick already...!

"whY."

. . . .

Nightmare softened, a devilish, charming grin curling over his features as he dared to lean down. A tender hand met Error's, before slowly pulling it up to his face.

He paused for a moment - as if waiting for protest - before his tongue slowly lolled out, wrapping around the digits with a squish as he began to lap up the residual slick from Error's phalanges. The velvet muscle sliding and twining between gaps as it savored the knuckles... the metacarpals... the divots.

Error's face was burning hotter than the sun by the time Nightmare was done suckling his ring finger, practically deep-throating the appendage and sucking as it was drawn out of his mouth.

"Mmmnn~ Aaah...!~" A trail of magic stretched between the tongue and his fingers when Nightmare finally let go, the lewd fluid glistening under the non-existent light in the Anti-Void. Nightmare's face looked blissful - whether from the sight or the taste, Error didn't want to know - and both monsters moaned as one.

Something stirred in Error's soul as they returned eye contact.

"I've yearned after your warmth far longer than you'd ever know, Destroyer. To taste your desire, to carve myself as an incurable plague in your heart... Just the thought of anyone else gaining your favor infuriates me...!"

Nightmare lowered himself to his knees, completely surrounding Error with his essence. Error felt...

"I've hungered for you, Error. You consume me- and I refuse to rest until I've repaid that favor. To feast upon you in equal measure to how you devour me... I want you."

Error certainly felt hungry...

"Let me show you how gods are meant to be worshipped, my dear." Nightmare's voice dropped into a velvety murmur, his serpentine eyelight glinting with predatory intent.

He'd never seen the prideful spirit look so vulnerable, so openly ravenous. Error's soul quivered in response, torn between flight and the magnetic pull of the Guardian's presence. 

“Y- yoU’rE fuLL oF sHhhiT...!" The excuse sounded flimsy, even to his own ears.

Nightmare chuckled softly, draping himself over Error - when the fuck did he even fall back onto the ground? - like a cat over their self-appointed throne. Error hissed as his sensitive nipples were pressed against the heavy corruption, itching against the dampening woolen fabric between them.

"Error... I'm not letting anyone else have you like this." 

Stars, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted-!

Fuck.

With a trembling exhale, Error let his body slacken, his hands falling away from where they were trembling against the Guardian's chest. His sockets closed tightly as he forced himself to speak, voice breaking with both shame and undertone of anticipation.

“...f- fiNE. dO... Do wH- wHaTEveR thE HelL yoU w- WanT...!”

A low, satisfied growl escaped Nightmare as he fell forward, his corruption weaving around Error like a protective cocoon. “Oh, my dear Destroyer,” he purred, his claws finding their way to Error’s hips, gently guiding him to lift them up and spread.

Error felt his skull begin to grow hazy again at the first sign of something thick and hard sliding up between his thighs.

“You won’t regret this. I promise~”

Chapter Text

The shadow was back.

Though he had yet to see it for himself, Horror knew better to assume the forest's chilling silence was natural. There was always a difference.

As soon as that boundary between the tree line and the snowy hellscape was crossed, a single zap would bolt up his spine- shooting right to the ill-gotten eye and squeezing with pressure near unbearable. The thin red ring would wobble and shrink to the size of a marble.

It was the feeling of being stalked. Watched over with predatory intent, and it made his decayed magic flutter like a little trapped bird; making him feel young again, senses alive and taut in anticipation despite himself.

Nothing could be heard over the sound of his own haggard breathing and the crunch of powder under heavy footfalls.

Crunch... Crunch... Drip... Crunch...

Horror kept his head bowed as he made his to way to his traps, relying solely on muscle memory than his ever frayed memory.

It gave him more time to focus on the way his soul pounded, the chipping handle of his cleaver, the bubbling of his hunger. He fixated on that pain, rooting himself to reality through the sensations of life- as opposed to falling into an episode by getting distracted by the way the snow sounded underneath his heel, or accidentally lingering on the way the penumbra of the trees seemed to flicker and move.

Crunch... Drip... Crunch... Crunch... Drip...

His nerves jittered in a complicated way as he reached his first stop.

The snares were gone. No. Not gone, scattered, really. Each site looked to have been trampled upon by an angry trespasser. The wired steel snapped in pieces and frayed around the snow as if blown apart.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Horror had expected as much. The shadow always took offense to the traps. Not even the bear traps would be spared. If they were still around, Horror was sure he'd find them bent and molded into odd mollified shapes; defanged and whimpering like broken dogs as they hung in the trees, just out of reach- but close enough that he could still feel the cold intent of indignation and disapprobation lingering on the warped metal.

The air held a breath of quiet tension. Horror felt eyes burning into him as if to reprimand him, and against himself, he flushed- or at least would have - in embarrassment.

Shame. Those were his good set of jaws, too...

Drip... Drip... Drip...

He would circle around each location, visiting each trap to find them in ruins without a single catch to compensate. Some locations were more disturbed than others, suggesting that there had been a catch; at least before the shadow came and cleared it all away.

Stomach gurgling in protest, Horror left the forest empty handed. The shadow trailing after him as he ambled back home.

Crunch... Drip... Crunch... Crunch...

The corner of his eye would occasionally catch the glint of frosted blue in the darkness- he knew better than to try and get a better look.

In front of the brothers' house, Horror was greeted back with a feast.

Lined up in a neat little row were one, two, three, four bodies. Three human, one monster. Each body butchered so neatly that it was impossible to mistake the slaughter as anything but an offering. A gift.

The first human in the line was male, a little older than most of what they'd get down here. Lithe. Decent muscle. His legs, right up to the thighs, were placed in a neat fold in front of the rest of the body, purposefully angled to show off the tears in the calves and tendons. Its ribcage had become a bowl for their organs; including the eyes.

The second was a smaller one. Too small to discern any gender, but Horror was willing to assume it was too young for that to have mattered anyway, the taste was probably still tender and sweet. This one was the most untouched, as the only blemishes he could discern was the dark bruises covering the entirety of their thin little neck and coiling along their arms.

The third human was absolutely unrecognizable. All skin and muscle having been flayed and platted with painstaking precision. The sinew and tissue were parted like flowers. Just from the number of bloody splatters coating the snow, you could tell that the human must've still been kicking for every little rip and tear.

At the very end of the line, was Knight Knight. The large tank of a monster having had her armor stripped away; in a manner of otherworldly brute strength very similar to that of his bear traps no less, revealing her true face hidden between the pauldrons and tasset. The beak's jaw was torn and limp on her face, the eyes framing her breast gouged out and dropped beside her horns, having yet to dust...

Telling him that if he were to strike a fatal blow to them now, the soul that would pop out would be cracked and choked within the hold of black, slippery magic. They were all still alive - if by a very fine thread - by the will of the monster who possessed such magic.

Horror's bones rattled unsteadily at the thought, feeling his chest glow from deep beyond his sternum and rev up a purr that barely made it past the base of his throat. Knowing that once again, he had been courted by this mysterious suitor.

The shadow refused to let Horror hunt for himself, when it was around.

It brutally ripped away any and all half-hearted attempts he made to preserve his self-sufficiency.

It kept regardant watch over him. Over his brother.

It proudly cut no corners in demonstrating the full capability of their cruelty. Their viciousness. They had taken Horror's claim on the forest - on the entirety of Snowdin - and took control without hesitation.

They slaughtered Horror's competition and left their remains in his bed.

It had left the Empress' bloody crown on his nightstand as he slept.

Stars...

He was so fucking horny right now.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Horror's hand flew up to his teeth, hunching over on himself as he felt the purr in his chest grow louder, rattling his ribcage like a beast's snarl held tightly on a leash. His teeth ached with the urge to sink into flesh, not out of hunger- but desire. To show them how much he appreciated this gift.

His breath puffed out in uneven bursts, forming fleeting whisps in the frigid air. The part of him that clung to survival - what little remained of it in his insanity - warned him to tread carefully. But the darker part, the one shaped by the unrelenting cruelty of this hell of earth, whispered that this suitor was everything he’d ever wanted.

Something strong. Something cruel. Something that could take him apart and put him back together better. Something who could protect him and his brother from the ever-looming agony of starvation and death and just as easily end it for them.

Stars above, what he wouldn't give to be claimed already.

He knelt, slow and deliberate, taking each still breathing corpse and dragging them to the shed before any unwanted visitors could make an appearance. All the while, his thoughts circled and circled and schemed.

It garnered no question, as to who the shadow was planning to survive their coupling.

For all of their ferocity and brutality, no monster would be willing to put all this effort into courting a monster they were planning to devour afterwards. Especially when there was already such a power imbalance.

They could've simply forced themselves upon Horror and be done with it long ago... But they didn't.

No, they were setting him up for a time after them. Expecting Horror to take and take and take until nothing was left to provide except the seeds they've sowed in his soul.

But while every other monster in the Underground would've been content to enjoy such a blessing, Horror was greedy.

He wanted everything.

Horror wanted the shadow - his suitor - not as a fleeting partner, not as a sacrificial father to his children, but as his. Entirely. Permanently. He felt a little bad for his brother, but if having babybones meant giving this feeling up? Then he'd rather rip his own soul to pieces.

His claws dug into the dusted flesh of one of the bodies as he hauled it forward, the eyes pinned behind his skull driving a feral smile across his skeletal face.

He didn't want to devour them, not in the way they expected- the way he should have. Horror wanted to consume them in a different sense: their presence, their power, their cruel, possessive affection. He wanted to wrap himself in it, let it seep into his very marrow until there was no separating where he ended and they began.

He'd overpower them. He'd claim them, mark them, and make it clear that they belonged to him. No matter how strong or wickedly clever they were, he'd find a way to subdue them. He wasn't planning to fight fair- he'd use every trick, every ounce of feral cunning he had.

Horror had championed over much worse odds- how hard could it be, to catch a shadow? This suitor who had turned his bleak existence into something more than starvation and pain.

Determination lit a fire deep within his chest, hot and consuming, rivaling even the hunger gnawing at the culmination of his being.

They thought they were hunting him?

Wrong.

Horror was always the hunter. And right now? Horror wanted a partner to stand beside him, to stay alive and endure his brand of love for as long as he could keep them breathing.

Chapter Text

HOUSE CASTLE RULES OF NIGHTMARE'S COURT:

1. Everyone is responsible for their own clothes. If they get stolen, torn, or otherwise rendered/determined to be unsuitable for appropriate workwear, it is up to you to replace them.

i) No Killer; nightgowns, lingerie sets, and maid costumes do not count as appropriate workwear.

ii) Anyone caught trying to dye others' clothes pink again will be made to wear the shirt of shame the next time we run a supply trip against the Stars.

iii) Anyone caught leaving their fucking socks on my goddamn floor again will be defenestrated. (I'm fucking serious you degenerates, have some goddamn shame.)

2. Horror is in charge of the meal plan and any matter regarding food, the garden, and trade supplies. If you have any questions or concerns, go to him.

i) Killer is forbidden from adding things to the shopping list

ii) Cross is not allowed to be within twelve feet of the barn at all times.

iii) Anyone caught sneaking one of Horror's animals inside will be forced to sleep in the barn for a week. If you want to hang out with animals so badly you can sleep with them.

iv) If you see goats walking around, no, they did not escape from the farm. That's just Fleece and Benny. They are Dust's emotional 'support Bovidae.'

v) No more cats. I fucking mean it Killer, they've already established a starsdamned feral colony out there.

3. If you see Error arrive while I'm not around, just let him have the TV and feed him any chocolate we have until I return.

i) Yes Cross, that includes your 'stash' should the situation call for it.

ii) No, Dust. You cannot fight him.

iii) Horror is not allowed to be alone with Error; he will try to force feed him more 'substantial' meals.

iv) Do not let him near the alcohol.

v) Load him up on as much alcohol as you can.

4. If someone has a bad dream or otherwise experiences a mental breakdown, they are to come to me immediately. I don't care if you think you can "handle it yourself" or if "it's not that bad." I can literally sense your emotions. Don't try me.

i) Dust, this includes you. No more wandering around the castle at 3 a.m., screaming emo lyrics.

ii) Error is also included in this; if you should find him in our spice cabinet definitely not crying please bring him straight to me.

iii) Wake me up if you fucking have to.

5. No unauthorized teleporting in or out of the castle unless it's an emergency.

i) Dust, "emergency" does not mean your favorite 'hentai games' are on sale.

ii) Killer, "emergency" does not mean you forgot a knife in an AU.

iii) And yes, that includes 'Stabsworth the Chad.' If you lose that rusty ass blade one more time I will toss it out myself.

iv) "Emergency" in this case means life-threatening danger.

6. The library is a quiet zone. If you disturb the peace, you’ll be sentenced to a punishment of my choosing.

i) Horror is an exception to this rule.

ii) Dust is not allowed in the library after dark; watch your porn in your room like a normal person.

iii) Yes, Error can use the library when he visits. No, you cannot fight him if he mishandles the books. I'll scold him accordingly.

7. Personal disputes are to be resolved in either the courtyard or the gaming lounge, only.

i) Dust, this is not an excuse to challenge everyone who looks at you wrong when on an LV flare.

ii) Killer, "emotional support cheerleading" is not allowed during spars.

iii) Error is not allowed to participate in the gaming lounge duels, unless you are prepared to replace any devices involved.

iv) It is not allowed to duel Cross in Guitar Hero, Super Smash Bros. (any version or platform), or Hot Wheels: Track Attack.

v) Challengers must face Horror in the courtyard only.

vi) The Animal Crossing game is mine. Touch it you die.

8. No one touches the crown. I mean it.

9. If you heard a strange hissing in the bathroom, no you didn't.

i) Stop asking me about the snake. There is no snake.

ii) Dust, stop telling everyone there is a snake. Phantom is a dirty liar.

iii) Killer, stop leaving actual snakes in the bathroom for "proof."

iv) No, Cross. You cannot have the snake if its real (it is not).

v) If you encounter said "nonexistent snake," please alert me. Hypothetically.

10. If you should come upon any of your teammates in the middle of an LV surge, get to me immediately. Do not try to handle it yourself. Avoid contact at all costs and warn the other inhabitants as soon as possible.

i) If you feel that you are on the verge of an LV surge, lock yourself in your room and alert me as soon as you can.

ii) Do not ignore the signs; even if you think its just your stress getting to you. I will not be upset even if it is a false alarm.

iii) Please do what you can to keep each other safe when I am not present.

11. Cleaning chores are assigned weekly, and everyone is expected to pull their weight.

i) Cross, stop scrubbing the floors so aggressively that you literally wear them down to the stone.

ii) Killer, stop using dish duty as an excuse to test your "creative knife juggling" skills.

iii) Dust, for the last time, you cannot use your shortcuts to just throw everything in the closet.

iv) Any cleaning dispute will result in both parties being assigned tub duty.

12. Respect others' spaces and belongings.

i) Horror has a tendency to forget who owns what. Be patient with him.

ii) Label your things if you care about them.

iii) Killer is no longer allowed in others' rooms without their explicit permission.

iv) Anyone who dares to put anything even remotely resembling a doughnut in Killer's room will be hung off the roof for the night.

v) Same goes to anyone putting anything remotely in the image of bovids in Cross' room; or eyes in Horror's room; or anything human-like in Dust's room.

vi) It is now explicitly forbidden to let any of the garden ravens near Error.

Remember, these rules are in place to ensure order and keep everyone alive (and relatively sane). If you have a problem with them, you can take it up with me personally.

Signed, Your King

Nightmare

Chapter Text

Dream sighed for the third time as his phone sent him back to voicemail.

"Hiya! You’ve reached the Guardian of the Multiverse! If you're hearing this then I've either lost my phone again or fighting some baddie twelve AUs away! Just leave a message and I'll get right to ya...! Or not. Probably not... But it wouldn't hurt to try, rig-" That was where the recording cut off, snapping Dream out of his thoughts as the automated voice began to play.

He closed it before it could start recording.

Pocketing his phone with a sigh, Dream took a moment just to himself; rubbing the bridge of his nasal cavity as Blue gave him a sympathetic smile by his side. "Mweh Heh Heh, I Gander That Ink Is Still Unavailable...?" His friend's sockets creased in concern, but none of it was for Ink, particularly.

When Dream didn't try to muster a smile or any other kind of response, Blue proceeded to chuff in mock irritation, slamming both hands upon his hips with a bit too much force. "Typical! I'd Say We Might As Well Start The Meeting Without Him! That Silly Bonehead Must've Gotten Caught Up In Some New Fad Or Doohickey, Again!"

This time the spirit did laugh, and Blue's veneer of aloofness was betrayed by the overwhelmingly pure spark of pride and joy at the sound. Though Dream could still feel impressed with how he managed to keep the act with a pout of reluctance. "Though, I Guess That Wouldn't Really Work So Well... Since Half The People Here Are Doubtlessly Looking To Speak With Him About Matters Of Creation."

Giving his friend a warm look, Dream couldn't help but reach under the table and clasp hands with Blue, giving a reassuring squeeze when the other monster lit up like a star at the affection. "You’re right," Dream said softly, his golden aura dimming slightly as he forced his nerves to settle. "I just wish... we'd be more on the same page is all."

Blue nodded, eyelights softening into something more knowing. He squeezed their clasped hands, breaking posture to lean in a little closer. "Indeed, Dream. It's Hard To Keep The Multiverse Together When One Of Its Guardians Is Off Gallivanting Without Notice. But That's Why You Have Me With You As Well! Mweh Heh Heh!"

It was times like this when Dream was really thankful for Blue. Not only for being his friend, but just existing in general. The Swap Sans was truly like a rock in a storm; despite how much younger and ambitious he was, despite being a mortal who by all accounts, should never have even been able to reach the insurmountable heights that he has, Blue has proven time and time again to be a constant source of stability and support.

It was one of the many qualities he loved about the other.

Just as Dream was about to suggest starting the meeting with the lesser concerning topics up for discussion, a low slurping sounded off just a bit behind the two. Both Stars had leaned over and craned their heads back at once, seeing the iridescent black puddle of Ink's signature magic pooling up from nowhere, in a sea of patterned marble.

Dream deflated, both relieved and exasperated for having even fretted at all.

As Ink's body slowly began to rise up and gather its shape from the paint splatter, Blue quickly stood up and began to collect the rest of the room's attention.

"Mweh! Alrighty, Everybody! Thank You All For Your Excellent Patience! Our Meeting Will Now Be-!"

Dream suddenly made a strange sound along the lines of bewilderment, and Blue himself froze up, seeing the faces that had turned to him quickly falling silent- staring past him in varying expressions of stoicism and apprehension.

Turning back, the Swap Sans felt his own face fall into something decidedly neutral as Ink fully stepped from the goopy portal. Always with that charming habit of shaking himself off like a dog. Blue knew it was his way of emulating the discomfort most people have for his method of travel; it never failed to warm something up inside.

"Hey guys! Sorry for the holdup! Had to take care of a couple of last-minute things!"

Ink didn't seem to notice the lack of response, or how nobody was really looking at him, really. He seemed more focused on grooming out any stray splotches of paint from his clothes than giving any sort of explanation to the fact that he brought with him unexpected company.

Trailing just behind him, another form manifested from the black at a more reluctant pace. When a pair of bright sockets first lit up from within the gloom, Blue felt an instinctual, knee-jerk impulse to summon his hammer; terror had squeezed his soul as memories flew to a void of white and haunting, sad-mad laughter; Error...!

But then he blinked again, and realized the color of the sockets staring back out at him were off. Not a bloody red, but more of a... magenta? He purposefully blinked again, and the eyelights within the sockets - which were both blips of yellow - had changed into a yellow light and blue-ringed glare respectively; also serving to resemble the Destroyer, unsettling as that was, but dissimilar enough to affirm this was indeed someone else.

By now the stranger's body was mostly settled. Blue wasn't surprised to see that they were a skeleton monster; what did catch him off guard was the rest of their appearance.

Tall. Dark, near-black bones. A way of staring that made you feel judged. Yellow teeth set in a frown beneath a ratty scarf...

If Blue didn't know any better, he'd take them for some alternative version of Error.

Once they fully stepped out from the portal, the new skeleton hunched over themselves with an irritable fussing, glaring around the room with their metaphorical hackles raised, essentially bristling. Blue was startled to see their skull was still half-melted with the paint, bits and pieces floating around a misshaped crevice without ever drifting closer nor away. In fact... if he looked too closely, he swore the skeleton's entire figure was... fluctuating?

The skeleton took one look around the room, grimaced as if forced to swallow a lemon, and turned back to Ink with a growl.

"You said there wouldn't be that many people."

The only thing more startling than the amount of vitriol in their tone was just how young they sounded.

It suddenly struck the Swap Sans that the skeleton before him was still in their adolescence. Yet already looked and felt much too old for their bones.

Ink gave the surly teen a tilt of the head, two question marks in his eyes that suggested he held no memory of such a statement. "I did?"

"Yes!" They shouted, the blue of their left eyelight suddenly warping and snapping into a red star in a- startlingly familiar way.

Beside him, he could hear Dream swallow a sharp gasp- whether from the sight or whatever emotions he could feel from the strange monster, Blue wouldn't know. Before he could turn back to the spirit to make sure he was alright, a motion behind the two caught his eye.

To add onto the already bewildering situation, an even smaller and younger skeleton monster made themselves known by raising their little, multi-colored phalanges to tug upon the other's sleeve in a silent bid for attention. Blue could make out the shape of large, round glasses from underneath their hood as they looked up at the older skeleton, their small stature and hesitant posture exuding a quiet timidity.

Despite the softer intent that came from them, something felt awfully intimidating about the way their magic moved.

The adolescent skeleton, who was still bristling at the Guardian, snapped their head down to glare at the younger one. "What?" They barked, though their tone softened considerably more than when they spoke to Ink, as if unwilling to scare the smaller figure too much.

The younger skeleton, unfazed or simply used to this roughness, meekly glanced over to Blue and Dream, causing the other to look their way as well. With a suspicious frown, the older skeleton tucked their - sibling? Charge? Child? - closer to their side.

"They're staring," the tiny skeleton murmured faintly, though Blue couldn't help but wonder if it was from shyness or something else, as he swore he heard some undercurrent of magic under their voice.

As if they could feel the attention focusing on them, they tugged their hood further over their head and huddled against the other skeleton as if to hide.

Ink, ever oblivious, turned away from the pair- likely deeming their interaction over, and clapped his hands together in a swift crack. The pool of paint that had been simply sogging into the floor swiftly sprung to life and gathered at the god's command. It lanced up from the floor like an eruption of goo before solidifying into Ink's beloved paintbrush against the palm of his outstretched hand.

With a happy giggle, Ink gave Broomie a little twirl before settling it on his back, already padding over to his seat. "Hey, Blue! Dreamy! You guys didn't start without me right?" Ink chirped, plopping into the chair with the same carefree energy as ever.

He flashed them his usual dazzling grin - the one that would usually make Blue feel those meddling moths flapping underneath his ribcage - entirely unbothered by the tension saturating the room.

Dream’s smile was tight, his posture rigid as his gaze flicked between the newcomers - who had yet to move away from where they stepped through the portal - and Ink.

“Ink... are these two... new friends of yours?”

Stars, please tell him that he didn't randomly kidnap someone's kids again.

Ink had the gall to look confused for a moment, before his face lit up in realization and he looked back at the pair as if equally surprised by the question. "Oh!" He exclaimed, "That's right! This is your first time in the OMEGA Timeline, isn't it?"

The older skeleton refused to meet Ink's gaze, crossing their arms tightly over their chest with a scowl that could have curdled milk. The younger one peered out cautiously from beneath their hood, curiosity barely outpacing their evident discomfort. When they saw their friend's refusal to speak, they gave a brisk nod in their place, ducking away again when Ink exclaimed in excitement at the confirmation.

"Oh! Well then-! Let me introduce you guys!" 

Ink gestured with a dramatic flourish to the pair. “These two are my super unique, one-of-a-kind, totally amazing kids! Say hi, kiddos!”

Blue's bones rattled in absolute speechlessness.

He... He had a very deeply buried suspicion that perhaps this may have been the case - the shifting eyelights were a trademark characteristic rarely seen on other skeletons - but to hear it stated aloud didn't seem to make it any less surreal to him.

Or make it hurt less...

On the surface, Dream seemed to have been taking the revelation quite well; leagues better than the rippling of gasps and gossip rising from the collection of Outcodes present, at the very least. But Blue could tell at a single glance that the spirit was just as shaken as he felt.

Ink had never spoken of any romantic pursuits in his past...! Much less one strong enough to have resulted in not just one- but two babybones...! He couldn't even stand to consider the possibility of them belonging to different partners.

The idea that the artist was once close enough with another for such intimacy to occur made the two Stars unfairly jealous conflicted.

“Kids...?” Dream finally wheezed out, his golden eyelights darting between the two kids and Ink, as if expecting him to say it was a joke. “As in... your kids?”

“Yup!” Ink chirped, rocking back and forth on his heels from where he was squatting in his seat, completely unbothered by the disbelief radiating from everyone present. “That little grump there is Paperjam,”- he gestured to the older skeleton, who responded with an angry bark before being steamrolled over as Ink continued on - “and the shy one is Gradient. Aren’t they adorable?”

Paperjam’s scowl deepened. “Don’t call me adorable,” he muttered darkly, his voice dripping with disdain.

Dream took a closer look at the two, eyelights searching and scanning and taking in every little detail in search of an answer he was already afraid of knowing.

There were too many uncanny traits to write off as happenstance. But... the spirit had no idea how to face this if it were true.

"They're... also Error's children... aren't they?"

Blue jolted in his seat and grimaced, his eyelights snuffing out as Dream vocalized his own thoughts. The muttering spreading along the room grew louder as Gradient and Paperjam shifted with unease.

Ink, as usual, seemed blissfully out of tune to the gravity of the moment, completely unable to read the intent proliferating in the air. He tilted his head with a grin that was equal parts mischievous and proud. "You guessed it! Yup, they're mine and Error's kids!" He said it so casually, so nonchalantly, as if he'd just announced the weather or commented on a particularly interesting painting.

Blue's soul clenched painfully.

He knew Ink's tendency to trivialize serious matters, but stuff like this? This was beyond anything he'd anticipated. His gaze flicked back to the two children, who now seemed more guarded than ever - particularly Paperjam - whose expression had darkened further into an unreadable mask. An almost splitting image of the Destroyer.

It made a bad taste form in his mouth, seeing how clearly uncomfortable they were, and how messy and unkempt their clothes looked - Gradient's especially looked a little big on them - and Blue didn't forget about Paperjam's unusual physicality; the way their outline seemed to fuzz along the edges unsettled the Star in a way that felt as if it was decidedly wrong. Like a sign of malnutrition, or sickness.

When was the last time they ate? Blue had to remind Ink to have something almost every other day- oh stars, have they been starving?! Father or no, Ink was forgetful with the absolute worst things and Blue prayed to the Angel that they hadn’t fallen into the same neglectful pattern...!

The gears in his head began to whirl, already planning a way to bring it up with the Guardian after their open talks were over.

Meanwhile, Dream's thoughts began to spiral with questions.

How long ago was Ink and Error's romance? Did either of them have any lingering feelings for each other-? No, Error is much too obnoxious to hide such feelings, Dream would've felt it. But why Error? Was it a bout of passion between two longstanding rivals? Was it deeper? Did Ink prefer monsters who played hard to get? Maybe it was the black bones? Darn! Maybe he could-

"How the fuck did you have kids with Error?!" Someone from the crowd finally sprung up in incredulousness. The question served effective to snap Dream out of his spiraling thoughts and cut through the muffled whispers spreading like wildfire across the room.

A lapse of silence, as all eyes fell to the Creator.

"Eehhhh...?" Ink blinked, his head tilting in that way that meant he was combing through whatever memories he could grasp on hand. The more his eyelights shifted, the more sweat began to bead along the side of his skull. Just when Dream was about to derail the line of questioning, Paperjam spoke up.

"We're accidents." They huffed. Like it was a fact.

Blue's mouth gaped in mortification at the statement, and Dream could feel a surge of righteous indignation well up from within his friend like a bonfire, already seeing Blue shift to spring up from his seat to demand who had instilled such an offensive remark on them, before Ink suddenly made an exclamation.

"Oh yeah! That's right! You were accidents!"

Dream choked in appall of Ink's words.

"Me and Error were like- super mad; I don't remember what it was about anymore, but we fought like- well, it was bad, and we ended up bleeding a lot, and magic was spilling everywhere, and an AU got caught up in it and its code was getting everywhere too- and then! Then boom...!" Ink threw his hands out for added effect. "Then the next thing we knew, we made a babybones!"

It took a few moments for the spirit to get over the sheer absurdity of Ink's casual storytelling. But when the implications finally seemed to occur to him, he couldn't help but subtly deflate in relief.

So there weren't any feelings between him and Error...!

Underneath the table, Dream could see Blue pump his fist in victory and promptly returned the motion in solidarity of their shared triumph.

"What?!" The same monster in the crowd squawked.

Ink's answer was just to shrug his shoulders. "I dunno! I forgot about it the first time! The next time it happened, I was trying to take back a few things I left in Error's place for safe keeping and then it ended up as a fight!" Ink huffed, as if Error attacking him for using his dimension as a storage house was completely uncalled for.

"I... uhhhh, I may have panicked a little and- uh, overdosed on red a little..." He glanced over a Dream sheepishly, giving the spirit a cheeky wince when met with a disapproving grimace. "So, I ended up going a little harder than a meant to- it was an accident, really! And Error hit me just as hard back, so we were even...!"

"And Then What?" Blue dreaded to hear more, but was now too curious to stop the Guardian's tale.

"Well! I got away...! And then when I came back to the Doodlesphere I realized I had a babybones with me! Little Gradient followed me back! Isn't that right Gray?" Ink craned himself backwards over his shoulder to look back at his child; Dream didn't see what expression he had, but Gradient simply pouted awkwardly and shuffled back behind Paperjam.

"So... You Mean... If Gods Were To Fight Violently Enough, It Could Result In Children...?" Blue asked slowly, as if reiterating to a toddler.

"Yep!" Ink nodded in affirmation.

In the resulting silence that followed, Paperjam groaned audibly, clapping a hand over their own face in annoyance. Gradient, meanwhile, seemed to shrink even further into their brother's coat, clutching at the hem like they wanted to disappear.

Blue tried really hard not to let judgement bleed through his tone, "And You're Just Telling Us This Now?" He continued, incredulity written across his face.

Ink paused mid-stretch, clearly torn between the various artificial emotions filtering through his magic. Eventually, he seemed to settle again, instead opting for a calmer - more dismissive - shrug. “It’s complicated,” he said evenly, waving off the question as if no longer wanting to pursue the topic. “God stuff... you know? Totally normal.”

Oh, Ink-

The crowd erupted in a cacophony of disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“How is this normal?!”

"For all we know there could be dozens of mini-Errors running around the multiverse!"

“That's right! What if they take after the Destroyer?!”

Dream quickly raised a hand for silence as the general tone of the room began to shift towards something more hostile, his expression calm but tight. Looking to the crowd with a firm stare, his golden aura flared just enough to quell the rising tide of enmity. The room stilled, though the air was still thick with tension.

The two kids stared back, looking overwhelmed. Paperjam, especially seemed to be struggling with their corporeity. The edges of their skull were discreetly shifting and wobbling like dripping honey, retention barely clinging to firmness, as if on the verge of dissolving into a puddle of magic before their eyes. Behind them, Gradient was peering out from their shadow; there was a coldness in their eyes that unnerved Dream greatly, but did more to make his heart ache.

The spirit gave them a smile, though it fell slightly, as the pair were quick to brush off his comfort by turning away. Paperjam dragged their sibling closer to the edge of the room, away from everyone else, and Gradient willingly trailed behind them.

He took a deep breath as people reluctantly settled back into their chairs; though there were a few, Dream noted, that seemed to still hold some strong opinions to this particular matter.

Blue meet his gaze, and they both knew that they'd be giving their third member a very thorough talking to once discussions were put to rest here.

Today was going to be a long day...

Chapter Text

Far away from Ebott city, deep within the trenches of the digital realm of data and binary code, Error huddled within his white space of the internet. Never once did he turn away from the open window stretched out before him, connecting him to a live stream of a particular news broadcast.

"Thousands of people gather here today, as we mourn the loss of a beloved hero; Magnifisans. But to those who knew him well, Blue. This tragedy being left in the wake of yet another rampage at the hands of a particular villain by the name of-"

The reporter's voice began to break up as Error's powers sizzled, causing the window to grow foggy with static. Despite the way murder had been screaming in his head- practically bombarding him in a plethora of voices only he could hear; for once in Error's life, he couldn't bear to wreck havoc. Not today.

In his hands, a blue bandanna was held in a deathly tight grasp. It was grittier and slightly frayed, but Error still felt that softness that soothed his nerves: the barest hints of the hero's intent clinging to the fabric. If you could peer into the very existence of things like Error could - break reality down into strings of magical code - you would be able to pull out the flavor text that accompanied it.

*  The Great and Magnificent Blue's bandanna!
*  Has become worn from battle and gained a warrior's spirit.
*  Is the last remaining memento of it's previous owner.

The code of the area shook with Error's unstable emotions, various gateways and windows popping in and fizzling out just as fast as his magic ran wild. Something inside of him ached like anger- but hurt worse than anything he'd experienced before.

"yOu sh- sHit H- HeRO," Error hissed down at the bandanna, glaring into it as if willing to rend it to ashes. He would never, it was too precious- he couldn't. "y- yoU SaiD yOu'd NevER dIe."

And it was a lie. Like everything Error ever believed in.

He waited; as if the scrap of cloth could speak up on behalf of its wearer. When nothing happened, Error seemed to realize just how stupid he was being, and tossed it aside as if it burned.

It landed on the other side of the digital couch with a thump. Now exuding a strangely mournful aura.

He ignored it, instead choosing to watch the window screen again as a couple of heroes took the podium at the memorial. A growl escaped him at the sight of Blue's teammates. On the screen, the lights above them flickered for but a moment, though nobody else seemed to notice.

"People of Ebott."

The crowd fell into a hushed silence as Dream spoke. The only thing that Error could hear was his own body buzzing with glitches.

"I know that many of you have lost a lot of hope from this incident... From this one tragedy, we have all lost a protector, a role model, a brother... a friend."

Error pulled a face as the little brat continued on with the preamble and dramatics. Ugh; while the twins were so quick to make a fuss over their differences, nobody seemed to bring up how damn similar they were to each other. It was irritating.

By the time Dream's little speech was nearing it's end, Error was slowly knitting together a tiny doll- already halfway through it, more focused on getting the details right than whatever was happening on the screen.

His attention came back with a vengeance however, upon Dream's closing statement.

"We will get through this, everybody. Blue was the bravest of us, as well as the most selfless; instead of lingering on his absence, I believe he'd be the first to be urging us onwards! Today we will mourn. Tomorrow, I will not rest until Fatal Error is brought to justice for what he's done!"

The public burst into cheers. People were hopping with emotion- practically tripping over each other in their sudden hope, their fears falling to the dark as they called Dream's name-

"WHaT F- FUcKiNG B- b- BULLsHit...!"

Error shrieked with blind fury at the window; without thinking, he gathered searing hot strings of magic and electricity and shot them out towards Dream's smiling visage, aiming to maim and hurt.

He screamed even louder as they harmlessly passed through the window, only serving to scramble the broadcast and blur the projection.

Not like Error could see that right now, anyway. Glitches were frothing up from his body and flooding over his sockets. The temporary blindness forced him to stew in his anger, hatred bubbling up like second nature... But this was the first time he had felt it so freshly on the behalf of another.

Because Error knew better. He knew Blue; he spent over three decades, having to deal with that goody-goody and his antics.

He knew that Blue became a hero for the money- to pay for his pathetic brother's education; and he only stayed in the industry even after the little bitch graduated because he felt obligated to help the innocent masses. Because it was what he was good at and felt valued in; Blue simply couldn't go without attention, or else he felt worthless.

Error knew the latter not because Blue shared that with him, but because he was the same way.

He knew that Blue - for all his posturing - was afraid to die. The little rookie cried his eyelights out when Error first took him out for a spin around the block! It was only after a week of their forced cohabitation that Blue had scrounged up the stupidity to chat Error up.

He realized too late that the little fucker was building up a profile on him, but luckily he forgot that particular road went both ways. Blue never dared to try that psychological manipulation bullshit again after that, and in return, Error never attacked his insecurities either; so it all came even in the end.

He knew that Blue was proud and stupidly sentimental. The type of idiot to dive face-first off a skyscraper over a doll! A doll that Error had made to act as a threat no less! Not a gift!!

Blue never would have asked people to move on. And he didn't.

Because Error was the one who was there when Blue died.

"E- Error...!" The glitch's body frazzled as Blue desperately clawed into his sleeves the moment he was close enough, frantically scrambling to get closer, to hide, anything. Blood was already soaking through the Destroyer's sweater - already clinging to his bones - but that hardly seemed to matter when Blue was looking at him with such a desperate face.

He didn't even consider pushing Blue away.

Down the street, maybe two blocks away, Error could still hear the other Stars locked in fierce combat with that Fatal Error bozo. Not a single one of them had turned back when Blue first went down; and even now, Error saw no hint of anyone circling back to check up on their missing member.

Error himself had just so happened to have been watching the fight from the surrounding electrical billboards. It wasn't often that Fatal guy got dragged into the spotlight- so he figured he'd watch the free show. Couldn't hurt to observe the chaos for a bit.

Fatal Error wasn’t his concern; Error wasn’t the type to jump into someone else’s fight unless he had a direct reason.

But now, he had a reason- and it was crumpled in his arms, bleeding out and corrupting far too fast.

“b- BLUe,” Error stammered with an awful feedback effect, his voice distorted and uneven as his magic sparked erratically. He tightened his grip on the smaller skeleton, glitches spreading along his arms. “wH- whaT dId yoU-?! YoU idiOt! y- yoU-! yOu ShoUld'Ve kNoWN yOU wEreN'T aT tHaT gU- Guy'S lEvEL...! W- Why diD yoU fIGht hIM?!"

Blue wheezed a shaky laugh, his teeth chattering from the shock. “W- Wasn’t Like... I Had Much Choice, Y’know...? Hero’s Gotta... Do What A Hero’s Gotta Do... Mweh Heh Heh...”

“YoU’RE sUcH aN IDIot!!” Error shouted louder, his voice cracking as his glitches spiraled into jagged storms around them. “You’rE noT SsssuppOseD tO- tO D- d- Die...!”

The words felt foreign on his tongues. Error didn’t care if people died. Death was a byproduct of existence, a consequence of weakness. Dying was for the unimportant...

Yet here he was; feeling that same weakness gripping his soul with horrible fear as he held the weight of Blue’s dying body. He hated it. Hated Blue for making him feel this way...!

Blue laughed as Error shrieked at him, taking every bit of his self-restraint to hold back on shaking the stupid little goody-goody like a cheap piñata. Instead, he comforted himself with the promise that as soon as this was over, he'd kidnap the idiot when he least expected it - again - and make him rewatch Undernovela from pilot to the fourteenth season's finale!

"d- D- DoN'T lAUgH AT mE YoU NuMBsK- Sk- SKuLl...! WhEN tHiS iS oVEr yOU'rE- Re gOnNA GeT iT...!"

Blue’s eyelights flickered weakly, his sockets narrowing in a smile as he settled. "Mw- Mweh Heh... I Knew You Cared Deep Down, You Big S- Silly..."

Error froze, his glitches momentarily stilling. He wanted to snap back, to deny it, to deflect- but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, his magic instinctively began to flow toward Blue’s wounds, wrapping around him in ribbons of unstable code.

“W- What Are You Doing...?” Blue’s voice was faint, confused. His grip on Error’s sleeve slackened slightly as he coughed; a sharp, wet sound that made Error flinch.

“SH- ShUT Up,” Error hissed through gritted teeth, his focus entirely on stabilizing Blue’s fragmented code. His powers weren’t made for healing - far from it - but fuck it. Error did shit he wasn't supposed to all the damn time, this wasn't any different. Almost every other hero had regenerative powers of some sort, how hard could it be?

“I- I cAn FiX iT. JusT sTay-”

“Don’t,” Blue interrupted softly, a pained look overcoming him as he cut through Error’s frantic rambling. “It’s... It’s Okay, Error." He knew he was lying from the way his hands trembled, Blue's wobbling smile didn't reach his eyes. "You Don’t Have To-”

“Don’T yoU DaRE fUCkINg liE- iE tO ME yOu DicKHeAd! AnD ShuT tHe fUCk Up! i'M fiXiNG yOU And tHErE's nOTh- oThiNG yOU cAn DO abOut it!” Error snapped, his voice rising in desperation. “DoN’T yOu DArE GIvE uP oN mE ovEr tHIs sHIT! NoT aFTeR All ThE shIt i WEnT tHROuGh tRyING to gET rID oF yOUr dUMbaSs FOr sO LoNG! YoU’RE NoT-!” His voice cracked, glitches flaring wildly and momentarily blinding him. It forced Error to stop and calm down, if he actually wanted to see what he was doing that is.

Blue gave a weak chuckle, his eyelights dimming further. “Always So... Honest,” he murmured, his voice barely audible now. “But... I Guess That’s Why I...” He trailed off, hesitating.

Error’s glitches stuttered as Blue’s words hung in the air. Suspicion sparked up- like a little alert in the back of his head, causing him to growl his words out harsher than intended.

"yOu whaT?"

Blue’s smile faltered, and he looked away, his expression softening into something almost regretful. “N- Nevermind,” he said finally, his voice trembling. “J- Just... Error... Please, Tell Me One Thing...?”

"ShUT uP..." Error growled, immediately raising his hackles at the resigned tone in Blue's voice. He didn't want to hear it if it made Blue pull that face.

“D- Did You Ever... Think Of Me As A Friend?” Blue’s voice cracked, only one of his eyelights was barely visible now.

Error sucked in a breath, as if leveled with a harsh blow.

It was laughable. He would've done so, too, if it had been anyone else daring to say something so naive. Error didn't do friends. He hated people, he hated everyone, especially stupid heroes who-

“y- yeAh...” Error admitted quietly, words soft and raw as his mouth moved against him. What the hell was he thinking? Saying something so dangerous? “YeS. Y- yoU’rE m- my-”

Before he could finish, Blue’s bones glitched violently, his form beginning to destabilize. His bandanna slipped from his neck as his body was caught between reality and some ill-fitting infection of magic.

It was only then, that Error realized - soul seized in horror as he peered deeper into the code - that his magic had simply blended with the stuff Fatal had afflicted upon the hero, causing him to ripple out of existence faster. He tightened his grip instinctively, trying to hold onto something, anything, as if sheer will alone could keep Blue together.

Error knew that nobody who had been corrupted by Fatal's magic ever came back.

"NO! N- No- NOt yET! YoU cAN'T- YoU cAN'T jUst-!"

Error's voice fractured, breaking into static as Error panicked. his powers surged forth violently, forgoing finesse to try and beat out the rotten code with pure power. He poured everything he had into purging the malicious infection; enough so that it began to burn.

He was the strongest! He couldn't fail! He couldn't...!

But no matter how much he pushed, how much he cared, Error couldn't stop the inevitable.

“D... Don’t Forget Me, Please...” Blue’s final words echoed faintly, barely a whisper, before he just... snapped out of existence.

Error stared blankly at the space where Blue had been, his hands trembling as he clutched at the empty air of where his only friend the hero had just vanished.

The bandanna fluttered to the ground between his knees, the only thing left of the only person who had dared to see him as more than just a villain.

. . . .

For the first time in his existence, Error felt truly alone.

Error's glitches flared violently as the broadcast continued. His anger swelled to a boiling point as the crowd’s cheers filled Error’s isolated space, each one grating him tenfold. The celebration of false hope burned him, the fake eulogies and fabricated image of Blue twisting the knife.

The way they spoke of Blue as if they had known him intimately, as if they had shared the moments that mattered-

They didn't.

Nobody did; not like Error did.

“D... Don’t Forget Me, Please...”

Did Blue know this would happen...? That a false idol would be made in his place?

His glitches flared again, his form nearly collapsing in on itself with rage and pain.

Ugh-! Honestly, this is what he got for forgetting his place as a stars forsaken Destroyer...! What was he fucking thinking?! Letting himself build up the delusion that he could have friends without paying for it?!

He was about to rip the feed apart and probably spend the rest of the day questioning his sanity, when something changed.

A sudden, sharp sound stabbed through the crowd's voices, and Error looked back in time to see the camera shaking violently before suddenly shorting out.

What?

Blood now turning to ice, he hastily pulled open another video feed in the area. Error felt his eyes widening in shock as he watched the masses scream and scatter in a panic. From the new angle this store camera was giving him, he could now take note of the giant scorch mark laid before Blue's yet to be unveiled statue. Remnants of an explosion.

A few more flashes of light erupted around the scene, blasts of magic slamming into the ground and spreading fear like wildfire, the gathered civilians trampling over one another to flee the chaos.

Heroes at the scene were springing into action, Dream shouting commands that Error couldn't hear to maintain order. Ink conjured his medium to shield fleeing civilians as others were guiding them away.

Error was frozen, even his glitches stuttering to a halt in a mock version of a crash, or perhaps a build up to it. As the violence began to play out, his eyes numbly fixated upon the dark figure emerging from the smoke, walking casually, cockily, across the stage and toward the now empty podium.

For a moment, he almost thought it was Nightmare, but quickly cast the thought aside. Even that egotist had enough respect for Blue to know better than to pull something so tasteless.

He was only snapped out of his trance when the interloper started to speak; whatever they were saying causing both Dream and Ink to startle badly- or at least that was what Error figured, he couldn't see their mouth from underneath that hood.

Unlike the news broadcast, this feed didn't come with audio, so Error could only surmise what was going on as Ink and Dream seemed to... beg...? Scream at...? Argue...? With the mysterious villain.

Just as Error was considering transferring to another feed, his mind went blank at what happened next.

The figure - who seemed to have become agitated - or excited? - by Dream and Ink's attention, raised their hand and made a hand sign.

Immediately afterwards, Blue's statue lit up in a blast of magic, blinding the camera and likely everyone else in the vicinity. Error’s glitches flared violently in tandem with the disruption, his nerves lighting up as a horrible tension knotted up his magic.

When the image returned, Error felt something horrible in his gut; Blue's statue was gone.

Anger like nothing ever before gripped him, choking his throat and buzzing out his eyelights with the raw force of it. Electricity crackled within his ribcage, it felt like hellfire and brimstone was surging out from his very soul. He never needed someone's blood and dust on his hands so badly.

He was going to kill them. How dare they how dare they how dare they...!

The digital void around him crackled and tore as he summoned a portal with a sharp gesture, the sizzling glow of his etchings cutting through the white noise. In a surge of furious static and fizzling, Error charged head first, form manifesting with a violent snap at the edge of the memorial.

He immediately set his sights on the motherfucker who had dared to desecrate Blue’s memory, his glitches sparking erratically as his temper flared.

As Error's angry magic flooded the area. Dream and Ink turned sharply, their expressions shifting from confliction to shock upon his appearance. Neither looked very confident in themselves upon his arrival.

“The Destroyer?!” Dream broke into a cold sweat, his voice faltering with trepidation. The two heroes were quick to stand back-to-back between their adversaries, not knowing who to focus on in this situation.

Error didn’t even glance at them, simply glitching past the Stars to better address his real opponent. “yOu...” he growled, his voice distorted with raw emotion. “yOu’Re goNNa pAy fOR pIsSinG m- mE oFf AsShOlE...!”

Instead of being intimidated by his appearance, or even wrongfully dismissive of being confronted by the Destroyer, the figure seemed to pause for a while, before slowly walking down from the podium and approaching Error as if they'd been expecting him all along.

Error tensed; prepared to take a preemptive strike. Before he had let his strings fly, however, he was startled as a- a familiar laugh left the villain.

"MwEH HEH HEH HEH HeH!"

Error felt his entire soul shake.

No... No, it couldn't be...!

The figure's hood slipped back with a casual motion, revealing something that made Error's whole being shudder violently. His fists curling so tightly that it had cracks formed along his phalanges to redirect the glitches that wanted to flood his sockets. He felt like he wanted to throw up.

It was Blue.

Or... at least, it was someone who looked like Blue. But he was wrong.

Their bones were black like Error's, sockets blue with an eerie cyan grin that was sharp where it should've been soft; dripping with a kind of confidence Blue had never possessed. His body language was looser, less disciplined.

Error's entire body roiled with guilt.

Seemingly amused by whatever face he made, they laughed again, static trailing along their voice as they sauntered closer to the edge of the stage.

“MWEH HEH HEh...! OH, ERROR, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’VE SEEN A GHOST! THOUGH, I SUPPOsE,” They gestured to themselves with a dark curl to their grin, “YOU KInDA HAVE.”

“nO...” Error rasped, his glitches surging uncontrollably as his entire frame trembled. His sockets were wide with disbelief, eyelights thin as pins. His body refused to respond, too overwhelmed by the fizzling flare ups of errors scattering up his bones, rooting him in place. “thAt’s iMpoSsiBle...! yOu- yOu’re...! yoU dIeD...!”

Please, please, please, no- I didn't mean it...!

The fake Blue tilted their head, sockets narrowing with a playful mockery of concern. “AW, ERROR, I’M HUrT...! DIDN’T YOU SAY YOU’D FIX ME? DON’t TELL ME YOU’VE ALREADY FORGOTTEN.”

NO-! NO!! I NEVER MEANT TO DO THIS TO YOU!

“stOp...!” Error’s voice cracked as he finally stumbled back, strings of code sparking erratically around him as his powers went haywire, ready to lash out at any moment. “yoU’re nOt hiM...! yOu’re nOt- YoU caN’t bE-! i Di- Didn'T-! I dIDn'T...!”

“OH, I CAN, AnD I AM,” the fake Blue hissed, his grin widening into something mean. They extended their arms in a grand gesture, a burst of cyan magic crackling from their fingertips. “I’VE CHANGED, SURE, BUT DON’T WE ALl AFTER A LITTLE... DEAtH? I PREFER TO CALL IT A ReBIRTH, REALLY. THAT BLuE IS DEAD, BUT BLUEBERROR...?”

They did a little spin, their voice dropping into a sultry, dangerous tone as he suggestively trailed his hands up his blackened armor. “HE’S VERY MUCH ALIVE...!~”

Error felt his nonexistent stomach churn at the name. He felt so sick, worse than even after realizing he had feelings-

“nO... thiS is wroNg. ThiS- thIs C- caN’t-!”

This was all his fault, all his fault-! What had he done?!

Blueberror only laughed again, the sound sounding too much like his own. “OH, BUT IT IS, ErROR! AND I HAVE TO SAY, I’M DISAPPOINTED. HERE I WAS, THINKING YOU’D BE HAPPY TO SEE ME. AFTeR ALL...” They stepped closer, their grin softening slightly into something meaningful and rhapsodic. “YOU WERE THE OnE WHO HELD ME, WEREN’T YOU...? THE ONE WHO DIDN’T LEAVE ME BEHIND WHEn EVERYONE ELSE DID...”

Error flinched, his ribcage aching at the memory that evoked; suddenly he was feeling too small, carrying too much weight, too little excuses. For the first time in a long, long time, Error... felt helpless. He had no idea what to do...!

And that terrified him.

Why did he feel so hurt right now...?!

Why did he feel so disgusted with himself...?!

Why was his soul fluttering every time fake Blue looked at him like that...?!

“I- i triEd...! I-!”

Fake Blue cut him off with a sharp bark, grin turning lopsided as he took the final steps needed to casually jump off the stage.

Error couldn't help but skitter back as fake Blue continued to walk towards him. His intense gaze never turning away from him or diverting its course.

“YOU TRIeD. AND YOU FAILED. BUT DON’T WORRY, ERROR~” The yellow-fuchsia rings in their eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “I’M NOT MAD! In FACT,” their grin softened into something unnervingly fond, their voice dripping with an affection too close to the Blue he used to know. It made his soul race faster, if that was possible.

“I THINk IT’S SWEET," they purred. "YOU CARED; NO ONE ELSE DID, NOT REALLY. BUT YoU...”

Error’s glitches shuddered violently as his back hit a wall, his sockets narrowing as he tried to regain control of his spiraling emotions, feeling his chest wind up too tight, his magic burning too hot, his mind too scrambled and conflicted. “y- yOu’rE lyIng- iNg...! yoU’re n- No- nOT hiM...! yoU caN’t b- BE hiM...! y- YoUr'E a PhoNY-! A fAKe...!”

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I never meant to do this to you...!

Fake Blue slowed to a stop in his advancement, sockets narrowing dangerously. Error shivered under the heat of those eyelights.

"A FAKE...?"

Error's entire body frazzled up and buzzed with tension as fake Blue suddenly shuddered out of existence right in front of him, only to appear right in his space...! One gloved hand slammed into the wall beside his head with a crack, causing Error to jump.

"DOES THiS? FEEL FAKE TO YOu, ERROR?" Fake Blue growled, teeth almost brushing over his nasal ridge. Error felt his entire body flood with static as fake Blue’s face came scant centimeters from his own. The dangerous proximity sent Error's already spiraling thoughts into complete chaos, his glitches flickering erratically as his soul quaked beneath his ribcage.

He couldn't look away from those eyes.

They wanted to eat him; he was sure of it. His legs felt so weak...

"BECaUSE IF IT DOES..." Blueberror continued, his voice dipping into a low, throaty growl, "THEN MAYBE YOU JUST NEED A GENTLE REMINDER OF My TOUCH~”

Error opened his mouth to stammer a retort, but no words came out - just a garbled, fizzled buzz - as Blue suddenly nuzzled the side of his head, leaning in and forcing Error to crane his neck back to give the other monster space.

"Ah-!" A gasp was choked from him as Blue's teeth snapped around his scarf and tugged. Exposing his sensitive vertebrae as the fabric slowly unraveled and dropped to the ground. A strangely hot shiver was climbing his limbs and pooling in Error's abdomen, the pain that had been bruising his insides fading away as butterflies swarmed in his stomach. He could feel Blue's breath wafting over his neck.

Unbidden, tears pooled in his sockets as a weak titter was stolen from his mouth, only for Error to hastily slap the back of his hand over his teeth, face flushing with humiliation from having made such a sound...! "b- BluEee... wH- WhaT aRe... wHat arE yOu d- DoiNg...?"

"HMMM~" Blueberror narrowed his sockets at the incorrect name, but let it slide for now; more focused on the way Error's face bloomed in such a gorgeous shade of yellow in his embarrassment, only further complimenting the brilliant blue of his etchings, the tears in his eyes. "SHHHHHH, JUST RELAx, ERROR~ EVERYTHING IS OkAY NOW, I'M HERE..."

Error’s breath hitched, body practically tingling as Blue nudged his hand away, cupping his chin with a gentle brush of his thumb. Error's face burned. He'd never let someone get so close to him before- he killed anyone who ever tried, and yet-

"THAT'S IT~"

Stars, his soul felt so hot...!

Blue slowly leaned down, his mouth closing in...!

Error could hear a faint whizzing sound...

And then the illusion was broken by a thunderous snarl; Blue suddenly pushed away-!

C R A C K - !

Error choked. Unable to breathe as fake Blue loomed over him with pure hatred marring his face; cold, white pinpricks glaring at the brilliantly glimmering arrow of celeste that had been aiming for his head: a magic construct of pure positivity.

With a simple squeeze of his fingers, the sparkling projectile shattered into a harmless mist, flickering and dying out like a star snuffed from the sky. Blueberror's sockets narrowed into slits as his already ominous grin curled into something positively malicious. His entire frame tensed, shoulders rising as his magic surged violently.

Dream had interfered.

And that was simply unforgivable.

Blueberror exhaled slowly, the breath leaving his maw in a crackling hiss of white noise as he tilted his head back toward his former friends; who had so offensively dared to ruin his moment; after he had so magnanimously thought to spare them if they just left.

Dream stood with his bow still raised a good distance - a smart distance - away, golden light curling and flowing seamlessly along the drawn string of another arrow. His expression was a mixture of horror and grim determination, jaw clenched into a thin line. He was panting, his hands trembling slightly from the sheer wrongness of the situation.

Ink was crouched beside him, wide-eyed and gaping at the scene, evidentially unable to find the combination of paints that would help him through this. His brush was clenched tightly in a clammy grip, dipped in a slurry of colors that bled into a dark black. His most versatile combination.

Neither of the Stars had expected Blue to become this.

Neither of them were ready.

“Step. Away. From him.” Dream commanded, his voice laced with steel despite the waver beneath it. He didn't know what exactly this new Blue wanted with the Destroyer, or how they were even acquainted with each other - well, after witnessing that, he might have a couple of ideas - but he knew for certain that it couldn't lead to anything good.

Blueberror didn't even flinch.

Instead, he let out a low, dark chuckle; Dream tried not to show his discomfort in how it rolled and crackled like the popping of an old timey filter. "OH, DreAM, YOU ARE SO UNBELIEVABLY RUDE, YOU KNOW ThAT? CAN’T YOU SEE WE’rE HAVING A PRIVATE MOMENT?”

His words dripped with mock offense, but his sockets gleamed with something predatory. “I THOUGHT YOU WeRE THE GOOD GUY...? YET, HERE YOU ARE, BEInG A LiTTLE BITCH!~”

“You’re not Blue,” Dream spat, teeth gritted as he drew the arrow back further, its light intensifying as he focused on his powers. "Blue would never-!”

“OH, HErE WE GO WITH THAT BULLSHIT,” Blueberror snarled, his voice twisting into something guttural.

“I AM BLUE, DREaM. I JUST STOPPED BEING A FuCKING FOOL.” His sockets burned as he sneered. "YOU WANNA 'HELP' ME, DoN’T YOU? WANNA DRAG ME BACK, LOCK ME UP, WIPE AWAY EVERYTHiNG THAT MADE ME WAkE UP? MwEH HEH HEH! YOU’RE PATHETIC!”

Dream inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening on his bowstring. "Blue! You're not yourself...!"

Blueberror’s grin vanished. His sockets darkened into abyssal pits of blue static. The air grew heavy with a distinct fizzle.

It was only thanks to Ink's body slam that Dream wasn't struck with a brilliant bolt of electricity right where he stood.

"MY NAME!! IS BLUEBERROR!!"

The Stars barely had time to recover from the sudden attack before Blueberror appeared in front of them through a haze of static, his movement so fast it was almost instant. A gloved hand snatched the front of Dream’s collar, yanking him forward as the corrupted skeleton’s sockets buzzed with loathing.

“YoU WANT ME TO BE WEAK AgAIN?” Blueberror growled, his breath ghosting over Dream’s struggling form. His grin seemed to tick wider, enjoying the way Dream floundered against him. “TO BE YOUR BLUE? AlWAYS ThE CHEERFUL, IDIOTIC SIDEKICK, LAUGHING OFF PAIN, ACTING LIKE EvERYTHING WAS OKAY?”

Behind him, Dream heard Ink let out a crisp yelp, only inspiring him to fight harder; but Blueberror’s grip was like iron! He didn't even flinch as Dream kicked at his ribs with all he had.

“I...! I just want you to be you-!”

"FUCK OfF!" Blueberror thundered.

Dream gasped as he was flung back, quickly reorienting himself before landing and dodging the subsequent star constructs launched his way; they were fizzling and arching through the air with the shrill cries of fireworks, almost too pretty to be considered dangerous. Dream wasn't expecting them to explode in a burst of crackling magic when they finished their flight, and cried out as a shard pierced clean through his shoulder.

He barely had time to breathe before Blueberror surged toward him again, fist pulled back for a killer right hook. Luckily, it was at that time when Ink must've freed himself from whatever had him immobilized before, as a wall of paint rose up from the ground between him and Blueberror before the hit connected.

Ink scrambled to counter, a flick of his wrist conjuring a blast of red paint just as Blueberror smashed through the barrier. The attack sharpened as it careened for their former friend; but Blueberror didn’t even try to dodge.

Both Stars faltered in shock as the lance of paint struck the dead center of Blueberror's chest...!

Only for the bubbling, steaming liquid to drip away, sliding off unmarred bone and a pristine chest plate.

Blueberror had tanked Ink's attack completely without so much as a scratch to show for it.

He laughed at their faces, rolling his shoulders as if he had just stretched out after a nap. “HNNN~ Is THAT ALL YOU GOT NOW? THAT CAN'T BE RiGHT, INKY... I REMEMBER YOU HItTING HARDER THAN THAT.”

The Creator stumbled back in alarm, grip tightening on his brush as if his entire world had been tilted on its axis. “That’s...! Not possible-!”

“OH, BUT IT IS, ThOUGH!” Blueberror blurred forward, forcing Ink to instinctively parry with his brush- only for Blueberror to grab the weapon mid-swing with both hands, his sockets gleaming with malice.

"SEE, THE INK I REmEMBER HIT MORE LIKE THIS!!" Dream screamed out in distress as Blueberror yanked the brush in and slammed his head into Ink's. The way the artist crumpled to the ground was almost comedic, if it weren't for the crack and shrill howl of pain that followed afterwards.

“DID YOU ReALLY THINK YOUR PRETEND MAGIC COULD SToP ME?” he mocked, leaning down - just in time to dodge a hasty arrow nonetheless - at the writhing skeleton with a derisive tisk, casually tapping the brush against his back. “INK, INK, INK!~ A CHeAP KNOCKOFF COULD NEVER COMPETE AGAINST SOmETHING THAT’S PErFECT!~”

With a crackle of glitched madness, he twirled the brush in his hands, code billowing around him and encapsulating the medium. The pixels skittered over the brush with soft squeaks and fizzles, growing smaller and smaller...

Until the brush was completely eaten away.

Ink gasped; a weak, heartbroken, mournful sound as his beloved partner who went through everything with him was reduced to nothing before his eyes. Fighting through the pain, Ink struggled to reach out, trembling hand reaching to catch the stray particles floating down like crumbling stardust.

Only for a heavy boot to stomp upon his tender wrist and scatter the remains.

“You-! You bastard-!”

An arrow shot toward Blueberror’s skull from behind.

He snatched it out of the air without even breaking eye contact with Ink.

“SERIOUsLY?” Blueberror scoffed, rolling the radiant projectile in his palm before casually crushing it; again. “YOU GOTTA STOP THrOWING LIGHT AT ME, DrEAMY. IT’S JUST GETtING KINDA OLD NOW.”

Dream gritted his teeth, his magic flaring wildly in rage on Ink's behalf. “I don’t care what happened to you- I’ll stop you, Blue!”

“IT’S BLUeBERRoR...!”

Blueberror lashed out.

The entire square seemed to darken, the atmosphere growing tense with an unsettling prickling that told one to flee. Dream only had half a second to register the danger as a stray bolt of conduction tingled across his nasal ridge. And then the entire area whited out in an explosion.

For a moment, all was silent with the exception of rattling white noise...

When the smoke cleared again...

Blueberror stood triumphant. Dream under his heel, and Ink limp like a rag doll in his hand. With a satisfied snort, the corrupted skeleton tossed the Creator into the debris, enjoying the flat slam of his body meeting brick.

Dream gritted his teeth and struggled beneath the boot slowly crushing his ribs, grappling for anything he could hold onto to keep Blueberror's attention. “Why...?” He rasped, voice straining. “...Why are you doing this...?”

Blueberror tilted his head, sockets narrowing with a cold stare. “WHY...? BECAUSE YOU NEVeR SAW ME." His voice was suddenly quieter, almost eerily soft. "NOnE OF YOU DID."

Dream flinched, confusion warring with pain in his expression. But Blueberror had lost interest in him.

His grin sharpened, eyes flicking back to Error, who had yet to move.

Who had yet to breathe.

Who was still staring at him, soul frantically fluttering between terror and longing. Waiting for him...!~

With a throaty croon, he kicked Dream aside as if he were nothing more than an afterthought, sending the hero skidding across the stone and concrete, tumbling down, down, down, until he was sprawled beside Ink. Both Stars down for the count and knocked out cold.

Not that Blueberror cared, really.

He was done playing with the Stars.

It was always Error he ever really wanted.

“ERROOORRR~” he sang, voice dipping into something dangerous. “I DON’T THINK WE WeRE DONE TALKING, WERE WE?”

Error tensed, glitches flaring erratically as he seemed to break out of a trance. “D- dON’t-”

“DON’T WHAT?” Blueberror cooed, never breaking pace. “DON’T GET TOO CLOSE? DON’T SAY YOUR NAME LIKE I KNOW YOU LOVE? DON’T...” His sockets half-lidded, his grin curling into something mockingly sweet, something sultry and hot. “DON’T TOUCH YOU?~”

He lifted a single hand, his gloved fingers reaching out for Error's jaw-

Error shuddered violently.

His magic instinctively lashed out, conjuring a flurry of stings, all razor sharp and gleaming with power as they formed a barricade around the Destroyer, forcing Blueberror to hastily jump back.

Error panted with the emotional excretion of fear and desperation, shying away as he waited for Blueberror to snarl at him, get violent, get angry- he hoped for it, anything to distance this freak with the Blue he knew.

But the monster laughed instead. Sending shivers down Error’s spine with its rasping, crackling undertones.

Blueberror straightened, dusting off his chest plate as if Error’s attack was nothing more than an inconvenience. “OH, ERROR, ERROR, ERROR~” He drawled, voice curling into something mockingly sweet. “I UNdERSTAND IF MY UNBELIEVABLE PROwESS HAS INTIMIDATED YOU! BUT I HAVE NO INTENTION OF HARMING YOU! THE OPpOSITE, IN FACT!" He crooked a finger, "NOW, C'MON... PUT THOSE AwAY, OR I'LL HAVE TO DO ThIS THe ROUGH WAY."

Error grit his teeth, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he tried to will his magic to settle, tried to focus on anything other than how much his body was trembling, how much his soul was reacting to every word, every glance, every step closer-

No, no, no, no-

Blueberror sighed, as if forced to make a decision he really didn't want to; the grin on his face said differently. "ALrIGHT, THEN. ROuGH IT IS~"

Error prepared himself, anticipating anything Blueberror would try; anything... except what he actually did.

The other monster gave him a cheeky smile before simply shortcutting past the strings; without even a window to forewarn the movement.

Error barely had time to process before a strong hand curled around his wrist and yanked him forward. He barely managed to catch himself against a broad chest before tripping over himself.

He was reminded that his scarf was stripped from him, as a husky breath danced over the back of his head.

“MMM, YOU FiT SO WELL AGAINST ME, DON’t YOU THINK?” Blueberror mused, voice dipping into a rumbling purr, his fingers dragging down Error’s arms in slow, lazy circles like when he was calming him down from an incoming crash. “LIKE I WaS REMADE JUST FOR YOU, MwEH HEH HEH!~”

Error's sockets were blown wide, his glitches screaming at him to move, to run, to fight- but his body wasn’t listening. His soul was hammering against his ribs, trying to claw its way toward something it knew was dangerous but-

But it wanted-

No, no, no, no, NO!

He wrenched back with a strangled sound, magic sparking violently between them as Error finally forced himself away, his breath jumpy, his form flickering with error messages. His head snapped up, his gaze wild, pleading-

“yOu dIeD,” he broke. “yOu dIed, yOUr'e- yOu shOulD bE dEaD- aNd I- I c- coulDn’t- I tRied- i RuiNeD-!” His voice cracked, tears spilling from his sockets despite himself. “i'M soRrY, I'M sOrrY- I diD tHiS, yoU’rE noT-!”

He was just a filthy Destroyer who ruined everything he touched.

“SHHH, SHHH, ErROR,” Blueberror crooned, stepping forward again, slow, deliberate. He lifted a gloved hand, as if soothing a frightened creature. “YOU KEEP SAyING THAT, BUT I’M RIGHt HERE. RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU...! I WAS NeVER REALLY GONE, GLITCHY; I WAs WAITInG FOR YOU.”

Error trembled, violently shaking his head, but Blueberror pressed on.

“DON’T YOU WaNT ME...?”

His soul stuttered with an ache and Error let out a dying sound low in his throat.

How could he hurt so badly without ever being struck?

Blueberror’s sockets lidded as if he could feel it too, his expression darkening into something equal parts predatory and affectionate. “I CAN SEe IT, YOU KNOW; IN YOUR MAgIC, YOUR EXPRESSiON, YOUR LITTLE GLITCHES. YOU ACHE FOR ME, ERrOR!~ WOWIE! HEH HeH, IS THIS HoW YOU SAW ME ALL THIS TIME?”

Error made a strangled sound, his entire body locking up as a sob finally burst from the bottom of his lungs. “I- I dOn’t-!”

The other monster simply cackled.

“MMM, YOU WERE ALWAyS SUCH A BAD LIAR.” Blueberror’s grin sharpened, his gaze dipping lower, drinking in the sight of Error’s rattling bones. “I THINK I SHOULD PrOVE IT TO YOU. SHOW YOU JuST HOW MUCH YOU NEED ME~”

Error wasn't given the chance to speculate what he meant by that, when two hands seized his thighs and lifted him up against the wall. He gasped, struck into a breathless silence as his back hit the cold brick with a jolt, magic sparking wildly in startled pulses.

It took everything he had not to summon in that moment...!

Blueberror chuckled, his voice nothing but a smooth, dark purr against the sensitive ridge of Error’s nasal bone. “OH, YOU LOOK SO PReTTY WHEN YOU’RE LIKE ThIS~” he mused, dragging his fingers up the trembling bones of Error’s femurs, parting them with ease. “ALL ShAKY, ALL UNSURE... BUT YOuR SOUL DOESN’T LIE, GLITCHY. I CaN FEEL HOW MUCH YOU WAnT ME.”

Error grit his teeth, a strangled noise clawing its way out of his throat as Blueberror rolled his hips into his pelvis, pressing in closer- too close, too much, his scent flooding Error’s senses like a drug. He smelled like Blue had once described to Error- petrichor and live wires; except where Blue had said that Error held the faint undertone of water lilies, Blueberror seemed to possess a fragrance leaning more towards tulips...

Wait- WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING RIGHT NOW??

“I-” Error stammered, his glitches stuttering over his form as his magic fought against him, demanding to form an ecto body now. His fingers twitched against Blueberror’s shoulders, the instinct to claw welling up- but uncertain whether that could help or hinder his situation.

“tH- ThiS isN’t- YOu’Re nOt-!”

“Oh, GLITCHY~” Blueberror purred, tilting his head as he leaned in, teeth brushing just over Error’s jaw, light enough to make him shiver. “YOU REAlLY THINK I’M NOT YOuRS? AFTER ALL THIS? AFTeR EVERYThING?”

He licked a slow stripe up the side of Error’s skull, grinning when he felt the shudder that ran through the glitching skeleton’s frame. Error’s sockets were blown wide, his breath coming in short, erratic gasps, his entire being betraying him as it leaned ever so slightly toward the warmth pressing against him.

Blueberror felt it- the way Error melted as his magic snapped in place, filling out his clothes and filling his hands with something soft and squishy.

His grin was downright heinous.

Error could only whimper and cry, tears of frustration trailing down his etchings and fizzling with magical heat as Blueberror wasted no time in exploring his body; claws brushed underneath the hem of his sweater, poked under the waistband of his shorts, and Error could feel the slow drag of gloved fingertips tracing over his cushioned hipbones, possessive and deliberate.

Blueberror hummed approvingly. “THERE IT IS!~” He purred, his voice all velvet and static, teeth grazing over Error’s trembling clavicle. “I KNEW YOUR FEeLINGS FOR ME WERE ToO STRONG TO BREAK OVER THIs. EVEN IF YOU TRIED TO FORgET."

Error hadn’t forgotten. He couldn’t forget. It had been agony, losing him, watching him dissolve into nothing. Error had held onto the memory like a curse, like a wound that never fully healed. But this - this - was something else entirely. This was Blue, but not.

“D... Don’t Forget Me, Please...”

“nO-” Error rasped, his voice cracking as he tried to resist, even as Blueberror’s grip tightened, pressing him harder against the wall, pinning him beneath weight and heat and that insidious, intoxicating scent.

“NO?” Blueberror echoed, his grin widening. “THEN WHY DO I FeEL THAT LITTLE PUSSY OF YOuR'S SOAKING THROUgH YOUR SHORTS?~" His claws traced around the wet patch that Error hadn't even noticed was there until now, face flaming up in mortification as he could now feel his cunt drooling; it was tingling and twitching in wanton need- enough that it made even Error embarrassed for it.

He refused to meet Blueberror's gaze, his sockets squeezed shut as if that alone could erase the heat building between them. He felt a hand brush under his jawline, gently turning his head towards Blueberror, but he refused to look.

He couldn't, he wouldn't, this was fucked- this wasn't Blue-!

"DO YoU WANNA SEE WHAT ELSE I GoT WHEN I WAS REBOrN...?~" Error shuddered, hearing that deep, steady tone right against his skull. He shook his head, desperately, but his body betrayed him with another treacherous pulse of heat.

Blueberror chuckled, slow and rumbling, his breath ghosting over Error’s cheek. "OH, I THINK YoU DO~" he purred, his voice thick with smug satisfaction. His grip on Error’s hips tightened, ensuring he couldn’t squirm away, couldn’t escape the trap closing in around him. The tips bit into the fabric, and Error hissed as one of the hands scratched away a stripe of polyester.

His eyes cracked open at the faint sting of claws having wracked over his thighs- only to bolt open wide at the sight laid before him.

The corrupted hero grinned wide, impossibly wide; revealing not one, not two, but five tongues, slithering and curling in the air like hungry, gooey yellow tendrils. They snaked around one another and spread out like some carnivorous flower. The liquid magic pooled in the dips like honey; golden and sweet smelling in their allurement.

Error's body both flashed with intense heat, and chilled at the sight of the abnormal mutation.

And of course, during his distraction, Blueberror found that to be the best time to finish what he started; Error didn't even realize his shorts were sheared off of him until the chill of open air met his dripping folds.

A strangled noise, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, escaped him before he could bite it back.

Blueberror's grin only stretched further, his elongated tongues flicking out, tasting the charged air between them. He leaned in close, so close that Error could feel the phantom brush of those unnerving appendages against his jaw, teasing, lingering just a breath away, as if trying to coax his matching set to venture out.

"LOOK AT YOU~" Blueberror cooed, his voice rich with amusement and something deeper, darker. "TREMBLING SO BeAUTIFULLY FOR ME. YOU WANT THiS, DON’T YOU, ERrOR?~" A hand skated up his thigh, precariously close to his throbbing mound, startling it to fluster and pulse in a silent demand that only Error could feel.

Error sucked in a breath, his sockets fluttering, his glitches a chaotic storm across his form. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. But his body - his stupid feelings - were betraying him at every turn.

And then, Blueberror kissed him.

Or rather, devoured him.

Five tongues curled around his own: invading, overwhelming, tasting every whimper, every shudder, every flicker of resistance before smothering it completely. It was only once Blueberror had managed to fit all five tongues in his mouth- that the questing hand had slipped up and welcomed two ungloved phalanges inside his core.

Error let out a broken sound as heat exploded in his tummy, sparks of pleasure danced up his spine; he writhed as he drowned in the sensations, the suffocating, all-consuming presence that was Blueberror.

The kiss was electric, overwhelming Error’s senses. His glitches flared wildly, sending bursts of static and code spiraling around them as his hands unwound from around his neck; to slide down his chest and push Blueberror away- but his strength faltered. His claws trembled as they slowly retracted, hands softening over Blueberror’s chest.

The kiss deepened, Blueberror’s dominance clear as he angled Error’s head to his liking. Error’s soul screamed at the intimacy, the way his fingers scissored inside of him and stretched his walls so fucking good...!~

Only Blue would ever treat him so gently.

When Blueberror finally pulled back, his grin was smug, his sockets gleaming with self-assured victory. “SEE, ERRoR? YOU DON’T NEeD TO FIGHT THIS. YOU NEVER DID.”

Error tried to say something- but all that came out was a crackling purr; cloying and dizzy.

Blueberror only chuckled, leaning in to press his forehead against Error’s. “MAYBE I’M NOT ThE BLUE YOU REMEMbER... BUT I’M THE ONE WHO REMEmBERED YOU." His voice dropped, a sultry undertone threading through it.

Error’s breath hitched, his chest stuttering with something dangerously close to a sob. His claws scraped weakly into Blueberror’s armor, his willpower slipping through the cracks of his fraying resolve as those phalanges curled inside of him just right...!

Blueberror purred, his five tongues licking his teeth like the cat who got the cream. The golden magic shimmered in thick, honeyed strands, still glistening from their shared heat. “AND THaT'S ALL THAT MATTeRS, ISN’T IT?~”

“D...  o ’t For et M , P e s ...”

Error couldn't answer. He couldn’t even think past the way his magic was tangled with Blueberror’s, how the echoes of his own longing were being answered in ways he hadn’t dared to imagine. His hips dragged as a third finger was introduced, winning a soft bleat that made Error's face flame.

"GOOD BOY~"

Blueberror tilted his head, pressing his teeth against Error’s jaw in a slow, savoring drag before murmuring, “YOU WeRE SO LONELY WITHOUT ME, GLiTCHY... I CAN SEE IT IN YOUR COdE. IN YOUR LITTLE TREMBLES. IN THE WAY YOU WHImPER JUST FOr ME~”

Error shuddered, relaxing into the heat in weary surrender; there was no point in denying the truth at this point. He had already lost... Against what, he didn't know.

“D...    ’t   r  t   , P   s ...”

Blueberror cupped Error’s face, his grin stretching wide, manic and filled with dark delight as he recognized the acceptance in the glitch's eyelights; two throbbing, misty hearts. “DON’T WORrY, LOVE~ I’LL NeVER LEAVE YOU AGAIN. FROM NoW ON, YOU'RE MINE.”

His tongues flicked out again, curling around Error’s lower jaw, dragging teasingly slow before dipping into Error's hot cavern again. At the same time, three fingers crooked just right, sending Error right over the edge of bliss.

“AND I’M GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU NEVER FORGET IT.”

Chapter Text

Reaper stormed through the half decayed universe on the verge of a meltdown. His wings were so itchy, practically jumping to spring into the air so he could sweep the skies for his little angel- but he stubbornly withheld the urge, knowing that it was likely he'd miss Goth's cries, should he call for him, under the billowing of the wind.

How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

Life was too swamped with her duties to look after Goth. Grim was so deep into his own work that even Reaper felt nauseous looking at all those souls in his care. Error was in the midst of a killing spree- and just so happened to have been in a world on his list - at the same time Reaper had turned up no less!

And then he realized Goth was missing halfway through his run in this world.

He never should have let the babybones come with him today. Even being alone in the Save Screen would've been better than this. It was all his fault. He was a horrible parent. He didn't deserve-

No... No. Wait, no he wasn't. That was just the depression speaking for him again. He promised Grim that he'd work on that. That he would get better. He had to be better- for Goth.

That is... if he didn't just lose him forever in a dying world. Reaper knew full well the dangers that would multiply as the code got more wild. Goth wouldn't be able to spot the fissures from the cracks, he could fall between dimensions and wind up anywhere!

What if the Destroyer found him first...?

"Goth!" Badly frightened by that last intrusive thought, Reaper revitalized his search, looking for any trace of his baby's white, fluffy little wings.

Error sidestepped Asgore's lunge with a scoff of disgust, giving the old goat a sneer as his preemptively summoned strings took advantage of the opening. The cords slipped around Asgore's body and honed in on the soul, snapping around the magical organ with a painful crackle that rippled outwards when Error pulled and they went taut.

The boss monster didn't even get to let out a pained cry as he was brought to his knees, small slivers of pure white sprinkling throughout the golden flowerbeds and tinkling as they too, crumbled away.

With that, the last monster in this starsforsaken Underground was done away with.

"Eeeeeeeeee!"

Or at least. Error thought that was the last monster, before a white blur suddenly charged him from behind with a pitiful little squeal of a battle cry. Before Error could get over his befuddlement, the interloper already managed to cling themselves to his pant leg.

If he wasn't so confused as to why he wasn't crashing, he would have impaled the gutsy little creature for the audacity alone to get close to him.

Error blinked down at the tiny monster, eyes squinting as he took in their white cloak, pathetic puffs of feathers twitching at their backside, the shining, too-bright grin on their dumb little face.

The Destroyer nearly spontaneously dove through a portal in the floor from his sudden burst of fear and love pounding in his soul.

WHAT WAS HIS REAPER'S SON DOING HERE?!?!

Sucking in a deep breath, Error hastily managed to pry the little darling gremlin away, fully intent to get the fuck out of there before his father showed up and saw him.

But then Goth began to cry. That horrible, bittersweet sound that brought back memories of a home set within a black void, a cradle with a sweet little angel, a bed that was warm and brought nights of affection and passion.

Error failed to catch himself before he was scooping his baby up, peppering Goth's cheeks with skeleton kisses and shushing him gently until the wails sprung into laughs and screeches of joy.

Never underestimate the vicious, innate instincts of a parent. Or, the intuition of a child.

Leaning back, Error felt his soul bleed out as his son looked up at him and cooed in recognition, tiny little eyelights sparkling in wonder and unconditional love. As if he was still their papa despite the disgusting, horrific, monstrous amalgamation of a monster he had become.

He didn't deserve this. The only thing you're good at is breaking everything around you. You don't deserve to come back after all you've done you freak. Glitch. Abomination. DESTROYER-

"Bah!" He was quite literally slapped out of his thoughts by a tiny hand to his cheek. The babybones was obviously too weak to have enough force to harm him, but the sudden bap of a tiny hand against his face sent a shock through his glitching bones.

Error refocused his gaze in time to see Goth's puffballs-for-wings flitter in pride as he giggled, clearly pleased with himself in regaining his papa's attention.

He subconsciously leaned into the little phalanges, mindful of his etchings and prepared to pull away should Goth take a dangerous curiosity to them. For the first time in... in too long, Error felt his baby's soul beat against his chest, carrying a steady rhythm that didn't grate on his nerves.

It felt so comforting... so soothing... it was as if all of his constantly prickling nerves were finally made to settle. Error cooed lowly, a smile turning up his face as the babybones babbled back a mile a minute, letting Error mindlessly nod along as a contemplative sheen overtook his eyelights.

Error bounced his baby, taking in every little flap of their wings, their shining, glowing little face. The amount of rightness settling in his soul. This was his baby. His baby his baby his baby-

Reaper wouldn't mind if he took him back now, would he...?

After all, Goth was his little babybones, too. And if the Death god was going to be so irresponsible as to lose their little angel in a collapsing AU, he was better off coming back with him to the Anti-Void. Error could protect him so much better, no one would ever be able to hurt their darling, he'd never feel lonely, never be able to leave-

The glitch choked, catching the dark turn his mind had almost come to.

Error took a sharp breath, trying to steel himself, forcing his fingers to unclench from where they had curled protectively around Goth’s small frame. He should put him down. He had to put him down.

What a fucking mess you are, already planning on ruining his life? Not surprising from a broken glitch like you.

The Destroyer trembled, gazing into his little one's trusting, innocent eyelights. His bones flushing with shame as he realized just how close he had come to making a terrible, selfish decision.

It was too much for him. He had to leave. Now.

“AlrIgHt, bRAt, fuN’s OVer,” he rasped. Error absentmindedly patted the baby's back, eyelights trailing around for a spot to dump Goth.

"Error...?"

The glitch froze up, eyelights going dark as his sockets flooded up with glitches and errors. He didn't want to turn around, even as Goth visibly brightened up and began to squeal in delight. The little angel began to pull and yank on the lapels of his coat, demanding their papa to go over to daddy.

. . . .

Nothing moved for the longest time. Even the AU's decay seemed to lull into a faint pause for the drama.

Error masked his trembling under buffers, hissing between his teeth as he prepared himself for what he would have to do.

It was for the best. He didn't belong with them anymore. Reaper deserved better than this.

He gave Goth one last loving half-smile, forcing his nerves into steel. To abandon his baby again, before letting his face shift into one of malice and madness.

This is what you are. He'll never forgive you. Forget forget forget.

A laugh was scraped out from the base of his throat, full of harsh barks and no warmth. Error turned to face the other god then, leering and horrible and monstrous-

"I see you found my little angel."

The wind was punched out of his sails in an instant, caught off guard by how calm the other god was; Reaper didn't even have his scythe present, simply floating there with a polite smile as if Error was a totally reasonable monster. No one has ever spoken to the Destroyer so casually before - except the paint freak and parasite, maybe - and it's been even longer since he's seen Reaper.

Maybe that was why, instead of doubling down on his bullshit, Error's mind went blank.

Reaper froze as he heard that horrible wailing, magic turning to ice as he made a pivot and glided in the direction like a homing missile.

Only to feel that same magic lurch precariously. Finally finding his son - not hurt, not hurt yet - but held in the arms of the starsdamned Destroyer.

His first instinct was to summon his scythe, to tear through space itself and strike the Destroyer down before he could lay a single string on his angel's soul. That lunatic will not lay a single bit of ill-intent on his son..!

But- wait a minute.

Reaper hesitated, abruptly struck by a thought, 'why was Error holding his son?'

Everyone knew the glitch couldn't stand touch, or even the presence of others. He was a reclusive, violent psycho - that is, if you felt the words of the Stars were to be believed - and just trying to get into his space was enough to earn a blaster to the face.

But there Error was - the Destroyer himself - cradling his little angel, bouncing him, kissing his little face, whispering words too soft to catch over his static; and Goth's wails gave way to giggles and shrieks of delight.

What...

Anger and panic long forgotten, Reaper let the scythe slip from his fingers and fade away. Watching the scene numbly in bafflement.

This was not the Error he was familiar with. Despite popular belief, the two rarely crossed paths in their time of work together. The glitch was efficient and merciless in his annihilation of entire worlds, and often times, by the time Reaper had felt the calling of the first soul, Error was either already back in his Anti-Void, or halfway through the next world.

The few times they have crossed paths, to say the Destroyer was surly was an understatement- but admittedly, Reaper had ever yet to see the irascible childishness that so many others have described him by.

...And yet here he was, handling Goth with a gentleness that completely betrayed how lethal those claws could be.

Perhaps it was curiosity, maybe it was fascination. Nonetheless, Reaper found himself scrutinizing the Destroyer's actions a little more, unable to wrap his head around the why? What reason did the Destroyer have to act like this?

He couldn't see Error's expression, as the glitch's back was towards him, but Reaper could catch hint's of Goth's face. The way his son's cheekbones lifted in sheer joy, the uninhibited excitement in his little sockets, and the unshakable trust in his tiny hands as he clung to Error.

Goth did not take to strangers easily. That was why Reaper couldn't go to any others outside of Life and his brother when it came time to catch up with work. They all had learned dearly after making the desperate decision to leave Goth with Ink.

There was none of that fussiness or grouchy irritation here. Not a single trace of hesitation in the little angel's features before reaching up and slapping his hand onto Error's face.

Which meant only one thing...

Goth recognized Error.

A pulse of something Reaper couldn't quite name rang through his soul at the implications...

It wasn't just a recognition of someone you knew in passing, either. This looked personal, an intimate connection. Goth had never even laughed for Tori like that.

Reaper continued to watch in silence, hesitant to interrupt. If he made a wrong move, he risked Goth's safety- or worse, push Error into reacting unpredictably. Yet, he couldn't deny the familiarity clawing at his insides, like an old memory that refused to surface.

It wasn't just Goth's comfort with the glitch that unsettled him. There was just something inherently off regarding the whole thing.

The way Error held Goth, not how other skeletons would typically hold a babybones, but in the way that gave proper support for his wings; only those familiar with Wingstale or Birdtale would know to hold a nestling like that.

When his body would bounce Goth just enough to stimulate the mana lines in his back, encouraging the puffy clumps of fluff to flutter and strengthen themselves- something only an experienced parent would instinctively do.

And the way Error cooed at Goth, voice softened with a warmth that contradicted every horror story about him. The way his claws curled protectively, how the sharp talons traced over Goth's face without leaving even the trace of a scratch.

It was just a moment, but Error's visage briefly overlapped with another. The outline of a memory he hadn't dared to recall in centuries- one of a quiet night in the heart of their his home, and love so sweet that it still ached.

The realization hit him so hard, his passive levitation nearly wavered- and would have sent him crashing against the ground very clumsily if he didn't catch himself just as quickly.

Could it be…?

His breath caught. Slowly making small parallels in their appearances, the way Goth looked at them, the warmth in their intent.

. . . .

He had mourned Geno like no other. He had fought with everything he had to lift his head high and say he moved on.

He had accepted, long ago, that the miraculous, one-in-a-billion, love of his life was gone.

And yet-

No.

No, he needed proof.

Reaper inhaled sharply, forcing himself to remain composed. To not rush in. This wasn't the time to let emotions get in the way. He needed- he needed to be sure.

So instead of attacking or demanding an explanation, Reaper steadied himself and slowly drifted toward the pair. Goth had caught sight of him just as he was a few feet away, and Reaper couldn't help but melt as his angel's eyes lit up like stars. Brighter than anything in a long time.

"Error...?"

Error repressed the urge to swat at the glitches trying to build up around his sockets again, scrambling with something to say without slipping up, "I...! wE- wELl-! y- Y- YoU! wHY- WhAT- aT wErE yOu tH- thInKIng bRi- iNGiNg thIs aBOmiNatiOn hErE?!"

'What were you thinking?! Bringing my son here?!' He had very nearly said.

Reaper at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself. "Life was really busy today and Grim is already backed up enough as it is. I thought it would be fine as long as I modified the list to focus on the less precarious worlds today..." He made a thoughtful expression as he sized the Destroyer up. "Plus... I wasn't expecting you to be out and about today."

Error suddenly felt very aware of how he looked, cradling a damn child that he had no right to and letting them nearly crawl all over him.

His face flamed; even as his arms only shifted to further secure the squirming child as they began to slip. Error huffed, clearly showing Reaper how he appreciated the scrutiny, and tried to play the situation off without making a big deal of it.

"wHat- AteVer. jUst KeKp a TigHtER- ER- ER leAsh oN THis thiNg, 'cAuSE i'm nOT gONnA bE s- S- sO meRcIFuL NExT t- tIme I SEe i- iT."

Relunctantly, Error held out Goth, who quickly started to wiggle and scream in exuberance when he realized that he was being handed back to his daddy!

Error tried hard not to feel heartache at the sight.

They don't need you. You'll just ruin it all. They're better off without you. They've clearly moved on. Who would want you now-

Error hadn't noticed Reaper approaching until the little angel was tenderly lifted from his hands. For the barest moment, their phalanges brushed against each other, and Error had to bottle up a gasp.

Still as pleasantly cool as he remembered. He didn't hurt either.

The Destroyer watched awkwardly, as Reaper welcomed their his son's happy squeaks and chirps with his own low crooning, nuzzling the little troublemaker with a smile Error would be haunted with for some time.

"Hey baby, you had fun with Error?"

Error watched the world he left behind - the two monsters that had been his everything when everything else had been taken - content to let himself be forgotten once more.

You have no place here.

With that in his heart, Error promptly turned away and quickly pulled up the coordinates to the next AU on his list. He'll just come back to finish the job later, it wasn't a big deal, he can even-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"

His eyelights flickered out as a wave of glitches crawled over his body in a swarm at the heartwrenching scream. Forcing himself to calm down, the Destroyer forced his bones to keep perfectly still as Goth continued to wail and scream and pitch a small fit, slowly bringing himself back from the verge of a crash.

Goth, for his part, flapped his tiny wings desperately, reaching out towards Error with trembling little hands as he kicked and fussed at his daddy. What was he doing?! Why wasn't his daddy stopping papa from leaving again?! They just found him! Where was their papa going?!

Error didn't dare look back. Knowing just how likely it was that he'd break if faced with Goth's tears.

"A- Ah-! B- Baby..! Shit- wait! Uh, Error, h- hold on a moment..!"

Reaper's eyes widened at the sudden turn in mood, hands instinctively adjusting Goth's weight as he tried to hush him, but the little angel wasn’t having it. Goth only sobbed harder, flailing against Reaper’s hold. His wings, still too soft and weak for real flight, fluttered in distress, his tiny hands straining to reach for Error.

The moment Error's magic settled down enough for him to not feel like a single move would send him careening off the deep end, he shut out the cries to the best of his ability and continued walking on.

Goth screamed.

"Papa..!"

Error shut down. Instantly rooted to the spot from that one word.

Reaper... Reaper felt his throat go tight upon his little angel's cry, sockets rounding out as they stared down at the babybones and then the Destroyer; a hope clawing up from his gut and flooding his chest wiped away any and all doubts left behind.

There was no doubting the loving intuition of a child.

Error was Geno. Error was Geno.

Reaper felt joy froth up and flood every other feeling. The purest of bliss- his beloved was alive...!

Geno was..! Geno was...

Reaper felt that buzzing warmth quickly drain, sobering up as he took in the way Error was trembling, shrunk in on himself as if being held together by the final threads of his sense of self.

Geno was... no longer the Geno he knew.

This is Error. Has been for centuries now; and though Reaper's heart swelled with joy at the realization that not all had been lost, it also twisted painfully at the sight of his beloved, broken and haunted, so different from the mortal he'd once known.

Reaper slowly approached, his steps tentative yet filled with determination. He saw Error's body trembling, the glitches crawling across his frame like a silent storm, betraying the fragile state of the once-confident Destroyer. He could feel the fear radiating off him, the self-loathing that had festered in his absence. Slowly, the fizzles began to settle as Goth's cries felt quiet, but didn't disappear entirely.

Oh... Oh my sweet dove...

It did not comfort him to see that invasive insecurity had prevailed.

Standing just before the Destroyer, Reaper was suddenly struck with how much hinged on what he said here. One wrong word, and he could lose his lover for good. Error would run away to where Reaper could never follow. He bounced Goth, finding comfort in the little angel's soft burbles.

Reaper took a leap of faith.

"I've missed you, my dove."

Error recoiled, his form jerking as if the sound of that pet name physically hurt him. A crackling drone of feedback shifted through the air as he groaned.

“nOnOnO- dOn’T- DOn’T cALL mE tHAt-”

Reaper’s soul ached. “Why not?” he asked softly.

“bEcaUsE i’M nOt hIM- i’M nOt yOuR gEnO-!” Error devolved into incomprehensible static, mouthing off to himself in the likely throes of a breakdown.

Reaper exhaled sharply, stepping forward until he was close enough to touch him. Error was still clutching at himself, trembling precariously, as Goth continued to coo and whimper soft mummers of 'papa' and 'stay.'

“I don't remember saying you were Geno,” Reaper murmured, daring to crack a soft smile. He hoped he looked comforting. “No... I don't think Geno's fashion sense was quite that dark and daring, right Gothy?"

The child scrunched their face up with a smile in their eyes. "Bah!"

Error blinked, the crackling strings of code and pixels suddenly falling away as he was caught off guard by the sheer normalcy of Reaper's words. He stood back up, staring the death god down as if looking for a trick.

Reaper couldn't help but coo. How could he have never realized it before..? Now that he knew what to look for, the similarities between Error and Geno were so obvious. It made him ache, made him excited to learn how much of the old Geno remained and what changes were waiting for him to discover.

"y- You... wHaT aRe yOU saYinG..?"

Reaper’s gaze softened. “I’m saying that you’re still you, Error.” He adjusted his hold on Goth, feeling the tiny babybones settle, now watching the exchange with wide, curious eyelights. "I didn't fall in love with you just to change my mind after you've changed a little."

Error flinched as though the words burned. He shook his skull violently, stepping back- only to stop when Goth made an uneasy peep. He gave the baby a hurt look, hesitantly shuffling in place, but evidentially reluctant to upset their son any further.

Trembling phalanges gripped his scarf and pulled it up to hide his face, eyes askance. A habit Reaper still remembers to this day for when Geno was feeling especially bashful or insecure.

"yoU- yOu doN'T kNOw wH- wHAT yoU're tAlkINg abOuT..! i'M brOKeN, ReAPeR..! I'M-! I'm sElFisH! aND imPuLSiVe! AnD aNGrY! and POsSesSivE! ANd crANky-!"

"You've always been cranky though, love."

Error’s mouth opened and closed. No words came out. His mind warred between the overwhelming urge to body slam the idiot and the sheer want clawing at his ribs.

Reaper grinned as if reading Error's mind. With a boldness befitting the capricious idiot, Reaper closed the distance between them once more. Until they were nearly chest to chest. Error didn’t back away this time.

“It’s been so long,” Reaper murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “And I have missed you for every single one of those days.” His sockets darkened, intense and all-consuming. “I don’t care what form you take. I don’t care what name you go by. I don’t care if you’ve destroyed half the damn multiverse.” He exhaled, reaching out- but not touching, just in offering.

“If you still want this... If there’s any part of you that still wants me - wants us - then stop running, please.”

Error shuddered. His code frayed at the edges, glitching and prickling, his form unstable. His entire soul screamed at him to flee. To disappear before this moment could be taken away from him, before he could be hurt again.

You'll ruin it all, you're a filthy destroyerdestroyerdestroyer!

But Reaper was still there. Still waiting, oh so patiently, as always. Still looking at him like he was something worth loving.

Error swallowed. His etchings burned.

"I love you."

Error felt the magic well up within his face, unable to hold back tears as they overflowed.

"I loved you then and if you give me the chance, I'm confident that I can prove that I still love you now. No matter what's different, Error."

Error hiccupped- a choked, fragile sound, his body sagging forward.

Goth cheered, flapping his tiny wings and babbling as he curled into his papa’s hold, practically glowing as he was held between his fathers.

Reaper’s gaze softened at the sight, feeling so, so full. Slowly, carefully, he tilted Error’s face up and pressed a gentle, timid kiss against his trembling teeth.

Error gasped, hesitating for only a moment before pushing himself into the kiss. Returning the soft, fluttering warmth bubbling between the two from the long missed affection.

And then Goth squealed before shoving his head between the two, wanting his own kissies first! He was the one who found Papa after all! He deserved all the praise and treats and kissies!

Reaper laughed at their son, jovial and lighter than he felt in years. "Does baby want some kissies too? Oh no! Daddy didn't mean to leave you out, angel!~"

Error's only warning was a impish grin before Reaper suddenly dove down and began to bombard the two with raspberries and kisses, making Goth squeal with laughter and Error squawk in outrage.

"R- R- R- ReAAaPEEEEER- ER- ERRRRR..!"

Reaper grinned against Error’s scarf before pulling back just enough to catch the Destroyer’s flustered expression. A familiar emotion swelling up within him at the glitch's outraged huffing and flustered squirming.

He found him. He brought him back home.

Chapter Text

Nightmare was meant to be king. Not only was it his birthright as the firstborn, but it was simply a fact. He knew he was to be a fair and just ruler; he would be great and mighty and be spoken in the same breath as his ancestors.

From the moment he could walk, he had been groomed for the throne: taught to wield a sword, learned in all the languages and cultures bound within ink, made to bear the weight of an entire people on his shoulders. And Cross, the royal Drake who had been his companion since childhood, had always been by his side. Nightmare had been there when he first hatched, still fresh into his own stripes.

"There is no greater bond between a king and his Drake, Nightmare. Respect and revere him as you know he will."

His mother had told him that day: one of the most significant teachings she'd ever imparted to him.

And like everything else, Nightmare had dedicated himself to excelling such expectations. Cross was his closest companion, his keeper and his guardian; when he and Dream had first started to drift apart due to the opinions of court, Cross was the one who saw him through it all.

He never once doubted Cross' loyalty to him, and that was why, when the lords had pressed for him to exact the Dragon Trial, in a pathetic bid to win Dream the crown, he had felt no fear. Cross was his other half, his sworn lifelong partner.

But now here he was. Watching Cross bow before Dream with an air of finality.

He waited for the Drake to correct himself, to turn back and acknowledge the mistake. But Cross never even glanced his way...

Nightmare could only stare at the Drake he had known since he could lift him within his arms, his most loyal friend, his own dragon, turning his back on him, and felt the world crumble around him.

The nobles murmured their approval, and Dream’s eyes widened in shock as the vassals had cheered and clapped, their voices rising in triumph. The court was alive with praise, chanting Dream’s name as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.

Like that, the throne was no longer his.

He didn’t remember leaving the hall, nor the hollow, distant echoes of Dream calling after him. Shame and betrayal burned through his chest, suffocating him as he stumbled through the palace corridors.

In one moment. He lost his entire life.

The crown...

His purpose...

Cross...

Had he ever truly had them to begin with..?

. . . .

That night, Nightmare shed his royal silks, stole a traveler’s cloak, and vanished into the dark.

Never to walk the palace walls again for many years to come.

He slipped through the palace gates. The guards didn’t notice him- they never did. He was a shadow, a ghost, and no one would sense his presence as long as he willed it.

While made on an unfounded basis, the peasantry did not come to fear his dark magic for nothing.

He paused at the edge of the forest, looking back at what was once his home. The palace towers rose like silver blades to the heavens, golden banners fluttering in the wind.

It was beautiful...

He had spent his life preparing to rule this kingdom, to protect it, to honor it...

And they rejected him.

An ugly feeling burned low in his throat, and the skeleton who was no longer a prince sharply turned away, quickly scrubbing away the tears breaking through his vengeful snarl.

“They’ll regret this,” he whispered to himself, his voice trembling with anger. “All of them.”

He did not look back again as he disappeared into the trees. He did not know where he was going, nor did he care. All he knew was that Drakehaven had cast him aside, and he would make them regret it.

The wildlands beyond the kingdom's walls were vast and merciless. It was here that dragons still ruled as warlords and catastrophes, and to tread their domain was to walk a path toward death.

But Nightmare had no fear. He had taught himself well in the ways of the world. He had learned to fight and defend as well as he could recite the wisdom of scholars and mages past.

For days, he wandered, fueled only by spite and the embers of old pride. Until, one fateful evening, the earth beneath him trembled.

On instinct, Nightmare had abandoned his half-made campsite and slipped into the thicket of the gnarled forest. Near the base of an aged ginkgo tree, he huddled among the twisted roots, accepting himself as part of the environment to better blend in.

He held his breath as the trembling grew stronger.

Slowly, the vibrations were joined by the loud groans and snaps of the vegetation as something massive slithered through the underbrush.

Nightmare remained deathly still, not even daring to breathe as the foliage on the other side of his campsite gave way. A deathly white, serpentine maw hissed as the creature slunk into the clearing, it's body seemingly endless as it wound and wound and wound around to pool into the open space.

A Wyrm.

Nightmare’s heart pounded.

He had read the tales- of villages left as ruins, of warriors swallowed whole by their endless search for blood and bone. Dragons who had been cursed from both their wings and their claws- left to terrorize the land and never again reach the skies. The most wretched of the dragonkin.

Nightmare felt his entire body tingle with magic and adrenaline as he took in it's appearance- one that was so similar, yet so different than the Drakes he was familiar with.

The serpent's scales were rough and cragged where a drake's was glossy and thick. He watched in frozen awe as their black, pitless eyes roved over his little clearing, taking particular interest in the personal items he had left behind in his kneejerk rush.

The beast’s teeth gleamed as it lowered its head, forked tongue flicking around, tasting the air. Its mouth curled, almost amused. The writhing mass of tainted magic hovering over its chest sizzled with an eerie red glow.

Nightmare knew he had only seconds to act before he was crushed in those monstrous coils.

With a sharp breath, he lunged around the other side of the tree- just as the Wyrm's glistening fangs snapped shut where he had been hiding. Bark exploded in a spray of splinters, the ginkgo tree groaning under the force of the strike.

Nightmare rolled into a crouch, heart hammering as he willed his magic to bleed into the shadows. He had no illusions of a hero's victory- this was a Wyrm, a creature of ruin and death.

But he would not be accepting defeat either.

The Wyrm, realizing its prey had vanished, lifted its head, slitted nostrils flaring as it turned about, doubtlessly scanning the surrounding growth for his presence.

"Oh? You’re a quick one."

The serpent coiled lazily, its sinuous body circling the periphery in a slow, deliberate motion, trapping him. Nightmare carefully inched further into the dark, willing himself from sight.

"And clever," the Wyrm continued, head tilting as it regarded him with sharp curiosity. "Mortals run when they see me. Yet you hide instead. You know better than to think you can escape me... cute."

Nightmare bared his teeth in the shadows, a cornered animal drawing upon his claws. The knife gleamed as he imbued it with his magic.

The Wyrm’s chuckle rumbled like distant thunder, realizing that Nightmare had no intentions on replying.

“Oh, I like you already.”

It lunged again. Nightmare dodged, this time diving beneath the snap of powerful jaws, slashing out with practiced precision. The blade sliced through the softer scales of the Wyrm's throat- but the swing was shallow, barely leaving a mark.

Fuck-!

Nightmare was barely able to avoid the whiplash of the Wyrm’s tail as it swept out for him, splintering the ground where he had been standing as it struck the earth with a crack. He rolled further away, springing to his feet just as the beast's coils twisted, encircling him further.

His mind raced, realizing he had no more room to move about as he pleased. He couldn't overpower a creature of this size...

But if he was willing to cast aside all else, at least he could bring this serpent down with him.

Snarling, he turned on his heel and leapt, purposefully leaping for the jaws of the Wyrm. He'd carve through its throat as it swallowed him down..!

Only to have the wind knocked out of him as powerful coils wrapped around his midsection, stopping his reckless charge mid-air. Nightmare barely had time to gasp before he was yanked backward, slammed into the ground and rendering him breathless.

He struggled, but the crushing force of the serpent’s grip locked him in place, rendering his limbs useless. His blade clattered to the ground below, his magic flaring uselessly as the Wyrm slowly dragged him back, lifting him higher with the end of its tail, until they were face-to-maw.

“Now, now~” the beast rumbled, amusement dripping from its voice. “That was quite the move little one. Were you really about to throw yourself into my jaws? How delightfully vicious..!”

Nightmare bared his fangs, glaring defiantly despite the crushing hold. “If I’m going to die, I’ll make sure you regret eating me.”

Silence.

Then, to Nightmare’s growing confusion, the Wyrm laughed. A full, unrestrained laugh that made his body coil with a flustered inkling of embarrassment.

"Oh, I really like you now," the Wyrm purred.

The serpent's tongue flicked out again, tasting the air between them. “So full of venom. So much rage in such a small body.” Its coiling grip tightened slightly, as if testing him, feeling out his body's integrity.

“Tell me, little one, what drives such a refined, feisty thing like you out from your walls? I can smell those traitorous Drakes on you... Shouldn’t you be curled up in a nest of gold and silk?”

Nightmare stiffened. He had said nothing of who he was. And yet, the Wyrm spoke with such certainty.

He schooled his expression, voice snapping and cold. “If you already know, then you should also know I won’t beg.”

The Wyrm grinned, sharp and knowing, the swiveling mass of red fraying along the edges as it tittered. “Oh, I’m not interested in your begging. I want something else.”

"I fail to see why I should entertain your desires when you’ve made it very clear I’m meant to be your next meal.”

The Wyrm tilted its head, inspecting him as one would admire an uncut gem. Consideration fleeting over his features before it was gone just as fast.

"I can give you what you want."

Nightmare’s breath hitched. He met the Wyrm’s gaze, searching for deception, but found only genuine conviction.

The Wyrm lowered its head until its snout nearly touched his chest, the scent of char and something darker coiling around him. "Why don't you be mine?" It whispered, voice silken. "Become my consort, and I will carve you a throne greater than Drakehaven itself."

A shuddering exhale left Nightmare’s teeth, before an incredulous scoff followed soon after, unable to hide the absolute bafflement upon the dragon's sheer audacity to propose such a thing.

“You’re serious?” Nightmare’s voice was sharp with disbelief.

But the Wyrm did not laugh back.

“I see something in you... And I have the feeling that I might finally be able to quench this endless lust of mine with it”

Nightmare stilled, breath caught in his throat.

It was insane.

It was foolish and fatuous and too costly and... and...

It was everything Nightmare wanted.

"What does becoming your consort entail?” His voice was careful, measured.

The Wyrm grinned, sharp and knowing. “Be my mate.”

Nightmare’s breath stalled. Fully knowing what that meant.

“Say yes, and I will make you a king, as you were always meant to be.”

. . . .

Truly... the very suggestion of lying with a dragon- one not of the noble line he was born to stand alongside, anyone other than Cross... it should have disgusted him. Akin to downright blasphemy.

But Cross had turned his back on him. His kingdom had cast him aside. They had betrayed him first.

Slowly, a fierce smirk curled over his face; it was sharp and demanding.

“Then kneel,” he whispered, voice like silk over ice. “If I am to be your king, Wyrm, you will bow before me.”

The Wyrm stilled.

Then, to Nightmare’s surprise, the great serpent’s body shifted. First gently - reverently - setting Nightmare back upon the earth on his own two feet. Then its massive coils unwound, lowering itself to the ground in a slow, deliberate motion. Its head dipped, pressing into the dirt before Nightmare’s feet in a gesture that reflected the one Cross had shown Dream.

A soft churr began to stir from the beast's throat, a lowly purr of building amusement and affection that only served to delight Nightmare further.

“As you wish, my king.”

Chapter Text

The hall was aflutter with laughter and exclamations of joy, but Dream felt out of place as the applause quickly burst into revelry. Cross slowly rose his head as the tension broke, ivory scales gleaming and shining under the golden chandeliers, his mismatched eyes brimming with such pure love it made something in Dream twist and pull.

It wasn't Cross' fault. It wasn't. He had to remind himself.

He could never blame Cross, when the Drake so clearly hadn't even so much an inkling of malice in his decision.

Dream knew Cross had acted out of devotion, out of a fierce, unshakable sense of loyalty to the kingdom that would never waver. And yet, as the nobles and lords around them cheered for him - him, and not Nightmare - he felt as if he were drowning.

He never wanted this. The throne was not meant for him.

"Prince Dream, you will be a guiding light for our kingdom!"

"Your wisdom and kindness will bring prosperity to us all!"

"With you as heir, Drakehaven's future is secure!"

"O- Oh..! Um, thank you! Yes! Thank you! But I, uh, there's something that I need to-"

As if they couldn't hear him, another noble laughed over his stuttering and roughly slapped him on the back in a way that nearly bowled him over; it was like he had just heard the best joke in ages, promptly winding Dream of any words half tumbled from his windpipes.

"No need to be so humble, Your Highness!" The man shouted, sounding too breezy and peppy for how scrambled Dream's insides felt. "Your brother was simply not suited for the throne! But you, my Prince- no, Crown Prince- hah! You are the future of this kingdom! The people already adore you!"

Adore him.

Dream clenched his hands, phalanges digging through the gloves and pressing into his palms. His smile wavered at the creases, fighting the growing ache in his jaw.

The weight of the title settled onto his shoulders like a chain.

Crown Prince.

It had always been Nightmare. Nightmare, who was meant to rule. Nightmare, who was strong, unyielding, a force of nature that Dream had admired since they were children.

It felt wrong hearing himself being spoken in that role.

"I- uh, yes! I'm- I'm sure they will, hah hah..! But I uh, I must see to-"

"Your Highness! Would you consider revising the crown’s trade agreements with the western regions?" a rotund lord interjected.

"Surely, a prince as compassionate as you must see the need for revisiting the unjust matters plaguing the taxation of the fiefs?"

"A wise ruler surrounds himself with experienced advisors, Your Highness- perhaps we could discuss a position on your council?"

Dream nodded too easily without really listening, his throat tight as he tried to find opportunity to break away from the crowd. He glanced toward the door, hoping to still catch a glimpse of Nightmare, only to find all traces of him were gone. His brother had vanished into the dark, and Dream’s heart ached with guilt.

A lump formed in his throat, dreading what his twin was feeding his thoughts with right now.

He needed to explain, to make Nightmare understand before things got out of hand..! But before Dream could slip away, another noble stepped in his path, blocking his view. One with a firm stance and familiar crest upon his breast.

“Your Highness,” the noble said, bowing low, “the queen has delegated me to aid you with the preparations; we must begin the coronation arrangements post-haste.”

Dream’s smile faltered further, knowing that all hopes in slipping away would be for naught now. “Of course,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the flow of distant conversation abound. “Whatever you think is best.”

The rest of the day had been spent rearranging the staff, meeting with advisors, arranging a new attire with the tailors, designing a new regalia with the embroiderers and masons, preparing a venue for the coronation, and listening to the endless suggestions on policy changes, alliances, and court reforms that Dream didn't think he even had the right to touch before ascending to the throne.

Cross did well to step in when things seemed just that touch too much for him to handle. It made it hard to ignore the warmth in his eyes whenever they made eye contact, and the prince grew worried that he'd get even more distracted than he already was should those moments linger even more.

The Drake was such a steady presence, incredibly attentive as well, and Dream began to see why Nightmare was so quick to sing praises of his other half whenever they had the odd tea time in their younger years.

"Cross had her in tears! The look on her face when she realized he dumped the tea over her head! Heh, served the tramp right, trying to drug me with a Drake in the room! Honestly.."

"Nighty! You should be more careful!" Dream had been smothering his own laughter despite his words. "What if she goes around saying that you had Cross attack her? No one will be willing to give you a chance if you have your Drake chase all the competition away!"

Nightmare had simply scoffed, looking unimpressed but soft with unspoken affection. "Please. Like I'd ever need to look elsewhere with such a valiant knight in shining armor by my side..."

His heart ached at the memory... Guilt flickering for but a moment, before smothering it down.

Dream's thoughts lingered on Nightmare.

Where had he gone? What was he thinking?

Did he... hate Dream now?

The idea sent a sharp pang through his chest, but Dream swallowed that down too, forcing himself to remain composed. Not here. Not in public. He was a prince with an image to uphold...!

Well, at least he had sent Cross off to go find his brother for him. The Drake didn't seem very happy to part from him, but Dream was relieved when he followed the order nonetheless.

He was grateful. Truly, he was..!

Dream wasn't anywhere near as ready as he thought he was for all of this turbulence; Cross was the only thing that kept him from nose diving over the edge and screaming his fool head off at somebody. He just wanted to see his brother.

But the gratitude did little to quiet the sickening disquiet and anxiety in his gut.

"The queen will see you now."

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and pushed open the door to his mother’s chambers. Nim sat by the fireplace, her silver scales- no less luscious and firm in her coming age - shimmering in the firelight, her expression serene. She looked up as Dream entered, her smile warm as a summer breeze.

“Dream,” she said, her voice soft. “Come here, my dear.”

Dream hesitated, then crossed the room and sank into the chair beside her. For a moment, he simply stared into the flames, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Then, the dam broke.

“Mother,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to be the heir.”

Nim’s brow furrowed, and she reached out to cup his cheek. Dream could feel the faint hint of her retracted claws glide over his bone. “Oh, Dream,” she said gently. “It’s natural to feel overwhelmed. But you’ll grow into your role. I know you will.”

He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “No, you don’t understand. This- This isn't right. Nightmare should be the heir. He’s always been the heir. Please, Mother, you have to fix this. You have to give him his place back.”

The old Drake's expression softened, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes- something that made Dream’s chest tighten. “Dream,” she said, her tone patient but firm, “Cross chose you; the kingdom needs you. Nightmare..." she trailed off, as if finding the words for something she never thought needed to be explained.

"Your brother is too firm, too cold.. Too prideful... The people would never have accepted him."

Dream’s breath hitched. “That’s not true..!” He said, his voice rising. “Nighty is strong. He’s kind. He would have been a great king..!”

Nim sighed, her hand dropping to her lap. “You’ve always been too soft-hearted, Dream. Nightmare is your brother, and I know you love him, but you must think of the kingdom. The people need a ruler they can trust, someone who embodies warmth and compassion. That’s you, my dear.”

Dream stared at her, his tears drying as he slowly turned away, unable to face his mother with his emotions being so unstable. He carefully managed his breathing, forcing his racing heart to remain steady.

“..But what about Nighty?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What about what he wants?”

Nim smiled, her expression gentle but deflective. “Nightmare will understand eventually, Dream.. Your brother might even be happy once he sees how much better things will be. Now, let’s not dwell on this any longer, you have a coronation to prepare for.”

Dream stayed quiet for a bit, staring into the fire as silence prevailed between them. Then, as if the lapse had never occurred, a smile settled back over his face, giving Nim a conflicted nod.

“You’re.. You're right, Mother,” he said softly. “I’ll... do my best.”

The old Drake pulled the small prince into a hug, a deep rumble in her throat as she gently stroked his back. Dream let himself sink into the embrace, pressing his face into her shoulder. It was warm, familiar, motherly.

But he found no comfort there.

The next morning, Dream had awoken to find a crown wordlessly left upon his bedside.

He didn't need to track Cross down to know what it meant. Why the crown - that Nightmare had been so proud and happy to show off and prance around with in the privacy of their shared chambers as children - was in his hands, with no word of his brother to be had.

His twin was gone.

The realization hit him like a blow, and he buried his face in his hands and just curled up on himself for a good hour, maybe two. His chest felt too tight, and his back ached with the responsibilities already being mounted upon him. Dream could only hope that this was salvageable.

Who knew that plans could veer off course so easily..?

When he finally found the will to leave the safety of his room, the first faces to greet him were that of nobles and officials, all of whom had doubtlessly been waiting upon Dream for the hours he had spent squirreled away.

Their faces were a mix of pity and disdain. “Your Highness,” one of them said, “you mustn’t dwell on your brother’s betrayal. He was never fit to rule.”

"Yes, that brat was always too prideful and stubborn to admit his faults. It bears little surprise that he would abandon the kingdom in the face of having modesty shoved down his throat. You must be strong!"

Dream’s hands clenched into fists, but he kept his voice calm, even if it was weak. “Nightmare didn’t betray anyone. He’s just... confused.”

Dream never had the time to explain. His twin didn't know he had no compulsion for the crown.

Another noble scoffed. “Confused? Pah! Your Highness, I am afraid you are far too kind. Any proper vassal would be overjoyed to serve you; he could've even been delegated as a chamberlain, if he finally swallowed that pride of his, and yet he fled like a beaten dog..! The ingrate!”

Thankfully, before Dream could respond to that, a massive frame filled the doorway and prompted all to go quiet. Dream turned, only mildly caught off guard to see Cross in his mortal form.

The nobles fell timid under his stormy glare, bowing their heads as the Drake approached with the faint click clank of claws gliding across the marble. Even with his magic restrained like this, he stood far above everyone else, and Dream only felt mildly unsettled as he was swept against the other, hidden from view.

“Leave us,” Cross said, his voice a low rumble.

Once they were alone, Dream didn't hesitate in throwing himself into the Drake's arms with a haggard sob.

Dream looked up at the other, his eyelights pleading and dewy. “Cross, please. You have to find Nighty! Bring him back- please..! I- I can't possibly do this without him..!”

Cross winced slightly, his claws hesitating before settling carefully on Dream’s back. Once he seemed to convince himself that he wouldn't squish Dream in his hold, Cross’ arms tightened briefly around him, a silent attempt at reassurance. “I will find him,” he rumbled, voice firm, the strength of the Drake's voice let Dream know he meant it. "I promise."

Dream nodded, taking advantage of the Drake's openness to burrow into the furs wrapped around his chest, feeling the way Cross stiffened, only to hesitantly rev up a purr as his small, dainty hands ghosted up to Cross' face, cradling the bony, scaled jaw and pulling down where they met in a timid, chaste kiss.

"Find my brother, Cross."

After Cross had left with the promise to bring his brother back home, Dream had retreated back to the safety of his chambers. The coronation was unanimously put on hold- for at least another day, to let the prince 'grieve over his brother's treachery' but Dream didn't really listen to the excuses whispered through the halls.

He huddled by the window, silently watching the servants run around like little ants across the palace's gardens. Near the front of the main gates, a lavish pavilion was being erected for his crowning as the heir, draped in rich fabrics of gold and ivory- his and Cross' colors respectively. It was meant to be a symbol of a new era, one of warmth, prosperity, and unity under his rule.

Dream’s fingers dragged across the glass, his smile fixed, practiced- eerily still. The warmth in his golden eyelights dulled as he stared at the preparations below, at the nobles bustling about, eager to reshape the kingdom under his name.

His expression slowly bled into something more malevolent. As an ugly feeling reared its head in the safety of his seclusion.

Idiots.. Sycophants.. Harpies.. Filthy traitors..

They did not know Nightmare the way he did. His twin was not weak, nor was he someone who could be discarded like an inconvenience.

He was powerful, unyielding, the rightful ruler of Drakehaven. His twin was his truest companion and the most honest person he knew. They had walked life together, and even when separated by the vile greed of the court, Dream could never be blinded to the pure commitment Nightmare had for his duty.

...Which was why, when he first learned of the building plot against his brother, Dream had decided he finally had enough.

Enough of the babbling flatterers who preyed upon his assumed naivety, of the ignorant peasantry who hurled stones upon his brother's dignity, of the woman who turned a blind eye to the quickly rotting core of their supposed utopia.

They all needed to go. Like the disgrace they were.

If the kingdom couldn’t see Nightmare’s worth, then it didn’t deserve to stand.

He never wanted the throne- the very idea of serving the people who had scorned his twin made him feel disgusted. But he would take it, if it meant protecting Nightmare in the end, and he would have every single one of these parasites put to the blade.

He had played his part perfectly- the naive, kind-hearted prince, easily swayed by the nobles’ flattery.

He had planted the idea of enacting the Dragon Trial to the more brazen and impulsive of Nightmare's opposition.

He had put up with their mother's sickening favoritism.

He had even won Cross’s affection, though the thought of it made his stomach twist.

He really hoped Nighty would forgive him for that.

Cross was still loyal to the both of them, yes, but he had still chosen Dream over Nightmare in the end; and while that was all part of the plan, it still put a bad taste in his mouth to see someone who was so cherished by his twin turn their gaze so easily with a few sweet words and well-placed, tender moments.

But Nightmare adored Cross- and while he certainly could never approve of the two of them ever being together now, he wouldn't strip his other half of the only other person to ever recognize his brilliance and dedication. No, Cross was overall innocent of Dream's wrath.

"The rest of them can burn," he hissed, thoughts already plotting his next move. Nightmare's absence was frightening, but Dream was confident that he'll be found safe and sound in the end. His Nighty was resilient.

So, for now, he would play his role. He would be the gracious, uncertain prince, the benevolent, doe-eyed heir they wanted.

And ideally, by the time Nightmare returned, his dear, beloved twin would return to a kingdom made perfect in its absolute ruin.

Chapter Text

The forgotten world was silent when he emerged. The air was sharp with the smell of bloodied dust, and remnant magic crackled with latent fury. Ink’s paint splattered the ground, mingling with the glitching remains of Error’s strings.

And from a single puddle of their shared ichor, a small figure took shape; a skeleton child with fuzzy, mismatched eyelights and a body that was unsteady in its constancy. Paperjam blinked, his gaze sweeping over the desolate landscape, before clumsily stumbling upon strange and new limbs from the boglet whence he came.

He didn’t know where he was or why he existed, but he knew one thing: he was alone.

And he did not want to be.

So, tugging upon the magic graced to him by the Creators, he sought out the two who had sparked life from a bloodbath, hoping to be given a purpose removed from such dull isolation.

He trailed after the Destroyer first, drawn to the god’s powerful intent and ego. But the glitch's eyes were wild, his temper sharp and erratic, and his mood fraying with every small flaw. When Paperjam had reached for understanding and care, he was instead struck with basal hatred and rejection.

Mockery and vitirol, is what he had learned from Error.

Next, he sought out the Creator, who was vibrant and full of life. The Outcode's embrace was so warm, but his gaze was distant, his mind always treading elsewhere. Paperjam had tried to cling to whatever he could to retain his relevancy, but the Creator had simply smiled and patted his head each time, speaking words of earnest reassurances that only one of them learned to be a lie, before wandering off; already forgetting the child he had helped create.

Neglect and fecklessness, is what he had learned from Ink.

And so, Paperjam began to learn something else- something deeper, something more painful.

At first, he tried to deny it. But days turned into years, and Paperjam began to understand a cruel truth: he would never be more than an accident in their eyes.

So, with unhappy acceptance, he had taken to the Anti-Void and embraced an eternity of obscurity.

The Anti-Void was cold and empty, but with time, Paperjam had grown used to it. He wandered aimlessly, his thoughts a whirlwind of bitterness and longing. In that time, he had learned much more about himself and the world around him.

He learned that his propensity for magic extended from both of his parents' domains. With the flick of his wrist, he could mold together a house and a bed and a table with chairs. With the clench of his fist, he could bring his anger to life in the form of bone constructs the same red as his eyes.

But aside from that, he could do little more.

It was a hollow kind of existence; sometimes he'd dare to step outside of his little bubble to gaze into the wider worlds, but he was always found to be ill-fitting and odd amongst the Incodes, so for his own sake, he deigned to keep distance.

Until the day the silence of the Anti-Void was shattered by a sound he had never heard before- weak, fragile, but unmistakably alive.

A whimper.

He followed the noise, his soul pounding, until he found a dark fizzling of static and code stained among the white. There, nestled in a mound of fragmented data and unformed matter, was a shape- a small, trembling bundle of limbs and magic, barely clinging to existence.

A godling.

His breath caught. It was tiny, so much smaller than he had been when he first emerged. Its body was weak, but its magic was strong. The sight of it sent a sharp pang through him, a feeling he hadn’t known he could still feel.

For the first time in his life, he was not alone.

Carefully, Paperjam knelt beside the newborn. He could see faint traces of magic woven through its form, magic that felt familiar- just as his own had once felt, tangled in the clashing threads of creation and destruction.

"You're like me," he whispered, voice hoarse from disuse. Without thinking, Paperjam reached out, wrapping his arms around the tiny form and plucking him from pool of ichor.

Almost immediately, the shy little thing seized up in bafflement, staring up at their older brother with wide, red sockets, before letting out the clearest, cutest wail Paperjam had ever heard from a babybones.

And for the first time since his birth, Paperjam felt something other than resentment or loneliness.

A purpose. A family.

The child squirmed in his arms, and Paperjam held it closer, his mind already made up. He wouldn't let this one suffer the way he had.

"You're not gonna be alone," he murmured, more to himself than to the godling. His grip tightened, protective, determined.

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

Gradient was only the first among many.

Over the following years, decades even, more godlings would appear. Next came Tenpatch, whose mischief greatly settled following Radier's eventual arrival. Then Palette Roller, whose laughter had filled the halls of their slowly expanding home. Followed by Goth, Blueprint, Delusion, Crescent, Lux, Bluescreen, the Jitterbugs, and many more.

Paperjam took them all in, his heart swelling with love even as his body ached with exhaustion.

He cared for them, taught them, protected them. But the battles between the gods grew more frequent with time, and the balance of the multiverse tipped to greater faults. The ones with the strongest magic suffered the most- a price Paperjam feared had followed them with inherent responsibility, their bodies more attuned and fragile with the state of their parents' domains.

Paperjam sat in the dim light of their home, his gaze fixed on Starcross with a helpless anxiety built within his chest. The younger godling - always so rowdy and rambunctious and full of life - was so still in his bed, his breathing shallow and uneven with short whimpers.

His chest tightened, wishing he could do more, could take the pain away, but it was already taking all of his magic to keep the child's code stable. All they could do was wait it out, until whatever spat Dream had tangled himself into was resolved.

“It’s okay,” Paperjam whispered, though the words felt hollow. “I’ve got you.”

Starcross let out a pained sound, finding comfort in the phalanges brushing against his cheek. “...Why do they keep fighting, PJ?” He panted, his strong voice that Paperjam would always be asking him to lower, trembling and broken from strain.

"I.. It h- hurts..."

Paperjam clenched his fists, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

His jaw tightened, remembering mockery and vitirol, negligence and fecklessness.

“Because they don’t care about us,” he said. “They don’t care about anything but themselves.”

Paperjam was in the middle of wrestling Bluescreen and Blueprint into eating their snow peppers when he felt it that day.

The faint spark of new life coming into existence.

Bluescreen and Blueprint took advantage of his distraction to spit out their peppers, giggling as they scampered away like the little gremlins they were, but Paperjam hardly noticed. His grip on the fork slackened as he stood, already preparing a blanket for their new sibling, or cousin, or charge. No matter who they were born of, Paperjam would raise them with all the same love.

He bid the others a warning to avoid any messes until he was back, diving through an inky mess into the dimension where the call was strongest.

As soon as he settled back into himself, the godling felt how the place was so splintered and fractured. The code of what was left was already decaying at an accelerated pace.

Something akin to dread pooled in his gut just as he saw it.

A faint glow, fluttering weakly like a dying star. Paperjam’s breath caught in his throat as he rushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he quickly took the blanket out of his inventory in anticipation to scoop the messy little thing up.

But he quickly realized something was wrong.

The slowly coagulating mass of ichor was too unstable. It flickered erratically, magic fraying at the edges, struggling to hold itself together. The child's body - if it could even be called that yet - was barely more than an incomplete husk, shifting between tangibility and formlessness.

A horrible weight lodged itself in Paperjam's throat as he watched them struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispered with the faintest tremble, his voice soft and soothing. “I’m here; big brother PJ is here. You’re not alone.”

The newborn’s form wavered, their tiny features flickering in and out of existence as if hesitant to take shape. Paperjam’s chest tightened as he watched them slowly regress, their magic sputtering like the life of a drooping flower. He could feel the instability in the air, the imbalance of the multiverse pressing down on the fragile life before him.

“Come on,” Paperjam urged, his voice breaking. “You can do it. Just hold on.”

His soul clenched. Every other godling he had taken in had been born weak, yes, but whole. This one... it was falling apart before it had even got to open their eyes.

“No...” he whispered, his voice trembling with grief. “No, no, no..! Hey..! C- C'mon! You can do it!”

But it was simply not to be. No matter how he begged, or encouraged them, the newborn continued to unravel before his eyes. Their fragile magic spiraling at the seams and dissolving back into the ichor, tiny spark of magic fighting - grappling - to exist, only to fade weaker and weaker.

It was only when the pulsating mass of ichor bled away to reveal the graying, shattered soul - small enough to balance on his fingers - that he threw himself to his hands and knees and screamed in grief. In anger.

His fingers curled tightly into the blanket he had brought, now useless, nothing more than an empty piece of fabric. Burying his face into the fluffy cotton as his stomach wrenched with a hatred so raw it threatened to consume him.

He never even got to hear them cry...

A bitter, gasping sob tore from his throat, a sound he had never made before, not even when he had first realized Ink and Error would never love him the way he had hoped.

This- this was worse.

Because the babybones had no chance.

Because no one else would ever know they had existed at all.

Because it wasn’t fair.

He had lost a member of his family before even getting to learn their name.

And at this rate, it was only a matter of time before he lost another.

He rose to his feet, his eyelights blazing with determination. The grief and rage inside him burned like a fire, fueling his resolve.

Paperjam would protect his family, no matter the cost. And he would make the gods regret ever creating them.

Paperjam stood before the oldest among his charges, eyelights firm with conviction and blazing with strength. “They’ve taken enough from us,” he said, his voice steady. “It’s time we take something from them.”

He clenched his fists, the memory of their unborn sibling still burning behind his eyes. “We can't take this anymore,” he spat. “Every time they fight, it’s us who suffer. Our magic weakens, our siblings fall ill, and the balance shatters more and more. It's only a matter of time before someone.. someone falls," he choked.

"We can’t just sit here and hope things will get better.”

Tenpatch and Radier were the first to step forward, both of their faces grim and cold with resolve. "We're in."

Palette Roller hesitated, tittering in alarm upon their cousins' violent determination. “B- But.. they’re our parents,” they said softly.

“Th- They’re not our- our parents- ts,” Vendetta snapped, voice sharp with bitterness as he glared at his brother. “Dr- Dream abandoned- ed- ed us. He’s the r- r- reason I’m- I'm like- ike- ike this. I’ll m- make him regret it- it.”

Vitality placed a hand on both Palette and Vendetta’s shoulders, his expression pinched but no the less certain. “We’ll do it together,” they said. “For our siblings.”

"We'll always have your back PJ." A few of the godlings made room as Goth stepped forward, his expression unusually serious as two of his younger siblings trailed behind him. “We’re a family. We stick together.”

Paperjam’s heart swelled with pride and sorrow. He loved them, every one of them. And he would do whatever it took to protect them.

"If they can't learn to get over themselves and take their jobs seriously... then we'll have to do it for them."

Even if it meant going to war.

Chapter Text

Error was just this close to finishing off another waste of space AU when something hit him- no, no not hit. Someone fucking launched at him and sent him flying by at least eight feet with the speed of their leap alone.

One second, he was unraveling the code of some backwater timeline, and the next, a blur of gold tackled him mid-air, knocking him off course.

Error of course, was scared shitless furious. "WhAT tHe fU-?!" Error snarled, grappling with the familiar, glowing figure currently straddling him like some deranged saddle.

Dream.

Dream, who was breathing far too hard for someone who’d just pulled a full-body slam. His eyelights looked fucking shot, pinpricks blown out and practically clouding out like when that paintfreak overdosed on yellow or some shit. His grip was also way too tight. Error knew the little prissy fraud was stronger than he played himself to be, but this was fucking ridiculous!

“wHAt- whAT thE hEll iS wr- wRONg wItH yOu?! gEt o- OFf mE, yOu luNaTic- iC!”

“Oops,” Dream purred, voice rich with amusement and not sorry at all. “Did I... interrupt something?”

Error snarled, bucking himself wildly to pry himself free from the guardian, but the asshole held on tight. “YeS, yOu diD, yOu gLitCh-ed uP gOldEn hIgHLigHtEr- ER!” He managed the nerve to swipe his claws out, only for Dream to effortlessly catch the wrist and pin it over his head with humiliating ease.

Error felt chills as he giggled, cocking his head with a grin that he'd never seen before on the sunshine motherfucker.

And then he suddenly backed off, letting go just as quickly and springing off the Destroyer with a bounce in his heels. Laughter revived as Error wasted no time in scrambling back to his feet and keeping close eye on the erratic guardian.

Error’s soul was practically rattling his ribcage from how hard it was pulsing. “WhAt-?”

Dream suddenly lunged, and Error barely teleported away in time, appearing several feet back. Dream straightened, unfazed, licking his teeth like he was hungry.

"You're fast," Dream mused, tilting his head. "I like that."

OH FUCK NO.

“WhAt iN tHe fUCkInG vOId iS wRoNg wItH yOu?!” Error barked, fists clenched as he continued to stumble backwards, weary of any close in distance that could happen between them.

Dream chuckled, keeping pace with Error in brisk skips, speeding up whenever the Destroyer did to maintain a certain gap between them. “Wrong? I feel fantastic!~ It's such a shame everyone else decided to go and play hide-and-go-seek.” His voice dipped, velvety smooth. “But then you just so happened to be here right when I needed you!”

A feeling of absolute dread crawled up Error’s spine. “Th- tHAt sOuNdS lIkE a tHrEAt, gLowSticK.”

“Oh, no,” Dream all but cooed, golden magic pulsing under his bodysuit. It was only then that Error had the belated realization that the guardian had his ecto body formed. “It’s a promise.”

Error opened his mouth - to snark, to scream, to teleport the hell out - but Dream was already moving.

A golden blur shot forward, and before Error could react, strong arms wrapped around him in a vice grip.

"WH-!" Error choked as Dream slammed him into the ground, a lot less gentle than before- and yes, Error now realized he was being gentle before because holy shit did that fucking hurt..!

Unbidden, he yelped as the maniac was on him again, this time between Error's legs and pressed flush against his chest.

The glitch struggled with whatever dignity he had left, furious. “D- D- d- DrEEeaamMM! I sWeAr, iF yOu dOn’T-”

"You smell good," Dream murmured, nuzzling against the side of Error's head. “Strong. Feisty.” He inhaled deeply, shuddering. “Exactly what I want in a doe.”

WHAT THE FUCK???

Error short-circuited. Into another dimension.

His skull nearly combusted. “EX- Ex- EXCuSE ME, WH- wH- WHAT?!”

Dream purred, PURRED, pulling back just enough to meet Error’s utterly mortified expression.

And that was when it clicked.

The odd behavior. The intense eye contact. The weirdly smooth voice.

The way Dream was chasing him down like a goddamn feral buck in rut.

“FuCKinG sTARsss, yOu’rE iN hEaT-!”

Dream only smirked, smug and predatory.

Error screamed - more in indignation than fear - twisting violently against the golden guardian like his life was on the line. “LeT mE gO, yOu dIsGuStInG, fErAl hOrMoNe piEcE oF sh-”

Dream only hummed, like he wasn’t currently assaulting the Destroyer of Worlds in the broad of day.

"Shh, Error," he soothed, voice like silk. “Relax. You’ll enjoy this, I promise.”

“LIEs-!”

A golden portal snapped open beneath them.

Error barely had time to scream before they dropped, spiraling into Dream’s awaiting den of debauchery.

The portal snapped shut behind them with a smug little ding, with a little shimmer of sparkles flying up and raining down from where it closed

The ruined AU would not be seeing Error for another week.

(Somewhere, Blue and Ink breathed a great sigh of relief, thanking Error for his noble sacrifice for the greater good of the multiverse.)

Chapter Text

He was the one who would always wait. No predator had patience quite like Fatal.

Nor his devotion.

Reaper was the bug in his code, the craving in his appetite, the insidious worm in his head. His touch soothed the endless fire prickling his bones, swallowing his moans satisfied his starvation.

"Geno! Geno-! Ahhh..!~"

The God trembling beneath him was so beautiful and so tragic. But that was okay, Fatal would take all that tragedy, all of that melancholy, and turn it to the bliss that would bind them.

GETPREGNANTGETPREGNANTGETPREGNANTGETPREGNANT!

Reaper had let him in - unknowingly, but with an accepting tenderness all the same - and gave this monster a home, a mate, a purpose beyond his own sick impulses and wanton brutality. He was Fatal's God. And no one else's.

"Geno! G- Genooo!~ Ah!~ Wh- What's gotten- ah! Ah! AH!~ Into youuu?!~"

Fatal simply chuckled and kissed Reaper's pleasured tears away, licking away the residue and clanking their teeth together in an all consuming, starved kiss.

Geno was a fool to deny himself- no, to spurn such undying faithfulness. Always so fixated with the 'big picture.' Too self-absorbed in his insecurities that he was blind to the one blessing he should've been defending like no other.

He had to suppress a derogatory scoff. What was the point in obsessing over a timeline that had already moved on without you, when you had a vision like this?

Fatal would never understand it.

But that was okay, too. It made it easy to take his place, here and there. To slowly steal this blessing for himself, without either of them realizing it.

Fatal groaned in completion as he filled Reaper with the culmination of his patience, his devotion, his love. Things that Geno never had enough of for the celestial being laid bare and tangible just for him.

Getpregnantgetpregnantgetpregnantgetpregnant.

And he purred as Reaper sought his embrace, settling like a dragon around his ill-gotten treasure. His whispers of adoration curled around him, blinding the God to the way his voice never quite sounded right.

Or the tiny spark of innocence slowly taking root inside of him, right next to the core of his being.

Chapter Text

Red took a deep breath as the lighter snapped to life. The cigarette burned well, and soon enough a fresh billow of smoke trailed out from his open mouth. He leaned forwards onto the bridge railing, legs dangling over the end from where they had slipped under the bar.

Classic didn't say a word by his side - he never really needed to - and Red extended the cig to him in offering.

Neither had bat an eye, as Classic promptly drained the stick down to the butt in a moment. Practically huffing the thing. Yesh, the guy was really taking this hard.

Silence prevailed, for just a moment longer.

"Yer sure you okay with this?" Red couldn't help but ask, even if he already knew the answer he was going to get.

"Yeah." Classic snorted without thought, "'course I'm sure. I mean- it's a little late to change my mind now, don't you think?"

Red couldn't say anything to that without sounding like an asshole. And he was working on that, damnit.

This was a big fucking deal. The biggest fucking deal since he finally got that old, shitty machine in the basement to run again. Since realizing he wasn't alone anymore.

And he was going to be supportive, no matter what Classic decided.

"I'm more concerned about you, actually."

Now that took him for a loop.

"The fuck am I supposed to be stressed out for? I'm finally gonna be free of this shithole!" Face screwing up at the bitter taste in his mouth, Red flicked his tongue towards the abyss far below them.

He stared down the bridge's drop off, glaring at the heaps of trash below.

"...You're going to leave everything you knew behind," Classic rumbled carefully, always with that cautiousness in his tone; as if Red hadn't yet understood the weight of what they've been talking about for the past week. "I'm taking you from everything you knew." He rephrased to fit his unwarranted guilt.

"Yeah, and I love ya for it."

Red had learned long ago that the earnest truth was the best way to combat Classic's self-deprecation.

And true to his expectations, Classic flinched before looking away; the prettiest blush in the world coating his entire head. It made Red's own face burn with pride.

"Shut up..."

"No, you shut up. I'm not the asshole about to go fight my bro to the death for the right to bond me."

Classic shrugged, shoulders notably tense at the reminder. His chuckle was stilted.

"...He could still give us his blessing, y'know."

Red scoffed, "yeah right. The day my bro lets me walk out of his life - with some bozo he's never even met before - is the day he's dust... The bastard cares too much; he'll never actually get his own life if he's constantly looking after my bum ass, but he won't have it."

It was a point of contention that had long stood between the two skeletons. Red was supposed to be the older brother damnit. Yet ever since that day - that damn accident - Papyrus suddenly had it in his head that Red would up and die the moment he turned his back or let up the mean guy act.

...At this point, the best thing he could do for his bro was to leave.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Classic likely in denial, and Red letting him piece together his own thoughts.

A horrible thought snuck upon him.

"If.. yer having second thoughts about this-"

"STARS, RED! NO! No, never!" Classic suddenly seized him by the shoulders, whirling Red around to face his horrified expression.

"I could never have second thoughts about you- us, Red. Fuck- I... I just don't want you to regret me."

Red sat back. Utterly baffled.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Classic? You're the best thing to ever happen to a piece of shit like me."

The softer monster's face fell, smile bittersweet and full of love. "Am I though..?" He rasped out, gaze trailing back over the bridge. "What if one day, you realize I'm not that great? What if it turns out- I'm not enough? And you'll never be able to come back here, never be able to see if you could have worked it out with your brother after all, or managed to get that happy ending over here?"

Classic turned to him with complete anguish in his eyes. "What if this is what you'll hate me for, for the rest of your life?"

A beat passed. Then, Red pulled out another cigarette, shoved it in his mouth and-

"Ah-" Red fumbled as the lighter broke out of his trembling claws, slipping between his phalanges and tumbling into the abyss.

Classic chuckled, even if it was mostly empty. "Sorry..."

"Nah," Red sighed, plucking out the cigarette from between his teeth and pocketing it. "You got nothing to apologize for."

"I wouldn't-"

"Shut up and listen."

. . . .

"The bastard I used to be woulda jumped off this bridge a long ass time ago. Before meeting you. He didn't give a flying fuck about living for another day outside of just existing; he didn't want to try because trying hurts when you don't got no hope to back it up."

Red ignored his datemate's pained expression , steeling himself.

"You gave me hope for another day, 'Nilla." Red said it with his whole chest. His soul.

"You were the one who saw that guy and gave a fuck that I actually made it another day. That I could still smile for real."

They both looked at each other in choked wonder. Tears rolling down their cheeks without shame or guilt.

"I don't want to spend a day without you, Sans."

Classic burst into a very quiet blubber of tears, pulling his lover into a tight embrace as he silently sobbed his heart out. Red could only hug back, unapologetic, as he rode out the intense waves of relief and love from his datemate's intent.

"M- Me neither... I don't think I was- I was half the guy I am now, before you, Red..! Heh, I... I was kind of a dick back then, actually..."

"Fuck yeah you were. Ya still owe me a free dinner."

They laughed, drying their tears as they picked themselves up from the side of the bridge, no longer feeling abhorrent and fraught with insecurity.

"..I'm still gonna try for his blessing," Classic muttered resolutely.

"Mhm.." Red reached for his hand and squeezed in silent support.

And then they 'ported away, hand-in-hand to face the future.

Chapter Text

Error huffed and scoffed to himself as he stared up into the chaotic mess of his Anti-Void's 'ceiling.' His glitches were more stable than usual, but that tradeoff was hardly worth the muggy warmth addling his bones. His heat had hit him like a tidal wave with an uppercut straight from hell, and he was not happy about it.

The Destroyer snarled, rolling around his pile of beanbags into the most uncomfortable positions ever. Over and over he'd roll onto his stomach, then shift onto his side, flash through a thousand other useless positions, before ultimately flopping onto his back again with a growl building up in his throat.

By the time he'd lost count of how many times this cycle had gone on for, his temper finally snapped, and Error screamed out in a tantrum, legs kicking into the poor excuse of a nest as his fists flailed around in the air. And all it served to do was make his core clench ever angrier.

This was so fucking stupid!!!

Why did this have to happen now?! Or at all?!

He was the fucking Destroyer of Worlds! Scourge of anomalies! The most goddamn feared Outcode to stalk the multiverse! He shouldn't be having to deal with such-! Such..!

Such plebian bullshit!!!

"aU- Au- auGhhh! iT's n- n- NoT faiiiiiRRRR...!" It just really went to show how fed up the glitch had become, as his tantrum soon gave way to frustrated tears pricking his sockets. "wHy wON't it- iT juSt gO a- A- AwAY?!?" Error sobbed.

Usually, when his irregular heat cycle reared its ugly head, he'd only have to deal with the inconvenience for a week longer than what was considered normal. Tragic; it really was, but Error had long since come to learn with doubtless wisdom and experience on how to best handle it nonetheless.

By ignoring it until the cycle ran its course.

However, this time, for some unfuckable reason, his heat decided to just settle down into the very code of his bones and stay until the Destroyer finally decided to actually do something about it.

Absolute bullshit!!

What the fuck was his stupid body even thinking he could do about this?! Just walk up to some random mistake and ask for them to touch him?!? With their anomalous, disgusting hands?!? HE DIDN'T FUCKING THINK SO!

Besides...! Who would be insane enough to help the Destroyer through his heat?

. . . .

One figure came to mind, but Error immediately squashed it down with vengeance. Ugh, just the thought of that conceited, demanding asshole pissed him off!!!

He never even wanted anything to do with that freak and his equally as creepy following! But Nightmare, in all of his typical self-important and bossy kingliness, practically insisted that the two would have an 'agreement' of sorts. Nightmare called it an alliance, but Error refused to see it as anything more than an equal opportunity concord to take advantage of one another whenever it served detrimental to their shared enemies.

Error certainly could take advantage of the spirit's strange insistence to maintain his 'favor.' Like the glitch actually gave a shit about anything in this shitty dump of a multiverse! The idiot has made it clear, on more than one occasion, that his 'door was always open' should the Destroyer ever need assistance...

But Error certainly wasn't stupid himself. Obviously the power hungry tyrant was just looking for a weakness to gain one over on the Destroyer!! Who knows what sick shit Nightmare would demand of him to keep quiet of his precarious cycle?

Error was not about to go crawling to him, anytime soon!!

He's handled this shit perfectly fine for thousands of years! And he wasn't going to change that now just because shit was getting a little rough!!

What was the worst that could happen?

Four hours later, Error was contemplating on how likely it would be to find a 'toy.'

It didn't count as touching and sex if he was just using a convenient hack of code that just so happened to possess consciousness and magic, right? Right.

One that could withstand his magic and not be missed by a certain Inkblot once taken from their respective timeline.

The resulting likelihoods were... not in his favor.

With how quiet Error's been since this damn hell started, Ink would be sensitive to any sudden fluctuations in the multiverse's script. That damn pest would sniff him out in an instant, and then Error would have to deal with that idiot while in heat. Yeah. No.

His bones ached, the core of his ecto body felt like molten lava, and the sheer wrongness of it all had his code flaring at random intervals. His body wanted - no, demanded - to be touched, to be handled in a way that made him want to throw his head back and scream.

But no matter how desperate he was getting, that corrupted idiot was going to be seeing none of this..!

Error's mind raced as he tried to come up with some magic solution. Incodes were out of the question, Outcodes weren't even an option, and Nightmare and his-

Wait a minute...

Nightmare had a whole collection of boy toys to do his bidding without question, didn’t he? And... the spirit never said anything about exempting his playthings from the terms of their 'agreement.'

Surely one of them could... help. Error grimaced at the thought, his pride bristling at the notion, but this heat was becoming long overdue. He needed to do something, or he might just lose his mind at this rate.

His cunt ended up making the decision for him.

“F- f- FinE- iNE,” Error muttered to himself, glitching irritably as slick eagerly gushed from below. “I’Ll j- JuSt.. BorROw oNe oF tHem. TeM- tEMpoRAriLy..! tHat sT- st- sTUpiD oCtOPuS Do- dOesN’t eVEN haVe To- to KNow.”

With that less-than-stellar plan in mind, Error gathered what remained of his magic and tore a window into existence, giving him a perfect view to the halls of Nightmare's castle.

Error figured the Killertale Sans was the best starting point. The guy was Nightmare’s right-hand man- for some reason, which meant he had to be good at something. If he was competent enough to keep up with Nightmare’s shit, then surely, surely, he could handle some glitchy wear and tear.

That, and he swore he's heard some suspicious shit behind closed doors.

Snatching him up was pathetically easy. Moron didn't even hear the portal sliding open behind him before Error's strings lashed out. Before poor little Killer could even scream, he yanked the hogtied anomaly through the closing break in space with a resounding snap.

“The fuck?!” Killer squawked, only to be promptly gagged with a looping of strings next. Error was quick to jump upon his prey, no longer having much patience with the solution now being in his hands.

He tugged upon the monster's soul in warning, inspiring Killer to stop his squirming, lest the glitch on top of him be tempted to do something risky. As Error loomed over the other, straddling his bones, he felt oddly satisfied seeing how fast the little anomaly went deathly still when he realized just who was on him.

Killer's face turned red, and his soul started to writhe into a mess as Error chuckled maliciously in pride. It totally wasn't because Error had thrown away his coat and sweater days ago, leaving his aching breasts on full display for the mortal to see just hanging above him like forbidden fruit.

A whimper left the skeleton, and Error laughed again, his ego fully restored upon the fear and power he held over the pathetic little thing. Gods, yes! He missed this feeling! Fucking rights, he was THE Destroyer..!

Pleased upon being given his due respect, Error felt oddly generous- and decided to tease the poor bastard a bit before use.

"yOu'Re gOinG tO hELp mE liKe a GOod liTtlE tOy~” he purred threateningly, glowing with amusement as the mortal shuddered. Killer let out a sad, desperate whine from behind his gag, and unbidden, Error felt his ecto snap into place below him- obviously scared so witless that he couldn't even control his own intent anymore! Hah!

He snorted at the anomaly's expense, magic already eroding the shorts and boxers off the mortal caught in his web.

Error allowed a pleased groan to escape him as Killer's cock sprung up the moment it was free. Hard and dripping freely with pre-cum; huh, either this little freak's wires were more scrambled than he initially thought, or Error was even scarier than he gave himself credit for!

He decided to go along with the later of course.

The glitch chuckled as he experimentally grabbed ahold of the organ, enjoying the way Killer practically scrambled and clawed for his strings with fear, desperately trying to break free so he could escape his grasp! Hah! The fool!

Error played with the sloping tip and tapered shaft, tormenting the poor monster below him as sounds of pain broke through the gag. Soft cries of, "mmph!~" and, "nngh!~" Egged Error on as he reached down and squeezed the broad, bulging knot.

"YeSssSss...~" Error’s bones vibrated with anticipation, his soaking entrance fluttering and pulsing with slutty intent as he positioned himself over the tip of the playful erection. Killer seemed to have been hyperventilating now, with his soul now broken down into a throbbing ringed heart, pulsing erratically over his rattling bones.

It made Error cackle, watching the anomaly twist his hips as if trying to saddle Error onto his cock instead of away. Brain likely reduced to mush from the helplessness of his situation, heh. Error cooed as he ground his hips precariously, pinning down the murky eyelight beginning to shine through Killer's left socket with a lidded glare.

The Destroyer braced himself, tugging on the strings trapping the mutated soul and allowing it to drift over to him. He cupped the little organ in a silent threat, enjoying the way Killer practically wailed with a full-bodied shudder as he dared to trace the rings of it with the tip of his claws.

"yoU wON't Be tElLinG yOuR mAsTEr aNYtHInG aBOut tHIs, 'cAuSe if YoU d- Do... i'LL mAkE sURe yOUR- uR liTtlE fRiEndS'lL be hErE tO wAtCH nExT tIMe," he hissed.

With his threat made, the glitch dropped his hips, spearing himself atop the anomaly and howling in pleasure as he slid down right until the knot kissed his puffy, dripping lips.

OH FUCK YES!~ <3

A sob tore through his throat as his drooling cunt hugged around the throbbing cock, his core so hot and molten that it was melting around it, clinging to every ridge, every bend and curve, keeping the dick inside him lodged in place from the death grip his pussy had upon it.

"O- oH... FuuucKk...~" Was this what sex totally-not-sex felt like? This sparkling, tingling sensation that bled out from your belly and glided up your mana lines? This numbing, fuzzy poison that slid up the spine and sizzled your brain? This feeling of having a craving finally being met- being completed and touched on the inside...?

Shit. No wonder those Lustverse floozies were crazy about this stuff.

The two monsters could only sit there and moan helplessly, lightheaded and droopy-eyed with the purest of joy as the Destroyer's potent magic sang upon finally being carved out by another's lascivious intent. Killer, for his part, was high off the fact that he got to fuck Error FIRST! Holy shit, Cross owed him so much fucking gold!

It was only when the monster underneath him accidentally shifted in discomfort and caused his insides to reactively clench that Error was able to snap back into the moment; suddenly reminded of just how fucking needy and wanting his stupid little cunt was..!

Error struggled to pull himself off the first time, but the second slam of his hips came smoother, forcing his insides to spasm and drip in ecstasy as he pleasured himself on the good little toy!~ His eyelights blew out as he shakily developed a rhythm, hips gyrating and bouncing sloppily as instinct overcame him. The only thing echoing in his ear canals were the claps of their ecto and Killer's desperate babbling.

Huh... he must've bit through the gag at some point.

Not that Error really cared. It's not like the monster could possibly call for help in the middle of his domain like this. He just shut it out for the most part, all of his priority going to getting that fat, juicy knot inside of him!~

"F- Fuck yes!~ Error! Error, baby! Oh shit! OH shit!~"

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! 

"Gods! Your slutty little hole's so tight!~ Just keep b- bouncing like that, Glitchy!~ Hah..!"

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! 

"E- Error..! Wait- fuckfuckfuckfuck, gonna die!~ Can't-! Shit! Gonna break my dick off!"

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! 

"Er..! Hah...! E- Err..! C- Can't...! F- Fuck..~ Just- Just let me take- take a break, gorgeous..!~"

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Stars he was so close, he was so close..! Error let out a breathy keen every time he slammed down on that delicious toy!~ Feeling his sloppy hole slowly stretch further and further, cleaving apart his insides and managing to force more and more of that fat, swollen base- stars! All he needed was just a bit more-! Just a little more...!

Error gasped as he slammed down, finally meeting the other skeleton's pelvis..!

Only to realize that wonderful coil that he had built up had fizzled into nothing, met with a hollow emptiness in his belly where cock should have been.

"w- Wh- WHaT?!" The glitch shrieked in outrage, leveling the anomaly underneath him with an incensed hiss, only to break off short as he realized the condition it was in.

Poor Killer was absolutely soaked: from his face which had runny splatters of hate trailing from every orifice, to his hips, which were now drenched in a puddle of his own release. Error's incredulous stare was broken by a soft dripping, only to jolt and realize that he was still holding Killer's soul.

Ah. Whoops...

The pathetic little heart was sopping with red, looking near wrinkled and run dry of magic as it quivered between his claws in hapless overstimulation. When he hesitantly released the disembodied organ, it only flickered with a sad twinge as it very slowly, very unsteadily returned to its place over it's owner's ribcage.

It finally happened folks: Killer's libido finally hit its limit.

But not from any lack of trying.

"E... Err... hah, hah... j- jus..." Error nearly starsdamned jumped when Killer started to talk, having taken the mortal as dead, under consideration of what a mess he'd become. "Jus... hah, w.. wait... a... ah bit... shit. I'll... I'll geh.. geh back up... in... in a few..."

The glitch grimaced in frustrated disbelief, flicking his fingers to drag the useless, clearly broken toy away, lest his rising temper lead to him doing something he'd regret.

"The hELL yOu wILL," Error snarled, crossing his arms in a huff. "yOu'rE uSelEsS tO mE nOW."

Killer, still flat on his back and wrestling with his clarity, only let out a breathless, delirious giggle. "Tibia fair... hah, Err... ya kinda... hah, wrung me d.. dry here... heh," he slurred, expression oddly blissful as he weakly rolled to his side.

Error scoffed, shifting uncomfortably as his body already started throbbing with unfulfilled need. Killer had almost done the job, but almost wasn't good enough..! His stupid heat still burned under his bones, still gnawed at his insides like a ravenous beast.

With a frothing growl, Error turned away from the disappointment to pull open the next window.

Fine! This wasn't over yet! The next toy just needed a little more juice, and luckily for him, he knew exactly which one fit the bill!

If Nightmare's miserable little fucktoy couldn't keep up, then surely the magic potent, LV high Dusttale creep would make a better match.

He had to poke through some of the castle's more reclusive areas, but he eventually found his target huddled away in a corner, cross-legged on the floor, a controller in his hands and a half-empty bag of chisps beside him. The tiny screen in his hands was blasting with lewd cries on full volume, but Dust's eyelights were dull, his expression one of bored disappointment as he mashed buttons.

“Ugh, this is so lame,” the disturbed murder grouched to himself. He clicked his tongue, ignorant to the break in reality slowly parting from his left. "They couldn't even get the jiggle physics right-"

Before he could finish, Error's hand seized the skeleton by the throat and yanked him into the Anti-Void. The motion so fast that Dust's slippers were flung off, clattering to the stonework flooring along with the video game still playing on repeat.

Nightmare would later stumble upon this, and confiscate the offensive little picture box for a month for its reprehensible indecency.

Dust stumbled right onto his ass, bleary eyes looking around in confusion, taking a moment to get used to the inherent brightness, only to recognize the white void as Error's private dimension.

"What the fuck...? What the hell could you be mad about now, Gliiiiii..." Dust looked up at the monster who had promptly swiped him out of the castle, only for his eyelights to nearly bug out of his skull at the sight of Error's very vibrant, very hefty, very real, tits.

And he couldn't stop staring. Neurons locking in.

Error cackled in delight as the anomaly began to sweat, unable to meet him eye-to-eye. "hAh! wH- wHAt? ToO SCareD, aBomInAtIOn?~"

Not wanting to give the skeleton the chance to get any ideas - he didn't want him to waste that magic on anything else but him, after all - like a snake, Error's strings snapped around the mortal, though Dust seemed to have been too shaken to do much but grunt as he flopped over.

Error walked up to the little creep and kicked the anomaly onto his back, giving him an overly sweet coo as he saw his ecto already responding to Error's needs. "gOoD toY, yOU aLreAdY kNow wHAt i wAnT~"

The Destroyer was a little more careful as he tore away the monster's clothes, he knew for a fact that Dust had an unhealthy connection with that scarf of his and he wasn't looking to waste any precious magic on a temper tantrum.

Dust for his part, was quite well behaved- a lot more than expected, considering how fussy his LV made him. The skeleton didn't squirm, didn't struggle, didn't even make a peep, as Error striped away his sweatpants- only to find the mortal was going commando, and currently at half-mast.

"O- o- ooOohh... whAT aN inTeResTinG- iNG tOY We hAvE hEre~"

Dust was longer than Killer, and where the other was tapered, Dust's was flared. Error was practically drooling already, imagining what that weight would feel like reaching the deepest parts of his hungry little cunt.

He wasted no time in straddling the other, giving the little freak a warning hiss as he leaned forward and captured his latest toy in between his thighs. The dick practically jumped to life as his slick ecto enveloped the flared tip, slowly gliding it to part his lips and rut just at his sweet spot.

Error threw his head back and just rode the cock to life like that, moaning and sighing in enjoyment as he felt it grow harder and firmer and stronger as it caught at his entrance again and again, spreading the wetness Killer had left inside of him and lathering it all over the toy-to-be.

Without looking, his hand blindly reached down and pet Dust's head in approving affection, his anticipation climbing higher as he felt the mortal's magic build up into something beautiful.

"YeSssss~ GOOd p- PeT, jUSt lIke- hAh~ Th- tHAt, goNnA uSE You s- So gOod~"

By the time Error couldn't wait anymore, his skull felt heavy and warm with cotton. He clumsily rose his hips high to kiss Dust's throbbing head, mewling as he met resistance from the thick flare of the tip. He gave the anomaly, a toothy, hungry grin, just daring Dust to resist him.

"d- Don'T tr- tR- tRY aNytHiNg...~"

Dust could only grunt in agreement, completely entranced by the absolute vision above him, only vaguely aware of the fact that Nightmare was going to go thermal nuclear when he found out his datemates got to taste Error first; oh and there was Killer, laying in a puddle of his own cum and looking deader than a fifty thousand year old corpse just five feet away from them.

Something told him that should've acted as a red flag...

Good thing he was colorblind. (He's not).

Error tilted his hips and ground down on the erection. It didn't take long for the stupid amount of lubrication to do its job, popping the cock home, sliding straight into the deepest parts of the glitch's belly. Error cried out in sheer relief as he felt himself being filled again.

And ohhhh, was this little freak such a good toy!~

He immediately started hard and fast, eager to build himself back up to that glowing precipice that he had been so unrighteously denied! The length of the skeleton's dick forced Error to put more weight in his bounces, having him lean over for more leverage with his phalanges hooked around the toy's ribcage.

Dust began to tremble in anxiety, and it made something fuzzy and proud dance along the vertebrae of the glitch's back. He giggled deliriously, humming pleasantly whenever that delicious cock twitched with a fresh spurt of pre-cum. Dust was practically frothing at the mouth as Error's cunt strangled his erection with a full bearing of unadulterated need.

At least this one was quiet. Probably too traumatized to even think of saying anything. Which served Error just fine, less than more unaware of the drool sliding down Dust's jawline as he ogled the Destroyer's boobs, jouncing beautifully with every ripple that traveled up his ecto from the force of his riding.

"Now those are real jiggle physics...! Squishy... plump... so fucking cute...!"

The crazed monster's LV was bubbling up, but Error kept a firm hold of the strings keeping the skeleton bound, feeling the wild magic grow more and more firm and heated every time it gouged out his sloppy, dribbling hole.

Meanwhile, irritation was feeding Dust's LV as his bound limbs prevented him from sitting up and grabbing hold of every skeleton's wet dream, from biting those cute little sunshine nipples and sucking them down until they lactated!

Paradise was so close, yet so far...

Although, Dust was not the only one growing frustrated.

Error felt his brow pinch as that last level of pleasure danced just out of his reach. No matter how the cock dragged against his walls, there was still a tiny itch left unscratched.

He needed more force. More pressure! Moremoremoremore-!

With a huff, Error's claws dug further into the toy's ribcage, grip tightening as he slowly increased the force of his riding hips. Dust made a hiss as he felt his ribs creak precariously under the rough handling, suddenly feeling a lot more aware of his position as Error only continued to steadily brutalize the pace.

"Ah- w- wait- shit! Waitwaitwait- Error- can't! You're gonna-!" Dust whimpered, writhing as delicious pain began to spark along his mana lines, skull swimming higher and higher with heat and endorphins as his masochistic tendencies caused his magic to swell- oh FUCK!

The Destroyer simply snarled, tugging on the rib currently stuck in a death grip in warning, "sH- SH- sHuT uP- uP...!~ AhHh~ Al- alm- mOsT...~ th- tH- tHeRE...!~"

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...!~" Dust was trembling like a vibrator, vision nearly whitening out as his dick was ridden like a two bit pony, the force of the rebounds nearly lifting him off the ground, causing a wonderful ache to form in his back- fuck he was gonna bruise for sure.

"E- Error...!~ You're gonna-!"

"I sAiD SH- SHuT Up And b- be A gOoD t- ToY...!" Error pulled too hard and-

Snap.

The Destroyer choked as the cock burst inside of him.

Literally.

Poor Dust nearly unhinged his jaw in a silent scream, bones rattling for his life as the most violent, soul-melting, sloppiest orgasm swept him up and lit fireworks in his joints. So intense, that his cock couldn't fucking withstand the amount of pleasure being transmitted to it, and unraveled into a husk of sparking, overheated magic.

Error had ridden him so hard... his dick had literally popped off.

Unable to believe what the fuck just happened, Error hastily crawled off the other and stood up, gaze incredulous as he stared at the place where Dust's cock used to be, literally torn from his ecto.

Error was deathly silent as he felt something gooey and limp slip out of his pussy and splatter against the Anti-Void's floor with a wet slap.

. . . .

And then he promptly screamed in rage.

Okay. The other two were busts. But surely- surely, the big one could make up for where they both failed! That size and strength that Nightmare seemed to value so much had to count for something, right? Why else keep him?!

Error ignored his broken toys softly bickering with one another, more interested in scanning through the castle for his latest target.

He panted as he strained his eyelights to focus on the window, wincing as the colors only continued to degrade and blend together. His core grew more and more uncomfortable and unsettled as the seconds ticked on without a toy to pleasure himself with.

Error had to fucking bite through one of his tongues to resist the urge to finger himself, knowing it would only serve to distract him, exacerbate the madness before sending him into a useless heap of feral lust. And damn it- he still had some dignity left..!

The taste of bloody magic helped him center himself- just barely. His glitching vision flickered erratically over the castle grounds, scanning through muddled shapes until eventually locking in on a large figure, hunched over and slow-moving, digging through the gardens.

Horror.

His hulking frame stood out even through the distortion, movements sluggish as he rummaged through the greenery. Error’s glitching brain barely registered what he was doing- harvesting? Cooking prep? Did it fucking matter?

No.

What did matter though- was how thick and strong those bones looked...!~ Error couldn't help but let out a static-laden mewl as he imagined how those bones would feel above beneath him. The no doubt hefty monster-cock that would reach all the right places and withstand every little demand and need, stars he needed that dick now!

Error’s strings lashed out before his mind even finished processing the thought.

A heavy grunt cut through the silence as they struck true, coiling tight around Horror’s limbs, yanking him back with a brutal force that sent vegetables scattering to the ground. The giant let out a choked snarl of alarm, body tensing immediately for a fight as he thrashed against the bindings, teeth bared in instinctive aggression.

But it was useless against a god, even one half delirious in heat as Error was.

“Oi- wha' the fuck-?!” Horror barely had a second to react before the Anti-Void swallowed him whole, the blinding white abyss consuming the garden in a blink.

Error salivated as he heard the monster's bulk crash against the flooring with an echoed thud, his body already twisting back up to his feet to brace for another attack. His crimson eyelight snapped toward his captor, darkening with the promise of violence-

-only to thin into a trembling dot as he actually faced the Destroyer.

The glitch crowed, clumsily hoisting himself upon his own two feet as the anomaly settled down, doubt clearly written all over his features as he debated his chances. Error laughed- though it now sounded slightly distorted and scratchy as his body was now overheating in its entirety.

"m- M- MmNn, heHehEh!~ L- LoOk hOW StRoNG th- ThoSe bONes aRe~" Error had no idea what the fuck he was saying, but it seemed to have an effect on the wary monster.

Horror flinched, his functioning socket resisting the urge to trail down to ogle the, uh, more risqué traits Error currently had on display, as he slowly inched just a little further from the delirious glitch.

"...Error,” Horror grunted, shifting his weight nervously. "The fuck's wrong with you...?"

The Destroyer didn’t answer- not really, anyway, it was a waste of time he could be spending getting pounded. Instead, he surged forward, tackling the mortal with all the strength his fraying sanity could afford.

The toy grunted as his back hit the Anti-Void’s smooth surface, wincing as Error's strings wound around his limbs and wrapped them up like a Gyftmas present. His hands tried to instinctively reach for Error’s shoulders- but being trapped as they were did nothing to halt the way the crazed glitch pressed against him, panting against his skull.

Oh, stars.

"ObEy l- LikE a gOOd lItTlE t- t- ToY, AnD yOur mAsTEr w- WoN't eVEn nOtiCe...!~" Error’s voice crackled like static around them, his words slurring as his magic pulsed in sporadic waves. Distantly, he caught the hot flush of panic bloom across the toy's face, and he couldn't help but release a truly depraved churr, slick gushing atop the other and likely soaking all over his ratty clothes.

His toy could only watch in frozen amazement mortification as Error proceeded to grind on top of him, practically humping and swaying precariously as his thoughts began to scramble and his limbs grew unsteady. Babbling a mile a minute as his ecto spasmed around nothing, frantically looking for release.

Hurry up and give me your toy! I want my toy!

"hUrRy uP HuRRy up hurRy UP- c'Monnn..! G- gIve iT to Meee...!~"

I need your cock, where is your cock?! Why aren't you forming?!

"i NeEd yOUr c- COcK, yOU sTuP- pId aNomALy!~"

Please, please I need it- what's taking you so long?!

"WhAT's t- TakIng yOU- yoU soOO loNg?~"

With more and more breathy whimpers escaping the proud glitch, it was only inevitable when a hoarse snarl tore from Horror’s throat, restraint snapping like dry bone. His eyelight darkened as instinct surged forward, his core flaring to life with a hot, greedy ache.

The scent of Error's slick was driving him crazy..!

Error nearly wept in joy as a fat, throbbing cock ignited within the dip of Horror's pelvis. One that Error practically scrambled to free once it flared to life. Neither of them minded the shredded clothes now scattering the void around them.

"A- AhH- AAAAaAAhh!~" Error didn't waste time forcing himself upon the monstrous erection, his slutty, ruined insides expanding and making way for the pronounced ridge tip; the fat bulb gliding through his ecto like a sword through butter- and fuck wasn't that the hottest thing to happen to him yet?!

The Destroyer yowled in delight as the veined shaft completely destroyed his pussy! All around the delicious cock, magic uncontrollably spurted and squirted out in vibrant, electrifying streams, now coating his toy's bones with the slipperiness of his arousal.

The skeleton seemed too caught up in the situation to really mind it, but Error did. He huffed in annoyance, knowing that the wetness would prevent him from getting a firm grip on the other- but Horror rolled his hips with a great heave, and Error didn't think anymore.

All that mattered was the beautiful buzzing in his womb as his sloppy, fizzling cunt wrapped around the fat toy gouging his belly out!~ Error could practically cry, watching as this toy didn't falter, didn't wear down under his punishing pace...!

GOOD TOY GOOD TOY GOOD TOY!~ <3

Every time Error forced his trembling hips down, a fresh stream of drool would loll down the side of his jaw, a burst of glitching sparks would blow up in his sockets and drown out his vision completely, forcing him to only focus on that wonderful smack smack smack of their ectos kissing each other so lewdly.

The glitch was in rapture every time that throbbing battling ram blew its load inside of him, flooding his ecto with such honeyed gushes of intent. Gods- gods! Error was gonna die! This felt too good! He felt so good!! Yes! Yes! Finally!!!~

Horror himself was impressed his magic was so stable for this long.

Error shuddered in ecstasy and writhed, mind finally starting to let go as Horror's monstrous cock filled him to the brim. The intense stretch and delicious friction had him seeing stars, every nerve ending igniting with electric pleasure as his hips just mindlessly rode the feeling out.

"OoHhh Y- yesSs!~ ThaT's iT... fiLL me Up, yoU m- MaGNifICeNt tOY!~" Error shrieked, his voice chopping through several octaves as he ground his hips down, impaling himself deeper. "I kn- kNEw thAt b- BasTArd K- KepT yOu aROunD fOr s- S- SomEThiNg...!~"

Bracing his hands on Horror's broad chest- a challenge in itself with all the slick and remnant cum staining his ribs, Error began to bounce furiously, his slick, throbbing pussy gripping the pulsing shaft like a vice. The lewd, wet sounds of their coupling echoed through the Anti-Void, mingling with Error's shameless moans of bliss.

Neither of them noticed the needy groans of the other two as they watched enviously, already raring to take another actually prepared shot at servicing Error again, if only given a chance.

"NnGh, fucK! S- sO goOd, SO gOod...!~ yOu'Re DoiNg so W- WeLl, fOR a sTupId, lITtlE aN- ANomAlY! DoN't YOu daRe s- stoP uNtiL i'm COMplEteLY sAtiSfiEd!" The Destroyer commanded, his voice dripping with lust as he continued to ride the helpless monster with wanton abandon.

As Error's climax finally drew near, his body began to tense and convulse, his fluids bursting forth from within as scalding, curdling magic. But just as he was about to reach the peak of his ecstasy, Horror's magic faltered, and the monstrous cock began to shrink and dwindle, its veined shaft disappearing into nothingness.

Error's eyes snapped open, his vision blurred from the sudden loss of stimulation. Face only describable as complete agony as he was thwarted for a third time in a row.

It was simply heartbreaking at this point.

"NoOOoO! COmE B- bAck! GEt BacK iN M- me..! nO no No- sO clOsE! SO fUckINg clOSe...!" Error screamed, his voice echoing off the dimensions as he violently slammed himself against Horror's pelvis in demand, ecto body still soaked with the remnants of his unfulfilled climax.

But it was pointless. The monster could barely even grunt in apology

His bones lay sprawled out across the smooth, endless floor of the Anti-Void, his body fucking useless now. Horror's soul had given out halfway through Error’s frantic use, overstimulated past the point of return, and all he could do now was exist as the Destroyer rubbed himself against him in hopes of a revival, seemingly oblivious to his plight.

“...Fuck,” Horror rasped out. Angry with himself.

His body twitched when Error ground down again, a full-bodied roll of movement that sent an ugly, wet squelch echoing into the empty abyss. The skeleton flinched at the sound, his magic giving a pathetic spasm as if trying to respond but already too far gone to even spark.

No one was happy with this result.

Cross was Error’s last hope. Surely someone as stupidly loyal and batshit and perverted as that hacked up glitch could satisfy one little fucking heat? The shithead fucking fought with gods like him like he wasn't mortal himself- SO CLEARLY THAT WOULD MEAN SOMETHING, RIGHT???

He glared up at the three disappointments sprawled out around his Anti-Void, each discarded toy in varying degrees of semi-consciousness, exhaustion, or useless post-nut delirium. Killer was still twitching occasionally, Dust had gone boneless like an unplugged marionette, and Horror was just... there, staring at nothing with an unsettlingly blissed-out expression while absently picking at the drying splashes of magic coating his bones.

They had all failed him.

What the fuck did Nightmare even keep these abominations around for?! Shits and giggles?!?!

His bones were in agony at this point, his heat beyond unbearable; the unintentional edging had done its damage, and his body was actively beginning to rebel. His strength was mostly lost, hell, he could barely manage to stand anymore- Error had to drag himself back to his nest, growing weary of the floor and wanting for his squishy pool of safety and security in his coming weakness.

After this, the glitch knew he wouldn't be getting any more chances. He wouldn't have the magic nor the brain capacity to open another window and try again. This was his Hail Mary- or whatever the fuck that phrase meant.

Error grabbed him mid-patrol, dragging him into the Anti-Void without any fanfare.

Cross - to his credit - actually managed to react fast enough to cut the strings pulling him in, if not a little late. The window already snapped shut once he regained his bearings, and the Outcode looked prepared to fight, to attack.

But all hostility fizzled out once his eyelights fixated upon the Destroyer.

Error was straddling his pile of beanbags, flushed, panting, magic rolling off his body in barely-contained waves of need. His pants and sandals were long gone, leaving his glitching, fevered body fully on display for the soldier. Sweat glistened off the Destroyer's ecto, his breasts were full and swollen, phalanges twitching against his thighs, his sockets blown wide with delirious desperation as Error spread his entrance open in blatant invitation.

"c- C- CoME hEre..~" A demanding, irritable order came out more as a breathy beckoning, and it made the glitch flush in humiliation, very conscious of how much he was relying on the monochromatic pervert's obsessive need to be of service to those he considered above him.

And Error was obviously among the top of that list simply for being who he was!!

Cross swallowed thickly, eyelights a pair of trembling pinpricks as he watched the glitch's lips flutter, gushing with a fresh trail of spend. All of the abuse had it nearly gaping at this point, giving the poor soldier a very explicit view of all the rigorous pounding Error's cunt has gone through.

His skull lit up like a damn traffic light, the hue of his magic threatening to burst through his bones as he stared, transfixed, at the lewd display before him. Cross knew he should avert his gaze, should try to question what the fuck was going on for Error to be showing himself off like some Lustverse megastar, should do anything but stand there helplessly enthralled. And yet, his body betrayed him, drawn inexorably towards the Destroyer like a moth to the flame.

Error mewled with a weak sigh as he felt something hot and textured poke into his abused entrance, the pressure sending a shiver down his spine. It was such a shame he didn't have the strength to take what he wanted, as Cross' pace was so fucking slow. Too gently did the bastard rock himself inside in steady increments- as if Error needed that..!

Error's sockets fluttered closed, his face contorting in a mixture of pleasure and frustration as his toy's slow, gentle pace drove him wild. He wanted to be filled, to be taken, to be ravaged by the soldier's deprived touch! But clearly it seemed that the glitch's utter sex appeal was nowhere near matched with his terrifying aura.

Damn freak...! The one time he wanted a filthy anomaly to act out on their disgusting base desires, and the soldier had the gall to play timid now!!!

As the Destroyer's body began to tense, Cross' pace slowed even further, his hips rocking in a maddeningly slow and lazy rhythm that left Error panting and helpless. But... oh, did it also feel so good. The gentle friction, the maddening tease of it all - Error's sockets fluttered as that steady, powerful, reliable magic never faltered inside of him.

That's it~ Good toy, good toy, good toy~

"fUCk..." Error whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing. "Ple- pLeASe..." He wanted to beg, to plead, to demand that this toy take him harder, faster, deeper. But his voice was trapped in his throat, unable to escape as Cross continued to torture him with slow, gentle thrusts.

Damn this anomaly to hell and back...!

It was slow coming and weak, oh so very weak, but surely, Error felt his core beginning to coil, his magic beginning to roar in his ear canals. Just a little more, just a little faster, just a little deeper, and he'd be tipped right over the edge into blissful oblivion.

"Y- yEsss...~" Error gasped softly as he felt that cock twitch inside of him, responding to his low sighs and weak grunts of pleasure. Weak and exhausted, the Destroyer's drooping sockets turned back, giving Nightmare's prized fighter a wanton face as he wordlessly pled for an orgasm.

Cross, however, seemed to be getting more and more distracted. His eyelights flickered, his magic surging in a sudden, unexpected burst. Error's body tensed, his core coiling in anticipation, but instead of the intense, overwhelming sensation he was expecting, Cross' body suddenly went rigid.

"Ah... no..." Cross breathed, his voice barely audible as a bead of sweat trailed down his skull. "I- I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Error... sh- shit..!"

And with that, Cross' body shuddered, his magic bursting forth in a sudden, powerful release. The explosion of cum was surprisingly intense, especially after having gone through the other three and their series of continuous micro-gasms. The flood of magic did not spare a single inch of Error's fluttering insides- thoroughly splashing and painting his walls in thick, sticky ropes.

Error didn't even have the strength to gripe at the other as he deflated, not unlike a drooping flower. Defeated and nearly out of his mind- unable to even lift his head from his nest any longer.

The glitch was done for. This was it.

He had fought. He had clawed and scrambled for control, refusing to give in, but his stupid body had overpowered him in the end. The heat burning through his core left him feeling oddly numb, slick and cum pooling uselessly between his thighs, his breath shuddering out in weak, broken pants that were becoming more and more shallow.

A pitiful, frustrated whimper left him. A distant fear rising up as the seriousness of his condition became too real.

Fuck. He had never been this bad before. He should have- he should have just-!

A deep, familiar chuckle rumbled through the air, smooth as silk and full of smug amusement.

The Destroyer felt his horrible bones twitch in response.

"Now, now, Error," Nightmare purred, his voice curling through the Anti-Void like a dark caress. "Look at the mess you've made of yourself."

Error barely managed to crack an eye open, his vision swimming as his glazed pupils locked onto the looming figure of the corrupted king. The eldritch monarch stood at the edge of his ruined nest, shadows coiling lazily around his form, his inky tendrils shifting with amusement.

"Aw, Error," Nightmare cooed, and Error would have bristled at the mocking sympathy if he had the energy. "Was it really so unbearable to come to me that you went through all this trouble? Stealing my subordinates, using them like little playthings, only to still end up unsatisfied?"

At the voice of their king, the glitch somewhat noticed the others slowly gathering themselves up again.

Error barely mustered the strength to snarl, but it came out more like a weak, trembling hiss. "f- f-fu- fuck o- offfff...!”

Nightmare hummed, tilting his head in faux consideration, simply to grin in evil gloating, tutting the other god. "Now, why would I do that, sweetheart? You need help, and it's obvious that such a powerful monster as yourself can only be satisfied by one of similar caliber."

Error’s breath hitched as Nightmare’s tendrils slithered closer, brushing against his flushed bones with feather-light teasing. He was too weak to flinch away, his body already betraying him with a needy shudder.

"I must say, it's adorable that you tried so hard to avoid me," Nightmare continued, his voice dropping into a darker, huskier murmur. "But you should have known better, Error."

He stepped forward, crouching down to meet the glitch at eye level as he sunk into the ring of beanbags, and Error nearly sobbed at the sheer oppressive presence of him- of the dark aura washing over his overheated body, smothering, overwhelming, making his insides churn with desperate, unbearable hunger. Nightmare felt so cool against his slowly baking body.

It felt so good...

"But don’t worry," Nightmare murmured, leaning in so his breath ghosted over Error’s trembling jaw. "Since you’re clearly too far gone to be picky now..."

His gaze flicked toward his gang, who all straightened under his attention.

"Help me get him in position."

Error barely had time to process the words before hands were on him- gently yet firmly, guiding him, moving his limp, overheated body with ease. His breath hitched, a broken whimper slipping out despite himself as multiple hands gripped his arms, his thighs, his waist, lifting him just enough to settle him into place.

The heat had eaten away at his strength, leaving him pliant, trembling as his body reacted to the sheer weight of their collective presence. His thoughts were static, mind too fogged to even process what was happening beyond the overwhelming sensation of being handled, positioned, and surrounded.

It felt good, so, so good...

Nightmare chuckled lowly, pleased, his shadows coiling around Error’s writhing form in dark amusement. "There we go. Just let go, Error. No more struggling, no more silly little games." A soft tendril traced the ridge of Error’s jaw, tilting his face up. "You're exactly where you need to be, darling."

A chorus of eager affirmations rumbled around them, his gang awaiting their king’s lead, hungry, devoted, and more than ready to assist. Their collective anticipation thrummed through the air like a living thing, pressing against Error’s trembling soul.

And Error- Error would have fought, he would have snapped, cursed, flailed-

But as Nightmare's tendrils wound around his limbs, between his thighs, as a smooth, clawed hand covered his drooping sockets, as that smug, knowing voice cooed, "Shhh, just let go, sweetheart..."

Error finally, finally surrendered.

Chapter Text

When one first began to establish themselves in the multiverse, it was greatly advised to take those delicate, tentative steps under the guiding hand of another veteran Outcode; or if one was incredibly lucky - or unlucky, perhaps - under the wing of a God. Not ones the humans were familiar with, mind you, but otherworldly beings of incredible power and ego nonetheless.

The Gods, after all, were respected far and wide for their power for a reason, and those who were fortunate enough to gain their interest were often destined to be favored among the multiverse's inhabitants and the Creators alike. Though whether the latter resulted in more suffrage or not was really up to the luck of the draw.

But even with such guidance, the road taken in traveling the multiverse was never without a great risk of peril and danger. The multiverse was surprisingly cruel despite its inhabitants themselves not often being as such, and all it could take is a single misstep to send you hurtling into the void.

Still, with a good head on their shoulders and a healthy dose of determination, even the most unlikely of schmucks could last a week outside of their AU, at the very least. Maybe.

Not that anybody was around to tell Killer these things, when his AU first glitched out and spat him out to face the wolves. Though, Killer had managed to score some fun as the wolf for a couple of years, before he eventually caught the eye of a certain collection of 'grand heroes.'

Or better known as... The Star Sanses.

Admittedly, finding himself on the run as some kind of world-hopping criminal was cool as fuck.. For about a week, maybe.

The day Killer went back to that brain-rotting, monotonous, day-by-day, script-driven mockery of a life would be the day he RESET for the last time. And he was certain the sentiment was well shared among those he had stumbled upon; other skeletons much like himself.

Dust was fun. He brought a new dynamic to the game Chara had brought him into so long ago, challenging him in ways that were more than just physical. It was mental. Emotional. As much as Killer hated the word and everything associated with it.

It was risky, more high stakes than if it was just his life on the line. Because at the end of it all, Killer could always RESET. His mortality was a thing of the past now. Probably. His emotions, however, were a bomb lying under the table. Dust knew how to drag them out of their grave and expose them for all to see, and taking the bet to see if he’d be able to rebury them again sent a special kind of thrill through him every time.

Plus... Dust helped him keep his head straight, when it mattered most. He was just the kind of asshole who could cut through Killer’s deflections with a single glare, like those stupidly overcompensating blasters he loved shooting off so much. It was impressive, in a way. Annoying as hell, but impressive.

Horror was the 'support' man. If Dust was the guy who dragged his emotions out of the grave, then Horror was the one who looked at the mess, shrugged, and handed Killer a shovel. He never pushed, never pried. He just existed in that quiet, stubborn way of his, all gruff patience and an eerie, knowing kind of humor that made Killer squirm. Like he could see past all the layers, right to the core of whatever was left of Killer’s soul.

That was the thing about them. Dust and Horror. They were infuriatingly, undeniably real.

They weren’t the kind of friends Killer had back in his old AU- though maybe friends was a strong word to use in itself, when they tried to stab each other at least once a week. But they were certainly something.

Something solid. Something that made the endless, chaotic tumble through the multiverse a little less lonely. A little more bearable. More fun~

And so, there they were.

Three outcodes, infamous across the multiverse, sitting in a dingy little bar on some backwater AU, pretending like they weren’t completely screwed.

All because of a babbling bunch of babies with savior complexes.

Chapter Text

Error never liked that damn parasite.

Then again, he didn't really like anything in this starsforsaken place. Except Blue, that bitch just loved to make himself an exception to Error's self-imposed rules.

He hated these walls that denied him any view of the stars; nature's finest show, ready for their admiration literally all around them! Yet these motherfuckers thought windows were 'unnecessary' and 'potential hazards.'

He hated the spineless fucks who ran the place and worked alongside him, constantly trying to rub elbows where they weren't wanted, and then turn around to bitch about him because his unstable magic would lash out whenever they tried to initiate any unwanted physical contact. Like that was a horrid problem that offended them on a personal level.

He hated the piles of letters his brother kept adding to, griping at him to come home when it was this fucking job that was keeping him fucking alive..!

He hated that parasite, the moment he laid eyes upon it. Maybe it was the gaudy colors it seemed to decorate itself with for a fucked up camouflage; or maybe it was the fact that it was literally wearing the body of a dead man so well, so flawlessly, that if he didn't already know, Error may have been fooled at first glance.

That was probably it.

The magic it wore had belonged to one of the field researchers initially sent out to gather samples from the surface. A bunny monster he never learned the name of.

Or at least, it used to be a bunny.

Whatever made that guy who he was, his mind, his soul - if one was even there anymore - was long gone. Now, all that was left was a hollowed-out husk, twitching with something else inside it, something that moved wrong, shifted wrong, acted wrong.

Error scowled, phalanges drumming against the tablet in his hands as he stared into the reinforced glass of the containment chamber. On the other side, the parasite in a monster's body stood with an unnatural grace. Horrifically, they were perfectly fine on the surface, but something about the way it carried itself set Error’s teeth on edge. Too composed. Too deliberate. Way too comfortable for how it only seemed yesterday that it was twitching and shambling about as if balancing on stilts.

He hated having to swallow the fact that the thing was smart. It was adaptive.

And worse than that, he hated that it seemed to 'like' him.

Predatory fixation, the behavioralists had said behind his back, when people around the lab first began to catch onto the subject's unnatural focus on him. Error wasn’t so sure about that, but he wasn't going to stir shit up by confronting them about it either.

"Maybe that thing just understands how unnatural glitches like him are.."

"Think it's scared of him?"

"Fuck, imagine being such a freak that even the bodysnatching alien is afraid of you!"

"Heh, maybe it wants something exotic?"

Fucking idiots didn't know what they were talking about.

He’d seen predators hunt before, and they didn’t act like this. They didn’t watch like this. The parasite was studying him. Every time he entered the lab, that yellow-red eye would hone in on him from within an empty socket, tracking his movements with eerie, silent intent. Not in the way a hungry beast might eye a meal- there was no thirst, but something else. Something worse.

Maybe sizing him up as their next host, as disgusting as it was to imagine.

Not like Error had never encountered a body-snatcher before. This particular species was still new to the scene of alien biology, but Error had seen his fair share of parasitic organisms throughout his career among the stars. (That experience was the whole reason he was dragged into this particular case)

None of them had ever acted quite like this, though..

Most parasites operated on instinct- seeking out hosts through biological necessity, hijacking bodies for survival or evolution. Their possessions were crude, disjointed and extremely uncanny at best.

This one wasn't quite like that.

There was mimicry in the way it moved; deliberate mimicry. This thing wasn't just puppeteering a corpse or collecting code, it was learning to mask itself among an uninfected population. It was imitating behavior. To a near flawless degree.

Error tried not to think what would happen if there were more of these around their site. The asshole in charge swore up and down that this thing wasn't native to the planet- but that didn't serve to comfort him at all.

“Still Staring At You, Huh?”

Error nearly jumped from his seat, hissing in mock-pain when his knee crashed against the table at a bad angle. His magic sparked and jumped, fizzling through a few threads of code before abruptly settling again.

“DOn’t snEak up oN Me liKe tha- tHat,” He snapped, glitching slightly. The glitch crossed his arms, his gaze falling back to his tablet and desk. “And yES. It’s bEen doiNg THat alL d- DaY. IT’s fUckINg CreePy.”

Blue stepped up beside him, peering into the chamber. The creature tilted its head back, eerie grin broadening. “It Reads To Me As More Curious Than Creepy.." Blue tried to lighten the mood, but Error's grim features quickly had the biochemist frowning, his usual cheerfulness dimming.

Error didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

Blue hesitated, then sighed. “Listen, I... I Wanted To Tell You Something."

He tilted his head a little as he continued to type away at his tablet, a subtle sign that his attention was caught.

"I’m Being Transferred. They’re Moving Me To Another Site On The Other Side Of The Planet. It’s A Promotion, Technically, But...” He trailed off, glancing at Error with a soft look. “You Could Come With Me. I Put In A Good Word For You With The Management Over There. You'd Be Accepted As Part Of My Team..!”

Error’s eyelights flickered, but he didn’t look away from his screen. A small pain ached behind his ribs, recognizing the hope in his friend's voice. “i caN’t.”

Blue, at the very least, had the politeness not to let his disappointment show. "...Can I Ask Why..? You- You're Always Complaining About How Much You Hate It Here..! And- And I Know The Others Don't Have... The Highest Opinion Of You.. If- If You're Worried About The Security-!"

"BlUe, i ReAlLY cAN'T."

When the other monster didn't push, Error sighed, finally setting the tablet down and facing the only person who held his respect on this entire planet. Blue at least deserved the truth.

"My olDeR b- brOtheR's bEEn oN lIfE- iFe sUpPoRt eVEr sInCe w- WE weRe bRATs." The glitch shuddered, mind winding back to that hospital bed with wires snaking around fizzling bones. A body with magic too strong for a normal monster's constitution. With a soul too incomplete to stabilize it. "tHE a- AsShoLE rUnNinG- iNG tHiS plAcE oFfEReD tO cOVer THE exPenSes foR tHe sUr- SUrgERy to fIX HiM."

A printed contract. A haughty, self-assured grin. A thinly veiled threat.

“my pAY chECk frOM hERe gOEs tO tHAt. If i qUiT thiS st- sTaTiON, tHeY’Ll pUlL tHE pLuG.”

Blue inhaled sharply. “Oh... Oh, Stars, Error I- I Didn’t Realize...”

I Didn't Realize Your Brother Was Still Alive.

Error shrugged, not really feeling anything from the unspoken statement. Mostly because he didn't bother to correct people's assumptions.

It was a fact that in eighty nine percent cases of monster pregnancies that experienced an irregularity during their terms, the original souling would not make it to manifestation.

Silence stretched between them, tender yet bloating, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on them both. Blue, bless his stupidly sentimental heart, looked like he wanted to say something- something comforting, something hopeful.

But what was there even to say?

Error wasn’t leaving.

“Just... Be Careful, Okay? And- And...! Maybe..." The shorter skeleton shuffled his feet to be hovering just over his desk, giving the glitch a wobbly smile. "Maybe... When My Assignment Is Complete, I Can... Visit Your Brother For You...?"

Oh...

Error nodded, but his gaze strayed back to the tablet, not wanting Blue to see just how touched that simple gesture made him. Subconsciously, his eyelights trailed to the tiny blurb in the corner that he always had pulled up on the screen.

Subject Codename: Fresh
Species: Animacorpus Astrumvora
Classification: Parasitic Bodysnatcher

Host Compatibility: Capable of assimilating and controlling a wide range of magical and organic hosts, including humans and monsters; further research is needed to find limitations and preventive strategies.

Behavior: Exhibits complex cognitive feats and self-awareness; demonstrates advanced behavioral mimicry and learning capabilities; further research is needed to find whether it can apply logic and reason.

Reproductive Strategy: Presumed to utilize external fertilization with other members of its species, but most information is unknown; further research is needed.

Threat Level: Presumed to be incredibly dangerous in cases of infiltration of an infected host; further research is needed to determine threat level of subject sans host body.

Error sat alone in the dimly lit lab, the hum of machinery and the faint buzz of the containment chamber the only sounds breaking the silence. His glitching fingers tapped impatiently on the keyboard as he entered data into the system, his eyelights were unclear along the edges, flickering with irritation.

But he had to get this shit done by the end of the week. Which was six days ago.

The facility was quiet at this hour, most of the staff having retired to their quarters by this time. It was the only time Error could work without being bothered and harassed by his so-called colleagues.

He didn't think about how the hostile energy directed towards him only doubled since Blue left for site Delta.

"StupID fuCkin' loGs- oGS," Error hissed under his breath as the screens shuddered for a moment. It was an altogether inconsequential delay, but the number of times they've been building up have only served to shorten his temper. Today had already been a bad day. Every day was a bad day.

Especially after Geno's letters stopped streaming in.

"STUpId fuCkiNg cHeaPSkaTe- AtE coMpaNies, REfusIng tO buILd sHitTY- iTTy EquiPmeNt cAPablE Of haNdLiNg a fEw tRaNSfErS- tHe FuCk THis plA- aCe's buDgET gOing TO?" He glowered once the file transfer finally began, only to throw himself back against his chair and groan as the estimated completion time was an hour and forty three minutes.

"AAuGGhhHH...!" Clenching his jaw, the skeleton proceeded to throw a mini tantrum in his seat, swinging his feet out in anger, bones aching with the impulse to grab something and spear it through the screen. The cushion and wheels creaked under his violent flailing.

As Error kicked the chair away from the offensive screen - and hopefully diminish the urge to follow through with his intrusive thoughts - it spun around, all blurs of shapes and colors shadowed by the stark glare of the monitors.

During his frustrated daze, the glitch just so happened to catch a glint of red and yellow from behind the reinforced glass. His soul lurched.

And he instantly slammed his feet forward, phalanges digging into the armrests as he stared back into the void.

Fresh was watching him from the darkness. The only tell being the single ring of yellow-red from Fresh's true appearance- which Error had yet to see himself but have read witness testimonies about. The thing didn't even twitch, despite knowing it must've been caught watching... again.

Error scoffed, nerves already giving away to frustration. What the fuck was he being so damn jumpy about? It was just a stupid bug in a body suit.

"a- AnD dOn't eVEN- eN GEt mE st- sTartED on yOU...!" He growled, the anger steadily coming back to him.

"iF it wErEN't fOR y- yOu, I WoUlD'nt eVEN b- Be iN tHIs fuCKinG mEsS!" Error glared back at the parasite, as if it could understand him and his woes.

But he knew it couldn't, which was why he let himself blow steam off like this- since he didn't have anybody else to whine to.

"AnD dO- doN't gEt mE sTARtED oN tHem," his whole body sizzled in annoyance, eyes gesturing vaguely to the doors. "fUCkInG wHIniNG bEhiND mY b- Back lIKe i CaN't heAR thEm. 'oH, th- tH- tHaT gLItcH is- iS sO rUDE!' bITcH!" Error snarled, "iF yOu- oU tHinK tH- thAt's RUde, tHen yOu dON'T wAnNa sEe wHaT i'm lIkE wHeN I'M sEriOus!"

Error’s glitching grew more pronounced, his form flickering as his emotions got the better of him. He noticed a subtle shift in the containment chamber though, blinking owlishly to see Fresh settling against the barrier; little monster bunny paws squished up against the glass. It startled him out of his mood.

For some reason, the tiny gesture made Error think about that one pet Geno let him take care of for a month. Mr. Stab-Horse the turtle. They were a very good turtle.

A pang of loneliness echoed painfully deep in his ribcage.

The glitch sighed, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, the anger drained out of him, replaced by something softer, something he rarely let himself feel. “I MisS BlUe,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “AnD i mISs mY bROthEr..." Despite himself, Error tucked his feet up onto the chair and huddled into his legs, tucking his face behind his knees.

"...I dOn'T liKE bEinG alOne..." He confessed softly, to himself in the safety of his own company. Where no one and nothing else could cast down their judgement or have his-

"You're not alone, brah!"

It was like his magic was suddenly bursting through his veins. Instantly, Error's soul leaped into his throat, and his body spasmed so violently that his chair tipped over with a loud crash, sending him sprawling onto the cold floor. His glitches spiked erratically, scattering bursts of black and red as he scrambled back, mind struggling to process what the fuck just happened.

There was no fucking way.

There was no fucking way-!

"Wowzers, didn't mean ta barf ya out, babe!"

Holy fucking shit. It spoke. It fucking spoke-

Not just mimicry. Not just regurgitated words like a goddamn parrot.

It had responded to him. Directly.

Error felt like he really was going to barf, or pass out. Likely both, once this weird sorta-there sorta-not-there panic-attack he was having blew over. A violent shudder ripped through Error’s bones, little pixels itching and fizzling in a way that made him feel physically violated.

"hOw... hoW lonG c- coUld yoU uNdeRStAnD mE..?"

The parasite just slowly tilted its head, fuzzy bunny ears flopping slightly as it regarded Error with an expression that was somehow both innocent and deeply, deeply wrong. Like it was in on a joke and reluctant to tell him- and just how expressive it has suddenly become was also sending alarms burning through his marrow.

“Ohhh, ya know, fer a while now... prolly started getting a hang for yer language 'round when you first crashed dis place,” Fresh said casually, as if that wasn’t a bombshell revelation that had completely devastated Error's world. "Though, t'be fair.. I didn't really care much to learn 'til you popped into the picture, Sugarpie."

But Error couldn't hear them anymore. Magic was rushing- no, flooding his skull and drowning out his hearing, all he could hear was the crackling thunder and hazardous static of his racing soul; that tiny, pathetic shard that mirrored his brother's, forever staining them both with misfortune.

He couldn't see past the fizzling errors anymore. He couldn't see anything anymore.

His bones were too hot and too itchy and just too much- he couldn't feel anything past the angry crackling of his overcharging magic shorting out his own mana lines, ripping his own dysfunctional body apart.

A stream of blurry memories flashed by all at once, of every time he'd talk to himself in the comfort of his space, all the times where he'd gripe to imaginary friends and spin conversations that never really happened. Whenever he actually felt safe enough to whisper the thoughts that became too heavy for him or Blue, of all the times he'd spew stupid shit to the parasite, thinking it wouldn't know any better.

It knew everything.

Error only realized that he was having a crash when the deafening roaring in his ears suddenly broke into a bleeding screech. His body was probably collapsed against the floor now, with- with the parasite still watching him.

For an eternity Error could only be alone with his thoughts. Never knowing if anyone would find him, or how much time was really going by.

He thought about the files transferring on the computer. He thought about how he had forgotten to renew his prescription again, and was now paying the price for it like a dumbass. He thought about what that parasite might be thinking, watching him completely prone and helpless on the floor. He thought about how a glitch like him didn't deserve to wake up again, after all he'd cost Geno. It was his fault his brother couldn't grow up with a better life, because he had to be selfish and be born as well.

"If only you were never born, then Geno would have a whole soul."

"Why did a glitch like you have to happen?"

Glitch. Mistake. Anomaly. Abomination.

When Error woke up again, he was no longer in his lab, but in his quarters. On top of the bed, not tucked in or changed out of his clothes.

Someone must have found him...

Numbly, he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. It was far past the countdown for the file transfer. Glancing towards his notifications, he picked out one from the rest of the junk that should have gave him a little relief- but post-crash, all he could feel was emptiness.

11:46PM Your files were successfully transferred!

He just stared at the little device a few minutes longer, before opening the lockscreen and entering his email.

To: Dr. Baggs
From: Error
Subject: URGENT: Fresh Behavioral Update

We have a HUGE problem fuckass, your pet project just jumped five levels up on the DO NOT FUCK WITH scale!! Hope you're proud!!

Fresh can fucking talk. No, not voice mimicry, not regurgitating words like a lobotomy patient- HE FUCKING TALKED. We had a conversation- a parasite!! And he's been able to understand what we've been saying for fucking WEEKS.

This means a whole lotta bullshit:

1. It can learn languages and communicate across species.

2. It has been learning. How much? No fucking clue, since apparently none of the MORONS bothered running cognitive development tests on the thing before now.

3. It is learning from us and has been purposefully hiding its capabilities.

If this isn’t setting off every alarm in your oversized ego, it should be. And I'm telling you RIGHT FUCKING NOW to reinforce the little bastard's containment. Increase surveillance, strengthen the magic barriers, and maybe - just a thought - NOT STICK IT IN A GLASS BOX LIKE SOME STUPID HAMSTER????

Additionally, I strongly advise bringing in animal cognition specialists yesterday. I’m an astrobiologist, not a psychologist, and we need experts who actually know how to analyze this thing’s behavior beyond 'does it clapping its hands register as an intimidation display or a hunting behavior?' (FYI this is the actual bullshit I hear those behavioralists 'discussing').

If you don't take this shit seriously, we're gonna get fucked up the ass, and I don't care HOW much fucking money you throw at me, I ain't dealing with this shit.

Astrobiologist,
Error

Waking up the next morning- with most of his hysteria unhelpfully still present in the pit of his stomach, Error was greeted with a response. An expected one, but unpleasant all the same.

Subject: Re: URGENT: Fresh Behavioral Update

Dr. Error,

First, allow me to extend my deepest congratulations on this extraordinary breakthrough! A fully communicative extraterrestrial parasite? This is a monumental leap forward in our understanding of interspecies intelligence. And you, of all people, were the first to document it- how thrilling!

I knew you had it in you.

That being said, your concerns, while noted, are - shall we say - excessively alarmist. 'Fresh' has displayed no aggressive tendencies beyond what is expected of a creature in captivity. You seem to be misinterpreting curiosity for threat. A shame, really, considering your talents.

As for your requests:

• Additional containment measures are found to be unnecessary and unaffordable at this time. We will have to make do with the top level equipment we are supplied with.
• Bringing in a team of foreign specialists would be premature and, frankly, a waste of resources at this stage. Instead, I have a better solution.

Effective immediately, you will be leading the psychological analysis of specimen 'Fresh.'

You, more than anyone else, have established a “rapport” with the subject. This makes you the perfect candidate to document its forma mentis as it were. Think of it as an opportunity - your opportunity - to make history.

Oh, and of course, we must reward excellence where it’s due. You’ll be receiving a substantial pay increase for your efforts and I'll personally see to it that Geno is due for a visit with Prof. Doughound as soon as possible. Let's say- a month's time? (Of course, if you'd rather not volunteer for this wonderful opportunity, I can always grant this promotion and bonus to another.)

No need to thank me. I have full confidence in you.

Best regards,

Dr. Baggs
Lead Research Director
Starjourney Facilities (Site Alpha)

Error’s quarters were small and spartan, the only personal touch being a stack of research notes piled haphazardly on the desk. He was deep asleep in his cot, sockets pinched tightly as he fretted in some nameless dream. The room was quiet, the hum of machinery and the occasional beep of a monitor from down the hall being the only sounds breaking the silence.

He has withstood the parasite's babbling for nearly two whole months now. The way it was suddenly so very chatty, as if desperate to have the chance to share a conversation with him again since that one night.

Fresh had always been unnerving, even before the unveiled sentience. Now, he had to ignore as much of what they were saying for his own sanity. He had no idea whether the parasite knew what it was doing, using such ambiguous and vague language; but Error was not a psychologist, no matter what that asshole tried to say, and stressing himself about it on top of everything else was only going to lead to another crash.

The strange nicknames did not help.

So he put up with it.

Because no matter how many times Error's instincts screamed at him to back out, to leave while he still could, he couldn’t afford to. Not when Geno’s life depended on it.

A week ago, a confirmation letter had arrived. That bastard director had finally pulled the right strings, secured the right funding- Geno’s surgery was officially scheduled. The only thing keeping it that way was Error’s continued cooperation.

So he kept working. Kept ignoring the weight of Fresh’s attention. Kept humoring the bloody thing as minimally as possible to get the results he needed. Kept his head down, forcing himself through exhaustion, paranoia, and the ever-present hum of unease curling in his bones.

But tonight, at least, he could sleep. The glitch just had to hold on for a few more days and then he could spread his wings and fly somewhere far, far, away; a place where it could only be him and the stars, and Geno could just forget about him and live his life like he should have done.

And Error could finally let this misplaced guilt go.

Error had turned in early this shift, just to breathe and let the rare opportunity for solace consume him. The nightmare was almost over, his research paper - the complete summarization and detailed analysis of Fresh’s biology, behavior, and a potential set list of identifications and precautionary measures - was nearly done.

Just a few more days, and then Error could leave in time to make sure Geno's operation goes smoothly. Oh sure, he doubted that uppity bitch would truly let him go; he couldn't imagine Baggs would let him off the planet until he managed to squeeze another contract out of the glitch for another future project.

But Error could live with that. (As long as the stipulations and penalties couldn't be transferred to Geno, he could just cut all his ties and disappear)

Things were finally beginning to turn up.

. . . .

Then the alarms blared.

The glitch had practically flew off of his bed before his mind had fully snapped itself out of its post-sleep daze. Red was already bathing the room in a disorienting glare, but there was no time to fish for his glasses, no time to pull together his uniform- deep down Error just knew, that this was going to be it.

Hands automatically tossed his lab coat over his shoulders and shimmied up the sleeves as he fumbled out of his quarters, one foot jammed inside a black slipper as the other one was still trying to hook the other. He leaned out of the doorframe only to throw himself back as a body nearly collided with him, not even bothering to stop as they followed the rest of the crowd rushing down the hall.

Between the wailing alarms, the pounding of boots against the metal flooring, and the frantic shouts echoing through the facility, Error barely had time to process what was happening. His uneven fragment of a soul - once sluggish and languid with sleep - was now racing with adrenaline and panic as he scrambled to catch up with the situation.

Slivers of voices, all broken or shrill, barely made it through the blaring alarms and the pounding of his own pulse in his skull.

"What the hell was that thing-?!"

"Parasite wasn't supposed to be able to-"

"To the rovers, we need to evacuate the entire-!"

Error shoved himself against the wall, narrowly avoiding another scientist barreling past him. His brain was still trying to boot up properly, but through the haze of half-woken panic, the words finally registered.

Fresh had escaped.

For a second every scurrying zap of static in his body screamed at him to run. To follow the rest of the staff - but instead of jumping on a rover like the rest of these idiots - he'd hitch a ride on one of the field-travel pods, because he knew just how well Fresh could blend into a crowd.

He could get away from here, never come back and leave it all behind. It would be easy under all of this chaos and frenzied scattering.

But he didn’t move.

His magic crackled violently between fight and flight, his soul screaming go, go, go-

His research.

His lab.

Geno’s surgery depended on that work. If the data was lost in the evacuation, if Baggs didn't get his golden egg, there was no telling if he’d keep his word. The bastard would probably scrap the whole operation just to spite him.

The rational part of him - the part that actually wanted to live and still had its wits about itself - was losing its goddamn mind. Fresh was out. The parasite was loose.

His brother was days away from finally having his life back.

. . . .

The glitch didn't really like to think what it said about his character, when his feet already began to head in the opposite direction of the crowd surging for the rovers and the evacuation route. Because Error never thought of himself as a good person, a stupid person.

He was meant to be better than this.

But his obligation to Geno outweighed any fear of consequences. (He wondered if Blue had met him yet, he missed the idiot, he wanted to see him again)

Ignoring the shouts of the evacuating personnel, Error stormed past bodies that weaved around him with curses, just barely dodging his crackling magic and flaring code.

Nobody tried to stop him.

The halls were utterly devoid of any movement or life, but Error couldn't help but feel that they were longer than usual, perhaps an effect of the flashing red emergency lights disorienting him as he ran. It was as if the entire space around him was some breathing beast, the shadows seemed to lurk with tension and eerie intent, leaving Error all the more unsteady.

The skeleton's glitching form flickered as he walked, his mismatched eyelights darting nervously from side to side. At least the evacuation alarms have cut off at some point... But in hindsight, Error may have preferred their blaring over this. His rankling paranoia shuddered and whined every time his shuffling feet and deep breathing echoed back to him much too loud in the dead space.

The lack of activity in a space once bustling with life was unnerving.

Error had experienced full body shivers as he made it to the doors of his lab... or just a doorway, now. The reinforced steel that had once served to block off certain personnel were warped and scattered about the ground around his ankles in a terrifying show of force. Each scrap looked to have been a handful of metal, peeled away by claws much sharper than his own.

Aside from the door however, everything else in the surrounding area was eerily untouched. Pristine, even.

No signs of an animal rampage. No gouges or dents along the walls or flooring. No splashes of blood or gore from any victims. Error's gut churned worse then it might've with a hallway lined with bodies and dust.

It... It was sick in a way.

As if it was the parasite's way of saying it could've left at any time. It could've left with a lot less destruction than what Error was seeing right now. But it did. It chose to rip through the door, instead of simply unlocking it like the glitch just knew it could, it wouldn't surprise him at all to learn it had somehow learned the passkey.

. . . .

Somehow managing to tear his eyes away from a random clumps of metal, Error timidly toed into the lab, careful to avoid nicking himself against any of the gimped scraps. Fresh had a startlingly fine-tuned sense of smell for magic specifically, and Error didn't want to risk his luck anymore than he already was.

Inside, the containment chamber was ruined.

Glass was coating every inch of the floor in a glittery, sharp blanket. The thick, reinforced barrier that Error had stared past, had even leaned against before, was now reduced to a gaping, jagged hole. The steel framework looked strangely melted, as if having spent too long in close contact with a radiator. Not a single trace was left behind on the framework that suggested physical manhandling.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Lying right where Fresh would always be standing, pressed against the boundary between them as they would observe one another, was a body.

The body.

His stomach twisted violently, unconsciously creeping closer to the husk.

It took a second - too long - for Error to register what he was looking at. The familiar shape of Fresh’s former host -the bunny monster - was sprawled unnaturally across the floor, limbs wrong, joints bent against their natural alignment and worn in a way that looked as if they were destroyed from the inside-out.

Belatedly, he realized that it showed no signs of dusting despite how gray and lifeless it had become. Any other corpse would have caved in on itself and crumbled away by now...

Unable to deny his sense of scientific wonder - and maybe his own morbid curiosity - Error leaned in, just a little, to get a better look.

Black ichor had leaked from the empty sockets- which were lined with cracks, streaking down its cheeks, pooling in the open cavity of its throat. The dark fluid had already begun to congeal, thick and sticky, giving the remains a wet, rotting stench that sent Error’s stomach lurching.

Far below - where the bunny's stomach would have been - there was a gaping cavity. It was flaking along the edges, the fleshy magic having gone hard and brittle and paper-thin, as if it had been burned away rather than torn. More of that ichor was pooled inside, scrambled and slushed.

If monster bodies could grow rotten like humans could, the glitch was sure that this is what it would look like.

Error swallowed hard.

Fresh had used this body for months. Had spoken through it. Had moved with it. Had smiled with it.

And now, it was nothing. With an expression of absolute emptiness, lacking any of that warmth or spark that monsters had in life.

Error staggered back, slippers sliding on the slick mess of shattered glass and drying ichor. His breath stuttered out in shallow gasps, glitching at the edges of his ribs as that stench of rotten magic and death permeated his lungs.

Where is he?

A prickle ran up his spine, the overwhelming sense of being watched sinking deep into his bones. Was he still here?

No. No, the parasite was incredibly vulnerable on its own, he wouldn’t have left his host behind unless he had a replacement.

Which meant-

Error whirled toward his workstation, half-tripping over himself in his rush to reach the computer. His hands fumbled, fingers shaking as he pulled out the external hard drive and plugged it in, initiating the transfer of his research.

The download bar crawled.

"C'moN, c'Mon, c'MOn..!"

Error’s phalanges drummed anxiously against the desk, his pulse hammering in his ribcage. The hard drive whirred, the transfer bar inching closer-

Click.

All at once, the power cut out.

The screens went black. The quiet hum of machinery died, leaving only a deafening silence.

Error’s breath caught in his throat, a single, stuttering glitch spasming through his ribs. His eyelights instantly locked onto the hazy red gleam shining across the monitor from a light source behind him- only now detectable in the complete and utter pitch of darkness.

He felt his entire body lock up in ice.

And then the power rebooted. The whirring of various machineries pumping back to life as the stark red flashing of the emergency lights bled back into the room overhead. But Error could barely register them. He watched the screen light back up, only to show the entire download had to start from the beginning due to the interruption.

He took a deep breath, warding away his urge to crash by force.

Then, with a nerve rarely scrounged up from his flighty nature, he pivoted on his heel and spun around, back to the monitor and the slowly creeping loading bar, eyes to where he had deducted the red gleam had come from.

At first, his scrambled vision only picked up vague details: a silhouette just out of his range of vision in the darkest of the shadows. The emergency lights cast large swaths of dark within the empty enclosure of Fresh's vivarium, distorting its frame like a flickering illusion. But the moment it seemed to glean that it was seen, a bloated yellow-red eye lit up from within the void.

Error watched, on vaguely shaking legs, as a skeleton monster slowly ambled from the dark and into the light.

There was only one other skeleton monster in this entire facility; Error didn't like to think how likely it was that Fresh had gone out of its way to procure a body of the same sub-species as his own.

The other monster just stared at him, with that unnatural, overly-large eye, lurking from within his socket, before opening his mouth and-

"Skmeeeek!"

He fought the urge not to jerk violently at the sound. A dry, rattling click echoed from the possessed skeleton's throat before the jaw jerked open wider than any monster should have been capable of. The sound was garbled, a grotesque mimicry of static and a vocal cord that no longer functioned properly.

Error clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to glitch away on pure instinct. He knew that sound.

Fresh was testing the vocal cords. It would do that sometimes after long periods of silence. Back when...

A shudder crawled under his bones, making the back of his skull prickle.

"Kkck-! Tiihh-! Schreeee- Ahhh, yo! There we go!" The too-wide grin spread across the stolen face, a voice far too chipper spilling from a jaw that moved with unsettling delay, as if the body wasn't quite accustomed to itself yet. "Man, ya have no idea how hard it is ta get used ta new set of vocals."

Error didn't respond. His sockets were locked onto the way the stolen bones creaked, how the joints seemed loose when Fresh moved, like the magic holding the body together was wrong, flickering in and out of alignment, still trying to accustom itself to its new occupant.

Fresh rolled his shoulders, causing them to shift awkwardly, then took a step forward.

The glitch quickly spared a glance at the loading bar-

47.11%

He forced himself to breathe. "tHaT's a NEw l- LoOK," he choked out, carefully nonchalant.

Stall for time. Don’t make sudden moves. Please, stars, please.

The red gleam of Fresh’s pupil flickered and expanded, the glow of it seeming to pulse within the darkness of his socket as he settled back to a stop. “Awww, ya noticed?” His grin stretched, head tilting just a little too far to the side. "Thought it would be best ta keep ya comfy, ya know?"

Error refused to dignify that with a reaction. His claws digging into the edge of the desk behind him, trying hard not to fall into a spiral wondering what that was supposed to mean.

Fresh was still talking. “Gotta say, this rig ain't half bad. Real sturdy, lotta untapped potential-” He lifted a skeletal hand, watching the way his fingers flexed and curled, only for one to seize up midway through the motion with an audible pop. Fresh laughed, as if it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, and casually snapped the joint back into place.

He forced himself to keep his beating soul steady- lest he tempt the damn parasite, tamping down on the rising nausea curling in his chest. His eyelights darted back to the screen.

61.89%

"whAT aRe YO- yOu sTilL dOiNg HEre? i figUrEd yoU'D bE eAGer- ER tO gEt OUt." That question was actually a genuine one. As far as Error was concerned, Fresh had no reason to linger.

The parasite just barked, as if it was all a joke. Maybe it was, to them. "And why would I go and do dat when what I want is right here, babe?"

Error’s breath hitched. Something so cold it was hot curled in his stomach, spreading its tendrils up his spine. He was suddenly aware of how small the space between them was, how the emergency lights flickered over the raw, unnatural shifts in Fresh’s posture. The parasite was coming closer again, feet making no sound as it stepped over clumps of glass, like it was gliding in the dark.

"Y- YeAh? AnD wHa- whAt, w- W- WOuLd tHAt bE..?"

Fresh grinned, a slow, creeping thing. "Oh, c'mon, ain't it obvious by now?" The glitch was wary of the way its claws were twitching. “I been real patient. All that real good jazz. But now I finally get to woo ya, boo!"

Error felt his ribs lock up, a sharp, crawling feeling worming through the marrow of his bones. His socket twitched as he stared, breath barely there. His claws scraped into the underside of his desk.

Fresh was still smiling, but there was something new behind it now, something deeper than his usual vacant, half-mocking amusement. There was a focus that hadn’t been there before.

Error saw a hunger.

69.98%

"Sugar, ya really ain't caught on yet..?" Fresh’s tone was light, teasing- mocking, almost. He lifted a skeletal hand, turning it over like he was examining it, before flicking his wrist lazily in Error’s direction. "Been studyin’ ya this whole time. Watchin' the way ya vibes work, psychin' ya out. And man, I gotta say..." The ring of red in his socket expanded, stretching wide as his grin followed suit.

"...Ya really are perfect, bae."

Error felt sick.

Predatory fixation, they said.

His bones twitched as he rapidly scanned over Fresh’s frame. He didn't even know what he was looking for - a joke? A hint of humor? - but whatever it was, there was none of it to be seen. And something inside the glitch just broke.

For some reason, the idea of Fresh truly targeting him specifically was the final straw.

"Maybe that thing just understands how unnatural glitches like him are.."

"Think it's scared of him?"

"Fuck, imagine being such a freak that even the bodysnatching alien is afraid of you!"

"Heh, maybe it wants something exotic?"

And that was it... wasn't it? Because he was a glitch...

That was all it ever came down to.

76.42%

Seeming to notice his turn of mood, Fresh leaned down dramatically and caught Error's gaze from the floor. "You ain't gotta be shy, babe," Fresh crooned, his tone dripping with sickly amusement. "I totes get it. This is all real sudden for ya, huh? But don’t worry, Duckie, I been thinkin' real hard 'bout how to make this easy on ya."

Leaning up again was awkward, and Error watched as Fresh made a near stumble as it regained its balance. But he didn't dare allow himself to think the parasite was that clumsy.

The screen flickered, the transfer bar crawling ever closer.

83.09%

"H- HaH, I- i d-dON't KnOw wHat- whAt yOu'rE tHinKiNg, b- BuT I aM nOt a g- g- Good hoSt," Error rushed to get out, soul beginning to pick up its pace as a sense of dread began to overwhelm his system. There was a faint snap underneath his claws as the edge of the desk finally broke under the pressure.

The faint scratch of pain helped to deter the developing cloud of static from flooding his sockets, instead shooting down his arms and fizzling around the splintered gaps in his hands. Error could only fight for dear life to remain in control. He couldn't crash here, he couldn't crash here, he couldn't.

“Ohhh,” Fresh exhaled, stepping closer, his stolen bones creaking. "Ohhh. Is that what ya think this is about..?" He chuckled, tilting his head in that unnatural way again.

Then, in the slow, deliberate way a predator corners its prey, he reached out and tapped a claw against Error’s chest. Right over his soul.

Error flinched hard. His whole body locked up, static crackling violently over his frame and shuddering over every pixel and snap of loose code. He didn't even realize Fresh had gotten so close.

"Ya got it all twisted, Sugarpie," Fresh crooned. "I ain't lookin' for no host outta you."

The eye in Fresh’s socket narrowed, focused, his grin splitting just a little wider, enough that the hint of sharp canines that were definitely not naturally meant to be there gleamed in the light.

Error thought he caught movement from within the empty dark socket, and promptly felt faint.

"I'm lookin' for a mate, babe."

90.67%

"Aww, there it is," Fresh cooed, his voice full of saccharine delight as he watched the glitch freeze up. "Finally catchin’ on, are ya, sweets? Yeah, I been trying ta figure ya out, bae. Never seen magic like yours, at least, not from monsters- but I just didn't know what to make a' ya at first..."

The parasite reached out again, but he was slower this time, evidentially showing Error their movements to avoid startling him. The monster still couldn't help but flinch as those claws traced over his etchings, too sensitive and too familiar a place for any touch, much less this one's.

It made a crackling sound, as if trying to click its tongue. "But now I know for sure. You're just right for me."

Instead of pulling away, Fresh followed his hand in to crowd Error's space, forcing the skeleton to lean back against the desk, his retreat cut short.

"That pretty magic of yours is just what my kind need to get funky- if you catch my drift."

Error felt like his entire body had locked up. His magic- it wasn’t normal, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t supposed to be desirable. It's what made him such a freak. But Fresh- Fresh was looking at him like-

Like he was wanted.

99.02%

Error couldn't feel his legs anymore.

"Now, let's see if ol' Fresh here can't get ya to sweeten up a lil'."

In a blink, Fresh was on him. Error barely had time to register the shift, the crackle of movement, before fingers snapped around his wrist. His entire body seized- the touch burning like something was reaching under his magic, into his ribcage-

100%

The download was complete.

And Error was out of time.

Chapter Text

NIGHTMARE'S GANG MURDER TR BAD GUY RULES!!:

Hey Newbie! If you're reading this then congratulations!! You've been officially welcomed as the boss' latest pet idiot worker!

You've probably already read over the boss' official rules, but now it's time to learn the REAL itty bitty details if you want to stay sane here and not die, lol.

So, once you've read this book front to back, just come to me (Killer) and we'll talk about anything else you might want to add about yourself!

The Handsome Leader, Killer

1. Assume that everyone in this castle has a shitty relationship with Frisk (as in their own Frisk, not Core) and humans in general.

i) Don't bring them up first in conversation until you get a better understanding of where everyone stands.

ii) Goes without saying that humans are NOT welcome within the castle.

iii) If you have a human attached to your soul and/or absorbed them don't worry about it, we don't judge. The boss is always available for chats about that kind of shit.

iv) Also include Chara on that too.

2. Don't ask the boss about his past.

i) Like DEADASS. Not even in passing/vague comments.

ii) If the boss ever brings up his past around you first, alert Horror immediately bc that means the boss is either A: Loopy from positivity poisoning, or B: Running low on negativity. And YES, there is a difference!! Don't ever try to fix it yourself even if you think you know how to deal with it.

iii) If you ever get into a situation where Dream tries to talk about their shared past to you, SHUT HIM THE FUCK UP!! And if you can't do that, then ignore whatever he says. It really fucks boss up when we learn things he's not ready to share yet.

iv) Don't talk about 'mommy issues' around the boss either.

3. Don't fight Error. (Or any of the gods alone!!)

i) Yes, we know that Error is an asshole. And will be the one to likely start any fights that should happen in the future, but he will also be the one to finish it if Nightmare doesn't get there in time to break it up!

ii) Srsly, Nightmare hasn't said as much but we all know that Error outranks him on the god-scale bullshit so DON'T you fucking dare PUT HIM IN THAT SITUATION!!! (I'll KILL you!! =) )

iii) plus the boss has something going on with him??? (trying to recruit him? Maybe dating? Parental imprint?? we have no fucking clue, just that hanging out with the glitch makes him happy) So yeah, if you fuck that up WE will fuck you up. No pressure.

iv) if you get in a situation where Error's hostile, use one of the following methods to deescalate the vibes:
A: blame it on someone else. B: get him ranting about Ink C: compliment him (this one should be taken with a grain of salt cause he's a paranoid mf and might call you out) D: offer him any chocolate or other valuables in 'exchange for your life'. E: talk him through it E: bring up Blue.

v) Reaper is a chill guy, just don't talk about his husband and all should be good. But if somehow you get in trouble with him, aim for the wings and book it, he's pretty much clipped without em (get it?? GET IT???)

vi) If you encounter Ink alone, RUN. We are not fucking with you, and nobody will laugh at you about it. Do whatever it fucking takes to get away from him, we'll understand.

4. Every Saturday night at 9:30-12:00PM we have a guys night; be there or be square!!

i) Killer guys night is not a fucking rule.

ii) GUYS NIGHT IS SO A RULE BC IF YOU ARE NOT THERE YOU ARE A SQUARE!!!!

iii) and if you DO show then Dusty can

5. The Tupperware is color-coded according to dates and marked availability.

i) red is for Sun-Sat, yellow is for Mon-Tue, green is for Wed-Thurs, and purple is for Fri.

ii) if you're ever hungry, look at the leftovers available in the fridge first before going to m Horror.

iii) Foodstuffs owned/claimed by somebody already will have a tag with their name written on it on the lid of the container; otherwise, they are free-for-all, but please take the older leftovers first to prevent anything from going bad.

iv) Should you ever find something that has spoiled please contact Horror as soon as possible.

6. The library is a particularly important place to Nightmare. Please avoid any destruction or disturbances around there if possible.

i) if anything should happen and - stars forbid - a book gets damaged, find Dust.

ii) understand that should any damage be irreversible you will have to face the consequences of your actions.

7. DO NOT fuck around on missions.

i) Jokes and maybe a few gags are fine, but no pranks or goofing off. (Exceptions can be made on supply runs)

ii) If the Stars or any other Outcodes pop in- even the 'harmless' ones, you tell somebody.

iii) Your health is more important than the mission's success. Don't take any unnecessary risks, don't be reckless, and don't think of yourself as expendable!!

iv) Stick with your 'buddy' on negativity runs, never lose sight of one another. If you do, return to 'ground-zero' and inform everyone on the gc.

8. The boss has a 'secret' weak spot for french onion soup. If I Horror ever cooks it, try to leave as much for him as possible.

i) Killer and Cross are crazy for chocolate and have secret chocolate stashes around the castle too; if you find one, its free pickings, but be prepared to fight for it if you're caught.

ii) Dust has a strong preference for finger foods. Try to avoid taking those up too during meals if you can.

iii) If you ever can't finish a meal, hand it to Horror- he'll finish it off, if not then leftovers it is.

iv) If Error ever actually shows any interest in any food non-chocolate FEED IT TO HIM.

v) Should you ever have the suspicion that someone's not eating right, either go to the boss or try to talk it out with them first.

9. We know there's no snake in the bathroom but Nightmare's shy about the whole hissing thing so just keep the whole snake thing alive.

i) first person to blow it has to do tub duty for three months.

10. Should something ever happen where you are compromised and can't directly return to the castle, and you need to quickly get to a safe location, below is a list of places you can hide out in until you can either contact us again, or the boss finds you:

i) Farmtale: Crop is a real bitch and good pal to Horror. He's also a great supplier for some particular food splurges. Good place to go to if food is needed, but not as great for protection.

ii) Sciencetale: Sci can be trusted as a neutral party and is willing to assist those in need, however expect to owe the guy a favor in exchange, and don't expect to stay long. Only good for short-time assistance.

iii) Fluffytale: Ccino and the boss have some kind of history. Bottom line is that we can crash the place for first aid AND security. Ccino won't let nobody fuck around with you in his café. Downside is little to no privacy.

iv) Epictale: Go to the Sans' place. He's close with Cross and is willing to help cover anybody in the gang. Don't expect great medical care but he can be relied upon for protection. Plus he's a scientist, so good to know in case that's relevant to the issue at hand.

v) Outertale: In Starfall, just before the asteroid belt, there's a secret path to the left of the forked cave that takes you up to the peak of the area. Once you reach the peak, in the direction of the comet field, go down the slope and you'll find an isolated area the inhabitants don't know about. Guaranteed nobody will find you here except Error.

vi) Underswap: THIS ONE SHOULD BE LAST RESORT!! Boss doesn't know about this too so don't get fucking caught here. Blue can easily be 'convinced' to help a guy out. Depending on his opinion of you, he can either be really agreeable or tricky to work with. Watch out for him trying to call any of his buddies, and watch his grin for twitches (that's his lie-tell). Try to keep time as short as possible and dip first chance you get.

11. If you see Horror doing the eye-thing (you'll know when you see it) approach him gently. Avoid making any harsh or loud noises until his sweating stops, then take hold of his hand around the metacarpals and use your other hand to gently pry away the claws from the proximal phalanges.

i) But if you can't bother to remember all of that just chill the dude out and be careful when trying to move his hand.

ii) Horror really likes blankets so that should help.

iii) Don't let him fall asleep after an episode; it's not good for his magic.

12. The west area of the forest (past the left of the barn) is the territory of the feral cat colony. Go over there at your own risk.

i) Should you ever have to risk going down that path, bring a bowel of unadon and a cup of cat grass sake; offer it to the colony queen, Lady NyanNyan for safe passage.

ii) If you see a trio of adorably small white kittens with red eyes, do NOT pet them no matter what. It's a trap.

iii) If you should encounter another cat walking down the path, it is polite to nod your head and meow in greeting (Me-yah-oh) NOT (me-ow)

iv) Bring Killer with you at your own peril, you may never come back.

13. Dust sometimes sleepwalks, if you accidentally bump into him like that dw, just get the boss and things will be fine.

i) but if things are not fine, then don't use magic near him no matter what you fucking do, and keep a tight leash on that LV.

ii) Just give Dust his space and he'll be okay.

14. Sometimes Nightmare has these... fevers? Dizzy spells? At first we thought they were bouts of low negativity but apparently they're tied to the phases of the moon. Anyway, when these happen, the boss doesn't usually remember much so don't bring up anything he doesn't first. These moments are super sensitive for him.

i) He'll be crazy lethargic and clingy, let him cuddle with you even if you're busy. He'll fall into a doze eventually, and if what you're working on is really important, then just pass him off to someone else.

ii) Don't let him eat anything heavy; his digestion is fucked up or some shit and he'll get irritable and dyspeptic.

iii) Be careful around his corruption, the fever makes it warmer and more runny and aqueous. He'll be prone to leaving stains and smears, and too much pressure could wipe away whole globs. Don't panic if it happens, but try to not do it much, yeah?

iv) If Nightmare starts crying in his sleep, get Killer.

v) Watch out for his right socket, if that side of his skull looks like its sinking in a little, he needs negativity. If he complaining about headaches NEGATIVITY RUN STAT.

15. Alternatively, he also has these manic bouts- also tied to the moon phases. Again, Nightmare doesn't seem to remember these times very clearly, so keep discretion in mind when handling him.

i) He'll be a lot more demanding and huffy for attention. Even if whatever he's fussing about seems ridiculous just go along with it, compliance over the littlest things make him crazy happy. (And happy boss means happy us)

ii) We don't let him go out when he's like this, so if he tries to spontaneously drag you out on a whim or chore, distract him. If he does manage to get you out, contact the gc ASAP.

iii) If he starts clawing you, don't freak out, he's just kneading you. (yes, like a cat. We haven't really figured that out yet either but it's fucking cute and actually crazy relaxing so just go with it)

iv) NO fighting when he's in a manic phase!! Seriously, the moment he detects LV flaring up or aggressive magic in the castle he FREAKS his SHIT and will maul you, drag you into his room and/or library and will spend the rest of the day hissing and fussing and sitting on you. (NO YOU CANNOT JUST FLARE YOUR MAGIC UP JUST TO GET FUSSED OVER BY THE BOSS, FUCK OFF, HE CAN ACTUALLY ACCIDENTALLY HURT YOU LIKE THAT) (the last note is directed towards Killer but still applies to EVERYONE)

16. Sometimes Error might kidnap you.

i) If he's mad and fussy, just keep him talking until the boss shows up.

ii) If he's gloomy and moody, then you're good, he probably just wants to either hangout or get some advice. (but srsly, be real with him cause apparently not many others are)

iii) If he's dead serious be careful. He wants something. And if he's not going directly to the boss for it, chances are its not something good.

17. Shit, realized we shoulda wrote this first our bad; If you ever find yourself with a problem you can't or don't want to go to the boss with:

i) Go to Killer if you need advice about general shit about life in the castle, work schedule, money, and the boss.

ii) Go to Dust for interpersonal affairs (yeah we know how that sounds but TRUST he's the one to go to) medical concerns, and scientific concerns/topics.

iii) Go to Horror for diet, chores, mental health junk ethics, and suprapersonal concerns.

iv) Go to Cross for training, work guidance (both for fighting and paperwork), and problems with the Stars.

v) If you catch him in a chill mood, you can ask Error about shit regarding code, multiverse bullshit, and glitch stuff.

18. The third stair on the east staircase creaks. Avoid it if you’re sneaking out at night.

i) The doors at the end of the western lowermost corridor is loud as fuck. Avoid that too when sneaking for the kitchen past midnight.

19. The boss' tendrils have like... a language of their own.

i) When they're swaying at a languid pace, he's happy. Combine that with the tips curling, he's really pleased about something.

ii) When they're twisting and twining around one another, he's nervous or deep in thought. If they're swaying and doing that, he's freaked out or just stimming.

iii) When they're stiff, he's pissed. Like, really pissed.

iv) When they’re flicking rapidly, he’s annoyed or impatient. Especially if they start to slap against the nearest surface, he's getting irritable at that rate.

v) When they’re coiled tightly around his body or otherwise hovering close to him, he’s feeling defensive or insecure.

vi) Sometimes they're reaching out to someone without him noticing; we've figured that's him feeling lonely or just moody or something. Be careful about giving him a hug when this happens.

vii) When they’re vibrating and/or twitching slightly, he’s amused or trying not to laugh. (Or... ahem... in need of some alone time WINKWINK)

viii) Should they start doing that weird spiral thing, get the fuck down.

*  The next page comes up blank. You flip through them after that, only to find the rest of the book empty.

*  You put the book back.

Chapter Text

Killer walked the halls until winding up back in the lobby. There was just a faint magnetism to the space, the very first place where he had taken his first steps, his first glimpse into the reality beyond his barren Underground. He felt that he could spend hours here, staring into the epic chandelier, the tender mosaics of stained glass cupping the ceiling and bleeding with faint blues and lavenders and sea greens.

The stone beneath his feet pulsed and breathed with the life of magic much older and stronger than anything he's ever known; even the barrier, with all of its vast strength and timeless diligence against the march of time, seemed so small and fleeting in the face of this castle's - this shrine's - sanctity.

There was no life in these halls, no humans or monsters in the entirety of this dimension save for him and the one who brought him here. Yet, the air felt more alive than even when the Underground was filled to the brim with monsters. Why was that...?

Maybe it's because this place wasn't stained with countless genocides?

Maybe they were never alive in the first place?

Maybe you just don't care?

He had spent so long, so many cycles, so many RESETs that this new change of pace felt... strange. It was hard to figure out how he should be feeling. Nightmare said his mutated soul had become so disconnected from the nature a monster ought to have that it didn't behave as one anymore.

What a kind way to say he was fucked up.

He ended up returning to his skulking soon enough, listening to the way his footsteps echoed through the open space.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He still wasn’t sure what to make of this place - or of Nightmare. The spirit of negativity had plucked him from his empty, self-destructive cycle and brought him here, offering him a purpose he didn't quite have a full understanding of yet. Killer hadn’t asked for it, but he hadn’t refused either. Anything was better than the numbness.

Despite his expectations, the spirit was... respectful. He'd expected to have been used as a stuffed dummy, mentally abused and tortured to be made completely and utterly obedient. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if Nightmare just swiped him for some cheap, temporary entertainment. But none of that happened.

Instead, Nightmare had given him a room, furnished it with everything he could possibly need. He’d provided food, clothes, even books- though Killer wasn’t much of a reader. The one time Killer did bring up an opportunity for the spirit to reveal his more malevolent nature, Nightmare just looked at him in helpless confusion. As if tormenting Killer truly never even crossed his mind.

It was strange, being cared for like this. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

He found himself watching Nightmare more often than not, trying to figure the spirit out. Nightmare was regal and commanding, with an air of authority that made Killer feel small in comparison. But there was something else too, something softer. He'd catch Nightmare sizing him up too, engaging him with small talk to peek into his headspace. There were times he swore he felt a flicker of warmth, a gentleness that broke through his soul's anaphia. It was almost as if the spirit was trying to reach out, to connect in a way that Killer hadn't expected from a being born of negativity.

Killer’s thoughts were interrupted by a shadow moving in his periphery. He raised his head, sockets narrowing as the darkness seemed to solidify into a shapeless mass. Nightmare stood there, his tentacles swaying lazily behind him, his single glowing eye fixed on Killer.

“Dinner is ready.” The spirit said, his voice calm and measured, maybe even gentle, even. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Killer was hungry, now that he thought about it, and wasn't that interesting in itself? Could Nightmare feel his hunger? And if so, why not take advantage of it?

He didn't voice these thoughts, though - given how the god had reacted last time - and just decided to go along with it. Killer gave Nightmare his best 'grateful' smile and didn't dare step too close. "Yeah, sounds great, boss. Thanks."

Nightmare nodded, a faint smile playing on his face; maybe bashful, maybe prideful, definitely interesting. “You’re welcome. Come join me in the dining hall.” Killer could only nod, slightly dazzled by the faintest glow of seafoam teal washing over Nightmare's skull.

He also made sure to take note of the way his tendrils swayed and waggled at the ends and committed them to memory, figuring pretty quickly that they must've been the spirit's tells.

As Nightmare turned to leave, Killer felt a strange warmth in his chest. It was... something. Nightmare had given him a purpose, a home, and now... whatever this was. Killer wasn’t sure what to make of it - it had been so long since he'd felt like this - but even if he couldn't figure out his own 'feelings' yet, he knew one thing for sure: he owed Nightmare everything he had right now.

And wasn't that something?

He had been living here for weeks now, but he still felt like he was walking on eggshells. Nightmare was kind, yes, but he was also... intimidating. Killer wasn’t sure how to act around him, how to continue the game from here.

Killer wasn’t sure what possessed him to open the door. He’d been wandering the castle, lost in thought, when he’d stumbled upon the bathroom. Spontaneously, he figured a bath wouldn't sound too bad right about now and pushed the door open.

The sight that greeted him made his soul do a strange flux. Nightmare was already in there, his form partially submerged in the large, ornate pool. His tentacles floated lazily in the water, and his eye was closed, expression one of calm relaxation and bliss. Killer... was entranced. At least until the spirit turned his head and slowly cracked his eye open to give Killer a questioning look.

The skeleton felt his face flush with magic, and he quickly backed away. “S- Sorry! I didn’t mean ta-”

“It’s fine,” Nightmare said, his voice calm and unhurried. “Come in.”

Killer froze. “Uh.. are you sure, boss?” Was this a test? A trap?

Nightmare opened his eye fully now, fixing Killer with a steady gaze. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. You came here to bathe, did you not?” One of his tendrils lazily lifted itself from the water, slowly twisting to point toward the empty clothes bins lined up on the far wall, right next to the open balcony closest to the moon. "Don't let me stop you, Killer."

Something about the way Nightmare said his name made Killer’s soul flutter.

He hesitated, then stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The air was warm but not humid thanks to the open air; the scent of lavender and something earthy filled his senses the further in he went.

After stripping his clothes and setting them away in a bin, he approached the bathtub cautiously, not really paying any mind to his own nakedness as he did to Nightmare's.

As Killer settled, his gaze drifted over the godly being's form. He’d never seen the spirit like this before- completely exposed, his corruption on full display. Nightmare’s bones were black, coated in a slick, tar-like substance that seemed to shift and ripple faintly, as if alive. The corruption clung to him like a second skin, accentuating the sharp lines of his frame.

In between scrubbing himself down and flossing his joints, his eyes lingered on Nightmare’s face. The right side was entirely covered by the corruption, the socket completely hidden beneath the black goop. Within the socket that was exposed, Killer could see the fuzzy eyelight glowing softly within his half-lidded stare, allowing his pearly white grin to almost glow within the dim lighting.

Killer’s gaze travelled lower, taking in the tendrils that were floating around the kingly entity. He knew just how strong, how fast those deceptively large limbs could move. They were thick and powerful weapons of mass destruction, yet they moved with a surprising grace as they bobbed in the water.

There was something... mesmerizing about Nightmare’s appearance. Killer hadn't seen many skeletons in his time, but Nightmare was clearly something different. He was otherworldly, his form a blend of beauty and danger that was impossible to look away from.

Killer felt his magic race in a way that made him feel almost lightheaded, wondering what he looked like below the water's surface.

“You’re... not what I expected,” Killer said, his voice barely above a whisper, forcing himself away from such dangerous thoughts.

Nightmare raised a brow bone, a faint smile of intrigue playing on his mandible. “Oh..? And what did you expect?”

Killer shrugged, his face still flushed. Damn, what was up with that? “I don’t know. Something... scarier, I guess.”

Nightmare chuckled, the sound low and warm, taking no offence. “I can be scary when I need to be. But not with you.”

Killer felt his mouth grow dry. Weird. His soul was also starting to look a little funny... “Why not?”

Nightmare’s expression softened, and he gestured for Killer to come closer. “Because you're mine. Now... are you going to sit there all day, or are you going to help me?”

Killer blinked, confused and strangely relieved for the quick change in conversation. “Help ya?”

The king began to shift, and Killer felt his body grow tense as the spirit shifted with his head leaning forwards against the rim of the bath, exposing his back to him. “The base of my tendrils needs cleaning. It’s... difficult to reach on my own. So you can do it for me.”

Killer hesitated, then stepped forward, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the sponge. He dipped it in the water, then with absolute tenderness that Killer didn't even know he had, began to delicately clean the spirit's spine.

His touch was careful and deliberate as he wiped between segments, easing into the vertebrae before hesitantly moving to the actual corruption. The base of Nightmare’s tendrils was surprisingly soft, the corruption smooth and warm under Killer’s fingers.

“Why do you trust me?” Killer asked, his voice oddly soft. “I’m... a killer. I could hurt you.” Because Killer wasn't delusional enough to actually think he could come anywhere close to killing this absolute unit of a creature. But why tempt him so in the first place?

Nightmare’s eye closed again, his expression one of calm contentment as a breathy chuckle escaped him. “You could,” he said, his voice calm and measured.

“But you won’t. Just as I could have killed you at any time since you arrived. But I didn’t.”

Killer’s hands stilled, his mind racing. Nightmare’s words were simple, but they carried a weight that Killer couldn’t ignore.

He hadn’t thought of it like that. He’d been so focused on Nightmare’s power, on the safety and purpose the spirit provided, that he hadn’t even considered the trust he’d placed in Nightmare.

And that was thrilling as it was terrifying.

“...Oh,” Killer couldn't bring himself to say more after that. Throat itchy and soul now resembling star candy. The core of his being didn't feel like it was in pain, though; in fact, it felt fuzzy... hot and tingly, even. Why was it getting so hot?

Nightmare turned slightly, his eye meeting Killer’s. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand that this is a lot to take in, and you will need time to adjust to this new life. I just want you to understand that I chose you precisely for the way you are"

That made him feel things. Did Nightmare know that? Could he feel this too?

"You are unique, Killer. My nature is not often one welcomed by monsterfolk, but you have embraced negativity well, and it is from that I feel we can come to an understanding that none other can grant us."

Killer’s breath hitched, and he nodded, his hands resuming their task. As he cleaned Nightmare’s back, he felt a strange bubbling in his chest. It wasn’t just fascination anymore. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name.

His ribcage tightened, magic rushing to his head as he realized, with a start, that he was... happy. Happier than he’d been in a long time. And it was because of Nightmare.

And... And wasn't that something?

Later that night, Killer lay in bed, his mind still buzzing with thoughts. The warmth in his chest hadn’t faded, and he found himself replaying the events of the evening over and over in his mind.

Nightmare had trusted him. Had let him see a side of himself that no one else had. And Killer... Killer had felt something. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.

He rolled onto his side, staring out the window as his mind replayed the events of the evening, the way Nightmare had looked at him, the way he’d trusted him. Killer’s fingers absently slid toward his pelvis, panting as his thoughts slowly cycled into a frenzy.

Nightmare’s form - strong blackened bones, slick, powerful corruption, those mesmerizing tendrils! - was burned into his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The god was unlike anyone he’d ever met, his presence both commanding and strangely comforting- fuck he was so gentle..! The warmth slowly began to drip down into his belly, urging his fingers to rub up against his sacrum.

He remembered the way Nightmare’s eyelight had glowed in the dim light of the bathroom, the way his voice had softened when he’d said Killer’s name. He thought about the way Nightmare’s tendrils had floated in the water, their movements graceful and hypnotic. A breathy gasp escaped his throat as the warmth began to sparkle and fizzle within his marrow, making him squirm.

What would Nightmare’s corruption taste like? What would it be like to feel those tendrils wrap around him, holding him close? Killer’s breath hitched as his imagination took over, painting vivid pictures of Nightmare’s claws on him, of the spirit’s teeth clashing against his, of the two of them tangled together in the warmth of the bath, of him above Nightmare and-!

The monster's face flushed, and he buried it in his pillow and bit down on a mouthful of soft linen, trying to stifle the moans seeping from his mouth as his fingers played with the magic coagulating within his pelvic inlet.

Just like that, with his thoughts flooded with increasingly raunchy images of his boss, he had a dry orgasm.

. . . .

After recovering from the frankly, startlingly high afterglow, Killer lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, panting and trembling as his racing soul settled, and his brain fog subsided.

He stared at the twinging heart, vaguely aware of his face still feeling hot and his core still itching for more.

"Fuuuuuck."

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, but instead of panicking, Killer felt a strange sense of calm.

It made sense, didn’t it?

Nightmare had given him purpose, had trusted him, and had shown him respect and kindness in a way no one else ever had.

Of course he’d fallen for the spirit. How could he not?

A slow grin spread across Killer’s face, exhilaration lighting up his body from the inside out. If he was going to be infatuated with Nightmare, might as well own it.

And if Nightmare trusted him enough to let him see him so vulnerable, then maybe... just maybe...

Maybe he could get lucky~

Killer’s mind began to race, plotting and scheming. He wasn’t sure how to seduce a being like Nightmare, but he was determined to figure it out. Perhaps it was loneliness that inspired him to pick Killer up? He could work with that, be the one Nightmare could confide in, the one he could depend on- the right-hand man.

A sleazy purr erupted from the pits of his stomach.

Nightmare's right-hand... That had a sexy ring to it alright~

Chapter Text

Error stood in the back room of the pub, his arms crossed and his face flushed with embarrassment. The outfit Killer had picked out for him was... well, it was something obviously swiped from some Lustverse. The real shock was how it still managed to almost seem legitimate, at least until he actually put the damn thing on.

It was a frilly black-and-white waitress dress that fought against his bust and waistline, as if it were two sizes too small. Complete with a tiny apron and a pair of heels and stockings, he looked ridiculous.

He glared at the mirror, finding that the more he looked, the more his stomach began to tighten up with knots, slowly burrowing into the bowels of his guts and making him wish he could just rip the thing to shreds and jump into the void for a few days.

But that felt too much like running away, and Error wasn't a coward.

“ThiS iS sTUpiD,” he muttered, tugging at the hem of the dress. “i loOK StUPid.”

But he already agreed to go through with it, now didn't he? And the others were waiting for him.

He could hear their muffled voices and occasional laughter drifting in from the main room. They were probably placing bets on how long it would take him to chicken out. The thought made him scowl.

“I cAn’t bELieVe I agReED tO thIs,” he grumbled to himself. But deep down, he knew why he’d said yes. It wasn’t just because they’d begged him (though they had, relentlessly).

It was because he wanted to make them happy.

Even if it meant prancing around in a dress like an idiot.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "iT's j- JuST sOmE sTUpId fAnTAsY bUllShIT," he told himself. "it'S nOt lIKe iT's A biG dEAl. i- iT's sTiLl sEX. noThiNG IS diFfErENt fr- FrOm aNY oThEr- ER tImE..."

Error gave his reflection a growl, "jUSt gO OuT tHeRE, lET tHem- eM gEt tHEir rOCks oFf, aND ThEn iT'Ll bE liKe eV- EveRy oThEr TiME."

The pep talk helped, a little. He straightened his dress, adjusted his apron, and took one last look in the mirror. His ecto was shining through the polyester around his hips, but he forced himself to ignore it. He could do this. For them.

The place was cozy, with warm lighting and a faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air. They had taken extra measure to not spill any dust in here, so nothing was damaged or out of place, either. If anything, aside from the unnatural silence throughout the entirety of the AU, the Grillby's was as it's always been, just as thick with nostalgia as it was with grease.

Error stepped out from the back room, his heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. The sound drew the attention of the table where his partners were seated, and all eyes turned to him.

He felt something thump hard in his ribcage as their eyelights smoldered. The lustful intent practically caressing his bones though the slutty little outfit as he closed the rest of the distance between them.

Killer leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening as he gave Error an appreciative once-over. A red glow could be seen rising up over his face, and Error tried hard not to focus on just how heavy their collective gazes were on him.

“Damn, babe." Killer whistled, elbowing Dust a little in a bid for his attention, "since when did Grillby hire a waitress as sexy as this?”

Error shot him a glare, but the little rat bastard just winked, clearly enjoying himself, and the view.

"Nnf." Dust didn't even bother to snap about the jab, clearly too busy ogling the generous amount of cleavage on display... as was Cross.

Oh, for fuck's sake-

"cRoSS!" Error couldn't help but scream at the monster in incredulous embarrassment, having caught the idiot starting to drool. Gods, he wasn't even naked yet! What, did all Error have to do to reduce them all to horny animals was put on a shitty waitress costume?!

Apparently so.

"S- Sorry..!" Jumping at the shout, the soldier tensed up in his seat, skull glowing with a pretty lavender as the table erupted with laughter.

"Sorry 'bout our pal here, he ain't used to pretty things like you." Horror gave Error his best winning smile, comforting their flustered lover with a few pats to the back.

With a huff, Error just rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering how excited they were for this bullshit. How he had to stay in 'character' tonight. Character, yeah, character...

Clearing his throat, Error reminded himself to play along, making a show of adjusting his apron, subtly emphasizing the curves of his ecto body as he pulled out a notebook (from where Dust found it he didn't want to know) and pen. His partners' eyes followed every movement, their gazes burning with unadulterated desire.

It made something in the glitch's core writhe in delight at the attention.

Killer, still grinning, leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "I think I'll start the night off with a whiskey on the rocks, sweetheart," Killer purred, his voice low and husky, fingers twitching where they laid flat against the wood.

As Error nodded, he flipped open the notebook and began to furiously scribble nonsense onto the page- no way was he going to fucking give himself a headache trying to write on such a tiny ass page.

"I'll... have a Blue Lagoon." Horror paused for a moment, probably needing a moment to remember what they actually prepared behind counter for the 'foreplay'. Not that Error would've messed that up even if Horror did forget. His was going to be the only mocktail out of the lot.

As he was taking the rest of their 'orders' Error didn't notice the slippery limb curling up from the table's shadow until it brushed against one of his inner thighs. Startling at the touch, the glitch dropped his pen, cursing as it bounced off the edge of the table and clattered onto the floor.

"Oops." Error gave Nightmare a scathing look as the spirit chuckled, completely unrepentant. "Best get to that, beautiful. My men are quite thirsty tonight, and I'm afraid they may not be able to wait for their drinks."

Oh, that arrogant little bitch-

Bending over to swipe the pen back up with an angry huff, Error froze half-way, realizing a little too late that the skirt was too short to properly hide everything while leaning over.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a hand reached out and took a handful of his ass.

"h- HeY...!" Face flaming with a sudden bolt of adrenaline, Error craned his head back with a gasp, feeling his ecto give a frazzled pulse of mixed intent as Dust leered down at him with a smug lilt to his grin.

"Aw... My bad, my hand slipped, doll." Despite his words, the skeleton made no moves to stop his groping. In fact, Error felt the tips of his claws dig and tease his ecto, taking fat handfuls and squeezing with a bounce in his wrist that made Error grit his teeth and quickly dig in his heels, lest he lose his balance like this.

"q- qUit It sh- sHithEAD!" The glitch let out a stifled moan as he was touched, sockets going wide in shock at his own reaction.

Did- Did he just moan from getting his ass touched?

Dust merely chuckled, as if reading his lover's thoughts. "Mmn," he narrowed his eyes, as if debating whether or not to actually listen to him, or to just keep touching Error so shamelessly in front of their other lovers, like he was some piece of meat he just couldn't keep his hands off of-

"Alright." Without warning he let him go, allowing Error to quickly dive for the pen and stumble back up to his full height, soul racing faster than ever from just a little touching. As he regained his composure, he couldn't help but notice the others giving him amused looks. Unblinking. Like starving dogs.

Stars help him.

Hesitantly stepping back a little further from the table, Error rushed through the rest of the orders before practically running for the counter.

Why the fuck was he feeling so hot already? It- It was just some stupid fantasy bullshit! It..! It... didn't mean anything.. Just.. it was just some stupid fetish shit for those perverts to get their kicks out of... that's all.

So, why was he feeling so...

Flustered. Embarrassed. Aroused.

Whatever. Just- let's just get this over with.

Reaching under the counter, Error found the tray of pre-made drinks. The ice was half-melted by now, but none of them gave enough of a fuck to really care. He grabbed the tray, his hands slightly unsteady, and turned back toward the table. The moment he did, he regretted it.

All five of them were staring at him, their gazes intense and unrelenting. The sharpness of their intent told Error that they no doubt had something schemed, a distinct perverseness behind their eyelights. His core scrambled and coiled, making his breaths come short as he imagined them slapping the tray out of his hands and throwing him on the table-

Error’s soul made a funny twinge as it thundered against his clavicle, and he forced himself to take a deep breath as he forced down a blush.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Just.. just serve the drinks and get it over with.

He walked back to the table, his heels clicking unusually loud as they echoed in his skull. The sound seemed sharper than before, harsh in the otherwise quiet room. He set the tray down on another table, his hands oddly light and fleeting as he started passing out the drinks.

“heRe,” he muttered, avoiding their gazes as he handed Killer his drink. “DOn’t cHoKE on iT.”

Killer chuckled, his fingers brushing against Error’s as he took the glass. It made something flutter and zap underneath his bones. “Thanks, sweetheart. But I think I’d rather choke on something else.”

Despite having heard such low-brow quips - especially from Killer - before, Error’s face flushed, and he quickly moved on to Dust, who was watching him with a feverish, intense stare. The peak of his thighs began to feel damp as he remembered how hot and heavy that hand felt on him. “Your MoScow m- MuLE,” Error said, setting the glass down in front of him.

Dust raised a browbone, his smirk cheeky but not mocking. “Thanks. But I think I’ll need something a little more... substantial to quench my thirst.” His eyes roved over Error's body, making him feel like a delicacy on display.

Error’s ecto glowed brighter, and without so much as a scoff from him, he moved on to Horror, who looked to the drink and lit up.

“Here,” Error said, handing him his drink with a bit more care than the others. “Don’t spill it.”

Horror took the glass, his claws actually closing over Error’s for a moment before delicately pulling it out of his hand. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, his voice warm. “You’re doing great.”

Error’s eyelights flickered, and he quickly moved on to Cross, who was practically vibrating with nervous-eager energy. “Your drink,” Error said, setting it down in front of him.

This time, he just huffed fondly, seeing the soldier struggle to pull his gaze away from his breasts.

“Th- Thanks, gorgeous,” Cross managed to snap out of it, his voice a little rough with desire but sincere as he gave him that boyish, roguish grin. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Stupid, charming anomaly.

Error’s face flashed with heat, and he quickly pulled his hand away. “yEAh, whaTeVEr,” he muttered, though his face was glowing brighter than ever.

Finally, he turned to Nightmare, who was watching him with a predatory grin.

Error felt his tongues get a little tangled as they tried to move over one another. Feeling self conscious, hyper-aware of his body as he pressed himself against the table to reach over to Nightmare's end. He really tried to focus on maintaining his balance on those damned heels, really, but Nightmare's gaze was just as intense; his eyelight burning with that look that Error knew meant he'd be made downright stupid for the next few hours.

Fuck, he needed it bad.

"y.. yOur- ur bOuleVardiER.." Error was sure he fucked up on the pronunciation on that, but any self-consciousness surrounding that melted away as Nightmare chuckled in that dark way he loved.

Nightmare's hand closed around his wrist, his grip gentle but unyielding.

"Ah, darling, you're shaking," The spirit purred, his voice husky and sinister- but Error could still see the subtle concern flashing across his face, making his insides feel like goo, making him forget that he was in a stupid dress, standing in stupid heels, and acting some stupid little act just to prove to these idiots how much he loved them indulge them in a little game. "Are you nervous? You know we're not going to hurt you, don't you?"

Error's heart skipped a beat as Nightmare's words sent a shiver down his spine. Acting as both a tease and a discreet way to check up on him, to ensure he really wanted this.

He did. He really did.

"i.. I kNow..." Error breathed.

The spirit seemed to smile, his sharp teeth glinting in the warm light of the pub. “Good,” Nightmare purred, facial expression relaxing at the reassurance.

A tendril brushed against Error’s leg under the table, the touch light but deliberate as it slowly wound around one of his thighs. “Thank you, darling,” he purred, his voice low and smooth as his other hand slowly slid the drink closer to himself. “...I think I’ll take my time with this one.”

Before Error could question what that was supposed to mean, the tendril around his thigh seized him with a sudden force, shoving him upwards to collapse against the table.

Chairs screeched against the floorboards as the other monsters flew from their seats, and Error could barely bite back a shaken moan as another body fell over him and shoved his back down against the table.

The hand pressing down between his shoulder blades was huge and strong, pinning him effortlessly as the other reached underneath the thin strip of fabric that was his skirt and teased the knuckles against his squishy folds.

"H- HaaAh..!~" Error's cry echoed through the pub, gasping and writhing uselessly as another pair of hands slid onto his ass, spreading his cheeks to give Horror a better view of what he was playing with.

"Mmn, such a slutty little waitress we got here~" Killer's voice brushed against his skull, causing sparks of light and color to flash behind his eyes. "Poor thing could use some tips, don't you think, Dusty boy?~"

A growl from somewhere behind him had Error's cunt singing, arms flying up to grip the edges of the table and dig his claws in a meaningless bid to pull himself out from under Horror's weight. "Sure does, Killz. But the little whore'll have to work for em~"

Oh, oh- Error felt like he was melting, or dissolving, or maybe even both, neither? He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore expect how fucking crazy he was feeling from just a little manhandling and some dirty talk. What the hell was going on anymore? His pussy was tingling like crazy, fizzling and throbbing like a hungry, slutty nerve that needed to be touched.

The skimpy outfit felt so constricting around him, so tight and dirty and just making him want to shred it to pieces so they could cover him with their hands instead. His ecto was too hot, too sensitive, too needy.

This- This was just some fantasy shit for f- them..! Yes! It was- it was for-!

Error's entire body flexes and gets sent into a spin when Horror's fat phalanges glide through his soaking lips and teases his clit with the end of his claws. "I got a nice few tips right here," he growls.

A few chuckles sound out as those phalanges begin to brush through his quivering folds. Nightmare's grip on Error's wrist tightens, and the glitch struggles to catch his chin against the table, only to let out a soft, shaky mewl as he's only met with the spirit's self-satisfied grin.

Nightmare was simply lounging back, powerful and composed as he took measured sips of his drink, taking in his crew falling upon him like a bunch of starving dogs, like it was a show, watching Error get ravished like a slutty little toy..!~

"You're doing so well, darling. Just relax and let us take care of you."

Yes, yes, yes, fuck him please..!

Error makes a throaty keen as those fat tips slide right into his twitching hole.

"Fuck, look how wet he is. Horror's fingers just slid right in," Killer poorly whispered from over his head.

Horror wasted no time in thrusting his phalanges in and out of Error's hole, the motion slow and deliberate, making sure to rub against every little magic button between every drag. The pressure builds, and Error begins to truly lose his mind.

"AH!~ aH!~ FffhHAaa...!~"

"You're so tight, little waitress," Horror growls, his voice low and husky. "I think I'll take a closer look."

The bigger monster begins to finger-fuck him more aggressively, causing Error to nearly wail his little slutty head off as he writhed and squirmed, hips bucking against the table as he tries to get more traction, fighting against his lovers' combined grasp.

Dust's hands on Error's ass cheeks tighten, and he lifts Error's hips up, pulling his legs wider, spreading them so he was presented on his knees on the table, allowing Horror to delve deeper. Error's mewls turn into whimpers as he feels himself being stretched and probed.

Killer's voice is a husky whisper in his ear canal, "You're taking it so well, little waitress~ I think you're ready for a nice, fat tip!~"

There's some shuffling going on around him, but Error was too dazed to really keep track of things, too busy following the warm, hazy drag of claws inside of him, curling inside his slutty little hole and melting his brain from how hot it was. The gritty bite of the wood beneath the ecto on his knees, the sting in his claws as he ground into the table with every thrust.

Cross' voice chimes in from somewhere, "hey, Ruru~ Time to give your customers some special service." Hands suddenly appear on either side of his head, and Error moans and whines as he's gently guided to a fat, throbbing cock.

"You're going to take it all, little waitress. Every last inch."

Error stares at the cock, bleary eyelights taking in the sight of the thick, veined length as it pokes gently against his face. It rubs against his cheek, smearing pre-cum as the head trails towards his teeth, pressing against the opening and not so gently begging for entrance. The warm, hazy drag of Horror's claws inside of him is still echoing in his mind, and without much of a fuss, Error gives in and swallows the cock in one gulp.

"Ffffuuuuucckkk...!"

As Error swallows Cross's cock, one of the hands holding his jaw slips behind his head and gives him a feathery, gentle pet, causing his insides to glow and flutter with a feverish amount of love and devotion. "Good slut."

Yes, he was being good. Servicing his lover's cock like a good little slut!~

Cross's cock begins to move in and out of Error's mouth, and the glitch doesn't fight him. He sucks the dick with all the attention and care he can provide, head stuffed with slutty, hot cotton and honey as his tongues suckled and wrapped around the erection, making a lewd shlck, every time Cross nearly pulled out all the way as he fucked his face- oh fuck!~

"Fuck, look at him- he's loving it! Little bitch just can't live without those tips, heh!" One of Dust's hands suddenly slap his ass, and both Error and Horror make muffled noises as the glitch's sloppy cunt practically gushes from the sweet sting.

It felt good, it felt good. Especially feeling the lack of any harmful intent in the action. No, Error could feel Dust's intent, and it just wanted to make him feel good like the little slut he was!~

Horror's fingers continued to probe and stretch Error's hole, making him whimper and mewl around the cock in his mouth, which only inspired Cross to be rougher, which only made Error all the more eager to please him. The wonderful, mindless feedback loop just spirals out of control like a raging wildfire, feeding back into the spirit enjoying the obscene display with a faint heat to his cheeks.

Watching Error be used. Being loved and fucked and played with like a fucktoy, just for them~

Suddenly, Horror's claws are replaced by something thicker and longer, and Error's eyes go wide as he feels his slutty, drooling cunt being stretched to the limit. "AaaUupHh!~" He screams around the cock pounding down his throat, his muffled, ruined voice echoing through the pub as he's completely overwhelmed by the sensation of being absolutely owned.

Cross's cock continues to pound into his face, the motion fast and furious, chasing the edge that he knew was fast-coming from the way it was twitching in his mouth, the sharp smell of magic growing stronger as more and more pre-cum was smeared into the back of his throat.

Error's body starts to shake and tremble, his legs wobbling precariously on the table as Horror fucks him like a bought-and-sold bitch. The hand holding his jaw tightens, and the gentle petting behind his head becomes more insistent, as if trying to calm him down. The glitch can barely register it at this point.

So good, so good, tell him how good he was, tell him he was good..!

"Such a good little slut indeed~ It would be a shame to leave such a pretty thing in a dump like this. We should take him home with us... Would you like that, dear?~"

That was it for him.

Error's body locked up, his magic practically bursting out of control like a champagne bottle. With the loudest, sluttiest moan erupting from the pits of his belly, Error had one of the most mind-wiping, orgasmic climax of his life.

His limbs are convulsing, ecto flashing and magic splashing from his lewd cunt in a burst of bright gushes, filling the air with the sweet, stormy smell of water lilies and live wires. Error's sockets go wide at the peak of his climax, his mouth falling open and relaxing enough to allow Cross to thrust right down to the root.

Suddenly, the soldier's cock stops moving, and Error feels a warm, sticky liquid magic shooting down his throat. He swallows, and then swallows again, his bones rattling with pleasure as that tangy, sharp magic rose up to his mouth and was slowly being absorbed into his own. The cock inside his pussy continues to pound into him a few times more before slowing to a gentle thrusting motion, as if savoring the aftershocks of Error's climax.

Horror's breathing is heavy, his chest heaving with exertion as he leans in close to Error's head, his voice a gritty, broken growl. "You're so beautiful when you come, little slut. So responsive- fuck." He nuzzles Error's skull, hips jerking into a shallow, hurried pace before reaching his peak like the both of them.

Error keens as he feels Horror's magic shoot out inside of him, filling his womb with a pervasive heat that seems to seep into his very bones. His body trembles with pleasure, feeling Horror's possessive and loving intent soak into his ecto, and everything begins to feel just a bit fuzzier.

His vision is absolutely shot when Cross finally, gently pulls himself away and out of Error's mouth with a lewd little pop. Horror doesn't take long to follow, as he slowly pulls his cock out of Error's still-trembling pussy, the sound of his withdrawal echoing through the pub like a faint, wet slap.

Dust's hands on Error's asscheeks loosen, but only slightly, as he continues to hold Error's hips up, as his legs were no longer strong enough to prop himself up alone; keeping him open and exposed for their viewing pleasure as Horror's magic slowly trickles out of his fluttering, used pussy.

Fuck he felt so dirty. So fucking good.

"Fuck, such a good job." Killer cooed from somewhere. "Little waitress took his tips like a champ."

"Mhm, little slut is totally wasted on this place. Gonna be giving him lots of love back home- eh, Killer?" Dust hissed, it was in that tone that Error knew meant the other's LV was starting to trickle up.

"Oh yeah, gotta give him a big reward for such fine service!~"

Suddenly, Error's vision begins to darken along the edges, and he feels himself being lifted off the table, his body cradled in someone's hold. He's not sure what's happening, but he knows that he's completely safe with his lovers.

And then, everything goes black.

Chapter Text

The first thing Error registered, out of all of his senses, was the strange sound that was silence but also not. At first, he didn't notice anything off the bat- as he was slowly returning to the world of the living. But as he became more and more awake and somewhat aware, he came to notice an odd, rhythmic rushing in his ear canals, like waves crashing far away, muted but persistent. Like someone had stuffed a pillow inside his head, or a mana line got congested from all of the seafoam.

It was only when he habitually rolled his shoulders that he knew something incredibly wrong was at play. His lower spine felt numb and tight; everything below the belt simply began to tingle the moment he tried to move, as if he had slept at an odd angle and made both legs go numb. The fizzling sensation made him hiss- and even that, too, felt wrong. Everything about his body felt wrong.

Sockets still sore and bleary from exhaustion, Error tried to blink the heaviness out of his vision. He inhaled sharply, expecting the cool sting of salty air to flood his nonexistent lungs- but what he got instead was nothing.

No air, no sensation of breath filling his chest. He tried again, only to feel a cold, foreign pressure fluttering from just below his jaw.

What in the fuck...?

Error’s pulse spiked as panic prickled through his form. His hands - wait, what was wrong with his hands? - moved on instinct, but what swept in front of his sockets were not his yellow and red phalanges, but yellow and red phalanges with the addition of strange frills of blue ecto blooming out from his wrists, translucent and shimmery in a way that instantly woke him the fuck up.

“WhA-? WhaT tHe Fu-?!” His voice came out gritty and broken, like he just chugged an entire tank of lighter fluid and doubled it down with a lit match. His sockets widened in horror as he looked down- no legs, no solid form, just an elongated ecto body that shimmered with shifting shades of blue, ultramarine, and black. Finned appendages much like the ribbons around his wrists sprouted from his hips, fluttering with a mind of their own.

His breath hitched- or at least, it felt like it should have. There was no burning in his chest, no suffocation, no panic from lack of air. Instead, he felt something else- a twitching at his sides and neck, something opening and closing in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Gills. He had gills.

Like a fish. Oh fuck, oh fuck.

What the hell? This could not be happening to him. His mind reeled, but before he could even begin to process what was reality, a familiar voice echoed through the water, smooth and melodic, but carrying that same eerie calm that made his bones prickle with unease.

“You’re awake..! I was beginning to wonder when you’d join me again.” The not-mermaid's voice was soft, almost affectionate, but there was an undercurrent of something darker- something possessive.

Error flinched at the sound, memories flooding back all at once- the confrontation, the drowning, its limbs dragging him down into the depths as he struggled uselessly. He had died. Or at least, he should have.

But now... now he was something else entirely.

He forced himself upright- after belatedly coming to the realization that he was upside down, his movements clumsy and awkward as he tried to get a sense of his new body. As this new form shifted, he made the mistake of looking down and immediately wished he hadn't. Where he had instinctively tried to flex his legs, the sinuous, frilled appendages flapped and shuddered uselessly like baren wings.

His magic prickled and rushed to his head at the sight, struck with the urge to rip them off and shred the ecto until he could dig out his bones.

“no, nO, No, no, NO...” Error muttered, his voice a mixture of panic and hysteria.

It sounded clearer underwater, carrying less static and lower-pitched than usual. He could barely recognize it as his own. He clenched his hands - or tried to - and his new claws nearly bit through his palms in his carelessness, sending another wave of horror rippling through him.

“Oh... Wow.”

Error froze mid-thrash, his sockets snapping toward the source of the voice. Hovering nearby in the dark blue waters was the thing. The eyes on its mantle shimmered faintly with pink and lavender hues, his tentacles drifting lazily around him like ribbons or weeds. The monster’s eyelights gleamed with unblinking fascination, a wide, almost affectionate grin spreading across his face.

He would've been tempted to describe it as boyish if it weren't for the fact that it killed him.

“I was wondering how long you’d stay asleep. I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” It asked, tilting his head in a way that might’ve seemed innocent, if not for the way its limbs discreetly branched out to block the rest of the cave off to him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice soft and reverent and much too earnest for it to be true. “I knew you would be. The transformation went perfectly."

Silence stretched between them. Error could only stare, his sockets frozen wide as he fully took in just how horrendously big this fucking creature was. It had already towered over him on the boat, but now that they were in its natural element, the water only seemed to further enhance the not-mermaid's absurd bulk.

It seemed to misunderstand his shock, eyelights flickering between flashes of green, yellow and cyan, before grinning softly with a breezy, bashful lilt to their voice, "oh-! My name's Ink! I forgot that I didn't tell you my name yet, sorry!"

Error’s sockets twitched, heart hammering painfully in his ribcage. He clutched at his chest, but his trembling frilled limbs felt foreign and useless despite their claws. His mind screamed at him to react, to fight, to run- but he had no idea how to even move in this strange, alien form.

“WhaT DiD yOU Do tO Me?!” he choked out, his voice still distorted by the water. He tried to summon his strings on reflex, but his etchings only sparked feebly, flickering in and out like a dying flame. “yoU FReAk-!”

Ink didn’t seem fazed by the insult. If anything, his grin grew wider, his strange eyelights narrowing slightly with something akin to amusement. “I turned you into a siren, duh!” His voice was gentle, as though explaining something simple to a child.

“You were gonna leave, Error! Sorry, but I couldn't let you go.” He didn't sound sorry in the least. "Besides, you were gonna try to kill me too, I just beat you."

Error’s eyelights shrank to pinpricks at the sheer audacity of this freak. “sOrRy?! yOU're fUCkiNg- yOu miSeraBLE FuCK - soRRy?!” He screeched, his voice rising in incredulousness. “YOu- yoU tuRneD ME iNTo a mOnsTEr!”

Ink frowned, his expression one of genuine confusion. "But you were already a monster...?"

He gaped at the absolute idiot in disbelief. The buffoonery of this fish-faced lunatic was beyond anything Error had ever encountered. His sockets twitched, latent magic stuttering uselessly in his core as he struggled to process the sheer insanity of the situation.

“Th- THaT dOESn’T MeAn yOu cOULd-” Error stopped himself, gasping as he tried again to move, only for something inside of him to shift and watch as a bubble of air slipped out from- somewhere. His entire body dipped to the side, now weighed down by the notably less buoyant ecto.

Suddenly, he felt like he could move around a little easier.

A tremor ran through Error as he realized just how fucking helpless he was. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t use his magic right. He couldn't even figure out how to fucking move right-!

“You’ll get used to it,” Ink continued, pulling himself closer with a looming, bright grace. His free tentacles curled around him lazily, “you just need to practice is all. Then you'll be able to be a great hunter again.”

Error’s sockets flared in alarm, and he instinctively tried to back away, but Ink was already there, his presence overwhelming in the quiet, dark water. Error’s hands - claws, whatever they were now - swiped feebly, unable to stop the approaching siren.

He quickly realized that he was running out of room.

“St- StAY aWAy-!” Error’s voice cracked, a mixture of animal fear and fury pumping adrenaline into his skull. His magic flared again, more out of instinct than with purpose this time, but luckily, the lack of conflicting intent allowed a strange, burning heat to well up from the tips of his claws.

The monster lashed out, watching in breathless shock as glowing darts manifested and managed to stab right into the squid's nearest tentacle. The glowing shivs crackled with an energy that felt wrong, unstable- just like him. But there was power, an absolute refusal to give in or compensate that he had ground into his strings after years of relentless diligence.

The shivs melted into the squid's appendage, a sickly blue glow slowly spreading from the wound and flaring angrily with the rhythm of his soulbeat. Ink flinched back with a hiss, multicolored eyes widening in surprise as his grin flickered from the pain. The comb of tentacles blocking off the rest of the cave broke from the walls, curling up defensively on reflex to the attack.

The one Error stabbed looked numb and was already swelling with every reactive twinge; Ink tried to touch the area of the injury, only for his hands to fly away as the infection sizzled audibly.

Error didn't waste this opportunity.

He forced his stupid tail and his arms to push and grapple against the rocks around them, practically crawling past the monstrous skeleton's bulk and scrambling further in an awkward but surprisingly fast motion. Error couldn't suppress a harsh laugh at the look of pain on that squid bastard's face!

Serves the freak right! If there was one thing that Error had full confidence in beating anyone in, it was in manifesting a pure, violent intent to kill. Not even dying and turning into this could take that from him!

He'll make the slimy bastard pay! Once he slips away and finds a safe space to collect himself, he'll figure out how this new magic of his worked - he'll master it in no time! - make it his bitch and hunt that squid fucker down for daring to-!

A squawk was cut off from his throat as something suddenly yanked him backward.

No! How did he recover so fast?!

Another sound closer to an angry yowl bellowed out from the pits of his stomach as a single tentacle coiled around his tail and hauled him back. His back slammed against the back of the cave hard, all air - or water - rushing out of his gills.

He twisted around to try and manage another swipe, only for the tentacle chained around his tail to squeeze to a frightening degree. Error stilled. He could feel every muscle, every vein of magic, even the sharpness of the claws just barely restraining themselves from hooking into his comparatively softer ecto.

The moment he tried that stunt again, he'd lose the ability to swim before even knowing how.

A gritty vibration broke him out of his thoughts, eyelights shrinking as he saw Ink looming over him. The siren’s expression was one of savage delight, mantle flapping with amusement and grin too wide and toothy on his face.

"See?” Ink murmured, his voice dropping to something softer- dangerously sweet. Too sweet for the amount of violence he could smell in the water. “You’re already so strong. Deadly.” His grip on Error tightened just enough to bring his silent warning home. “Even after just waking up, you can hurt me! You’re already such a cool siren!”

Error’s breath hitched as he noticed the tentacle he’d poisoned- or rather, what was left of it.

The sleek appendage was now nothing but a short stump, black, inky blood clouding around the wound, but not dispersing much around it. Just a little way behind it, Error could see something large cast across the cave floor, slowly dissolving into seafoam.

Holy shit.

Did... Did this crazy bastard really...? Just- just like that? Just to keep Error from getting away? An entire limb like that wouldn't be easy to regenerate. There was no hesitation, no second thought- he had simply severed his own tentacle to keep the glitch from escaping.

Error's soul pounded in his chest like a war drum. His vision blurred, mind racing through every possible way to get out of this, but the sheer impossibility of it was pressing down on him like the weight of an entire mountain.

This freak - this monster - was absolutely insane. He wanted Error that bad...?

Ink tilted his head, watching him with an expression that was almost fond. "You're incredible, you know that?" He murmured, as if Error had just done something entertaining rather than tried to kill him. His severed limb drifted away like it was nothing, as if it didn’t matter- because to him, maybe it didn’t.

Maybe Error mattered more than his own limb.

The glitch swallowed, his throat dry despite the fact that he was surrounded by water. His claws twitched. His magic still sputtered weakly inside him with the will to fight, but remained suffocated under the haunting threat wrapped around his caudal fin- a threat, that was slowly feeling less like one and more as a reassurance.

Greatly fixated disturbed by just how unhinged this creature- this siren was, Error forced himself to stay still. Better to swallow his ego now and live another day than getting himself strangled, or worse.

Ink hummed, his grin unwavering as he let out a pleased sigh, feeling the tension slowly bleed out of the smaller siren. "There we go! See? No need to fight." He chuckled to himself, slowly allowing his body to settle onto the cave floor.

Error’s breath hitched- or rather, his gills fluttered awkwardly, trying to process the foreign sensation as the tentacle gripping him slowly climbed up his body. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt through him, making his already frazzled nerves spike in confusion and elation alarm.

“Y’know,” Ink murmured, his voice taking on a conversational lilt, "at first I didn't get why you developed with this form,” his other limbs fanned out slightly, the eyes sat on his mantle flickering with a color Error couldn’t place in his distraction. “But after that sting- I think I get it now. Nobody would expect something so soft to be so lethal.”

Error’s sockets flickered with static. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached. In his belly, something akin to butterflies began to stir. He tried to strangle them out with a harried growl.

“i’M GoiNG tO k- kILL yOU.” His voice wavered with hysteria. “i’lL Ri-" He suddenly choked on his own words, his throat locking up as a strange sensation overtook him.

A pressure. A heat. Something curling and twisting in his gut.

Error gasped sharply, his blunted claws clutching around the tentacle winding up his midsection as something burned beneath his ecto, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

The squid suddenly went very still. Then, like a light switch was flipped, his sockets blew out wide, bioluminescence flashing briefly in deep, pleased magentas. Ink's tentacle tightened just slightly, the curious tip poking at a sensitive area hidden in his pelvis.

Error jolted, a stuttering, glitching static breaking from his throat before he clamped his mouth shut.

No. No, no, no, no, NO- this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. This was just some fucked up sensory overload. He was just confused, disoriented from the transformation. There was no way his body was reacting like this..!

Except it was.

Error’s breath hitched, the burning in his core growing sharper, twisting into something that made his ecto prickle wantonly unpleasantly. He dug his claws into the tentacle still curled around his waist, halfheartedly trying to pry it off, but Ink didn’t budge. If anything, the grip seemed to flex in interest, responding to his movements with a slow, deliberate squeeze. It made Error shiver.

The idiot still wasn’t trying to crush him. He was just... holding him.

Worse, he seemed curious.

Error could feel Ink’s eyes tracing him, the larger ones on his mantle dilating, colors shifting as if trying to read him. The tentacle at his waist inched upward, suddenly squishing against something that made Error choke on a throaty gasp. Unbidden, the frills along his hips jerked and flexed, curling in on themselves as if trying to pull Ink closer.

A soft hum vibrated from Ink’s chest, his expression thoughtful at the sight. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

Error tensed, his sockets flickering erratically, feeling his body growing too hot in an awfully familiar way. “D- Don’T yOu d- dAre-!”

He bucked backwards, struggling harder, but Ink simply pressed closer, clanking their chests together. The glitch had to stifle a pleasured panicked whine as the tip of the tentacle pressed into what he was beginning to realize was a puffy little slit. Oh fuck.

“You like that,” Ink observed, his voice carrying that same, breezy wonder- like he was testing the waters of a discovery rather than violating Error’s personal space. Thankfully, the tentacle backed away, only to continue exploring Error's waist. “Your body’s reacting to me.” He sounded amazed.

Ink’s other tentacles wrapped around him, securing him firmly against the squid's chest. Free arms looped around his shoulders, palms pressing into the delicate ridges along Error’s back and reminding him of just how big the other monster was compared to him. His mantle flickered again, colors softening into those eerie, intimate shades of peaches and roses.

Error shuddered, the ends of his fins feeling oddly sensitive as his soul hammered against his ribs. It was like a flapping, squawking bird frantically trying to break through at first opportunity, yet the longer those deceptively soft limbs fondled and skated around him, the less painful the wingbeats became, slowly ebbing into something that billowed with more heat than aches of fear against his ribs.

“Y’know,” Ink continued, his voice an easy, dreamy dangerous purr, “I think you were made for this.”

Error twitched, not knowing how to feel internally as his slit throbbed. “WhAT tHe F- FuCk dOEs thAT mEAn?”

There was a strange soft clicking from Ink's throat, his arms tightening ever so slightly and pulling Error into something close to a cradle. He felt another tentacle curl lightly around the back of his tail, rubbing just slightly over sensitive, unfamiliar ecto, and he flustered, fussing over the way his pulse was rabbiting in his sternum.

“I mean,” Ink mused, “I’ve never met anyone like you before! But your body-” Another lazy caress, “-reacts so well. So eager. I've heard that other sirens usually aren't this open to touch at first. That must mean we're special.”

Error felt too many emotions at once to be able to describe them, flashing over his ego so hard his vision momentarily scrambled. The only thing he knew for certain was the burn of magic rising up over his face. "EaGER?! i aM NoT eA-!"

But the next movement - another teasing, featherlight press against his slit - made his hips buck with a whimper.

A mortifying, cut-off noise.

Ink’s glow brightened.

"...You don't have to be shy. It's perfectly natural to want to mate with someone stronger than you.." Ink continued, his voice still that soothing purr, but with a hint of excitement beneath the surface. "I want to mate with you too. Look."

Suddenly, the squidiot pulled away, tentacles slowly unfurling and lifting up to reveal a very sizable, prehensile sex organ that was no doubt the siren-equivalent of a dick. It bobbed right in Error's face, and the smaller skeleton was too scandalized to react beyond a very stiff and painful gulp.

Yes, that was why he was staring.

"...See?" Ink said, his voice still that breathless almost-whisper, but with a hint of excitement now cracking through the calm. The way he was looking at him was way too damn intense after only knowing each other for less than an hour. This freak drowned him for fuck's sake..!

Error felt his face heat up with a mix of embarrassment and indignation as he glared at Ink's massive cock.

There was no way he was letting that thing anywhere near him..!

Error let out a broken cry as the cock stuffing his strange new insides twisted and curled at the same pace as Ink's sloppy thrusts. The sensation was like nothing Error had ever experienced before. By all means, it never should have worked- there was only so much ecto could accommodate before getting stretched thin; had Error been in his original form, he'd very likely be dead five times over.

Maybe Ink had known that. Maybe that was why he was so insistent that drowning him was the only way to...

His thoughts were derailed as those tentacles grappled with his flailing tail, momentary slipping in the larger siren's excitement, before catching with his hooks. It was a shallow poke, barely even punctured the ecto, but the prickling sparks of pain made Error wail, feeling his cunt swallow impossibly tight around that cock, trembling like a fleshy vice as he felt like he was being torn apart and put back together again all at once.

The sensation was intense, and Error couldn't tell you if he was up or down or fifty feet in the air- but fuck did this feel good.

Ink's face was a blur of pleasure and concentration as he thrust into Error again and again. His eyes were fixed on Error's, frantically whispering words too quiet to be heard over the sound of Error's ragged whimpers and the lascivious slurping of his ecto as it fought to take the entirety of his girth.

It was only in the brief moments when Ink would suddenly drag him into a bone crushing embrace, pistoning with a franticness that had Error seeing stars, that he could catch faint hints of the babbling that was becoming a mantra to the larger siren.

"Shitshitshitshit- Error! So good! I-! You-! You're making me feel so warm and fluffy and- and my soul! My soul hurts so good! It's pulsing so fast-! Fuck! Am I dying? It feels like I'm dying but I don't want it to stop!"

Error’s body went rigid as Ink’s thrusts grew erratic, his muscular limbs tightening around Error’s tail and jerking him like an oversized fleshlight! Fuck, that was not supposed to turn him on even more..! The sensation was everything, a dizzying mix of pleasure and pain every time the tip of that thing speared him in just the right spot. He could feel Ink’s magic pulsing inside him, hot and electric, as the larger siren let out a guttural cry.

Ink’s babbling grew shrill at that point, his blurry eyelights wobbling rapidly between pinks, oranges, and yellows. A thin dribble of black drool- or maybe blood, was trailing from his mandible. The strange cock inside him was growing tense, firmer by the second. “Error! Error! I- I can’t- it’s too much! You’re too much! I’m- I’m-”

Error barely had time to process Ink’s words before the squid practically had a seizure, his limbs convulsing and clenching tight as he reached his climax and came so deep inside that Error swore he could see the cloud of inky release through his ecto.

The glitch felt the warmth spreading inside him, feeling it flow into cavities he wasn't even conscious of, and the sensation pushed him over the edge as well, his own release crashing over him and completely frying his brain. His vision blurred, his body going limp as the waves of pleasure washed over him, leaving him gasping and trembling in Ink’s embrace.

Both sirens could only gasp and flutter for water, bleary-eyed and struck absolutely dumb from the amount of euphoria squeezed out of them. Error wasn't a complete stranger to a good orgasm, but even to him this felt like no other high. His insides felt raw and aching with a pleasurable buzz, soothed by the surprisingly thick spend coating his walls and spreading within every dip and curve within his cunt. His limbs were warm and heavy, skull dewy and completely melted within. Gods, his magic felt good.

So good, he couldn't even bring himself to care as the moron on top of him trembled and squirmed as his well abused slit fluttered and gushed around his slowly deflating cock. Ink looked helplessly confused and braindead with overstimulation, stuck rutting against Error in a subconscious bid to ride out the orgasm, only to freeze up when his cock dragged too much, sensations bordering on painful as the floaty dopamine began to level and prolactin settled in.

"A- Ah.. Sh- Shit- Error-" Ink continued to squirm like that, beginning to pant and whine pitifully the more he tried to pull away, only to give up at the slightest bit of discomfort; seemingly unaware that all he had to do was pull out.

Eventually, Error couldn't bear to ignore the increasingly loud sounds- nor the jerking of his cock inside of him, which was honestly beginning to border on discomfort- and damnit, Error wasn't ready to let go of this afterglow just yet.

"j- JuSt puLl oUt of mE..." he huffed, trying to relax his ecto as much as possible to help encourage Ink.

It took a few more encouragements after that, but soon enough, the squid managed to figure out that he had to pull his cock out of Error to put a stop to the building irritation. It was a slow drag, and Error felt his stupid hindbrain spark up into a flustered mess as he watched that gigantic thing slip out of him with wide, droopy sockets.

Holy shit, that was inside of him?

For a long moment, the two of them floated together in silence, the water around them still and warm and slightly musky from the smell of their combined fluids and Ink's seafoam. Error’s mind was pleasantly empty, his body heavy with exhaustion. Gods, he hasn't felt this relaxed in a long, long time.

He felt a strange amount of contentment, considering he was still in the arms of something that killed him not even yesterday.

Ink, on the other hand, was anything but still. His tentacles - while no longer squeezing around him like a stress ball - were now delicately brushing over his body, mindful of his strange frill-fins, as they traced random patterns over his bones and ecto. Error could barely notice his fuzzy eyelights slowly snapping themselves back into a green heart and a pink hourglass, paying more attention to the warmth his larger body provided.

“Error,” Ink said, his voice soft and tentative. “I feel... strange.”

The glitch groaned, his eyelights flickering as he weakly turned his head up from the squid's chest to look up at Ink properly. “wHAt nOw?”

Ink’s eyelights shifted to a pink star and a cyan question mark. “I think... I think I like you. More than before, I mean. Is that normal?”

Error lazily blinked in an attempt to refocus his drooping sockets, his mind still too foggy to fully process the question. “uh, yeAh. sUre, i guEsS.”

Ink tilted his head, his tentacles slowly finding a sweet spot to cup around Error’s waist. “And I want to keep touching you. Is that normal too?”

Error sighed, too tired to pay attention anymore. “SuRe.. wHateVEr.” The glitch let his sockets flutter closed, tucking himself against the squid's mantle, where the heat was best. He felt long overdue for a nap. He deserved it after all this bullshit. He'll deal with the aftermath tomorrow.

Ink’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And I feel... nervous? Like I'll die if you're gone. Is that normal, too?”

“yeH, mhMmm.”

"You're not gonna leave me?"

"Mmhmmmm..."

"I didn't know mating felt so good. We'll have to practice more."

"Mmmm..."

Just as Error was going to slip into a comfortable slumber, the squid said something that threw all of his endorphins and serotonin hurdling out the window.

"Then, I think we can start trying for babies!"

Error’s soul nearly stopped. His sockets bolted open, eyelights shrinking to pinpricks, and he jerked upright, his tail thrashing against the squid's ecto with a flurry. “wHAT?!”

Ink blinked, his eyes flickering with green and cyan shapes Error couldn't parse through fast enough before they both resulted on question marks. “Isn’t that what mates do? They make babies. I want to make babies with you.”

And it was then, that Error remembered just how he got into this mess.

And where he was.

And who he was with.

. . . .

"mOThErfUcKeR-!"

Chapter Text

Dream gave Ink an uneasy grimace in his glittery spandex suit. Beside him, Blue was fidgeting nervously in his seat with a matching outfit, but the faint traces of embarrassment hinted that it was due more to their current attire than oncoming stage fright.

His golden eyelights darted to the stage. “Ink, are you sure this is a good idea? What if they win?”

The other guardian leaned back, his brush slung casually over his shoulder despite not having the notch to set Broomie down in his bone-tight leotard. “Relax, Dream. Those three don’t have a single creative bone in their bodies! The most artistic thing I've ever seen from them was that time they crucified that human in Wingtale."

Somewhere behind him, Blue made a sound of discomfort.

"Nightmare's chances of winning that artifact are totally zero to none!" Ink insisted, which usually would've been enough to comfort the younger monster, but...

He just couldn't help but have a feeling. “But what if they-”

“And noooowwww! Rockettes, Rockers and those outside or inbetween!” The Danceswap announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium, cutting off Dream’s worries as Napstaton took to the commentor's stage, a synth riff sounding out to excite the crowd. “Performing next with a sick, new beat! Put your fantastic hands together for... 'The Bad Guys'!"

"Sngk-! They- They really named themselves 'The Bad Guys'?" Ink snickered lowly into his fist.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd roared in anticipation as the Murder Trio stepped onto the stage. Dream was a bit surprised to see them actually dressed up in something other than their usual rags and stained hoodies. It must've been Nightmare's doing, if anything.

Killer took position center stage, his sharp-toothed grin gleaming under the stage lights as he waved cheekily to the audience. Over his typical black shirt, he wore a sleek, black leather jacket with silver studs, paired with ripped jean shorts that carried studded pant chains and platform boots. Most interesting was his face, where someone seemed to have had the idea to reincorporate his liquid hate into face paint, leaving a marring of black stripes across his face that made it look as if he was slashed by a large set of claws.

Dust, to his left, had unsurprisingly kept the scarf, only instead of being wound around his neck as always, it had been tied around his waist as a sash. Aside from that however, his overall fashion didn't change all that much. The disturbed skeleton's dusty hoodie and sweater were exchanged for an even baggier T-shirt, cinched to be form fitting over his shoulders and chest. It cut off at the baggy sweatpants, eating up his legs as well as his sneakers.

As he was walking, Dream could've sworn he saw the flash of silver in his hands, but upon second glance, it was only to spot hand chains that connected to a simple silver band around each finger, climbing up the wrist and forearm before disappearing up into the sleeves. The couldn't see Dust's face from under his cap, but the brief gleams of red and blue left Dream with the impression that he was watching them.

Horror probably had the most dramatic makeover, with a black crop top that was clearly too small in the way that it strained against his ribcage. His skeletal frame was on full display, the jagged crack in his skull further emphasized by the crown of silver studs and dangling chains framing the injury like a cosmetic statement. His usual grimy shorts exchanged for trousers, slippers tossed for combat boots, even that sweaty nervousness that had always been fizzling within Horror's consciousness seemed to have been swapped out with a cocksure confidence that had his head held high to his full height; but the pièce de résistance was undeniably the sharp eyeliner. Despite only having one working socket, Horror's gaze was powerful, sexy, and it completely took away from such a small flaw.

Safe to say, there were some very interested folks among the crowd who couldn't help but howl at the choice in dress. Dream flushed as he felt a certain amount of heat slightly rise within the emotions of the monsters closest around the stage.

Ink leaned forward in his seat, his eyelights flickering with a mix of fascination and awe. “Okay, I’ll admit... they look good. But looking good doesn’t mean they can perform.”

And then Dust proceeded to dump an entire piano from his inventory with a horrid clang, before settling on a chair that plopped in soon after. Horror on the other hand was very polite and discreet in comparison, as he pulled out an electric guitar with a brief twirl of the wrist. Dream didn't even notice when Killer brandished his bass.

The Stars knew they were in trouble the moment the beat started.

I fight all night, I fight all day, and

yet it always ends the same

Ain't it sad?

And still, the kid ain't satisfied

they keep on with this genocide

That's too bad

Dust's voice was shockingly clear for someone who hardly ever spoke. It cut through the air like a knife, intense and haunting as his fingers danced across the piano keys. A few monsters in the crowd were swooning as the skeleton's hooded gaze swept across the masses with barely hidden contempt.

Killer’s bass thrummed in the background, deep and resonant, while Horror’s guitar added a sharp, edgy undertone. Clearly, the three of them had been been practicing for this moment ever since the competition was announced last week.

In my dreams, I'm finally free

If I got me some EXP

I wouldn't have to fight so hard

I'd leave them broken, beat and scarred

The tempo picked up, and the other two skeletons stepped forward, their combined voices dripping with dark humor as they led into the chorus. Whether it was choreographed or not, Dream couldn't really tell, but the moment they began to bounce their shoulders and sway in sync to the beat, the crowd was eating it up.

LV, LV, LV

Must be funny

In the Human's world

LV, LV, LV

Always sunny

In the Human's world

A-ha, ah

All the things I could do

If I had a little LV

It's the Human's world

"Fuck." Blue groaned as the stadium began to sing along halfway through the motions. Already, several Fell monsters were rushing to the front of the crowd, their voices loud and off-key as they belted out the final half of the chorus.

Dream buried his face in his hands, eyelights flickering out with despair. “We're done for.” The Fells were the hardest members of the audience for them to please.

Ink, on the other hand, was leaning forward in his seat, his eyelights obviously having a hard time in tearing themselves away from the performance. "Woah... okay, yeah they're really catering to the audience."

(It's the Human's world)

Taking notice of their growing swarm of admirers, Killer flashed the gaggle of high-tempered monsters a suggestive grin. When the group responded with a flurry of screams and other flustered sounds, he didn't even hesitate before approaching the edge of the stage, leaning just shy from reaching claws that yearned for him.

The tease even singled a fan out and winked at them with a quick swipe of his tongue over teeth before backtracking to his mic stand. He seemed to give that same fan a cheeky nod before singing into the next verse.

On my own it's them or me and

what's left of my sanity

Ain't it sad?

So now I know that now's the time,

but can I cross that final line?

That's too bad

Killer's voice was roughish and light, his movements fluid as he swayed to the rhythm. The crowd roared in approval, their enthusiasm only growing as Dust’s piano and Horror’s guitar added layers of intensity to the performance.

The monster even spiced it up a bit with a quick spin, his coat flaring dramatically as he leaned into the mic. Dream was only half surprised to see one of his eyelights gleaming out from the murky black of his sockets, gleaming with smug mischief. It came to no shock that someone like Killer would thrive under so much attention.

So I'll succumb, to hilarity

Give up my justice and integrity

Join that kid in their little game

My life will never be the same

Horror stepped up, and the other two were quick to give the big guy his moment to shine. The stage lights dimmed, casting eerie shadows across the trio as they launched into the final chorus.

LV, LV, LV

Must be funny

In the Human's world

LV, LV, LV

Always sunny

In the Human's world

A-ha, ah

All the things I could do

If I had a little LV

It's the Human's world

Horror's voice was somehow the smoothest and most powerful of the trio, sounding the closest to something professional. There wasn't even the faintest trace of his usual gravelly undertone or drawl. It was booming and powerful as it belted the lyrics, only further emphasized by the way Dust and Killer acted as backup vocals in this final bout for the chorus.

Their voices rose in strength and passion as they neared the end, harmony so effortless. Dream could feel several Danceverse monsters coming aflush with powerful mixtures of admiration and envy. The crowd erupted into cheers, their enthusiasm reaching a fever pitch as the trio’s choreography reached its peak.

LV, LV, LV

Must be funny

In the Human's world

LV, LV, LV

Always sunny

In the Human's world

A-ha, ah

All the things I could do

If I had a little LV

It's the Human's world

Both Killer and Horror rushed over to Dust's piano, closing around their fellow with prideful grins as the smallest of the three ended his piece with a dramatic flourish, and the lights cut out, leaving the audience in stunned silence.

It's the Human's world

For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. Then the lights flashed back on, and the crowd erupted into deafening applause, their cheers and whistles filling the stadium to see the trio standing together in a set of poses.

The stadium was absolutely raving after that performance.

Dream stared at the stage where the Murder Trio were now bathing under the spotlight and very shamelessly throwing looks in their direction. He met Dust's glare, watching the skeleton grin at him mockingly, as if daring the Stars to try to compete with that.

And you know what...?

Challenge accepted.

Chapter Text

Everyone had a specific taste. Many patrons would share a love for a particular flavor or even share a favorite 'order,' but at the end of the day, Ccino had never once made the same drink twice for separate people.

The first ones through the door were always the Swaps and a few handful of Outcodes looking to beat the crowds.

Wine always ordered a Ca Phe Muoi, taking his time with the salted coffee at one of the stools closest to the door. He'd people watch - particularly the interactions between visitors and the cats - without doing much, spare a few select conversations with some fellow Swaps, before taking a pumpkin latte to go (along with a free pudding Ccino would discreetly slide across the counter in case Coffee needed a pick-me-up).

Alter would drop by, chatter with the other patrons for at least a half-hour, before ordering a dozen different baked goods and a single Golden Flower Cappuccino Tea. He'd pinch Ccino's cheek affectionately for his troubles, sometimes grant him a hug too, before taking another five minutes to bid everyone farewell as he made for the door.

Razz would linger around the counter for a while. Very explicitly refusing to cuddle with the Swap kitties that would swarm him upon seating (he did in fact cuddle some of the kitties from behind his back). He'd then exchange some small talk with the other early birds before moving on with his Maple Freddo.

Twice a week, King would drop by for a couple cups of Butterscotch Coffee topped with mint leaves. Sometimes the other patrons would try to engage him with a chat or two, but more often than not, King would keep to himself; watching the cats play and act cute with a soft-sad smile from one of the corners of the shop. He'd settle there for a rough hour before making his way out.

Blue and Black would always arrive within five minutes of one another. Whoever got there first would needle at the other, and the two would fall into a light bickering that would gently settle into banter- until Ccino served up their Cafe de Ollas at the same time.

Blue's would have anise and cloves, while Black's was steeped with orange peels. They'd leave together, both hiding discreetly ordered paninis in their inventories as their guilty pleasures.

Every other day, the Outcode group Ccino privately titled- the Color Crew, would arrive in that sweet lull between early hours and noon. Not many people showed up at this time, so Ccino usually took it as his opportunity to serve brunch for the kitties.

Epic, Color, Fresh (and occasionally Cross), would take the cubicle three spaces from the back, while Delta swaggered himself up to the counter and ordered for the whole lot of them.

Ccino would engage the rambunctious group with small talk as the drinks were prepared and the cats were fed; if Cross was there, he'd bid everyone farewell and take his Mocha Marshmallow Latte - or M&M Latte for short - to go. The rest would spend a good hour chatting over their drinks, before Fresh would take his half-finished Birthday Cake Frappe and dive out on a dime.

Epic and Color would leave soon after with another respective order of Cardamom Cortado and Pumpkin Spice Chai. Delta would linger still, rambling about something or other over his Spanish Carajillo and maybe taking a few flirtatious passes before flying out in a bout of energy, leaving only a neat sum of G for Ccino to know he'd left.

In varying moments - all between ten to quarter to eleven - someone would 'secretly' leave a preorder for a Mochaccino with extra cocoa powder and chocolate drizzle on his counter (despite Ccino not even having a preorder service).

At first it left him a little off-balance. But Ccino has since come to grow used to it. Even looking forward to the sudden slip of paper appearing on his counter.

He'd humor the mystery patron without fail. Whipping up the 'secret' preorder was always a highlight of Ccino’s morning. He’d set it aside on the counter, knowing the reclusive Outcode would reappear the moment his back was turned. And sure enough, when Ccino turned around again, the drink would be gone, and a small pile of G would be left in its place.

Sometimes, there’d even be a crumpled note that simply read, Thanks. And Ccino always felt especially pleased afterwards, wondering if there would ever be a time where he'd actually get to meet this curious, shy monster.

Just before noon truly struck was when the more awkward monsters would arrive. Mostly those conscious of their LV making other patrons uncomfortable or those that just had a hard time socializing.

Hit would slip in, quarter to twelve sharp. Sometimes with his girlfriend (who was actually quite mindful for her crass mouth) and sometimes not. They'd always order two blacks to go - though Ccino instinctually would add two splashes of lemon to Hit's and a drop of vanilla extract to Dolly's - and after a customary sip, Hit would nod his head, slide over a disgustingly sizable tip and leave.

Bullet usually came much earlier, around when Color and Epic would be heading out. But there were times when he came late enough to bump into Hit.

Those days were one of the more stressful ones, having to force himself to keep his head down and not listen too closely as the two monsters would not so subtly size each other up. But once he'd served all their blacks (Bullet preferring more of a dusting of cinnamon) things would ease up, and Ccino would end up with double the profit in tips.

Mouse was one of Ccino's only patrons that couldn't drink coffee, due to a sensitivity to caffeine that would upset their stomach. When the Gaster Blaster variant first visited his shop, Ccino unfortunately had to send the poor guy home with a cup of warm honey milk and some complimentary baked goods.

It was a shame to let an unsatisfied customer walk out those doors. A bitter taste he'd rather not get acquainted with.

So Ccino got to work to fix that.

Since then, he's added some 'mock' coffees to the menu. Including a brew made from roasted dandelion roots that Mouse has come back for everyday without fail.

It always filled him with pride, knowing that with just a little consideration and care, his cafe could brighten up anyone's day.

Reaper and Geno were a rare but welcome sight at the cafe. They didn’t come often, but when they did, it was always together. It was most likely in consideration of Reaper's 'condition' that they didn't make many appearances- especially when you knew about Reaper's ungodly love for caffeine.

The god would have one Bulletproof Coffee, while his husband enjoyed a Coffee Brandy Alexander. It was cute, watching the way they'd banter and nuzzle up to one another. Reaper would sip his drink with exaggerated relish, making grand declarations about how it was the “elixir of life,” while Geno would quietly savor his, eyelight softening as he watched the cats play.

Ccino knew exactly when to expect Dance, mostly due to the fact that he'd spend a good twenty minutes in front of the shop, eyelights downcast and jumpy as he looked between cats (and they would stare back. Menacingly).

Once he gathered his nerve, Ccino would already have a Coffee Soda with orange syrup waiting for him. Dance never stuck around for the change, rather fleeing the cafe the moment he paid, as a trail of kitties would dart after him, trying to swat at his shoes or grapple with his ankles to drag him into their play area.

By noon, the cafe was in full swing.

The lunch crowd would trickle in. A mix of regulars and newcomers, all drawn by the promise of Ccino’s expertly crafted drinks and the soothing company of the cafe’s resident cats.

The felines, ever the stars of the show, kicked up their antics: they lounged on windowsills, curled up on chairs, or weaved between patrons’ legs, their purrs adding a soft hum to the cafe’s lively atmosphere.

One of the lunchtime regulars was Sci, who always arrived precisely at twelve fifteen. The scientist was a man of routine, though it was prone to fluctuations now and then.

If Sci ordered a single Espresso Con Panna, Ccino knew the scientist was just looking for a momentary break. But if he ordered a Cuban Espresso, then Ccino knew he'd soon have to direct the scientist to a corner table, where he'd spend the rest of the day downing Espressos whilst writing out schematics that Ccino frankly couldn't make heads or tails of.

Around the same time, the Stars would be dropping by during their routine patrol. Dream, Ink, and Blue would burst through the door in a flurry of energy, their laughter filling the cafe as they talked about antics or plans for the evening, greeted other patrons, and muck all over their kitties

Dream always ordered a Honey Lavender Latte, Ink would request a rainbow-colored monstrosity (referred to as, the Thing) that Ccino secretly enjoyed concocting, and Blue would keep to his Cafe de Olla and a fruit tart.

G actually bounced between two orders. Sometimes he'd be craving a Flat White, and nurse it slowly as he scribbled in a notebook, his brow bone furrowed in concentration. Other times, he’d opt for a Cold Brew Tonic, which he’d sip while chatting animatedly with anyone who happened to sit nearby.

People would get a little more excitable whenever Crow dropped in - which never failed to create a mini spectacle - because while not many people knew it, the Wingtale skeleton was quite the diva.

The moment patrons started to notice him, Crow would be quick to bask in the spotlight, give a few twirls here and there, flap his wings for the crowd, y'know, the works. Sometimes, Ccino would have to actually bribe Crow into leaving with a Peanut Butter Mocha, since too much fun would result in a build up around the front of the cafe.

Ocean was a hell of a charmer. Some patrons have actually admitted to working their schedules around Ocean's routine visits. Sometimes, a lucky monster would catch the pirate's eye in some way or other, and after getting his Iced Bourbon Salted Caramel Latte, Ccino would sometimes notice Ocean approaching them, chatting for awhile, before leaving together with a particular look of fun in their eyes.

Did that make him somewhat of a wingman...? A thought for another time.

Classic and Red would drop by once a week - usually Wednesday - and order a pair of Spiced Apple Cider Lattes.

Classic's had more pumpkin spice, while Red's was mixed with more cinnamon and nutmeg (as well as half a shot of vodka). They'd catch Ccino up on a few things; nothing ever that crazy, but it was nice to keep up with things when he barely left outside of Council meetings.

Seraph would order a Black Eye and retreat to the farthest corner of the café where he’d huff off anyone who dared to disturb him. Despite his gruff demeanor, Ccino noticed the way Seraph’s expression softened whenever a cat wandered over to curl up in his lap. It was a small victory, but one Ccino cherished nonetheless.

Despite being one of the people Ccino saw the most outside of work, Crop didn’t often visit the café during peak hours. When he did, it was just to grab a quick Long Black (for himself) and a Greek Freddo (which he said was also for him, but everyone knew it was for his brother).

Outer developed an addiction for Matcha Frappes, always asking for something a little new every time, and Ccino was always happy to please. It was especially nice to see whenever he caught Classic and Red still around, as the three would wind up taking over a free table and spend the rest of the afternoon exchanging new puns and debating engineering theories.

Lust was admittedly one of Ccino's favorite regulars. He'd claim a spot at the counter, get comfortable and then spend the afternoon sipping Lemon Mint Coffees, dragging anyone who caught his eye into a gossiping session straight out of a teen chick flick.

When he decided to linger past the daylight, his tastes would shift to something stronger- taking Siciliano after Siciliano like a champ, downing glasses while flirting with the evening crowd.

The best time of the afternoon, however, was one o'clock sharp: only on weekends.

That was because those were the days Time Kid would gather all of his friends from Quantumtale, Littletale, and a few Outcode Monster Kids and 'storm' Ccino's cafe for their weekly hangout. The group was a whirlwind of energy, their ramblings and chatter filling the space as they squeezed into a cluster of tables near the window.

Time Kid always ordered an Iced Cinnamon Mocha, sipping it with the air of someone who thought they were far more sophisticated than they actually were. His friends, meanwhile, had a rotating list of favorites: everything from Hot Chocolate with extra marshmallows to French Vanilla Cappuccino with a splash of caramel.

(Truth be told, Ccino just gave them all Hot Chocolates and Milk-based Drinks, telling them it was what they ordered).

After cleaning him of half his bakery, Time Kid would 'pay' with a crayoned token made to look like human currency and the little gremlins would flood out in a stream of squeals and giggles.

Not like Ccino really minded. The tips he got from Hit and Bullet alone were enough to cover their 'tab'.

As the sun began to set, the café took on a golden glow, the warm light filtering through the windows and casting long shadows across the floor. The Stars would come back one last time, taking one more round of orders before leaving for the rest of the day. A large majority of the lunchtime crowd would start to clear out at this point.

Nobody really wanted to test their luck in being caught in trouble out of their AUs after the Stars have retired for the day.

By the time shadows started to swallow up the cafe, the building would be completely empty (assuming Sci wasn't still frantically writing in his random corner table) and Ccino's final visitors would find their way to his doorstop.

He'd hear them before seeing them.

The Murder Trio always arrived just before closing, their timing impeccable. Killer would saunter in first, his grin sharp and his nonexistent eyelights gleaming with mischief. Dust followed, his hood pulled up to hide his face. Horror brought up the rear, his massive frame ducking slightly to fit through the doorway, his axe slung casually over his shoulder.

The three of them didn't even need to order, walking by the counter with a nod before sitting wherever.

It was only when Cross and later Nightmare arrived that Ccino would bring out their drinks and deliver them to their table.

Killer would sometimes deviate from the usual - which was a chocolatey abomination of a Brownie Bicerin with more chocolate syrup than espresso - and instead go for the occasional Snickerdoodle Latte, Vanilla Caramel Mocha with graham crumbs, or an extra Whipped Marochino.

Dust always had his string of Espresso Tonics, Espresso Negronis, Espresso Margaritas, and the occasional Coffee Buzz Martini if Killer prodded at him enough.

Horror would mostly focus on eating the rest of whatever he had in his bakery, but he did enjoy Ccino's complimentary Kaffelemonades.

Cross would indulge himself with a Bushwacker and Affogato (which was one of the happiest he's ever seen of the soldier).

And the infamous evil overlord himself, the dark spirit who ruled over negativity, would simply watch his men enjoy themselves; relaxed and laidback in a way Ccino knew near nobody outside of this building had ever seen.

By the time the lot of them would leave, Nightmare would hang back to grant Ccino a hefty sum of G in way of thanks.

Definitely not leaving with an Iced Blackberry Shaken Cappuccino... with a one-eyed kitty drawn on the top of it.

Chapter Text

The surge of negativity that hit Nightmare was like a tidal wave, sharp and overwhelming. It came out of nowhere and mounted rapidly, before slowly trickling down through small droplets. Tiny sparks of agony and despair snuffing out one by one.

He paused at first, his tendrils curling in a mix of enjoyment and uncertainty. Nightmare wasn’t a stranger to these sudden bouts of intense power- he had been appreciating them for years, in fact.

However, it was the first time he had felt the source spring up so close.

Long before, when he was fresh and new into his current circumstances, Nightmare had once tried to track down the source of such horrid terror and misery. But it was a fruitless endeavor.

By the time he'd managed to pinpoint the exact world, it would already be in the process of erosion. For a while, he had even humored it to be just the natural emotional breakdown of faulty, unstable AUs.

But as he matured into his station over time, the spirit had come to realize that the suffering that frothed up in these sporadic, brief moments weren't ordinary. There was a specific catalyst involved.

These bouts of severe hysteria and destruction were the direct result of someone - or something's - will.

And now he finally had the chance to investigate.

Nightmare stepped through a portal, emerging into a world on the brink of collapse. The sky was a jagged mosaic of glitching code, and the ground was unsteady and choppy beneath his feet.

Right in the very heart of the destruction, Nightmare found a singular monster. One who struck him with a shocking similarity to himself.

He couldn't help but stare.

The glitch moved like a force of nature, his mismatched eyelights blazing as strings of code unraveled at his fingertips. He was a whirlwind of chaos, his laughter sharp and unhinged as he tore through the AU with reckless abandon. Nightmare froze, his breath catching in his throat.

He had never seen anything like it.

Nightmare was competent and knowledgeable enough to realize that he must've been in the presence of another god; one who had greatly outranked him, if the sheer force of power emanating from their attacks had anything to say.

Yet he risked it anyway, daring to chance turning that fury upon himself by throwing a very delicate, feather-light CHECK.

*  Error  -  ATK ERR/ERR  DEF ERR/ERR  HP ERR.OR/ERR.OR

The rest was completely illegible. But it was already more than enough.

Error... What an oddly charming name.

His power was intoxicating, a storm of destruction that left nothing untouched. The glitch was like a wild and malicious personification of nature. The way he left no trace with his magic, not a single blast of power wasted, as it only served to further unravel the environment around them. As if the very world itself rejected this being's existence.

Nightmare’s soul stirred with something he hadn’t felt in centuries- awe. And something else. Something deeper.

He was beautiful.

Nightmare’s tendrils twitched, a strange warmth spreading through him and scorching his face as he watched Error. The glitch was everything Nightmare was aspiring to emulate- free, unrestrained, unburdened by the weight of the multiverse or his own place in it. He was a true god, and Nightmare couldn’t look away.

Error didn’t notice him, too consumed by his rampage to care about the flickering shadows lurking at the edges of the fraying code. Nightmare didn’t mind.

He preferred to watch from a distance, his gaze lingering on every detail- the way Error’s glitching form flickered like a broken hologram, the way his laughter echoed through the crumbling world, the way his power seemed to bend reality itself. It made Nightmare feel in ways his body has never felt before.

The spirit's chest tightened, a strange, unfamiliar greed settling in his soul. He didn’t quite have a name for it, not yet. But he knew one thing.

He wanted Error. Not just his power, not just the negativity he could supply- but him. All of him.

As the AU collapsed around them, Nightmare made a decision. He would have Error, no matter what it took. He would watch, wait, and learn everything he could about the glitch. And when the time was right, he would make this god his.

Nightmare had lounged back into the darkness, tendrils curling around him like a lazy feline, and soon delved into a comfortable daze. Slightly food-drunk from the continuous supply of intense bouts of negativity, and enraptured by the wanton violence set just before him, he quickly began to plot and devise a plan.

For now, though, he was content to take things slow, his gaze never straying the glitch who had captured his attention so completely.

Chapter Text

The water was cold, but Nightmare was sure that was mostly due to how fast his magic was pumping as he darted through the shallow reef, his inky black tentacles propelling him forward and racing across the coral with desperate speed.

Behind him, the low, resonant growls and snarls of his pursuer echoed through the water, sending chills down his spine. He knew that the sharp teeth with which that voice belonged to would be very unpleasant to contend with.

That blasted, thuggish shark mer who had 'claimed' this stretch of the ocean as his territory. Hah! What a joke! Nightmare had been migrating to these waters every warm cycle since before that brute was even born!

How dare he impose himself and be such a nuisance!

Nightmare had ignored the warnings of course, after the shark had caught him lingering. Insisting that the reef belonged to him. As if he knew this place even half as good as the octopus did! Idiot hadn't even found the hidden nooks he had carved all around the hidden dips and crevices of the corals.

There was no way a creature with his pride would even consider bowing to such a rude boor.

Though... maybe he should've thought of a better means of escape. He hadn't expected Cross to be so fast! Especially with that dragging tail of his! That speed just wasn't fair with that size!

“You can’t outrun me, octopus,” Cross’s voice rumbled, closer than Nightmare expected.

He cursed under his breath, panic lighting up instinctively within his chest. Without thinking, Nightmare tried to make a quick escape into one of the many discreet crannies that the shark would never be able to squeeze into.

He wasn't quick enough.

Powerful claws dug into his soft ecto, causing the smaller monster to hiss as it pried him away from his hideaway, yanking him backward with a force that left him disoriented, almost with whiplash.

Nightmare hissed, his tentacles flaring defensively and his beak snapping warily as he came face-to-face with his captor. Pinned with his back to the reef under his massive bulk.

Cross was every bit as intimidating as Nightmare remembered- broad-shouldered, with a predator’s scowl and eyes that glinted like shards of blood in the dim light. His tail, a sleek, dramatically elongated extension of his body, swished lazily as he held Nightmare in place.

“I warned you,” Cross growled, his voice low and dangerous. Nightmare only glared harder as his claws bit the slightest bit deeper. “This is my territory. You don’t belong here.”

Nightmare’s pride flared, his cyan eyelight thinning as he met Cross’s gaze, chin jutting out as if to dare the other to contradict him. “Your territory?” He scoffed, voice dripping with disdain. “If this place belonged to anyone, it would be me, shark. If you think I’ll cower and be chased off by your petty nonsense, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Cross’ growl deepened, clearly insulted as his intent flared with violence.

But for some reason, he didn't lash out. Instead, huffing and puffing and blowing steam as if trying to level out his frustration.

“Stubborn as always,” he muttered, his gaze raking over Nightmare’s form. Despite his evident irritation, there was something else in Cross’s eyes- Nightmare felt himself grow still as a certain buzz in the water changed, recognizing the way the mood was shifting into something darker, more possessive.

Nightmare’s exotic beauty was impossible to ignore, his black bones gleaming starkly in the waters, his tentacles swirling around him like a living shadow. Cross had always found him infuriating, but also... intriguing.

Especially now that he has his hands on him. Was above him.

“...If you’re so determined to stay,” Cross said, his voice dropping to a low purr, “then you’ll pay for my protection. One way or another.”

Nightmare’s eyelight flickered, a flash of unease breaking through his bravado as the shark's face shifted into a truly wicked looking grin.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” He demanded, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Cross’s grin widened, revealing rows of sharp teeth. “You’re clever, Nightmare. Figure it out.”

Before the octopus could retort, Cross pulled him closer, their bodies pressed together. Nightmare’s tentacles instinctively coiled around Cross’s tail, a traitorous reaction that made him flush with embarrassment.

Cross chuckled, immensely pleased by the instinctive reaction, the sound vibrating through Nightmare’s bones.

“You’re not as opposed to this as you pretend,” Cross murmured, his free hand now trailing along Nightmare’s ribcage.

Nightmare shivered, his sharp tongue failing him as he felt his body be touched so intimately, with such demanding intent. He wanted to protest, to lash out, but the heat in Cross’s gaze was undeniable- and, to his dismay, intoxicating.

“This isn’t-” Nightmare began, but his words were cut off with a moan as Cross leaned in, licking a warm stripe over Nightmare’s injured socket.

The octopus was immediately driven to silence by the humiliation alone.

“You had your chance to leave,” Cross whispered. “Now, you’re mine.”

The water around them seemed to grow heavier, the tension thickening as Cross’s teeth nipped against Nightmare’s jaw. Nightmare’s mind raced, torn between defiance and the undeniable pull of desire swiftly curling around them. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he found himself leaning into Cross’s touch, his tentacles tightening around the shark mer’s tail. Encouraging them to line up with one another.

The ocean seemed to hold its breath as Cross’s other hand slid lower, his intentions clear. Pride warred with the heat pooling in Nightmare’s core, and for once, he wasn’t sure which would win.

It was then, that Nightmare should have realized he had already lost.

Chapter Text

You always found that it was the small things in life that brought you contentment.

There was joy not in a job bonus, or a fancy diploma that you traded years of your life for; it was found in tiny, chubby fingers gripping your fingers, squealing laughter whenever you scrunched up your face in a goofy fashion, the sun on your skin as you followed itty, bitty footprints in the sand along the beach.

Your happiness was your daughter, and soon one more...

You lean back on the park bench, one hand resting over the valley between your chest- where your soul rested according to all of those new magic-medical diagrams being pumped out into the field.

It was also where an even smaller soul was nestling into your own, passively feeding off your magical lifeforce to construct its future body, slowly building and bundling itself up, condensing and carefully reconstructing itself into something stable and new- before emerging from your soul as the most perfect little baby to exist.

The other hand loosely entwined with your daughter’s. She chatters beside you with the kind of enthusiasm only a six-year-old could muster, going on about how she saw a songbird flit by, then raving about her upcoming science test at school with a substitute teacher, who was also a monster with a penchant for jokes, apparently, before getting sidetracked by the sight of someone rolling in with a nice cream stand, now cutely begging you for some G to buy herself a frozen treat like a big girl.

"Pleaseee, mommy! I bet Daisy wants a nice cream too!" She batted her big teal eyes up at you- the only trait that didn't come from you. Otherwise, she was a near carbon copy of you, and your friends have told you as much when you shared pictures.

You smile, feeling 'Daisy' making the decision for you as your tummy chose that time to rumble.

It was hard not to snort when she started to wiggle and kick her legs in excitement as you rummaged through your purse. "Okay, baby. Two nice creams; one for you and the other for your little sibling, okay?"

She beams, looking immensely proud as you placed 30G in her little hands. “Yes, mommy! I’m gonna be the best big sister ever!” And then she looked to your belly - even though you've tried to explain to her that pregnancy with monster children was different - giving it a loving pat. "Be right back, Daisy! Big sis is gonna get you some food!"

You couldn't help but smother a laugh that wanted to froth up as she zoomed over to the nice cream stand line-up.

'Daisy' was the name that your daughter had given the baby after meeting Frisk's brother for the first time - Flowey was his name apparently - and was convinced that Daisy must be a flower baby too, only a nice one this time.

The breeze tugged at the trees, causing them to rustle overhead as various other children screamed, laughed and generally ran amok as they played some sport further out in the field. It looked like some form of kickball, but you couldn't tell what exactly, as it was likely a game brought up from the Underground since magic seemed to have been involved.

Further down your side of the park, there were various families and couples holding picnics and potlucks: a family of slimes with too much potato salad, a sea-horse and human couple flirting quite boldly with one another- though you were thankful to see they were content with keeping it PG, a family of dogi playing fetch, giving each other belly rubs and pulling any sucker to join in on their potluck for the pets.

It was a wonderfully, perfectly peaceful day.

...And yet there’s a pang in your chest.

Not sadness. Not anxiety. Just... that strange, aching space.

You’ve always known you wanted a family. Long before you understood love, before the concept of “soulmates” was brought up from below with the monsters.

But romance had always eluded you.

People came and went - nice enough, some even wonderful - but no one ever seemed to fit. Never did you look at someone and think, 'I want to start a family with you,' which was the entire point you were looking for in your relationships.

So you made your own path.

Your daughter had been a long, exhausting dream. Three rounds of artificial insemination. A rollercoaster of finances, appointments, hope, and disappointment. But she came. Beautiful and bright, with her big heart and even bigger eyes, with which she wanted to see everything the world had to offer.

Your little miracle. Your little Aisling.

And now, here you were again. Your second go at motherhood- this time thanks to new developments in monster-human fertility. You were happy to find the process having been so much smoother this time.

Less strain on your body. More integration between communities. It felt good. Right. Like you were contributing a little more in the world than with just the population, but helping to mend the bridge between thousands of years of separation between two cultures that were isolated from one another.

It felt weird not having a baby bump despite supposedly being at least half-way through the pregnancy, but the soft warmth emanating from your sternum was enough to put you at ease; a soft, steady reminder that your future was still growing.

...Of course, sometimes, in quiet moments like this, a different kind of wish stirred in you.

It wasn’t loneliness exactly. You had your daughter, your friends, a warm home, and a new baby on the way. But still, it lingered- that quiet emptiness. A longing for someone to share this joy with.

Someone who would look at your child and see the same wonder you did.

Someone whose arms could hold you on nights when your strength frayed at the edges.

But you’d learned not to chase it... If love was meant to find you, it would have.

So this was fine. You were fine. You didn't need any more than this... except maybe another baby, depending on how things go with this one and Aisling. Dunno, you haven't decided yet, but the idea felt nice.

Your daughter came skipping back, holding two little paper cups of nice cream like she was carrying treasure. Her face was alight with happiness.

"The cookies n' cosmos with extra star glitter is for me," she stated firmly with complete, jovial seriousness, "and the butterscotch cinnamon is for Daisy! I picked the yummiest one!”

Oh, you couldn't help but pull her in for a sweet hug, letting your sweet little girl crawl over you to plant a messy kiss to your cheek. "Love you, mommy!"

"I love you too, Ashy."

And then the two of you just sat there, enjoying your frozen, magic treats as the world went by around you. People would pass, smiling as they caught sight of your daughter contentedly licking her glitter-dusted cone while perched beside you like she was queen of the park bench.

You were sure she left a trail of stardust across your clothes, but you didn’t mind, you never wore your good things to the park... or at all, anymore.

It wasn't like you had anyone to impress.

Maybe after this, you’d stop by the library. There was a bunny woman who held reading circles every Sunday afternoon- and Aisling loved her. That would probably still leave enough time for groceries and picking up your prenatal magic supplements.

Hmm. You needed to start thinking about names soon, too. Daisy couldn’t stay "Daisy" forever, though you already knew it’d be near impossible to say no if Aisling insisted.

Though, what were the chances the baby was a flower monster? There was no way of knowing who the magic donor was since it was all anonymous, and since you were... uh, not taking magic donations from any other sources aside from your medically approved supplements and monster food, the child was almost guaranteed to manifest as the same species as the donor.

As you were delving deep into the rabbit hole of monster genetics, you missed the firsts signs of unrest.

The shouts started slow. Hard to make out. Distant. Easy to overlook.

Then, people started to notice a lot of distant activity happening deeper in the city. Nothing definitive yet, just a passive observation a few mentioned to conversation partners as the day went on as usual.

At least, until things started growing closer. Those further down the field and closer to the park's east entrance started to parse out the noise as screams and shouting now. Something unsettling began to wash over the park as confusion started to spread.

You still hadn't noticed yet. Until one very loud screech - like a car crash - ricocheted from several blocks away and ripped through all idle chatter in the park.

You jolted, heart leaping into your throat as heads began to turn to the park gates- from where the sound had travelled from. A few parents rose to their feet. Laughter died down. The kids playing kickball froze mid-game, their ball rolling gently to a stop as something shifted in the air.

Your daughter tugged on your sleeve, sounding confused. “Mommy...?”

"Shh, wait baby. I think something happened."

That feeling of dread only grew stronger as a few dozen people began to rush through the gates of the park, which wouldn't be unusual in itself as the city had seen a large increase in joggers as of late, but these people were sprinting, shouting something unintelligible.

They seemed panicked. And your blood ran cold as you swore you saw large splashes of red along some of their clothes as they started to scatter- but never turning back in the direction they came from.

"Run! Run! Everybody run! There's a bunch of psychos on a kil-!"

The androgynous figure never managed to finish their sentence before something fired out from beyond the gates.

It felt like everything was moving in slow motion and at ultra-speed all at the same time, as their head splattered open at impact, smearing a streak of red as they crumpled mid-sprint, body folding bonelessly to the pavement with a wet, awful sound.

You covered Aisling’s eyes before she could fully take in the scene, at least you hope she didn't. She screamed anyway, shrill and terrified, as your other hand clamped over her head and pressed her into your chest.

You gathered the rest of her up in your arms without thinking and bolted. She clung to you, blubbering, but otherwise too shocked to cry as everyone else around you also burst into hysteria. You could feel her tiny heart hammering against your chest as you followed the rush to the west entrance of the park.

It seemed whatever had caused the initial chaos was now pouring into the park. You didn't stop to look- couldn't. Every instinct screamed to keep running, to get your babies out, away, anywhere but here.

The screams were spreading, and so were the sounds of violence. There were explosions- or blasts, and rumbling, a horrid quaking in the air that you could feel in the back of your throat as electricity. A faint backdrop of crackling accompanied the furious clamoring of dozens of people, all running for their lives.

Fire...? No- that was magic. Bad magic.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you made the split decision to dive into an amass of bushes just as a deafening blast cracked through the park like thunder, followed by a shriek of something unearthly tearing through the air.

Your body slammed into the dirt, curling around Aisling protectively as a scream rang in your ears. It could've been Aisling's. It could've been yours. Maybe it was both. The smell of ozone and scorched grass flooded your senses as the world shook all around you.

There was no way of knowing how long you two spent curled up down there.

Whatever that magic attack was, it left your ears ringing for a damn long time. It took too long for you to be able to hear your own breathing, Aisling's smothered whimpers and sniffles, the dark laughter scattered around the park.

The blood in your veins slowly ran cold and curdled as your hearing returned to you, bit by bit. Just beneath the laughter, there would be echoing shouts of alarm or fear or pain- before being abruptly cut off; sometimes it was close enough to catch a wet gurgle, most times - thankfully - not.

You really, really, really hoped Aisling couldn't hear that either. Please let her ears still be ringing.

Instead of dwelling on it, you pressed your daughter’s face into your chest. “Don’t look, baby. Just keep your eyes closed, alright?” Gods, you really hoped you sounded as calm as you tried to be. You couldn't let her see your tears.

It took everything you had not to start sobbing as the voices drew closer.

"Damn, this world must be one of those real pacifist ones. The cops still haven't even shown up yet!" The voice was cocky. Youthful. A little too cheerful for someone wading through the aftermath of a massacre and doubtlessly picking through stragglers.

Another voice chuckled- rougher, deeper, with a kind of lazy cruelty clinging to every syllable. "Eh, more EXP for us. Let the boss give us an easy mark once in a while," they drawled.

Something heavy crunched through the grass just beyond the foliage.

"Speaking of which~" 

You barely had time to tense before a clawed hand shot down and dug into your thigh. Aisling's scream was louder than your own- even as the claws dug into the meat of your leg, painfully sinking into your body as you were yanked violently from the bushes.

The entire world flip-flopped in your stomach as you were slung through the air.

You barely had time to twist and shield Aisling from the impact as you were thrown onto your back with a pained grunt, your legs kicking instinctively even if they got torn in the struggle. Her shrill cry tore at your heart as you clutched her to your chest, curling your body protectively around her again.

“Look what I found,” the second voice sing-songed flatly, full of blood-lusty amusement. “A little mommy burrito hiding in the bushes.”

Fighting back against the tears, you cleared your vision just enough to see your attackers.

Three monsters loomed above you. All of them skeleton monsters.

The one that had grabbed you was the most normal looking of the trio, a hooded skull with sunken eyelights that blazed starkly in reds and blues. The way he was sensually sucking your blood off his gloved hands made your skin crawl, and your muscles go clammy.

To his left stood a much scruffier skeleton of similar stature. Black inky goo streaming down from his sockets like macabre makeup, with a twitching grin that set your nerves on edge. His hoodie hung open, with a... a target glowing red hot, hovering over his chest in an unsteady, wobbling motion.

The last skeleton was at least twice in size compared to the other two; he was hunched over, so it was hard to tell, but you would estimate that at his full height he'd be roughly eight feet. His clothes hung off his frame, shredded and stained with things you really didn't want to imagine.

You also really didn't like the way he was looking at Aisling.

“This one looks like she’s got a lot of energy left,” The scruffy one said, his blade flicking toward your side. “Think she’ll scream good if we start with a leg?”

No...

“She’ll cry more if we take the kid first,” the one who grabbed you suggested, sounding like he very much so wanted to make you cry.

No, please. Please, no...

The big one hunched low, his head tilting, voice rough like gravel ground underfoot. “I wanna see the kind of sounds the lil' one makes. Bet she tastes as great as she squeaks."

No, no, no, no...! Why? Why did this happen...?

“Mommy, mommy!” Aisling sobbed, burying her face in your chest as if you could protect her.

A bloody, gloved hand reached down, aiming to swipe up your little girl.

NO.

You lashed out.

Bucking yourself up from the ground, you lunged for the hand with a snarl, snapping teeth around the wrist and biting down until you felt a crunch. The bones were surprisingly gritty, with a chalky like substance permeating in your mouth as you ground your canines down.

The monster howled, jerking his arm back violently. You clung on for half a second longer than anyone expected, teeth locked tight in blind fury- until your jaw gave out and you released him with a gasp. His claws scraped your gums during the retreat, and you spat the coppery taste onto the ground as Aisling wailed.

"FUCK!" The asshole cradled his bitten wrist and let out a string of expletives that could’ve singed your eyebrows. “She bit me! Fuckin-! Fuck! You little-!”

His friends - brothers, something in you instinctively thought for some strange reason - burst into amazed and incredulous laughter.

The scruffy one cackled. Hard. Like you’d just done the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

“Holy shit, she bit you!” He gasped, slapping the big guy’s chest. “Did you see that, Horror?! She went feral!”

Horror let out a guttural snort that was half chuckle, half bark. “Got some real momma bear instincts on dis one, huh?” He then turned to the smaller skeleton, still fussing over his cracked wrist. "Got a good taste d'ere, Dust?"

Dust scowled, hissing angrily as the lights in his sockets flared up in intensity. “Fuck you!" He snarled.

"I’m gonna tear this little bitch-”

“No, wait.” A new voice cut in.

The new voice was calm. Tense. Level.

A new monster made themselves known. One you hadn't noticed with the other three in your face. He was stood off to the side, arms crossed, teeth pressed into a line. Dressed like a... military soldier? He was staring at you now- or more like... through you.

Suddenly, his sockets widened, just a smidgen, but it was noticeable enough as he also shuffled on his feet uncomfortably.

“...I think she’s pregnant.” He choked out.

The bickering from the idiot trio came to a halt.

The scruffy one - for the first time since seeing him - finally seemed to react seriously, suddenly balking and turning as white as a sheet despite being nothing but bones. The target on his chest started to scramble up like a radio frequency, giving off a faint hissing sound.

“...What?”

“I said-”

"I heard what you fucking said, Cross, I mean what the fuck do you mean she’s pregnant?!” The skeleton's voice hit a higher pitch, his bravado cracking apart like shale. He took a solid step back, as though your very existence had become toxic.

The big one- Horror's eyelight also turned thin as a nickel, his face suddenly frozen with an awkward grin as he began to sweat profusely. "Ah... shit. Boss is gonna be fuckin' pissed..."

Dust swore loudly, staring at his bitten wrist like it had rabies. “You’re joking,” he hissed, “Tell me you’re joking, Cross.”

Cross didn’t answer right away. He moved forward, slow, wary, like you were a volatile spell waiting to detonate. Maybe you would have tried to ward him away, but you were coming down hard from the intense burst of adrenaline and shock from the situation.

His glowing gaze bore into your chest- not in a perverse way, but like he was trying to see inside it.

You didn’t understand what he was seeing. But he saw it.

“...She’s got a souling,” Cross said again, voice quieter now. "Halfway formed. Slightly low density in terms of coding. But it's real."

The teary-faced one's sockets flew wide. “Ohhhh my starrrs,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “We are so fuuuucked...!”

Dust looked like he’d rather chew glass than speak, but he glanced sideways at Cross, sharp and accusing. “You sure...?”

Cross just glared at him.

"You wanna test that theory by running her through and seeing how her soul looks when it manifests?"

Even Horror - who hadn’t stopped taking glances at Aisling - gave a deep grunt and turned his head, no longer so interested in playing the big bag LV lunatic. “Boss don’t like that,” he rumbled. “No touchy pregnant people. Boss says it’s bad.”

“No, he said it’s 'off-limits,'” Cross corrected. “Which is a thousand times worse. Nice job, by the way, Killer. Since it was your job to keep track of that!”

"Oh, fuck off, Crossy!" Killer barked. “You want me to be the one to explain to Nightmare how we tried to milk a pregnant bitch for negativity points?! Because I don't!”

"Dust was the one who hurt 'er..."

"Shut the fuck up, Horror!"

"Yeah, Horror's right! Dusty should go! He's the one who fucked with her!"

“I didn’t know she was pregnant, dipshit!”

“Oh, so that makes it okay now?!”

As they descended into bickering, your breath came fast and shallow, your body trembling. You had no idea what was happening- but it sounded like you’d just been granted a sudden, fragile stay of execution.

But... yeah, a part of you couldn't help but feel incredulous as the four psychos who probably killed a whole lot of people - a stupid amount of people - continued arguing like... teenagers who’d broken a priceless vase and were now panicking about who was going to tell their mom.

You lay there clutching Aisling, your whole body trembling with adrenaline and confusion, as the conversation spiraled further out of control.

“Okay, okay,” Killer huffed, waving his hands. "How about, we just pretend that none of this ever happened, and if Boss finds out later, we just all agree to blame it on Cross?"

"The fuck did I-"

“...What is going on here?”

The voice was deceptively, eerily, so wrongly calm. Even someone so out of the loop as you could tell right away that tone belied an incredible temper.

It was velvet and steel. It didn’t shout. Didn't even sound raised. It didn’t need to.

You already knew you were completely and utterly fucked from just hearing it.

“Boss-!” Killer startled, the title shrill and desperate with false cheer. “Hey! How ya doin? We were just, y’know, playing a little more with the stragglers before moving on to the next area!”

Killer as well as the others skittered out of the way of a new monster approaching. A... thing. At first you expected it to be another skeleton monster but this one- this one was something else entirely. Their bones were black and coated in a sheen of something dark and oily, shadowed by thick tendrils of writhing darkness that curled and swayed with frightening ease.

His single visible eye glowed an eerie, burning cyan- only in further stark contrast to the other side of his face, where a shapeless covering of that same tar-like substance overflowed and devoured his socket. You felt chills titter up your spine as his mouth - baring bright white teeth in a sharp grin - curled with condescending amusement as he took in the scene before him.

You didn’t know his name yet, but the moment you looked at him, the weight of who he was crashed down on your senses. He didn’t need to speak to bend the world to his will. You felt it. Something primal in you screamed in recognition of something ancient and immortal. The kind of entity that didn’t need to explain what he was for you to know that you - and everyone else in this world - stood no chance against him.

“A straggler who is pregnant,” Nightmare drawled, that same calm tone slicing through Killer’s facade like a surgeon's blade. “Which, I believe, violates one of the very few ground rules I’ve explicitly set for you.”

“N- Not on purpose...! Cross caught it!” Horror stammered, clutching his axe self-consciously like he could somehow stop the tidal wave of fury he felt was coming. “We dn’t hurt 'er bad! Honest!”

Nightmare’s eyelight swiveled to Cross, who nodded once with a cold sweat. “I sensed the souling before we went any further,” he confirmed hastily. “Nobody touched the kid or the mother since then.”

"Hmm, that's good for Cross, then... However, I fail to see why Dust," Nightmare's gaze snapped to the aforementioned skeleton, who visibly stiffened under the weight of that burning glare, "thought it was appropriate to slam a pregnant human into the pavement."

Dust shrugged, arms crossed, but his face had lost all color- well, metaphorically. “...Didn’t know.” He refused to look up from the ground, sweat slowly dripping from his face the more the tension ramped up.

“You didn't know...?” Nightmare repeated, a dry scoff racking over your skin like a spider, the monster stepped towards his prey slowly. Tauntingly.

The tendrils coiled tighter around his frame, bristling like agitated snakes sensing fear as he loomed over the other skeleton. “You mean to tell me that you deliberately brought harm to an Incode- one belonging to a timeline that doesn't have RESETs anymore- which I specifically informed you about prior to this mission, without confirming that she does not qualify for what I have made very clear is an unacceptable target?”

Dust’s mouth opened like he wanted to give some smartass remark, but whatever bravery he might’ve had shriveled and died as Nightmare stopped directly in front of him.

They stood like that for a while, your presence all but completely forgotten as everyone watched the eldritch monstrosity linger over their fellow.

...You seriously thought you were about to witness graphic murder right before your eyes.

It never happened.

Nightmare exhaled slowly through his teeth, turning away with a very scathing glare. "We will be having a very thorough discussion in my office after this," he scolded. Then, he simply turned on his heel and began marching in your direction.

You curled tighter around Aisling instinctively as his towering form drew near. His gaze pinning you down like a bug on a board, unreadable. Distant.

"M- Mommy-"

"Shh!" You hastily hushed your daughter, swallowing her more under the cover of your clothes and body, doing everything you can to protect her from being exposed to this as much as you could. If- when you survived this, you didn't want Aisling to develop any prejudice against monsters from this.

Especially with Daisy still being on the way.

After a few uneasy moments of just... watching you, finally, he crouched. Just a couple feet from where you laid.

He didn’t speak. Just stared at you- no, not you, exactly. You followed his gaze and realized it had fixed to your chest, right where your soul would be. These guys seemed to do that a lot.

A shimmer of something dark and warm flickered across his expression. His pupil narrowed. His body tensed.

He felt it.

Your soul. Your frequency. Your bond.

It was you. (Y/n)...

You startled as the shadows around him fluttered like startled birds. His eyelight flared- and then dimmed. Something had... startled him, maybe? You couldn't tell, but there was definitely a change now. A low, purring hum came from his throat, and something in his demeanor began to shift.

The glacial, cruel indifference melted away.

Something in your chest flexed in response, causing Aisling to jump in surprise with a barely detectable squeak.

What... What was that...?

He turned slowly, gaze flicking back toward Dust with something almost smug but dangerous. Then, with no warning at all-

Crack!

Dust yelped as Nightmare’s tendril came down with a thunderous slap right across the back of his skull, knocking him flat on his face.

The others froze up in horror as Dust howled and cursed in pain.

“That,” Nightmare said, voice thick with satisfaction, “was for laying a finger on what is mine.”

You felt Aisling's little fingers dig into your side as she whimpered.

Yours? Your stomach was turning itself inside-out at the implications, but your brain could hardly keep up with the speed at which things were changing. Especially with the thumping of your heart echoing in your ears, making it difficult to really focus as it threatened to burst with each pulse.

But Nightmare turned back to you slowly, like the night unfolding. That glinting eyelight in his socket softened, the dangerous razor’s edge of his energy curling in on itself like a claw being sheathed. The smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth now was no longer condescending. It was charming. Disarmingly so. And terrifying for exactly that reason.

You felt like a small animal being coaxed closer by something that smiled too wide.

“I deeply apologize for my subordinate’s unruly and completely incongruous behavior,” he said smoothly, his voice a purr now, wrapping around your thoughts like silk. “They will be punished further for their incompetence... and their disrespect.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your arms were numb by now from how tightly they clung around Aisling, who peeked at him from beneath your sleeves, you could feel her whole body trembling.

He saw her. And for a moment, something unplaceable flickered through that eerie eye of his. A twitch of the mouth. A softening in his stance.

“Aisling, is it...?” He asked, so gently that it startled you more than if he’d screamed.

How the hell did he know your baby's name?

You were trembling too hard to even speak, so you just clutched her tighter and tried to shift backward- only to regret it as the wounds in your thigh were agitated by the movement.

“Sssshh,” he cooed suddenly, his voice dipping low and almost pleasant- too pleasant. “Easy now, little ones. I know you’ve had a terrible fright. But I promise you... that won’t happen again.”

Your mind was reeling. This guy wanted something from you- that was the only logical reason why someone who looked ready to tear out his own psycho, teenage kids' spines out was acting so polite all of a sudden.

And the only thing you had of value was your precious babies.

“I'm not planning to hurt you,” he said, softer this time. “You’re... I wasn’t supposed to find you.”

What the fuck was going on...?

“I know this is overwhelming,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t just seen him smack his subordinate - surrogate son? - like an unruly dog. “And I regret that we had to meet like this. I don’t normally allow such... sloppiness in my operations. But I promise you- I would never let harm come to someone carrying my soul’s match.”

...What does that mean???

What the hell do you do?

Nothing was making any sense anymore.

How could you get out of this alive?

What were you supposed to do?

What could you do to get Aisling and Daisy out of this?

“...Are you gonna hurt my mommy?”

The world seemed to go still.

Aisling managed to squirm enough to finally turn herself around while being smushed in your arms, facing the murder skeletons fully and popping her head out from where you had it safely nested in the valley of your breasts.

Nightmare looked at her. Just looked.

And then, in the softest voice you’d ever imagined coming from a creature that looked like him, he said, “never.”

Then he stood.

“Clear the park,” Nightmare ordered over his shoulder, without looking away from you. “No witnesses. Do not involve the other civilians more than necessary.”

The gang scrambled to obey. All of them bolted- except Cross, who lingered for a second, watching you with an unreadable look before finally moving to help.

You felt numb and helpless as broken screams began to sound off again. This time in greater frequency, as the monsters rushed to purge the area instead of just fucking around.

Aisling flinched from the shriller ones, her little fists curling into your shirt again, but Nightmare... he didn’t even blink. His gaze stayed locked onto the two of you as though the carnage meant absolutely nothing.

Maybe it didn’t.

You could barely process the weight of that reality before he moved again, slower this time. Cautious. Measured.

"...As much as I loathe having to ask, what is the... biological donor's status?"

. . . .

Was he... asking about the father?

"I don't have a daddy!" Aisling suddenly yelled, almost offendedly, before you could even begin to wrap your mind around what he meant. Her tiny voice cracked through the fog of your shock and exhaustion, piercing the tension like a pin to a balloon.

“I was born from a doctor! Mommy picked me from a special hospital!” She continued, stubbornly insistent to share this information despite the tears drying on her cheeks. “And Daisy too! She’s the baby in Mommy’s belly! We don't need a daddy!”

Someone please save you now...

“That’s... a relief.”

. . . .

This...

This might be just a bit too much for you...

The moment that thought crossed your mind, your brain suddenly hit a lag. Eyes drooping as you blinked slow and heavy, like a curtain was being pulled over your thoughts.

You barely registered the sudden lurch in your stomach, or the way your fingers slackened around Aisling's tiny frame. It was as if your body, overwhelmed by going through a literal terrorist attack, decided it has had enough for the day.

And Nightmare noticed immediately.

“(Y/n)?” He said your name for the first time, softly but urgently.

How the fuck did he know your name.

Your vision swam. Your head dipped forward. You weren’t even aware of how much blood you’d lost- or how much you were still losing.

“M- Mommy???” Aisling squeaked, her hands patting weakly at your face.

That got a reaction.

With an unnatural swiftness, Nightmare surged forward, tendrils looping around you and your daughter, bracing you both before you could collapse fully. The moment you sagged into him, unconsciousness flirting at the edges of your mind, you felt the faint hum of magic surround you- cool, velvety, and far too gentle for someone so frightening.

“Stay calm,” he said to Aisling, and this time his voice wasn’t just soft. It was soothing. “Your mother is just tired. She’s hurt. But I can help her.”

You didn’t hear any of this. You were slipping too far under.

But Aisling did.

She was very scared. This monster was undoubtedly scary - just from the way he suddenly hit his friend with a smile and not feel bad - and all his friends were scary, too. They were trying to bully her and Mommy earlier!

But... But then this scary monster stopped them... And he said that he wouldn't hurt Mommy, and despite definitely being scary and being capable of being more scary, he was talking softly and asking to help her Mommy.

And Mommy said that she could always trust a monster to help her out when an emergency happened and Mommy couldn't help her.

She sniffled, deciding to be the big girl Daisy and Mommy needed right now.

“...Okay,” she whispered, her bottom lip wobbling as she leaned her head against your chest. “But you gotta help Mommy for real. No tricks...!” Because he looked like a big trickster! Like mister Comic! All skeletons were tricksters, because mister Comic was a trickster and he was the best skeleton she knew!

“No tricks,” he said solemnly. “You have my word.”

A tendril reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from Aisling's face as she pouted and nodded, as if daring him to break his word.

And Nightmare was a monster of his word... when he chose to be.

He shifted, rising smoothly to his feet with you cradled securely in his arms. Aisling remained curled against you, blinking blearily, her cheek resting where your heartbeat thudded weakly in your chest. She sniffled again, but made no move to fight as Nightmare lifted you both and made for the other side of the ballfield.

A possessive protectiveness flared inside him, ancient and undeniable. He didn’t care how it had happened- didn’t care that you had never even met him before today. You were his, and so were the little ones nestled in your arms and soul. Nothing else mattered. Not the mission. Not the timeline. Not the fact that this entire encounter was completely, stupidly accidental.

“You will not be taken from me again,” he whispered lowly, as if vowing it to the very stars.

Killer shortcut to his side as you reached the edge of the ballfield. His hands were stained with dust and blood, his breathing calm but tense.

“Park’s clear,” he reported, glancing once more at you in Nightmare’s arms. “No survivors.”

Nightmare nodded once. “Good. We leave now.”

Killer hesitated, his sockets flicking toward Aisling again, then your limp form. “...You sure about this, Boss?”

Nightmare didn’t answer at first. He just stood there for a moment, like he was weighing something heavy. Something not even his boys could understand.

Then, without looking back, he said simply: “She belongs to me.”

He opened a rift in the air, darkness warping and bending into a gaping tear in space. Aisling couldn't help but gape at it in awe, having never seen this kind of magic before.

“She’s mine,” he repeated quietly. “And you know I take care of what’s mine.”

With that, he stepped through, with the rest of the crew following shortly after.

Chapter Text

It happened without anybody noticing. The beginning of what would be the multiverse's end.

The stars in this Outertale variant flickered weakly, mostly blurred behind the murky manufactured haze drifting from the surrounding areas. This one seemed to have been an attempted blend of sci-fi and industrial thematics. Or maybe it was a Fellswap Gold universe set in Outertale? Ink maybe remembered hearing a creator struggling with an idea looking like this... but he couldn't quite remember. Not like it mattered in the end, obviously.

Even after rescuing this timeline from Error, it was obviously set on the path of just fading away anyway. The original creator's intent has already bled from this world near entirely, inspiration running dry and leaving the final pieces untouched. Perhaps, if given permission, Ink could take the reins and finalize the details himself...

But that would never happen. His job wasn't to interfere. He couldn't touch. Couldn't stabilize what hasn't been written. Look what happened after he broke that rule already...

A pale ribbon of nebulous mist drifted lazily across the Serpent Charmer constellation, untouched, unbothered by the two figures laying in the ruins of a broken meteor.

Ink didn't look like a god.

He hardly felt like one these days, anyway.

Splayed over the rocky surface, legs still a little tangled with Error's string, Ink just watched the dead world around them move on, slowly rotting and fading in color- but he'd lost the urge to really care. He just wanted to sleep... maybe forever. Everything was just so much now.

Even Broomy was giving him the cold shoulder now, staring at him in silent disappointment for everything.

For being a soulless monstrosity...

For ruining the one good thing he had for a whim...

For being so damn pathetic. What kind of guardian are you even supposed to be?

Next to him, Error was curled up on his side in a half-fetal kind of position. Half his coat was still glued to the ground from some lingering splatters of purple paint, and bits of his face were still raw from the shots of red paint he'd made earlier. Yet like him, the glitch was unusually placid. He wasn't throwing a hissy fit or snarling or shredding apart the landscape out of habit. He was just... staring at nothing.

For the first time in... centuries, maybe? There was no fighting between Creation and Destruction. They did not throw any childish insults, or point fingers that would get bitten off, or even try to discreetly harass the other. They just existed. Together.

Error broke it first, voice a low rasp in comparison to his buzzing screeches that would echo in your skull for months if you were unlucky. "YOu... bRoKe mY jAw eArlIeR."

Ink huffed a quiet laugh, though a little dry. "You dislocated my shoulder. Again."

Surprisingly, Error chuckled in response, clipped and dull as it was. "noT sOrRY."

Ink watched the stars twinkle amidst the fog, all greyed blues and greyed greens and greyed reds. The more they lost their shine, the more his smile started to fade, the more it felt like his own paints were curdling into a mass of grey.

"...I'm tired," he said. It wasn't whiny, or dramatic. Just flat. Honest in a way that made Error’s eyelights flicker, glitching softly at the edges as he turned the statement around in his surprisingly clear mind.

"TiREd Of FIgHtiNg...?" He tested, carefully.

"No. Just tired of existing."

The words hung there, heavier than any blow they'd ever exchanged. Error didn't answer immediately. His phalanges clawed idly at a loose stitch in the cuffs of his sleeves, unravelling himself little by little.

"...i geT It," Error finally muttered, voice crackling.

Ink turned his head to look at him. Really look at him.

...Since when did Error look so small?

There was no malice in his expression. No smugness. Just a worn-out kind of understanding that made the Creator's chest seize. He never thought he'd find an understanding in Error of all monsters.

"Y'kNOw..." Error muttered, glancing away, "I usEd TO tHiNk iF i jUSt KEpt GoiNg, kEPt... dEStroYiNg thIngS, EVeNtuAlly I'D wiN. eND it ALl. FiNIsh My JOb. bUt-" He gave a short, ugly laugh. "It'S enDLeSs. ThERe's AlWaYs aNOthEr AU. aNOtheR vArIANt. AnOTheR GoddAmn meSS. aNd NOw-"

He cut himself off with a snarl, glitches flaring briefly before guttering out.

"AnD nOW EVeN NiGhtmARe dOesn'T botHeR pUtTinG uP wiTh ME aNYmORe," Error spat. "HE usEd tO HeLp soMetIMes. usED To... I dUNnO, TaLk to ME... aCtED liKE hE uNDerStoOd... maYbE cArED, eVEN."

Ink never listened so intently to someone else in his entire life. Error and Nightmare were never friends like he and Dream were. Hardly got along, even. But the two were certainly closer than most other gods were to each other. Mostly bound by shared interests and their reputations as megalomaniacal psychos, but bound nonetheless.

The fact that Error was even admitting there was a connection between them was a big deal.

"NoW? hE'S fiNalLy hAD eNoUgh OF mE... i'm JUst a 'cRazy gLiTCh,' A 'haLF-WiT lUnAtIc.'"

He scoffed, bitter and hollow. "fiGurES. i SHoulD'vE knOWn BetTER."

Ink swallowed thickly. He'd never heard Error sound so vulnerable before... And not lose his shit over it.

"...Dream doesn't talk to me anymore either," he said quietly. "Blue, too."

Error stiffened, subtly.

"They don't like me anymore," Ink continued, voice getting thinner. "Ever since the X-Event... they avoid me, now. And the others..." He trailed off. Felt his body ache with exhaustion. "Nobody wants me around."

Nobody spoke for a little while. Or maybe a long while. All that mattered was the silence between them that held no judgement, no dismissal. The gods could simply gaze into their reflection and dig past the surface.

"thIs sHItTy mUlTivERsE nEvER caREd FoR uS," Error suddenly whispered. Like a secret he had kept buried under mountains of deliberate ignorance. His hands clenched weakly into fists, pulling loose a few more broken threads. "aLL thAT tImE... we weRe jUst... tOo usEfUl to thrOw awaY."

Ink let the words settle in his chest, heavy as stone.

Maybe that was true. Maybe the only reason anyone had ever tolerated him in his life was only because he was needed. A necessity, not a friend. Not a person.

A soulless freak like you will never be a person.

He was so tired...

"We could just... stop."

Error blinked slowly, the bright blue of his left eyelight flaring to attention.

"stOP...?"

Ink sat up a little, bracing himself on his palms. His scarf slipped down his shoulder, the vibrant tan now looking nearly beige in the dead starlight.

"Stop creating. Stop destroying- like last time, except, instead of pausing the balance we just let it run. Flow out naturally without us."

Error stared at him, some stubborn piece of him twitching like it wanted to argue.

"...LaST tIme i MaDE a DeAL wiTH yOu, yOU fUCkiNg liED tO me."

"I'm not lying this time," Ink murmured, head dropping a little lower. His voice was stripped down to something raw, something naked. Kind of like when he was off his paints. "I swear."

Error's glitching settled into a low, constant hum. He stared at Ink for a long time, taking in the limp noodle that had been a thorn in his side for time immortal. There was no trickery here. No fake, wide-eyed optimism. No mania.

Just exhaustion.

"...whAt wOuLD hAPpEN?" Error asked, hesitant, suspicious by instinct.

Ink shrugged, "at first? Probably chaos. AUs falling into each other, timelines emerging without guidance... it won't be pretty." He dragged a hand down his bandolier, not even grabbing for any of the vials. "But eventually... it'll stabilize. Find a new balance without us."

Error frowned, teeth grinding audibly.

He didn't like the idea of the multiverse fixing itself without him. Without either of them. It felt like giving up - like losing - and Error hated losing.

But...

Wasn't he already losing? Hadn't he already lost?

"...hoW lONg wouLD It taKe?"

Ink shrugged one shoulder, slow. "A week. Maybe less. Depends on how long it takes the multiverse's failsafe to activate. Once that happens, our code should be scrubbed in the reboot."

He mulled over what he said carefully, thinking deeper into the aftermath of such a plan. "The multiverse will probably have a smaller carrying capacity by the end of it, no way would they be able to handle so many AUs without maintenance. But it'll probably be better... without us."

The words sat between them like a gun on a table, loaded and waiting.

Error really let himself consider it, knowing full damn well that the squid was offering the equivalent to a suicide pact with him. Holy shit- he really shouldn't even be thinking about this. It was insanity. It was crazy talk. It was...

Error closed his sockets.

It was tempting.

It was so tempting.

"...fINe," Error muttered. "i'm iN."

Ink's smile widened just slightly. Sad. Relieved. Glowing. And Error felt his cheeks warm at the soft look he was given from his rival. The most intimate expression he's had. Ever.

They laid there, two broken gods under a broken sky, and promised one another to spend their final days together.

It was the least they deserved, after being born and forced to live with one another this entire time. It was only fair they die together as well.

Day 1

The first day was... peaceful.

Unnervingly so.

Dream drifted through the corridors of his palace - specifically the hall that held doors scattered about the multiverse - with a quiet hum in his chest, his golden light casting away the lingering traces of unrest from previous disturbances easily enough.

It was rare to have a full day without any sudden cries for help, or panicked bursts of negativity from timelines being torn apart or interfered with by a certain Creator.

No world ending catastrophes. No troublesome thorns poking into worlds they didn't belong. Even Nightmare hadn't peeked his dastardly head anywhere.

It was just... quiet.

For the first time in what felt like centuries, Dream allowed himself to smile, soft and genuine.

Maybe... maybe things were finally settling.

Maybe, after so many battles and tantrums and broken treaties and pointless destruction, Ink and Error had finally decided to grow up.

Or gotten bored. Either worked for him.

He twirled a bit on his heels, wondering if he should spend the day adventuring with Blue, or maybe visit Geno and Outer and Classic and Red and all his other friends- it had been a while since he'd had the chance to just exist without racing to put out someone else's fires.

Maybe he'd even attend one of Lust's pole dancing classes! Blue had given them many praises, but the guardian just never had the time to try it out.

Dream allowed his thoughts to drift lazily, golden boots clicking softly against the polished marble, hands tucked behind his back near giddy and mischievous. For the first time in forever, he wasn't running on frayed nerves, dreading the next catastrophe.

It was a lovely day to be alive...!

But not everyone felt the same.

Elsewhere, in the heart of the OMEGA Timeline, Frisk sat at the center of a thousand whirring monitors, one hand pressed lightly to the side of their tiny skull.

Something was wrong.

The data streams of Sci's machines were too clean. Too smooth. Like the multiverse was living in a scientific model- which were highly idealized, unrealistic settings!

Normally there was some noise, some disturbances - tiny notifications blaring from decaying timelines, random pings from ripples in the void, code shifts flagged for investigation. Frisk lived managing that noise, monitoring it, patching what they could, alerting the council to what they couldn’t.

But today... Today the systems were almost silent. Something - even with their omnipresence - that has never been seen before.

The only thing louder than the hum of machinery was the dull throb of dread in the back of Frisk’s mind.

They tapped a few keys, pulling up predictive models.

At first, everything looked stable. But the longer they stared, the more they saw the hairline cracks - tiny, almost imperceptible - creeping through the very code of the balance.

Fragile. Vulnerable.

Like a spiderweb trembling before it broke.

Core tightened their hands into fists, knuckles pale.

Something was coming.

Something bad.

Very, very bad.

And worse yet- they had no idea how to stop it. Or even alert others for it.

Day 2

Everything spiraled out of control from out of nowhere. Seemingly overnight.

It started small, at first.

Two AUs had collided with one another and started to collapse. It was an incredibly unfortunate- but thankfully rare incident. Frisk had managed to pull a good number of survivors out in time before the mess dissolved into the void, and had spent their time helping the new refugees settle in.

Until another collision took place an hour later...

Then five.

Then ten.

And then suddenly, their people were getting reports of new AUs spontaneously forming from wild code. Popping up out of the static like daisies in the snow. It was alarming to witness, given how precariously close they would spawn to other stable worlds- others being not so lucky and colliding with another from the get-go.

Further down the line, they'd suddenly have a frantic Sci storming the Executive OMEGA Building, telling them of AUs suddenly mutating without rhyme or reason, alternating and molding themselves into something new and odd.

Everything only seemed to gather into a bigger and grander snowball effect. Dragging everyone into the situation whether they liked it or not.

By midday, entire branches of reality were mutating without warning; classic Undertales devolving into strange - sometimes unsettling but mostly nonsensical - forms that seemed... half-baked, putting it kindly. Versions of themselves that made less and less sense.

A Freshtale designed completely in blacklight.

A Dancetale where all monsters glowed green with pink spots when splashed with carrot juice.

A Storyshift where everyone but Temmie was weirdly obsessed with tiny, intricate clocks.

Even Nightmare - who typically reveled in watching timelines suffer in bizarre fashion - found himself unsettled when he and his crew were inevitably accused for the mayhem and dragged out of hiding from a frenzied witch hunt.

Hours went by, yet there was seemingly no end to the multiverse literally unraveling all around them.

Dream had to scramble between so many portals and doors that the spirit had almost wound up motion sick. His golden light flickered with increasing strain as he tried to soothe the hysteria blooming from the collapse and spontaneous birth of entire worlds. It wasn't just anxiety and sadness anymore. It was despair. Panic. Misery.

Nightmare- meanwhile, was actually struggling to absorb all the negativity he was being flooded with. Normally, negative emotions were his lifeblood- a feast he could gorge on endlessly.

But this... this was too much. Even for a gluttonous little devil like him. He'd get indigestion at this rate, and it didn't help that people were actually pleading with him to absorb the negativity so that it wouldn't overflow.

Neither twin had a very good time- though, one small blessing from all of this? It turns out that their shared misery was a great way to get them talking again, and by extension, settling their conflict for good.

Not a person in the multiverse wanted to waste their time with petty squabbles for the rest of their lives after today.

And yet the work still kept coming.

Poor Reaper and Life were going overtime. Frisk was splitting themselves between so many realities, desperately trying to catch tragedies before they occurred, warning as many people to take refuge in the OMEGA Timeline as they could.

By the time evening was rolling around, half the damn multiverse was crowding the OMEGA Timeline's expansive domain. Each arrival more harried and fretful than the last.

Yet among all the chaos, the absence of two important figures completely slipped everyone's notice.

After all, it wouldn't be the first time the multiverse's so-called protector was late to the fire.

Day 3

It was absolute pandemonium.

By the third day, the council finally managed to gather - though 'gather' was a generous word for the ragged mess they were in.

The Meeting Hall - once a place of neutral negotiation between Outcodes, immortals, and protectors - now buzzed with frantic energy. Broken pieces of timelines flickered across projection screens. The marble floors cracked in places from G and Red's earlier scuffle, tension at an all-time high.

Hours have already gone by, yet nobody seemed any closer to a possible solution than before.

Blue paced in erratic circles, his usual bright enthusiasm worn down to a fraying wire. Classic and Outer were huddled together, talking in hushed conversation that seemed more like cynical small talk than not. Reaper actually decided to just go- fuck it, and gave up on trying to keep up with the exponentially rising number of souls emerging.

Even Life perched herself anxiously near his side, giving Geno a comforting hug as the two drearily mourned the state of the multiverse. The goddess' steady glow was dwindling with fatigue, magic growing thinner and thinner with the number of nonsense worlds sprouting left and right, not even giving her enough time to spin together complete souls before they were forced into existence.

Nobody wanted to bring up the consequences of the Reapertale denizens' withdrawal from their duties. It didn't matter as much as finding the root cause of things.

Even Nightmare was there - allowed inside without a warrant officiated prior, for once, by sheer necessity - sitting at the farthest edge of the council circle with a scowl deep enough to rival a canyon, arms loosely folded, lethargy bleeding from every inch of him. Killer slouched against his chair next to him, fiddling with a knife he wasn't even bothering to twirl anymore.

The air was sharp with raised voices and clipped arguments. Every theory proposed was torn apart by someone else before it could gain traction.

"It's Error!" Someone snarled- for the twenty-eighth time, voice echoing off the cracked walls. "It has to be! This reeks of him!"

"But there's been no sign of Error- or any other evidence of foreign interference at all, in fact!" Sci sarcastically rolled his eyes through gritted teeth, lenses flashing as he jostled his glasses matter of factly. He had gotten quite sick having to repeat himself today.

"I've scanned through the samples eleven times, and I'm telling you, there are no traces of tampering in the codes. No magic signatures. Not even his fucking strings. Nothing!"

"Then what about Ink?! That asshole's been way too quiet!" A Muffet squawked.

"Again, there are no magic signatures...!"

"Then Run It Again! Clearly You've Missed Something, Because There Is Nothing Natural About Any Of This!" Razz growled, slamming a fist onto the projection table, making the scattered images ripple and blur.

"You fucking run it yourself why don't ya?!" Sci finally snapped, standing up abruptly with a snarl.

Around the outer rings of the room, Frisk sat at the highest point, watching the uptight bickering with a resigned disappointment.

What were they expecting? The multiverse hasn't faced anything like this since the X-Event, and that entire debacle was very different to this.

This wasn't the controlled - at least in comparison to this - and sharp chaos that occurred when Ink tried to restore the plot of an AU or Error stormed a timeline for his personal rage room. This was blind mutation. Meaningless decay. No guiding hand. No rhythm. No agenda at play.

And worst of all?

No sign of the culprit.

At first, after Nightmare's name was cleared, people were quick to assume the Creator - or Destroyer - had once again done something massively stupid or gotten bored enough to fuck with something that they most certainly should not have fucked with.

Yet- despite both gods being notorious meddlers, neither had made a single appearance since the beginning of the crisis.

...That should have made them realize it... But they didn't.

After all, who would honestly suspect that the two most larger-than-life figures, the biggest brat and diva to ever exist, attention whores with egos the size of Jupiter...

Would willingly step down from the spotlight?

Day 4

Nestled between the fractured ribs of dying stars and the black velvet of deep, timeless space, two gods lounged together on a forgotten hunk of rock, a nameless meteor in some incomplete Outertale variant. One that will never be completed, probably.

Both of them greatly doubted this world would be among the ones to survive the reboot.

One good thing, however, was how the destabilization slowly eroded the industrial fog, allowing the stars to shine through as time drifted by. They still glimmered in muted colors, not quite right- not even close to matching the brilliance of the original, but they were enough.

Ink laid on his back, arms folded behind his head, idly kicking one foot over the other. Error slouched beside him, one leg drawn up lazily, the other stretched out with all the grace of a tossed ragdoll. His strings flickered and dimmed in his hands every so often, vibrating with the imbalance neither of them could quite ignore.

They could feel it.

Wild code forming incomplete shells. The creators' ideas deviating into nonsense without inspiration to guide the process. Spontaneous deviations.

But for once, neither felt the urge to step in.

Instead, they simply... stayed. Allowed themselves, ancient and obsolete, to let go. Let a new age come.

Enjoying a rare moment of peace- however misplaced. Before they could finally be put to rest as the ghosts they were.

Ink grinned lazily, scooting himself just an inch closer to his counterpart. "Heh. Did you see that? I think a classic timeline just glitched into an AU where... 'Monster Kid is a zombie fan that infects the entire Underground to be die-hard Undyne stans'? Pffff-! Hahahaha! Who came up with that?!"

Error snorted, the sound glitchy and rough. "bEttER ThAn tHe ONe WheRe thE MEtTatOn GreW... WHat waS iT? seVEn hUndREd aRms?" He waved a hand vaguely at the lines of code only they could see past the stars. "gRoSs."

Ink laughed quietly, eyes half-lidded. "Kinda creative though! Maybe? I mean, if you like arms."

"yOU're disGusTINg."

"And you're funny." Ink lilted the words like a tease, but there was something... softer under it. Something Error hadn't heard in association with himself before.

They lapsed into silence again, broken only by the lazy flickering of Error's strings and the distant hum of dying universes in the background.

Error played his cat's cradles. Ink drew imaginary constellations in the sky. Both of them would talk about whatever was in their heads once in a while, opening the ground to discussions that would go everywhere and nowhere.

After a while, Error mumbled without looking at him, "YoU'Re... nOT aS iNtOleRAblE wHeN YOu'rE nOt boUNciNg ARouNd lIkE a CraCKed-uP sUGar cUbE..."

Ink laughed again, but this time it was smaller. Warmer. Maybe a little sad.

"Yeah... I get that a lot," he said a little distractedly. "Or... I used to..."

More silence. Though this time, there was a notable weight. Something vaguely like tension between them.

And then, so casually it was almost laughable, Ink said, "hey, Error?"

"WHat."

"I've always wanted to kiss you."

The glitch froze, an error buzzing over his spine like a shiver. He didn’t look at Ink, but he felt the weight of the confession settle between them like a new star; hot, dense, impossible to ignore.

Error could feel the stare.

Any other time before now, the Destroyer would have been furious. Would have assumed Ink was playing with him, poking at him in horrible curiosity to see how far he could push- what he could get away with before Error snapped. Treating him like a toy, an idiot, just a glitch freak he could experiment and mess with for shits and giggles.

But there was no way Ink would bother wasting his time with a joke like this when the whole multiverse was burning down around them.

Ink meant it.

And maybe it was the looming end of everything, or maybe it was the slow, inevitable way he'd grown too tired to keep his spite, but Error didn’t lash out. Didn’t even flinch as the Creator slowly inched closer, wonder and stark want in his face.

Instead, he let his gaze drift sideways, oddly shy under that intense stare. Feeling heat - a not entirely unpleasant warmth he'd never felt before in this context - ignite over his cheekbones.

He never thought anybody could honestly look at him like that.

"...wE'Re gONNa diE sOOn aNYwAY," he said, voice lower, almost timid for a moment. "dO wHAt yOu wAnT, sQuID."

Ink blinked - once, slowly - as if making sure he'd heard right. Then, like a tide finally reaching the shore, he pushed himself up and crept forth.

The Creator was uncharacteristically tender as he leaned in, hyperfixating on every minute micro-expression, as if searching for doubt as he slid closer. Curling into Error's lap, settling over his chest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

He wasn't doing this out of curiosity. Not even boredom, clearly. And the thought made something strange twinge in Error's gut.

It was too sweet to be a whim. Too cathartic to be one-sided, either.

Ink pressed their foreheads together first, a slow exhale shuddering from his chest, as if grounding himself- giving Error a chance to back out. He stared him down like the void.

When Error didn't move, Ink softly tilted his head with the barest tips of his phalanges, taking one last deep breath before dipping in. Both closed their eyes as their magic made contact.

It was messy and awkward at first; how could it not be? They were old and broken and made for battle, not softness like this.

Error tensed like taut string, not knowing where to put his hands, not knowing how to want this- but Ink was patient. Gentle. Persistent. He tilted his head just enough to slot against Error's mouth better, and slowly, with a groaning shudder, Error gave in.

Ink’s colors bled warmer, more vivid, under the heat blooming between them. Error’s glitches slowly fizzled away, giving his partner more access for wandering hands.

Neither knew which of them moved first - whether it was Error yanking him closer, or Ink grinding into his lap - but before either could think too much about it, tangled hands and stifled noises made it clear: they weren't going to stop at just a kiss.

Their first - and what they knew would be their last - time was languid, it was slow. Not a moment was taken for granted. They took their time discovering pleasure in one another.

A tangle of limbs under fading stars, their bodies pressed together like they could fuse into one being if they tried hard enough.

Error’s strings somehow wound up tangled around Ink’s ribs, pulling him closer, tighter, as if he could stitch them together before the end.

Ink’s hands bled paint as they pricked and cut themselves along every dip and curve in Error’s spine, every sharp glitch in his code, memorizing him like a final masterpiece.

They didn’t speak. There was nothing left to say.

Just heat, and breath, and the quiet, aching understanding that this was a goodbye.

. . . .

Later, after the heat in their marrow had cooled, and the fluids had dried into tacky smears on their bones, they laid tangled together in the quiet aftermath.

Error’s skull was pillowed against Ink’s chest, listening to the faint, rhythmic hum of magic that almost resembled a soulbeat- something he would never admit to find soothing. Ink’s fingers traced idle patterns along the ridges of Error’s shoulder, his touch feather-light, as if afraid too much pressure would splinter the peace.

They let the afterglow take its course, riding on the floaty, heady sensation of endorphins and oxytocin...

"Well damn, no wonder there are whole AUs crazy about sex."

Until Ink decided it was time for pillow talk.

"mMn, iT WaS prEtTy gOod."

The Creator giggled, before suddenly growing sober. "...You know that was my first, right Error?"

"wHat, yOU tHiNK pEoPLe piCtURE yOU As sOMe kInD of StUd oR sOMetHinG?"

"......"

Error sighed, "...YeaH, sQuID... i KnOw- kNew iT Was yOuR fiRSt."

"Oh, good."

Perhaps feeling sentimental, the glitch opened his damn mouth, "...YoU weRE mY fIRsT, tOo."

"Pfff, of course I was! Can't imagine many other people being kinky enough to give you an offer!"

"......"

"...Oh. Sorry, that was... that was mean, wasn't it?"

"...S' fINE, sQuiD. YoU're jUSt LoW oN YoUR pAinT, aGAiN."

"Oh... Oh-! Shit, you're right! Whoops!"

"...IdiOT."

. . . .

"We should have done that sooner." Ink murmured, voice rough with something between awe and regret.

Error hummed to cover up his flinch, pretending his etchings weren't sparkling like LED lights. "yeaH... wE shOuLd'Ve."

Day 5

For the first time in days, the Council Meeting Hall was quiet.

Tense. Waiting.

Sci stood at the center, exhausted but upright, adjusting his glasses with trembling hands. Around him, the council members leaned forward, collective breaths held, desperation palpable. Even Nightmare looked grimly attentive, arms folded tight over his ribs, Dream bouncing his leg anxiously beside him.

Once the initial nerves settled, Sci exhaled shakily and spoke. "I found it," he said, voice brittle but steady. "I found the problem."

He tapped the projection orb, and a three-dimensional matrix of the multiverse’s core algorithm shimmered to life in the air above him- a vast, swirling tapestry of code, delicate and intricate beyond imagination. Nobody could make heads or tails of it unless they were intimately familiar with the craft, which only a handful of individuals in the multiverse were.

"This," he said, gesturing to a particular line of code, "is the multiverse's balance. It's... functioning exactly as it should be. Not a single thing is malfunctioning."

Confused glances were exchanged. Reaper narrowed his eyes at the projection with a grim expression.

"But if it's working," Life asked quietly from her seat near Reaper, "then why is the multiverse falling apart?"

Sci turned to face the gods, the deep dark rings under his sockets more visible than ever.

"Because it's adapting."

He shifted the code, zooming in until lines of variables and equations became visible, moving and adjusting in real time.

"The multiverse has an inherent failsafe. A... self-correcting algorithm designed to keep the Doodlesphere from collapsing completely if something catastrophic happens. If - in some freakish event - a major variable is removed, it doesn't just collapse like a house of cards-" he flicked the model, and they watched in horror as two particular scripts flickered gray, marked as 'MISSING'.

'DESTRUCTION.' 'CREATION.'

"-It rewrites itself to compensate."

Sci gave the crowd a serious stare. "When was the last time anybody saw Ink or Error creating or destroying anything?"

Nobody answered...

Sci pushed up his glasses, voice dropping lower, harsher. "Without Ink and Error, the balance is attempting to rebuild itself without its original keystones. It’s not breaking - it’s evolving. Mutations, spontaneous AU formations, the spread of instability - they’re all symptoms of the multiverse recalibrating to exist without them."

Unease spread throughout the room as monsters and humans alike muttered among each other.

Classic was the first to speak up from the crowd, voice a little choked with anxiety. "So what you're saying is... even if we do nothing... it'll fix itself?"

Sci hesitated. "Yes," he said finally. "Eventually. The chaos will burn itself out. The new algorithm will stabilize."

"But," Sci pressed, cutting through the whisperings, "it won't be the same. We don’t know what the new multiverse would look like. There could be any number of variables that determine the end result. But without a balance between Creation and Destruction, it's likely that we'll have to start getting used to colliding AUs as a frequent occurrence."

. . . .

"And Error and Ink?" Dream asked, leaning forward slowly, voice tight with something raw. "What- What happens to them...?"

Sci closed his eyes for a second- gathering the strength to say it aloud. "When the algorithm finishes recalibrating... the multiverse will have no 'place' for them anymore. They're classified as missing variables, not constants... So, what I mean to say is... they'll be erased."

Things started to get ugly after that. All at once, several people violently rose up in protest.

"Then We Need To Find Them, Fast!" Blue barked, slamming his palms against the table. "They Might Have Been Kidnapped By Some Nefarious Mastermind Trying To Throw The Multiverse Into Chaos!"

Reaper’s scythe materialized in his grip, his usual apathy replaced with cold fury at the idea. This was not the first time Gods were viewed as cogs in a wheel by the mortals they toiled for to preserve. "I agree with the Star. While I hold no personal love for the Creator or Destroyer, I refuse to stand by and let my fellow Gods be martyred. Their balance was the first for a reason."

Life stood beside him, her glow flickering like a dying star as she kept herself firm in her support. "Reaper is right, every God is vital- no matter their flaws, and treating them as disposable because it’s easier is a betrayal of everything we’re supposed to protect."

Sci threw his hands up, exasperated and frankly alarmed to suddenly find himself with angry Gods breathing down his neck. "I’m not suggesting it! I’m just telling you what’s happening!"

But the argument already caught like dry tinder.

"Why the hell should we stick our necks out for them?!" Someone shouted from the crowd. "They're the reason half of us even have trauma!"

"Th- They're r- r- right...! Ink al- already p- p- put us all i- in d- d- danger with th- the X-Event...! W- Wouldn't th- the multiverse be s- safer w- w- without them...?" Another voice cried out.

"But We Don't Know What Will Happen To The Multiverse Without Them! What If It's A Lot Worse?"

"The multiverse I live in now is pretty shitty enough! I say we risk it! Can't get any worse than having to wait day by day for Error to show up!"

"EVERYONE! THERE MUST BE A BETTER SOLUTION THAN TO SACRIFICE THEM!"

"Please! Like those assholes would think twice about us if we were in a similar situation!"

In the end, it was Dream who rose to his feet, golden magic flaring with a finality that had the room dropping to a hush. "That is enough!"

People were shocked to see the guardian with golden tears streaking his cheeks, fists clenched so tightly, those closer to him could see drops of golden ichor slipping through his fingers.

"Ink-! Ink is - was - my- my friend, once!" He choked, mind suddenly conjuring up all of the fond memories he still had of the Creator, the monster he once looked up to more than anyone. Dream felt his heart ache, suddenly regretting how they left off. Wondering if that last fight would be the last words they ever shared.

Dream's voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. "Even after everything he's done... All his flaws... I can't just sit back when he's in trouble."

He owed Ink at least that much.

SKRAACK...!

The entire room jumped at the thunderous snap, eyes all whirling to the guardian of Negativity, looking as if someone had called him slurs to his face. In other words, he was furious.

"How dare that fucking glitch run off and get himself into such a mess-! Without even settling our dispute!" Nightmare snarled, slamming a tentacle into the ground hard enough to shatter the marble. His eyelight burned near neon with fury- but underneath it, something far more vulnerable flickered underneath the surface. Fear.

The room fell silent. Even Dream blinked in shock.

Nightmare rarely showed concern for anyone, let alone like this.

"Error is mine to fucking kill- if anything is going to kill him!" He hissed defensively once he noticed the stares, voice trembling with something dangerously close to panic. "I refuse to let the multiverse take him before I get the chance to- to..." As if realizing what he was saying, the spirit suddenly trailed off, mouth slamming shut.

He turned away from the rest of the room, teeth grinding.

Before I get the chance to apologize...

Nightmare, too, had regrets with how he left things off with the Destroyer.

". . . . ."

Nobody dared try to keep arguing after that, fearing the wrath of some very irate gods who have made their opinions very well known.

In the end, they put it to a vote.

It wasn't an unanimous decision.

It wasn't even a clean one.

But it was enough.

Day 6

They found them along the fringes of the multiverse, where only the truly obscure and forgotten AUs lingered. It was in the dimension of an unnamed industrial-esque Outertale that the small motley crew of four managed to track down both wayward gods.

Reaper had opened a portal that dropped them a distance away from the asteroid belt that all Outertale variants seemed to have, winding up just short of the peak that all Outcodes unanimously agreed to be the best location for stargazing.

Not like much could be done here. The stars were wrong- muted, flickering, some drawn like afterthoughts, others stilted and hollow, still in a sketch-like state. The entire world itself was unfinished and soft, like all AUs tended to be in their initial stages before Ink played his part to move things along.

They never would have even thought to look here, if Blue hadn't indirectly pointed out how strange it was for this AU to be as untouched by all the confusion as it has.

It didn't take long to find them.

Ink and Error laid tangled together on the edge of the meteor, half-propped against each other like canoodling lovers. Ink’s scarf was draped loosely over Error’s naked shoulders- as the Destroyer's was over his own, their fingers loosely intertwined where their clothes was smothered underneath their combined weight.

They looked... peaceful. Hadn't even noticed their newly arrived company.

If the sight of the two actually existing so softly together wasn't so surreal, Dream would have been indignant to find them being perfectly fine after all they've been through to find them, if not for the lurching uncertainty pooling in his gut.

Despite the tenderness the picture made, something was clearly wrong. He couldn't feel anything from them. Either of them.

That didn't stop the others, though.

Blue, overwhelmed with relief at just seeing Ink alive, stumbled forward, practically shouting, "INK! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE?! WE'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK!"

"Destroyer, care to explain what the hell is going on?!" Nightmare barked, tendrils flaring and swinging dangerously behind his back, more from panic than aggression. "You disappear, the multiverse is imploding, and here you are- fraternizing with the enemy?!"

Reaper was the only one who seemed to share Dream's unease, hanging back and staring the two down with intense scrutiny. The red flags in the back of his mind were screaming loud enough to drown out the others' shouting.

He did not like the looks of this...

The two gods didn’t react immediately. It was Error who stirred first, slow and drowsy, turning his head to the Creator with a weary sigh, as if annoyed, but couldn't quite bother to do anything about it.

"tOlD yA tHEy'd fiNd US sQUiD," he groaned.

Ink just hummed, jostling his companion a little as he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I guessed they might. Doesn’t really matter though."

Error huffed, glitches crackling in weak dissatisfaction. "'doESn'T mAttER' mY AsS. i dOn't waNT tO dEaL wItH thEiR WhINinG foR tHe REsT Of mY lIfE."

The two continued to banter, acting as if Dream and the others were just part of the air; neither of them have even deigned to face them once. It was as if the small group had never showed up at all.

Something a particular spirit didn't take to very kindly. If the sudden slam of one of his tendrils cracking the ground was anything to go by.

"Error! I am talking to you, you fussy, ungrateful little shit! Answer me when I am speaking to you!"

Nightmare knew full well what he was doing, feeling the other monsters around him back away in alarm from his audacity to speak to Error in such a way. He knew well that Error would fly into a tantrum over the disrespect, that the Destroyer would blast off in a fit of rage.

That Nightmare would have the opportunity and excuse to pull Error into another dimension where they could talk in private. Where Nightmare could properly speak to the other without his brother's - and other unwanted listeners' - scrutiny. And give him the time to swallow his pride and apologi-

But Error just huffed. Startling the group as he finally turned his head to grace the spirit with a flat glare. He just blinked at Nightmare, slow and unimpressed, like he was looking at a particularly annoying bug.

"We'Re WaItINg," he simply answered, voice steady and empty, like he'd made peace with something they hadn't yet realized.

Reaper stiffened at that tone. The same tone he'd heard from souls moments before they-

...Oh. Oh, stars have mercy...!

"For what?" Reaper demanded, feeling his throat grow tight with mounting dread as he scrutinized the pair's behavior, holding out for anything that could prove his forming hypothesis wrong.

Ink turned his head lazily to look at them, nuzzling into the crook of Error's neck- much to the shyness of some among them, due to their nakedness. "For the reboot," he chirped.

"Stars," Reaper really hated when his intuition was right.

Dream’s golden eyelights shrank to pinpricks. "What...?"

Ink just smiled, shrugged in that tired, uncaring way. "We're waiting for the reboot to erase us."

. . . .

The two Stars simply blinked in shared disbelief, as if they couldn't comprehend the words being spoken. Blue looked to Dream, and the two could only share an expression of numb shock, slowly thawing into an insurmountable horror.

Nightmare was much more vocal in his horror.

"You absolute-!" His voice shattered, tendrils lashing out wildly as he lunged for the pair, only for Reaper to yank him back by the collar. "You-! You selfish! Stubborn-!"

Error didn’t even flinch. Just stared at him, hollow.

"wHaT?" He drawled, voice dripping with exhausted sarcasm. "yOu'Re tHe oNe wHo sAiD i wAs aN eMbArRaSsMeNT to bE asSOciAteD wITh yoU. gEtTinG wHaT yOu wAnT, aRen'T yA?"

Nightmare choked on his next insult, like the words had physically struck him. His tendrils went slack, slumping to the ground as if their strings had been cut.

Dream, meanwhile, had gone still. His golden tears had stopped mid-fall, frozen in place as he stared at Ink- really stared at him. The greyed, chalky tint his bones had taken, the blurred shape of his eyelights...

This has been building up for much longer than a week...

When was the last time he actually checked in on Ink...?

Silently, tenderly, Dream walked up to the pair, stared Ink down for a moment, before gently taking a seat by the Creator's side on the Gods' shared ledge.

He watched the stars - the muted, half unfinished tableau - and slowly allowed his emotions to settle. He let his thoughts take their course.

"...It's because I left... wasn't it?"

Gods, what a fucking idiot has he been...?

He was furious that Ink went behind his back and nearly destroyed the multiverse in a world-destroying, reality-bending game. He was even more frustrated that the God didn't even seem to understand what made his mistake inherently bad. So - in a fit of indignation - he left.

He left Ink to fend for himself.

Of course this would be the end result.

Dream had forgotten- or more specifically, he had simply ignored the fact that Ink was soulless, that it was only natural that he needed to be taught things like guilt, had to be told how to improve as a person, needed others to keep him on the right track. He wasn’t born knowing. He wasn’t built to know. He didn't have the facilities to be independent.

And instead of helping him - instead of staying and guiding him - Dream had left.

He felt so fucking stupid right now.

As the spirit slowly saddled closer to Ink's side, another figure crept closer to the Destroyer.

Nightmare loomed over Error, his voice uncharacteristically soft as his brother's attention was away from him. "Error."

"...dOn’T."

The spirit went on like he hadn't heard him. "I shouldn’t have called you a lost cause," Nightmare admitted, each word deliberate and vulnerable. "I was angry. But I never should have-"

"sAid yOu rEgReTtEd eVeR gIVinG mE a ChaNCE?" Error’s voice was a broken static.

"...I don't."

Nightmare’s tentacle twitched- like he wanted to reach out. "You infuriate me. You piss me off. You fucking drive me crazy...! But I don’t want you gone."

Error didn’t respond. But he didn't push the spirit away as his tendrils slid close enough to slide over his bones.

"I’m sorry."

Nightmare’s voice was raw, stripped of its usual venom. "I've been inconsiderate and horrendously rude to you... But, I'll do my best to fix that."

Ink, meanwhile, hadn’t taken his eyes off Dream. His smile was small, tired. "You don't have to feel bad. I think this was a long time coming..."

Dream’s breath hitched. "Don't say that. Don't say that like it's something you deserve," he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain.

"You didn’t deserve this, Ink. You needed help, and I... I abandoned you when you needed me most. I was supposed to be there."

He pressed his forehead against Ink’s shoulder, his hands trembling as they clutched at the loose fabric of Error's scarf over his shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Blue, unable to hold back any longer, crashed into them both, wrapping his arms around Ink’s waist with a sob.

"IIIINK! I'M SO SORRY! I-! I DIDN'T THINK-! YOU WERE JUST-! I WAS JUST-! OOOOOH! I'M SORRY, INK! I'VE BEEN SUCH A TERRIBLE FRIEND! I...! I GOT SCARED...! AFTER... THE X-EVENT..." The Swap Sans' face clouded over with something akin to shame, hiccupping through his words as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"I Didn't Know How To Talk To You After That... So I Just... I Thought... I Thought Someone Else Would...!" Blue blubbered, unable to even finish his sentences.

Ink blinked at them both - at the way Dream leaned into him like he was terrified he'd vanish, at how Blue clung to him like a lifeline - and for a moment, his smile wavered. Cracked at the edges.

His hand, half-on Error’s, squeezed the other, before lifting to hesitantly rest atop Dream’s head, mindlessly stroking it the way he did when they first met...

"I'm so tired..." He murmured.

Dream clung tighter. "Then lean on us," he pleaded. "Lean on me. That’s what we’re supposed to do - the Stars - we help carry each other when it gets too heavy."

Blue nodded frantically. "You're Not Alone, Ink! We'll Carry You! We'll Help You With Your Burdens And Your Mistakes!"

Nightmare lowered his head near Error’s, tendrils slowly pulling a black cloak over his naked shoulders for modesty's sake. Something soft was spoken that couldn't be quite made out, but whatever it was, it caused the glitch to sag with a powerful, weary sigh.

The two gods looked at each other, still worn and tired and exhausted- but sharing a flicker of something that wasn't there before.

"...gOnNa cALl a RaINcHECk oN thAT rEbOoT, sqUiD?"

Ink huffed, though it hid a ghost of a smile. "...I think so. You alright with that, Ruru?"

Error rolled his eyes, though it held no real sass. "yEaH... cLeARlY, wE cAN't bE AllOwED bReAKs fOr eVEn a WeEk."

The two shared a weak laugh, amicable and yielding as the spirits carefully lifted them into their arms, brought back to the Council's neutral dimension under the careful eye of Death.

Things weren't quite well just yet.

Reaper knew better than anyone how hard it was to purge the illness of Death from the mind.

But he also knew that this was a good step in the right direction.

Chapter Text

Ink was born in a void, like most things in the multiverse.

But Ink's coming into existence was a little more literal in a sense, not metaphorically. His first memories - his true memories, held under lock and key in his subconscious mind - were of an endless plane of blankness. No lumination aside from the pure white that would make humans go blind. No sounds aside from the scraping, creaking, crunching of his bones, or the wretched screams he'd let out. Not a speck of color. Not a single beat of the soul he'd so readily forsaken.

He wasn't even given a purpose until the creators found him.

They gave him light and darkness. Sang him all sorts of symphonies and choirs. Showed him worlds of color. And in place of a soul, they gathered the makings of one. Ten little vials, filled with the essence of their AUs. Creativity. The hyperdimensional lifeblood of their worlds.

And from then on he vowed to protect the worlds that gave him life, to do his very best so then another one like him may never come. Because Ink would never wish a soulless existence upon anyone. One that was truly soulless, not like the characters who played the role of the Empty One, who were still fed bits and pieces through their determination.

He came to view himself as a tool, crafted for Creation itself. Maybe it was from the creators' will, maybe it was from the wish he hoped for with all his soul when he torn it to shreds: to replace the emptiness around him with something wonderful and unique and something- anything! Give him something to fill the void!

But that wasn't the point.

The point was that Ink was content with his role, satisfied even. To walk the infinite canvas and make sure the multiverse kept painting itself forward, to help complete more and more wonderful concepts and ideas, to make sure everyone was given a chance. He wasn't really 'alive'- but it was good enough for him.

And for a while, that was fine.

He was privileged to be able to see as much of the multiverse as he did, take an intimate part in breathing life into the creators' whispers. Sure, he couldn't actually get to know any of the characters he helped design, had to hide himself away like a secret, but it was fine.

He told himself it was fine. That he didn't need connection. That he wasn't supposed to want for anything more at all...

But fate took an unexpected turn. Nightmare suddenly came out of nowhere, disrupting timelines with angst and pain and utter craziness!

Ink could hardly keep up with the freshly corrupted spirit! He had no idea where he came from, who he was, what his deal was-! It was so hard to figure shit out on the fly when you were busy RESETing AUs thrown into unmanageable chaos with one hand and dodging eldritch tentacles that looked - and felt - like they came straight out of the void with the other.

Still, Ink had tried, as impossible as that was with Error still running amok in the background as well. That sneaky bastard had no qualms with taking advantage of the messes Nightmare left behind to find excuses in wiping out perfectly fixable timelines!

The poor Creator was just about getting to the end of his rope!

Which... may have led him down a goose chase to locate Nightmare's origins, and well...

Everyone knew the story from there. Or at least people thought they did.

Ink- well... okay, yeah. He did sorta know what he was doing when he woke Dream up from his stony prison, but he also didn't! He had no idea what was going on! That was why he woke Dream up in the first place...!

Back then, Dream was still new. He was clueless, having absolutely no idea what was going on- apparently having been asleep for five hundred years, yikes...

The only things the spirit could tell Ink for certain was the fact that he had a job to do and a twin brother to save... and needed help to do it.

It was the first time Ink ever became directly involved with something.

He could’ve removed himself from the narrative then and there. Let the story play out as if he'd never existed. That’s what he’d always done when he made a misstep. But something about Dream’s panic - the genuine, wild emotion in his eyes - had compelled Ink to step in. To help.

He wasn’t supposed to interact with characters. They weren’t real- not like him. They were just byproducts of creative minds, snapshots of fleeting thoughts; they were too easily susceptible to the influence of higher powers to allow himself to get close.

But Dream's ego was stronger than that. For all of his naivety and initial timidness, the spirit never stood down from letting his voice be heard, nor did he easily deviate from his ideals or objectives.

Plus, he was a god- as it turns out, so that technically made him an exception...?

Before he knew it, Ink had given Dream a crash course in multiversal balance. Taught him what little he knew of what it meant to be a balance holder: the duty, the risk. And maybe also got sidetracked a few times by just showing Dream the wonders that existed.

The spirit always had the most raw and vivid reactions, the fluidness and genuine heart in everything Dream did and said captivated the artist like a moth to a warm glow...

They grew close fast. Ink hadn't meant to let that happen, but Dream looked at Ink - really looked - like he was something more than just a random guy with too much energy and not enough sense. Like he was... a part of his world.

Dream wanted him there. Needed him. Him, as a person- not a 'Protector' or a 'Wise Mentor' or as 'Comic Relief'. It wasn't about filling the role of an archetype, Dream wanted Ink.

Ink had no idea what to do with that for a while...

They'd spent weeks together- maybe longer, time is very fluid once you get as old as he did. Ink taught Dream how to navigate the multiverse, how to form portals between realities, finally got to share his personal tips and tricks for dealing with certain AUs and Outcodes!

In turn, Dream taught him about feelings. Not the theoretical kind, but real ones. The joy of play-fighting. The way you felt good when someone else you knew felt good. The way a smile could mean something depending on who gave it to you. He taught Ink empathy.

The Creator had never known what it was like to belong. But suddenly, he had a place.

Then came Blue. Then the multiverse saving heroics. Then they properly met Frisk and the inhabitants of the OMEGA Timeline. Then the “Star Sanses” were officially founded. They were a team. Heroes.

Dream and Blue really liked that word. Ink didn’t care for labels, but he played along. He was just... happy.

For the first time in his existence, he was happy. He'd never had so much fun before!

...But as always, the fun had to come to an end, eventually.

Ink... honestly didn't remember when it started, or what had first sent the snowball rolling. Maybe it was always inevitable. Like a wooden pillar flaking away from weather and rot. A collapse that would come one day, but you always thought that day would be another one until it's not.

All he knew was that as time wore on, Dream changed.

His first ever friend started to grow. He was no longer that wide-eyed baby god chasing after the hope of saving his brother. He still smiled the same way - with that glittery, shining glow to him that made Ink's belly feel all tingly - but there was a steadily accumulating weight mounting behind it. Ideals. Drive. Ambition.

He wanted to fix things. Not just maintain or protect them, like Ink did. Dream believed things could be better. That they should be. And maybe... maybe that wasn’t so bad, at first. After all, things certainly weren't perfect, what with Nightmare constantly poking his head into places where it definitely didn't belong- and even roping Error into his mischief sometimes!

So yeah, Ink thought it couldn't hurt to indulge his friend a little; as long as it was focused on keeping the two more childish gods in check, he was all for cutting them down a little in ego.

But then Dream started questioning things.

“Why do we let that AU stay so sad all the time?”

“Why don’t we help more people?”

“Why can’t we spread positivity everywhere, Ink? We're supposed to be heroes? Aren't we...?”

Ink had answers. Not all of them satisfying, but answers nonetheless.

“Well...! Because sadness has a place too! Don't you think?”

“Because meddling too much with the plot warps the intent of the story!”

“We're only what the multiverse need us to be, Dream.”

And then things just started... getting worse. Dream started ranting more about justice, about fairness, about rewriting outcomes. The spirit wouldn't let the topic go as easily when it came up, starting pushing back more until Blue actively had to act as a wedge between them.

It was awful. Ink... he just didn't know how to make things okay again!

He couldn't concentrate on his work the longer silence stretched between him and Dream, he couldn't confide in his friends- as without the other Stars to act as guides, Ink was too scared of tipping the narrative the three of them had built together. For the first time since taking up his mantle as the multiverse's protector, Ink was uncertain with what to do...

The pressure only got worse the longer things deteriorated, and the ever dwindling voices of the creators...

But worst of all, Dream stopped looking at him the same way.

. . . .

Somehow that hurt the most.

And then came the final straw. The X-Event.

Ink had made a mistake- a colossal one. In his desperation to set his head back on his shoulders, to rid himself of the constant discomfort settling in his bones and set the multiverse back on track, he reached out to the wrong person. Tried to create something that... would fill in the empty space being left behind by Dream's cold behavior, in retrospect. He failed to act fast enough when things spiraled out of control. Had tried to double-down on his bullshit- and made an absolute ass of himself, publicly.

Nobody looked at him the same anymore.

Whenever Ink came around, people would tense up. Conversations stalled. Smiles dimmed.

Blue still talked to him, of course. Blue always did. But even his smiles were thinner now, more reserved, like he was holding something back. Like he didn’t quite know what to say anymore, or was afraid to say the wrong thing.

Ever so slowly, Ink came to forget the deja vu of Blue blowing up his phone with memes. Or council members seeking him out for his advice or support.

And Dream...

Dream didn’t even scold him.

Ink would have preferred the yelling. Or a punch in the face. At least then he could've tried to go somewhere off of that. But right now? All he had was a cold shoulder thicker than Mt. Ebott's barrier.

He had no idea what to say to Dream. Or whatever it was he had to do to repair this expanding void between them.

Could he do something to fix this...?

. . . .

It was sometime after that, it happened. The Talk.

They had met in an empty AU, nothing but wide grasslands and watercolor skies. A quiet place. No residents. No unstable code. Just the two of them.

For all of his sternness, Dream was as bright and brilliant as ever; it took a lot for Ink to keep his mind from straying to how best to recreate the scene on a canvas later on. Dream was always his muse, even at their worst. Always...

He was so distracted, he almost missed it.

“If you can’t accept the fact that everyone deserves to be happy, then I don’t think we can be friends anymore, Ink.”

. . . .

Ink had laughed- automatically, hollowly, a reflex. He still had traces of yellow in his system from when he found out that Dream actually wanted to see him. He doesn't remember how Dream responded- but it probably wasn't good.

It... all became a bit of a blur after that. He can't recall much of it. Just... wandering. Mostly.

He didn’t paint.

He didn’t sleep.

He didn’t exist, not in any meaningful sense.

Ink sat in unfinished AUs and stared at the 'sky' until the colors all started to bleed together.

What else was he supposed to do?

Because no matter how many arguments he made in his head, no matter how much logic he assembled about why the balance had to come first- Dream’s voice haunted him.

“If you can’t accept that everyone deserves to be happy...”

And the thing was- of course, Ink wanted them to be happy! Stars, he'd love nothing more! You guys know that, right...?

But he also knew that happiness wasn’t supposed to last forever. That joy needed context, and meaning, because of plot points, because a narrative needs a focus, a conflict, a struggle. That turmoil wasn’t just a function of creation- it was the law of a fulfilling existence. And they needed that strife to have a story worth telling...!

Still...

Still.

...What would it matter, if everyone hated him? If he only ended up alone again?

He remembered what that was like. The isolation. The lukewarm taste of being empty inside- now unbearably bitter and cold. The silence.

And he couldn’t go back.

He wouldn’t survive it this time; not after Dream had taught him how it felt to be seen. To forget himself and become immersed with everyone else and what it was like to be among them.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was cowardice. But he would rather compromise his duty than be left to watch the world move on from his isolated bubble again.

. . . .

When he returned to Dream, he couldn't look him in the eyes. Just stood in front of him, fiddling with his scarf, his smile tense and too wide. He felt... he didn't even know.

“You were right,” Ink said, voice choked and edged with desperation, a fervent hope that this sacrifice would work.

“I was wrong,” he lied; because deep down he knows that, but if a little white lie meant that Dream wouldn't leave him then Ink would gladly tell it as many times as he needed to.

Dream just stood there for a few moments: in the doorway to his palace's inner chambers, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame, staring at Ink as if he wasn't expecting the Creator to just spawn into his audience chamber - it couldn't be called a 'throne room' anymore since Dream insisted on removing it - at fuck thirty in the morning, while he had been looking for a glass of milk.

When the spirit hadn't said anything for too long, Ink felt his anxiety manifest in an upsurge of paint and puked all over the floor. Which- was a fucking awful thing to do, when trying to make up with someone!

But before Ink could ramble through any promises to clean his mess up, he was suddenly finding himself pulled into a tight hug. The warmest embrace he’d ever felt.

They've already determined that Ink couldn't be influenced by Dream's magic, but in that moment, he was certain what he was feeling must've been pure, unfiltered positivity. Dream's magic moved over his bones like honey, it cradled him like a sun-kissed blanket. For the first time in weeks, the Creator was without unrest.

Neither of them said anything. Dream just held Ink there, not minding the paint beginning to settle on the soles of his boots, keeping Ink together as if he could see how close he was to falling apart. Like he was keeping him together.

Ink couldn't help it. The second Dream's gloved fingers brushed down the back of his skull, a sob erupted in his ribcage. Strangled and ugly as it scrambled for freedom in his throat, the cry of relief.

When they parted, Dream searched his face one last time before smiling tearfully.

"Ink, I'm so proud of you for coming back. I knew you'd make the right choice in the end...!”

The words hit harder than any ultimatum ever could.

Ink stared at him, blinking rapidly, vision warping through his eyelights shifting every second. Dream’s smile was warm, luminous in the sunlight filtering through the windows. It wasn't triumphant, or even particularly smug- it was of a mirrored relief. A breath finally being released after being held for so long. Faith restored.

And that made it worse.

He didn’t deserve that smile, that faith. Not really. Not after the decision he just made.

“I’m not,” Ink croaked, his voice trembling and small. “I’m not proud of me.”

Dream tilted his head, the corners of his sockets tightening with something like sadness. “Maybe not yet,” he said gently. “But you will be. One day.”

Ink didn't tell him that he doubted that.

"You came back. You were willing to admit and own up to your mistakes. You chose to try again and be better. That’s what matters.”

Ink simply nodded, choosing to curl into Dream's embrace once more as the guardian continued to whisper sweet nothings and reassurances, easily picking Ink up in a princess-carry before turning back for his bed chambers.

The last things Ink heard was chatter about inviting Blue over for a slumber party- like old times, and how much good they'll be able to achieve now that they were all on the same page. After that, he felt too tired to deny himself some shut eye.

There was a special kind of joy playing over Dream's features as they flitted out from AU to AU, fixing even the smallest of problems for anyone in need. It was basically what they were doing before but with a lot less... restraint?

Well, and the fact that they were going to a lot more negative-leaning AUs too.

Nightmare surely wasn't very pleased by that.

The Stars were performing better than ever as they fought off the Bad Guys. Blue was doing a damn good job as always juggling between Nightmare's crew. This time, Ink was able to down Horror and Cross early on with a couple of well aimed snipes, so Dream had enough breathing room to leave things to his friends while he finished picking out the rest of the negativity set in the AU's code.

Leaving Ink to hold off a very angry and umbrageous Nightmare.

"Move out of my way, Creator! You know just as well as I do that this is crossing the line! This AU is rightfully mine to rule! You know my brother has no place here!"

And Ink didn’t flinch. Not even as the spirit inflated, growing into a gigantic mountain of tumescent corruption and tried to crush him like a big. He smiled instead. Loose, almost lazy. “Sorry, Nighty. Heroes like us can't let you run amok anymore! Can’t let you and your drama ruin a perfectly good party AU!”

Nightmare roared as several lances of red paint sizzled against his corrosive armor, swatting away purple chains trying to restrict his movement as much as possible, looking to drain the spirit until Dream flipped the emotion switch and Nightmare would be forced to flee.

“You’re not even trying to hide it anymore!" A giant tendril managed to snatch Ink mid-air, yanking him to meet the spirit eye-to-face. "I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, but you’ve completely lost the plot, Creator! You’re letting him tip the scale...!”

Ink didn’t even struggle in Nightmare’s grip. Something- he felt something bubble in his chest, it wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't particularly pleasant either. Whatever it was must've reflected on his face, as Nightmare suddenly grew tense, analyzing him closely.

“It’s not a game anymore, I want him to win.”

The words left Ink’s mouth smoother than they should have. Too smooth. But Nightmare reared back like he'd been slapped, eyelight thinning into something that almost looked... afraid.

"You...!" For once, the dramatic guardian was speechless.

“I chose my friend,” Ink said simply. “I choose Dream.”

Nightmare’s snarl twisted with something almost like disgust. “You’ll regret this,” he spat, and threw him to the ground hard enough to crack open the ground beneath.

Ink just shrugged, not minding the fractured bones or the marrow seeping from them, already feeling the small shift in the AU take place, signaling their incoming victory. “Probably.”

Word of it travelled fast across the multiverse: the Star Sanses were united again, more tightly than ever. Whatever reservations people had developed around Ink slowly melted away with every civilization saved from a scripted tragedy, forgotten as Dream would comfort them in their trepidations and foster hope and joy.

The very atmosphere of the multiverse practically shimmered with restored cheer.

Over the next several weeks, the overall mood of the multiverse grew brighter than it had in years. Pre-destined negative events were erased before they were to occur. AUs that had long since crumbled into despair bloomed with restored hope. Everyone was lauding their names like gospel.

Dream practically glowed- well, he always kinda glowed, but this light was certainly brighter, warmer. The kind of warm that Ink had once found a little too saccharine for practicality, but now?

Now, Dream’s happiness felt worth it.

Ink followed him everywhere on his crusade, even when Blue had to return to his AU for some mandatory home-visitations and personal self-care. He supported him in battles without question, often jumping in to defend or boost Dream even when it wasn’t necessary.

He even helped him interfere with one of Error's - more reasonable - clean-ups, leaving Error to pause mid-attack to gawk at him with incredulity.

"u- UM-?! WhAT tHe f- F- FUck dO yOU ThiNK yOu'rE dO- dOInG, sQuId?! CAn't YoU sEE tH- thIs AU neEdS to gO-!"

Error flailed as the stability of the AU locked back into place - thanks to Ink’s last-second interference - and the stray threads he'd been spreading throughout it's code severed violently like a taut rubber band.

The glitch ungracefully fell onto his ass with a punched huff, looking more confused than angry with the situation, really. He blinked a few times, as if trying to rationalize what just happened before launching himself back up and looking ready to actually throw hands.

"wHA- wHAt tH- th- ThE fUck?! DiD y- YoU fuCKiNg foRgET thAT sOME- oMe AuS nE- nEed to Go bYe-Bye fo- fOR a rEAsoN?!"

Ink didn’t answer. Just twirled Broomie once before slinging it back into its holster.

"HEy! vOiD to sQuID! i'm TaLkiNG to yO-!" The Destroyer didn't get to finish as an arrow of pure magic stabbed into the ground just inches from his foot, causing Error to jump back with a sharp yipe.

"Error! This AU will not be destroyed by your insanity!" Dream interrupted firmly, already notching another arrow in his bow. His tone was pleasant, but the warning in his eyes weren't missed. "The people here have a future, Error. You don't get to take that from them."

Error stared at the both of them for a long, long moment, debating his chances against two gods seriously fighting back against him... Then, like a glitched-out record, he snorted, jittered backward, and vanished into a cloud of static, muttering about how he wasn't "pAid eNoUgH" and "nEEdiNG tO cAtCh uP WiTH uNDeRnOVeLA aNywaY."

Dream turned to Ink, smiling that radiant, unshakable smile. “Thanks for the save, Ink!"

Ink smiled back, a little slower than usual. “Always, Dreamy.”

He didn't mention that the paint he'd used to stabilize the AU had been from his own reserves. That it hurt him to repurpose it to directly combat Error's special brand of erosion.

Not that it mattered. The AU was safe. Dream was smiling. Dream wasn't leaving him.

That was enough.

Over the next few weeks, things only got brighter.

Dream, Ink, and Blue zipped between timelines, healing cracks in the very foundation of the multiverse. Entire Undergrounds were saved, disasters averted, tragedies rewritten into triumphs.

Dream laughed more easily now. Blue hummed like he was living his dreams-turned-reality. People liked Ink again. Trusted him. Welcomed him.

Ink started to think that maybe he'd been wrong all along. That maybe the balance didn’t matter so much- not when everyone was this happy. Maybe Dream was right. Maybe it was okay to rewrite things to how they wanted it to be.

And so, he took another dose of his vials.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Until they started working like they were supposed to again.

But it wasn't a big deal. Ink’s artificial emotions were always a little finicky, tending to drift or dull if he didn’t use precise ratios, if he didn’t pace himself right. This wasn’t new. Not really. He just needed more.

He just needed more.

Which... was admittedly a little hard. New AUs were starting to grow scarce as the creators' inspiration started to run dry in the light of so much aimless peace and normalcy.

But that was okay. Everything was going so well, and Ink didn't want to risk ruining it all again like he was prone to do by acting on his own interests.

There were days he couldn’t feel anything at all.

Times his tattoos started to burn and itch in his marrow.

He started feeling more nauseous as he had to drink more and more to feel the right things.

During one mission, he nearly collapsed trying to portal out, gritting his teeth until Blue noticed and helped him without asking questions.

He laughed it off, of course.

Every time he thought about telling Dream, he looked over and saw how happy his friend was- that real, genuine joy. The kind of joy Dream used to try and force, but now wore effortlessly, like the world had finally become what he always believed it could be.

He looked at Ink with that look, sometimes.

And the Creator found he didn’t have the heart to ruin it.

It was during a quiet moment between missions, sitting under the digital stars of an Outertale variant, when Dream turned to him, hushed and contemplative.

“Ink,” he said gently. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

Ink blinked, taking another swig of paint just for the appearances. It took some extra effort to manipulate his eyelights into the colors and shapes he knew reflected curiosity and attentiveness. “You’ve been acting like there’s something stuck in your gears all day. Spill it already.”

That was a little flatter than he intended, but it seemed to do the trick regardless.

Dream chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I... uh," the spirit flushed, and Ink couldn't help but have the stray thought of painting a constellation after the image.

"I like you. I mean-! I like-like you! Like! Like- as in datemate like!"

As the spirit fumbled and rambled in his embarrassment, Ink felt something deep inside of himself finally click into place.

Oh. Oh. Now he understood.

It wasn’t just admiration. It wasn’t just the desperate clinging to warmth and connection. Ink had fallen in love with Dream. Somewhere between the shared victories, the stolen smiles, the laughter orchestrated between the two- Ink had found something he’d never painted into existence. It had bloomed naturally, stubbornly, and now that Dream had spoken the words aloud, it crystallized into something undeniable.

Ink smiled. Genuine, faint, even if he barely felt it through the hazy numbness, and leaned over to press their foreheads together. A soft clink that made Dream's pivoting eyelights focus back on him.

“I like-like you too,” he whispered, voice low and tender to hide how hollowed out it had become. Because even without proper emotions, Ink knew instinctively how he would be feeling right now. How much Dream meant to him. His entire world.

The spirit let out a relieved laugh, giddy and breathless- it made Ink's ribs faintly tingle in latria, in mourning of having the feeling of this moment robbed from him, in envy of the sound. He ached for the phantom warmth flooding his cheeks, his chest, his head.

“Oh stars, that's-! That's great! You're great! I-! I was so nervous-!”

He didn’t finish, because Ink pulled him into a kiss. Soft. Controlled. Gentle. Not the way the artist would've if he could feel it, but that didn't stop him from wanting this all the same. Doing his best to make it good for his beloved. His life partner.

Dream melted into it.

Ink couldn't gather much out of it; not the way he wanted to. His paints were working just enough to mimic it: fake the fluttering breaths, the tingling in his phalanges, the taste of Dream’s magic. Just enough to pretend he still had the ability to express his devotion.

And as long as Dream was happy with it, that would be enough.

When they broke apart, Dream looked utterly radiant, and Ink committed that expression to memory like it was the last thing he’d ever be able to experience.

Because if this was what made Dream happy?

Then Ink would make it real.

Even if it destroyed him.

Blue was the first to suspect something.

He noticed Ink spacing out more often, saw the tremble in his brush when he thought no one was looking. He even spotted the increasingly growing number of greying splotches appearing on Ink's bones before he managed to cover them up, seeming less and less convinced when Ink laughed it off, pretending nothing was wrong.

One day, he cornered Ink during downtime between their patrols.

“You Alright Friend?”

“Me?” Ink grinned too fast, still wondering if he should act spacy or lazy today. “Of course! Never better! Why?”

Blue seemed to tighten his intent at the answer, his usual bubbly aura dimming just a notch. Ink tried not to show any wariness upon the subtle action, knowing it would only tip the self-appointed knight off that the Creator was reading him.

It was always so hard to shake Blue away once he got serious.

“You’re... Acting Weird,” he admitted, lowering his voice. “Weirder Than Usual... And I'm Not Sure It's The Good Way.”

Ink chuckled, leaning back on a pile of 16-bit hay in the AU they were resting in- some rural timeline called Stardewtale? Whatever, it was mostly a Farmtale variant as far as Ink was concerned, it definitely wasn't developed much beyond the stereotype. “C’mon, Blue! Weird is literally in my job description!”

His friend didn’t smile. “You’re Overusing Your Paints.”

That gave Ink pause.

“...Broomie Is Starting To Shed,” Blue added, nodding toward where said brush sat against a crate. Sure enough, several bristles had fallen out, some of the gold inlay dulled like it had been oxidized.

Ink blinked at it, then shrugged. “Eh... It’s always been temperamental. Shedding’s just part of their mating display.”

Blue didn’t laugh. “Ink... You’ve Been Taking More And More Vials. I Counted. Don’t Look At Me Like That,” he added, crossing his arms when the Creator rolled his sockets. “I Know I’m Nosy, But I’m Not Stupid.”

Ink sighed, dropping the act for just a second. He rubbed at his nasal ridge, the weight of exhaustion tugging on the back of his thoughts like dead weight. “Blue... I promise, I’m okay. Really. This is what I want to be doing.”

“That’s Not What I Asked,” Blue said gently. “You’re Hurting. I Can Tell.”

Ink didn’t answer.

“You Can Tell Dream. You Should Tell Dream.”

Damn, baby Blue already figured out that much, huh?

“I can’t, Blue.” Ink snapped, feeling something defensive rear its head.

“Why Not?”

“Because he’s happy.” He lashed out, a half-whisper laced with a painful sort of resolve. “He’s really happy. The happiest I’ve ever seen him. The happiest I’ve ever been able to make him. You want me to go back to fighting with him again? Tell everyone they can't have their happy endings anymore? Want to disband the Stars for good?”

Blue didn’t have an answer to that. Standing there in silent horror.

So Ink continued, voice lowering into something closer to the truth.

“I don’t care what happens to me. Not if it means having to say goodbye. Not if it means going back to things just being me and Broomie... Dream's staying. So I’m staying too.”

Blue’s eyelights softened in the saddest way. Full of guilt, pity and something else that Ink couldn't identify.

“That’s Not How Love Should Work, Ink...”

The artist's smile flickered. “I think it is. At least, it’s the best I can do for him.” For me.

Ink rose to his feet slowly, taking his time to get up without setting off the many aches growing along his joints. Broomie flung over to his side, but even the brush's movements were graceless, like it was losing power too.

“We’ve got another Horror AU on the docket tomorrow, right? Better get some rest.”

“Ink-!”

“Night, Blue.”

And just like that, Ink dropped through a puddle of paint, leaving Blue standing alone in the pixelated barn, the scent of harvested code and sour magic lingering in the air.

The multiverse was like it had never been before. For once, there were no cries for inspiration, no calls from collapsing AUs, no tugging on the edge of Ink’s consciousness begging him to intervene with a disaster. Just... quiet. Dead silence in the back of his mind where thousands of voices were always chatting away.

Monster and human children laughed hand-in-hand in Underfell’s newly revitalized capital, where flowers grew in cracks once littered with blood splatters and dust. Scienceswap was hosting a culture exchange that had the entire council getting festive.

Even Error was happy, simply spending his days holed up in his void and binging his weird shows now that no new AUs were being made, or being otherwise triggered into destructive fits from clashing codes.

Everybody was happy.

And Ink... Ink couldn’t feel a single color.

His phalanges trembled as he raised his brush, willing his magic to flood forth.

. . . .

Nothing came. Not even the instinctual tug of inspiration. The once-vibrant well of magic within him had dried up at last.

His arm ached all the way up to his shoulder as he slowly lowered Broomie back down. His longest and most loyal companion... Ink couldn't hear their voice anymore, either. Broomie hadn't spoken to him in a long time; maybe it was spite, maybe it just couldn't bear to face him. Unable to stand the way his joints creaked like rusted beams as he forced himself to lug them along. Because Ink refused to leave anyone behind.

Ink knew today was going to be his last. And yet... it felt welcoming. Almost. Or, no... that wasn't the right way to describe it. Welcoming wasn't the correct term for this. It was- just, how things were. Ink was going to die today, and...

And looking at how things turned out, that was okay.

He sat in Dream's palace, watching the high sun spill down upon the sunflower field Dream had sprouted all around the tiny pocket dimension. He wasn't really there, though. Not really. His gaze was looking to the beyond, watching how colorful and bright everyone was, how full of life and vivid they were. The multiverse has reached levels of unity and peace he'd never thought possible.

Ink... Ink was so sure that things would fall apart if things were skewed too far. And they have- to a degree: the creators were virtually gone, finally having abandoned their creations. Ink could no longer call upon the strength and magic he had used to restore timelines. Strictly speaking, the multiverse has never been so vulnerable.

Yet... despite all of that, everything seemed to have been better than ever. The AUs were flourishing. With Ink and Error's back-and-forth having been slowed to a stop, no worlds have had any collisions or viruses. Nightmare had gone effectively radio silent, and aside from many of their scripts having been irreparably altered, the AUs were left alone.

The only things that seemed to have changed for the worse was the absentation of the creators... Which only seemed to have been noticed by Ink.

. . . .

So why did it feel like something inside him was screaming?

He had thought this was what he wanted, freedom from structure, a multiverse thriving in creativity and connection. And it had come... But only after he stepped back. Only after he stopped enforcing himself into the fabric of it.

Maybe... Maybe Dream had been right all along. Maybe balance was just a thing he made up to justify his selfishness.

Or maybe it wasn’t about balance at all. Maybe Ink had just been the broken brush in the set: leaking, splattering, and making a mess of everything he touched. He thought he'd been preserving the AUs, but he'd just been clinging to them, obsessed and blind, watching others suffer and say it was all part of some grand scheme. 

Maybe they were finally better off because he was no longer involved.

“I was the problem,” he whispered.

Nobody needed him... Dream certainly didn't need him anymore...

"Ink!"

A sudden voice behind him startled him- cheerful, high energy, the peppy cadence you'd find in almost every Swap AU.

“Ink! There You Are, Friend! I’ve Been Looking Everywhere For You!” Blue plopped down beside him, swinging his legs over the edge of the bench with a bounce, utterly oblivious to the way Ink's tattoos were starting to burn under his clothes.

Ink smiled without meaning to. It felt thin, like paper held together with dry glue. Still, he turned to Blue with the same gentle tilt of his head he always used when trying to hide a lie behind affection.

“Sorry, Blue. Guess I just wandered off again, huh?” He said with a soft chuckle, carefully resting his brush across his lap.

“You Do That Sometimes. But Hey-!" Blue suddenly paused, blinking as if he was only seeing Ink for the first time. The Creator recognized the look immediately, trying to seem more whole than he felt under that scrutinizing, caring expression.

"Ink...? Are You Having Another... Moment?"

Ink smiled, something he had come to rehearse just for Blue. “Nah, just tired. Y’know... we've finally did it! Positivity all around! It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Blue gave him a look. “Yeah...”

He tried not to grit his teeth. Did Blue know?

“I’m really just tired, Blue!” Ink lied with practiced ease. “Promise. I just- need a moment. To appreciate all of this. You guys did it. You changed the multiverse! I’m proud of you.”

“You Helped Too, Silly! Mweh Heh Heh!”

Ink chuckled, brushing away a nonexistent tear. “Blue... I really can't thank you enough. For everything. Especially for putting up with me all this time.”

Blue stared at him a little longer, that flicker of intelligence shining through his veneer of naivety. “...Ink?”

“Hm?”

“...You’d Tell Me If Something Was Wrong, Right?”

“Of course.” Another lie.

A pause. Then Blue smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay... Then I Guess I’ll See You Back At My Place For Dinner? I'm Going To Try Making Those Weird Starfruit Tacos Again.”

Ink laughed. “Wouldn’t miss it!” That lie actually hurt a little, like a physical response. He hoped Blue wouldn't be too disappointed in him.

They parted ways with a wave.

When he was sure he was alone, Ink took the first chance he got back to the Doodlesphere, the heart of everything creative. His birthplace. His sanctuary. His grave.

He stood there, in the stillness, surrounded by all the worlds he loved, watching them go on with their lives- like he did in the beginning. An outsider. An invasive viewer upon their worlds.

One that was never supposed to exist in the beginning...

He palmed his bandolier and pulled out a vial of what little color remained- faded, dull. Barely usable even if he had the strength to wield it. He uncorked it, held it in the bleaching light of his slowly muting domain, and for a moment, considered trying again.

He could still reach out to his friends, to Dream. He could drink this and find the resolve. Come clean about everything...

But... what would be the point?

The multiverse didn’t need him. Besides, would Dream even believe him...? He'd just be disappointing him in the end.

Dream was happy. The others were thriving. No crises, no doomsday, no need for chaos. No need for a wildcard who didn’t know who he was without a purpose. No need for a soulless mistake who had forced the things he loved to suffer for no reason other than his grandiose delusions.

There was no need to make them go through all of that again, just to preserve his own life.

He let the bottle slip from his fingers.

"Did I... ever do a good job? Was I a good protector?" He asked aloud. To no one. To everything. “I just wanted to help. But all I ever did was get in the way... Didn't I?”

He could feel his code starting to weaken.

“I thought I had to be a guardian. I thought... without me, everything would fall apart.”

His knees trembled.

“But maybe I was just scared of being without a purpose...”

The tears wouldn’t come. He didn’t have enough left for that. So instead, he stepped forward, toward the center- his origin point. The place where he’d first been redrawn into a complete being.

By the time Ink stood in the very center of the Doodlesphere, his body had started to flake apart. His bones were slowly reverting back to his true form, swirling black lines of vague shapes, a sketch of a person, an outline of a concept. He unraveled one line at a time, losing more and more detail.

He never took his eyes off the AUs. Basking in their joy, knowing Dream would be more than fine- with so many friends there to support and love him. He'd probably understand with time. Realize Ink never fit with them in the first place.

"Goodbye, guys. Thank you, for everything."

And then Ink was just... gone.

The only traces left of him being his beloved Broomie clattering to the ground, and the black, sizzling puddle of pure code that was once the multiverse's Creator.

The multiverse had never looked brighter.

Dream stood on one of Underkeep's balconies- you'd be surprised how many they had here! Basking in the abundant positivity radiating from across the AU and beyond. Laughter drifted from every direction- Undergrounds experiencing the sun for the first time, worlds blossoming with love, no monsters struggling with some invisible force, no desperate cries for help, no loss.

He took a deep breath and smiled, hand resting over his chest. Feeling the golden apple within shining with triumph and pride for his accomplishments.

This is what I've worked for. This is what he was made for.

Then his communicator buzzed.

“Dream! Dream, Are You There?!”

Blue’s voice was high-pitched and slightly panicked- causing the guardian to grow tense. Dream tapped to respond. “Yes, Blue. What’s wrong?”

“I- I Don’t Know, Really. It’s Probably Nothing, But... It’s Ink. I Just... Ugh. I Have A Really Bad Feeling, Dream. I Think Ink's Struggling With Something, But He Won't Tell Me About It. I... I Think This Is Something Only You Can Talk With Him About... Definitely."

The spirit blinked, feeling concern dance along his heart like raindrops. But he quickly swallowed it down, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet. It was probably another moment of Ink getting caught up in his own head. That happened. Ink was emotional, reactive. Guilt never left him easily, and Dream knew how deeply being 'wrong' could cut his sense of duty and pride.

So Dream smiled, gentling his tone as he replied, “I’ll go check on him. I’m sure it’s nothing serious, Blue.”

Blue hesitated. “...Okay. But Tell Him I’m Worried, Alright?”

Dream nodded, already retreating back into the castle to find his hosts and inform them of his departure. “I’ll bring him something from Ccino’s! That always cheers him up.”

But when Dream arrived, the café was closed.

That... was odd.

Ccino never closed unless he was in serious trouble- or being petty after someone seriously did something to piss him off. Dream frowned and peered through the windows.

Lights off. Chairs up. No sign of life...

He turned to leave, but a flicker of unease prickled down his spine. His magic instinctively probed the essence of the AU, only to let out a quiet sigh of relief to find positivity still strong and hearty in the air.

Shrugging it off, he went to Shoptale next. Ink loved grabbing quirky art supplies from the weird corner stores there. It was usually a bustling realm of chaotic energy and haggling salesmen- a place where they'd spent more than a few dates just finding overpriced, exotic knick-knacks to bring home and get scolded by Blue.

But today... nothing.

The shops were shuttered. No one was on the street. The wind whistled between empty stands. Yet, despite the utter oddness of the scene, Dream's senses told him that positivity was still going strong, nothing was even remotely wrong in the emotional landscape.

Still... the unease grew into a knot. Despite there being absolutely nothing suggesting anything of potential trouble was stirring - in fact, there was plenty of evidence supporting the opposite - the spirit felt his nerves prickle in silent alarm. Warning him of a disaster unseen.

Dream’s soul beat faster. “Okay... This- This is okay, nothing to be freaked out about.” Maybe all the commercial AUs were closed for the ongoing culture exchange in Scienceswap?

He pulled out his staff and summoned a door to the OMEGA Timeline, mostly just wanting to leave the unnaturally silent space. Surely Frisk would know of an unconventional AU with something Ink likes?

But when he tried to turn the door knob, the lock stuck. The entire doorframe fizzled, jittered unpleasantly- before an alert sealed it off. Bright red letters in all-caps glaring at him before shuddering out of existence with the door.

[ACCESS DENIED. SYSTEM LOCKDOWN HAS BEEN INITIATED.]

“What...?”

Panic prickled at the edge of his composure. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Dream immediately made a portal for the first place he could think of to get answers.

Sciencetale.

The spirit was horrified to step through the portal- only to find himself standing over the remains of New Home looking as if it had gone through a war. The Underground was chaos.

Entire buildings were crumbled or trashed, there were entire districts on fire! The streets below were littered with trash, debris, and dust. If it weren't for the glaring lack of mad glitchy laughter and glowing neon strings scattered about, Dream would have easily assumed Error was back on his bullshit again.

"What the hell-?" The only thing more horrifying was the fact that he couldn't feel anybody's panic, worry, or fear. There was absolutely nothing to tell him what was going on or where the source of the disturbance was. To his empathetic senses, the AU felt just as cozy and content as it always was.

With dread building up in his throat, Dream instantly made a rush for Sci's facility in Snowdin. Someone must've found a way to trick his magic somehow! To get away with terrorizing people without Dream's notice...! He hoped his friend was okay!

Except... When Dream actually found Sci, the monster was hunched over his work desk, feverishly writing down schematics like he was on one of his coffee rushes.

Like the bodies of his fellow colleagues - humans and monsters - slumped around the floors didn't exist. Or how awfully ashen and brittle his own bones seemed to be turning.

After getting over his initial shock, Dream stepped forward cautiously. “Sci...?”

The scientist didn't even flinch, turning to face him with a unpleasant crunch in his neck that made the spirit flinch. “Dream! Wonderful, wonderful timing. So lovely of you to drop by- oh yeah, have you seen my assistant? I think he should've come back with those nuclear thermal engines from Hotland by now."

Dream's mind unhelpfully thought back to the white coat he saw hanging near one of the steam jump tiles and felt nausea stir in his belly.

"Nevermind! Look!" Sci proceeded to stumble over the stray papers littering the floor - while also jogging over bodies - to drag over a chalkboard filled with indecipherable equations. "We finally found a way to safely inject DT into monster subjects! Quite a bit of LV is needed- which, of course! I should've known! But-!"

Dream wasn’t listening anymore.

His soul screamed in horror.

The brightness in Sci’s voice - the wide, delighted grin stretching his greyed skull and sunken sockets - was wrong. The cheer didn't match the- the horrible things he was talking about...!

Looking closer, Dream felt ill as faint traces of bloodstains could be seen along the tips of Sci's sleeves. Off-color stains of dust flaking off his phalanges as he moved. Back to where Sci had pulled the chalkboard from, the guardian felt his breath stop, noticing containers holding souls on his shelves.

“Sci, what happened here?”

The smaller skeleton finally seemed to notice Dream's lack of enthusiasm, giving him a quirked brow. "Huh? What's the matter Dream? This research is going to benefit so many people! The multiverse is going to prosper more than ever!"

Dream's mouth moved before he thought better of it. "Sci- you-! Look around! What did you-?! Where did you even get those souls?!"

Sci just chuckled, though it came out a little wheezy and sluggish. "From my volunteers, of course!"

"...Volunteers?"

"Of course? I asked around if anyone would be willing to sacrifice their soul for my experiment and so many were happy to help! So thoughtful of them, I should send their families thank you gifts, what do you think, Dream?"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“Sci- how- how could you do that?! Y- You killed? Oh my stars..." Dream had to step back, hand hovering over his mouth. "What... how..."

The scientist blinked, innocent confusion finally creasing his expression. “Killed? Dream, no, no! You’re misunderstanding. They volunteered! Some of them actually came to me, asking to participate! So curious to experience death," he chuckled, like that was funny.

This was all wrong. How did everything go so wrong so fast?

“No,” Dream whispered. “No, this isn’t- this isn’t right. Sci, you- you need help! You need to rest! To-! You- what happened to you?” He wailed again, fighting back the tears wanting to rise up from his core.

Sci blinked at him, expression flatlining into something almost thoughtful. “Happened...? I don't think anything happened? I feel great! Been on a roll for... days, maybe? Haven't had the urge to sleep or eat! Isn’t that impressive?”

Dream stepped back again, his magic desperately scanning the area: searching for guilt, fear, sorrow, anything to indicate these people knew what they were doing.

Nothing.

Dream backed away in horror, feeling bile rise. This couldn't be real, this had to be a ni-!

That's it!

He had one last option! Dream turned on his heel and bolted for the door. There was one person who might be behind what was happening.

Nightmare...!

It wasn't hard to locate his brother's lair. It was the one last dimension housing any true negativity- the last bastion, you could say. Dream had been content before to wait for his brother to come to him, to wait out his pride until he finally came to his senses and approached Dream of his own volition.

But if Nightmare was truly the one behind this - if he had done something to tamper with the multiverse's mindscape or tried to retaliate somehow - then Dream had no choice but to confront him! Before the damage was too great!

He arrived at his brother's hideout, only to be met with something he had never expected.

Stillness.

The first person he came across was Cross: pale, sweaty and unresponsive. Nightmare's black and white knight was slumped in the great hall, looking as if he had been standing guard until he finally collapsed under his own weight. Dream tried to gently wake him out of whatever state he was in... but it proved no use.

He left Cross on a couch in an adjacent parlor, a single quilt strewn of positivity splayed across his lap out of sentiment for a one-time friend.

Up the stairs and down what he suspected to have been the main corridor were Killer and Dust.

The two were clinging to each other as if they were freezing to death, both feverish and shaking. Dust's scarf had lost its vivid color, spooled like the fallen petals of a wilted flower around his neck. The ashen skeleton was muttering something, but it was too faint for Dream to really make out; what he did catch, was the lost and sad hue to his eyelights, of something on the verge of breaking. Something gentle that Dream never thought him capable of before.

Killer's angry spark was nowhere to be seen: just hollow exhaustion. Desperation, maybe. The black trails of liquid hate seemed to burn against his bones, smearing against Dust as he nuzzled against the other with a gritted smile. They didn’t even acknowledge Dream when he passed, and Dream didn't dare linger.

There was something about the scene that felt too intimate to witness.

Horror was the most lucid of them all. When Dream finally came upon what was no doubt Nightmare's personal quarters, he found the large skeleton blocking the passage with his body, an immovable obstacle only to those who lacked the strength to dare try.

The spirit couldn't help but liken the mortal to a wizened guard dog, growling softly under his breath, as though unsure whether to defend or attack. His heart hurt at the sight.

The moment Dream stepped closer, Horror looked up with his clouded, red eye. Something wrong lingered behind it- an instinctual unease that Dream had felt too many times on the battlefield. Except this time, it wasn’t directed at him.

“You,” Horror rasped, voice wrought with disuse. “Took you... long enough.”

Dream blinked, surprised by the lucidity. “Wh- What happened? Is Nightmare-”

“Dyin’,” Horror interrupted, sockets fluttering as his eyelight waned. “If ya... came here ta get braggin' rights... y' don’t got much time.”

Unsettled by the implications, Dream didn't dare inquire further as he pushed ahead.

Inside was a room that looked like it hadn’t seen sunlight in years. The walls were draped with withered banners and cracked picture frames of the gang. But what took Dream’s breath away wasn’t the decay- it was the sight of Nightmare, lying twisted in his own sheets like a dying flame.

The once-mighty tyrant of darkness looked... small.

His black and goopy armor had been peeled away, likely from fever sweats. The black tendrils once framing his figure were listless, bulging and slowly melting through the floorboards. His eyelights - because both of them were visible now - that normally held fierce, glowing pits, were dim slivers of a pale cyan, rimmed with a sunken exhaustion.

For once, Nightmare didn’t sneer. He didn’t smirk. He didn’t say something cruel or sarcastic.

He just looked tired.

When those tired eyelights blearily trailed to Dream, Nightmare gave the faintest laugh. A great heave. It sounded more like a bark, to be honest. There was a vivid pain in the sound, a mourning flashing over the spirit's features as he turned away, as if too pained to face his brother any longer. “Finally came to finish the job, Dream?”

Despite the harshness with which he spoke, Nightmare's aura screamed of bitter surrender, of loss.

It made Dream’s stomach lurch in distaste, after having been without the acrid flavor of despair for a long time.

“What- What do you mean...?” He whispered.

Nightmare coughed, leveling the brighter guardian with a narrowed look.

"You did it,” he rasped. “You finally got your perfect world. A multiverse where everyone loves you, all the AUs are bathed in your positivity, completely erased of my essence..."

Nightmare slowly let his unseeing gaze drift to the ceiling, as if he could still catch a glimpse into the worlds beyond. "Congratulations, brother... It seems you'll have your happy ending after all..."

Dream took a staggering step forward, rushing to his twin's side with pain etched across his face. "N- No! This-! Nothing is happy about what is going on! Nightmare! People are-! There's something wrong with them! I was in Sciencetale and-!"

"Let me guess... monsters were casually harming themselves and others with no apparent rationality or remorse...?"

The younger spirit gasped, leaning in further. "Y- Yes! Nighty, do you know what-"

"STOP FUCKING ACTING NAIVE AND OPEN YOUR EYES FOR ONCE!"

The words hit Dream like a slap.

"You are 174 years too old to keep pretending that you're still that foolish brat freshly emerged from stone!" Nightmare hissed. "You don't get to pretend that throughout all of your travels, the experiences you've gathered, the fucking knowledge you had access to in that numbskull Creator- that it never occurred to you that there is a reason why a balance between us existed in the first place!"

Nightmare coughed, harder this time, his body convulsing weakly under the weight of his sickness. Black ichor dribbled down his jaw, and he let it fall freely- dignity long since abandoned.

"Did you expect mortals to still feel guilt when they do something 'wrong'? Did you expect them to still grow sad when they lose something? Did you expect them to pay any heed to the aches and stings of hunger and exhaustion without the ability to process pain?"

"I..." Dream stood frozen, a thick lump clogging his throat whenever he tried to dislodge his voice. The pale spirit opened his mouth to protest, to insist he hadn’t known, that he couldn’t have- but nothing came. Not a sound. Not a breath. Nothing but the weight of shame beginning to bloom in his chest.

Nightmare turned his face away again, sockets fluttering shut. His voice dropped to a broken whisper, a far cry from the venom it once carried. “Positivity... doesn’t mean goodness. Just like negativity doesn’t mean evil. But they told you it did. Didn’t they?”

Dream trembled.

“You... always wanted to be the hero. Thought that was what you were made for. Made it easier to turn a blind eye to the complicated truth, the burden you weren't ready for..." Nightmare chuckled again, but it cracked halfway through; more of a wheeze this time, brittle and pitiful. "...Neither of us were ready for, really..."

Dream fell to his knees. Giant globs of silent tears rolling down his cheeks in shame and horrific awe of the truth staring him in the face.

The spirit shook his head in disbelief. “I... I didn’t mean to...! I thought it would... I thought I was...”

His twin simply gave him a pitying expression, one that was too defeated for the younger brother to bear.

“No,” Dream gasped. “No, I-! I can still fix it! I can fix it! I-! I promise, Nighty! I'll fix this! I'll call Blue and-!”

And Ink.

Blue had called, worried about Ink.

He still hadn't gone to check on him...!

Dream shot to his feet so fast the motion startled Nightmare’s dying frame.

“Ink,” he whispered, terror dawning in his voice. “I have to go-! I have to- he’ll know what to do, he has to-!”

He bolted.

The Doodlesphere was eerily silent.

Not silent as in how it usually was: peaceful with a distant echoing hum that nobody could ever locate the source of. But silent, as in static and hollow. The atmosphere felt stale; in the past, whenever Dream had welcomed himself to Ink's domain, the environment would always feel vaguely alive. As if a thousand eyes were watching them, the weight of many hands piling up to put pressure on him.

He never thought he'd see a day where he'd miss that feeling. That would be so much better- anything would be better than this dead air right now.

“Ink?”

No answer.

Dream jumped from island to island across the pastel-turned-grey landscape, past AUs drifting on threads and random globs of congealed and crusty paint, until-

He stopped.

Just before he was about to climb further up to where Ink had squirreled away a home, along the periphery of his vision, the spirit caught a dark shape glaring against the off-yellows and beiges. Turning to find a stain of black pooled in an island near the center of the dimension.

Dream was inexplicably drawn to it. Perhaps deep down, he already had some distant awareness that just knew. Not understanding the sudden burst of adrenaline in his system, the way his magic was rushing in his ears as he stumbled and tripped in his urgency to investigate the mysterious paint splatter.

Only - as he grew closer - to realize that it wasn't paint.

The moment Dream hastily stumbled onto the drifting platform, his nonexistent ears prickled with the hissing static the shifting pool was releasing as it shifted. He felt uneasy, tense and cautious as the fizzling pool of... something, writhed and bubbled angrily.

"What the..." taking a breath, Dream took careful steps around the edge of the pool, watching in muted awe as the substance crackled like electricity. The closer he tried to peer into it, the less black it seemed to be- revealing subtle patterns of grey, navy, and other hues that ranged between dark, darker yet darker.

He watched the mass continue to gurgle and burn itself out, a distinct knot of discomfort clogging up his insides that he had yet to understand.

"Ink?" He called over his shoulder again.

Still no answer.

Or at least, not one that he understood yet. The sudden glint of some tarnished metal drew his gaze to- Broomie?

Dream blinked again, taking a moment to register the gigantic brush that Ink refused to go anywhere without, looking sullen and lonely, abandoned at the far edge of the platform. He quickly bent to nudge the precious artifact out of the mysterious pool - knowing from experience that the thing was too damn heavy to even attempt lifting - only to gasp in shock when he tapped it, feeling the brush move easily to the barely there force.

Sockets a little wider, Dream felt his soul hammer in his sternum, carefully grabbing the tip of Broomie's handle without touching the goo, and with eyelights shrunken in disbelief, he watched as his trembling arm effortlessly plucked it from the pool and dragged it out.

. . . .

The weight... was gone.

Dream stared at it, breathless.

Broomie - Ink's anchor, his weapon, his comfort - was light. Too light. As if it had been hollowed out. 

"...Ink?!" Panicked tears now pricking his sockets, Dream spun around helplessly for the sight of his lover, fear and uncertainty mounting as the strangeness only seemed to be getting more and more wrong.

His only answer was silence... and more fizzling from the unknown puddle.

Dream set his sights on the unsettling substance, clutching the brush protectively as if the angry mass would suddenly spring to life and attack him like Nightmare's corruption.

Seeing as he had no other leads to the whereabouts of his partner, Dream hastily pelted the substance with a CHECK... He dropped Broomie with a clatter, its wooden body echoing like a gavel across the muted expanse.

*  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and sketches to sketches...

*  Without a soul to send off, the code has nowhere to go but back to whence it came.

Dream couldn't breathe. He felt lightheaded. Maybe a little sick. Something was swimming in his skull.

“Ink...?” He dropped to his knees, reaching out with shaking hands, but when he touched the- the code, it smudged. Like an unstable amalgamate beneath his gloved hands. Like Ink had become nothing more than what he once was- an unfinished drawing, returning to the void that had birthed him.

The spirit stared, wobbling eyelights taking in the writhing pool under a different light. With the added context, he could now see that the blended hues he picked out earlier were actually small, scrambled bits of scripts, slowly melting with the rest of the puddle and eroding to nothingness.

The patterns were exactly like Ink's tattoos.

"I- In..." Dream's throat choked up, hot beads of magic skating down his cheeks as his brain tried to comprehend what the flavor text was telling him. The amount of loss his soul was trying to register was staggering. It didn't make sense. It couldn’t make sense.

The guardian mouthed his lover's name again, inaudible. He couldn’t even hear himself say it over the ringing that was now ricocheting inside his skull.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He had just talked to Ink not long ago...! They were planning to have a date at the cultural exchange...! And- And they were going to announce a new holiday...! They were going to renovate Dream's palace for the both of them...! Dream was going to... to...

. . . .

Why... Why didn't he feel it?

The positivity... the happiness... it was all supposed to keep them safe! It was supposed to protect his loved ones...! To make sure nobody would ever be taken from him again...! So why... why... why...

His magic was supposed to save everyone. It was supposed to fix everything- get rid of suffering...! That's-!

That's what the villagers taught him.

Feeling his chest grow tighter and tighter, Dream clutched at his shawl with scrabbling hands, limbs shaking as his breathing grew shallow and painful.

"I- In...!" His vision was blurry with tears, unable to see or feel the way he was practically strangling himself with the beloved cloth, just short of choking himself with it. His magic was boiling from the inside-out, curdling and frothing from the stark difference in emotional landscapes: the raging in his head against the soothing, warm glow emanating from every corner of the multiverse.

“We're only what the multiverse need us to be, Dream.”

He... He killed his datemate... He killed Ink. He killed Ink...!

The anguished scream the spirit released caused the Doodlesphere to quake in its very foundations. It was chilling and horrid and raw in the way only pure, unfiltered emotion could express. It was horror. It was rage. It was grief. It was everything painful and agonized that Dream had bottled up since his first days returning from stone.

"It's my fault!" Dream sobbed into the space where Ink should've been, forcing words between spasms for air. "It's all my fault! You-! You were r- hic! Right! You were always right, Ink! I-! Hic! I thought I was he- hic! Helping! I thought I was fi- fixing it-! I thought I wa- was doing the ri- hic! Right thing!"

It was mourning given outrage; afflicted with madness bordering on hateful and accusing. Dream screamed and wailed for hours, pretty tears burning so hot that they evaporated before they even pooled under his mandible, not knowing who or where he was, only that he had lost everything.

He howled until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. He screeched until his soul pulsed erratically in his chest.

And through the haze of agony, one memory - among so many, both sweet and bitter - flickered to the surface.

The spirit froze.

Dream’s hands trembled as they slowly broke out of their death grip on his shawl, then moved to his chest. To his soul. Glowing, golden, flickering beneath his ribcage.

He remembered what Ink once told him. How he came to life, back when Dream was still wide-eyed and hanging onto every word from his new friend.

"I... uh, shattered my soul when I couldn't stand it anymore... Being incomplete. Forgotten... I just wanted out so bad...! I think, maybe the multiverse heard me...? Or at least- something did. Because after destroying my soul, I became this! A pretty fair trade, don't ya think?

Dream was too overwhelmed with mortification at the time; of the sheer trauma that was just unpacked to him, to really think about the deeper implications of what Ink had said.

How the multiverse could grant wishes at the price of a soul.

. . . .

The void had listened once.

Would it listen again?

His hands trembled. A slow dread crept up his spine, but not of fear- of conviction.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, to no one and everyone. “I should’ve listened to you more. I should’ve understood sooner. But I hear you now, Ink. I see it now.”

He gripped the center of his chest, feeling the warmth of his soul pulsing inside, and with a deep, steadying breath, the spirit summoned the golden apple forth, cupping it in his hands with apprehension. An all-or-nothing determination raging in his mind.

“I’ll fix it,” he whispered. “I’ll bring you back.”

“I need you.”

We need you.

“I love you.”

And with that, Dream took his staff, raised it high over his head-

C R A C K !

The first thing Ink felt upon waking again was a strange lightheadedness.

Not the dizzying sort that came with exhaustion, or the giddy kind that followed a fresh dose of paints. It was... kind of like vertigo? As if his body was feeling too many contrasting sensations- or experiencing ones that didn't fit how he knew he should be feeling mentally?

He blinked slowly, allowing his eyelights to recalibrate themselves. With his awareness returning, Ink registered soft yellows and golds bleeding together like overexposed watercolor. There was no ceiling- just a hazy sky above him. Pages floated like petals in the distance, held up by stretching cords that went up, up, up beyond sight, occasionally turning themselves in some silent breeze.

He was... in the Doodlesphere...?

The god was cautious as he sat up, slowly letting each segment rise one at a time, from the tailbone up. Ink made sure to pay attention to the small cricks and pops as the magic in-between each vertebrae came to life with movement, counting each one until he was sure everything in his body was in its proper place.

Once he was fully on his ass, he wiggled his toes for good measure, and watched in detached observation as they moved accordingly. Huh, he... felt normal. No aches or pains or the burning he felt in his tattoos in his final moments. His breathing was steady, his code was stable, his magic was thrumming well and alive in his veins.

It... It was almost like everything had been a drea-

His gaze fell to the shape beside him.

Dream stood just a few paces away, back turned slightly, cradling something in his hands. It looked like his bandolier...?

Ink squinted. "...Didn't I die?"

Shit. Probably not the best thing to ask your datemate after waking up. But Dream didn’t flinch. He looked over his shoulder with a calm, almost beatific expression. It made Ink feel the urge to gulp, shuddering as his gut clenched with something. Appreciating the beauty.

“Hey,” Dream said softly, as if they’d seen each other only minutes ago. “You’re awake.”

Ink blinked, unconsciously shifting to make room for his lover as he approached. Maybe he didn't hear him?

Dream didn’t sit immediately. Instead, he crouched down, laying the familiar weight of the bandolier across Ink’s lap like something sacred. He kept one hand on it, the other resting on his own knee. His movements were graceful but... stilted. Off, somehow.

“You okay?” Dream asked after a moment, his voice mild, lacking its usual buoyant pitch. “How do you feel?”

Ink looked down at the paints, blinking to see each vial full of its proper color. Vibrant and glowing with creativity.

“I... feel fine,” he said. “Kind of blank, but functioning. Which is already weird.” He lifted his gaze to Dream and analyzed him a bit more closely. “Are you okay? You seem... different.”

Dream just smiled. Not the usual beaming one. This was muted, despite looking the same on the surface. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

...That couldn't be right.

His colors were all wrong. His buttery yellows had washed pale, almost cream. His golden shawl had lost its usual glow, and his eyelights - once so vibrant - were now bleached white, like a regular run-of-the-mill Sans. Looking closer, peaking through the gaps of his clothes, Ink noticed that Dream's shoulders carried deep amber scrawls that shimmered like the tattoos curling around Ink’s own body.

Despite his already empty stomach, he felt his body lurch with the physical urge to puke.

“...Dream?” He rasped.

The guardian hummed, finally sitting down with a sigh. “You’re not in pain, are you? Do you feel strange? Hungry?”

“I feel-” Ink stopped himself, glancing down at his hands, palming his vials- most particularly the green vial.

Without letting himself think about it too hard, he slipped the vial out of its holster and took a swig. He was then quick to instinctively follow it down with half as much cyan and blue respectively.

...And after a moment of hesitation, dabbed his tongue into the pink vial.

Both gods sat patiently as the paints hit Ink's system.

"I feel... unsure." He finally decided.

"Unsure of what, Ink?"

Ink didn’t respond immediately, distracted as he noticed one of the floating pages drifting closer, angling toward them as if seeking attention. A familiar flickering - a snapshot of the AU - flashed across its surface.

It was a Fallen Stars AU. An Outertale variant leaning towards the more rare side. There were people arguing. Crying. Screaming at each other. A rainbow of messy emotions, nothing like the perpetual high of joy that had ruled before.

Another page floated past. A FactionTale with more of the same... If not a little more violent.

Ink’s chest twisted sharply. Panic seizing him by the throat at the implications. Suddenly making Dream's strange calm make sense.

Oh shit. He was in trouble, wasn't he?

“Dream,” he said slowly, tone suddenly wary- not afraid, since he didn't take any purple, but it was a close thing. “Why are they...? Do you know that some AUs are... not happy?”

Dream followed his gaze but didn’t react. “It’s okay. It’s supposed to be like this.”

Ah fuck, he was super mad!

Ink grabbed his arm. “I'm-! I'm sorry, Dream! I didn't-! I don't know how this happened-!”

Dream turned to him fully, reaching out to gently place a hand over Ink’s before he spiraled too far. “No,” he said firmly. “Ink. You didn’t do anything wrong. This was... me.”

Ink’s body went still. Feeling his survival instincts raising flags in warning. “...What do you mean?”

Dream’s smile faltered for the first time. “I gave it back. Balance. Emotions. Choice. I gave you back. It was the right thing to do.”

Ink stared at him. His eyes critically scanning every feature of this strange Dream who was much too calm with how everything was going...

Ink puked up a small amount of paint before he could stop himself.

“You gave up your soul.”

Dream didn’t answer. He didn't need to.

“You gave up your soul?!” Ink shrieked, stumbling back as nausea reawakened in his core. “Why would you-! Why?! How could you do that?! That’s not fair! That’s not what I wanted-!”

“I know,” Dream said gently. “But it’s what I wanted to do.”

Ink felt he'd been stabbed by those words. “You don’t understand... you’re not supposed to do that! I protect AUs so this exact thing doesn’t happen! People like me aren’t supposed to happen ever again!”

“You’re not a mistake, Ink.”

“You don’t get to say that now!” Ink snapped, eyes wild as he fumbled for his red vial. “You- you had a soul, Dream! You were supposed to be the good one! The one who was actually put together! Now you’re- now you’re just like me!” He cried with dismay.

Dream took the insult without flinching. “Yes,” he said softly. “Now I am.”

There was a long silence. Ink trembled, fists clenched, breath uneven. Undecided if he should chug the whole bottle or just let it go. But Dream took a step forward and touched his face, gently tilting his head up until Ink was forced to meet his eyes.

And he already forgot why he wanted to feel mad.

“Now I finally understand,” Dream whispered. “Why you acted the way you did. Why you were so scared to feel things too strongly. Why explanations mattered. Why love and friendships were confusing. Why nothing ever quite made sense unless it was shown instead of felt.”

Ink allowed the spirit to gently pry the vial out of his grip, rolling it between his fingers for a moment before carefully slipping it back into it's slot. “I didn’t realize how unfair I was being to you. How hard I was trying to drag you into my world without ever really learning how to meet you in yours.”

Ink’s breath hitched. His sockets growing slightly dewy with the urge to form tears.

“I wasn’t a good friend,” Dream went on. “I wasn’t a good lover, either. I thought I knew what was right because my soul told me so. I thought that was enough, and I didn't notice how much you were pushing yourself for my sake until it was too late.”

He leaned in.

“But now I know what it means to choose to love you.”

And he kissed him.

The licks of pink in Ink's belly ignited into a storm of pure love. Magic rushed to his cheeks, his skull swirled with a warmth he hadn’t felt in what felt like eternity.

It wasn’t euphoric, no. It wasn’t blinding or all-consuming like the high of an overdose or the righteous rush of creation. It was soft. Wonderous. Real. A steady, solid kind of love that didn’t need to convince itself it existed. That didn’t need proof through color or performance.

Just the simple truth of teeth against his, of one soul-lost person saying, "you're still the one for me."

When they pulled apart, Ink was gasping softly, shocked more by the certainty he felt than the kiss itself. He opened his eyes and found Dream still close, eyelights half-lidded but steady, watching him like he was something holy. Stars, was it the right call to only take a dab of pink...!

“You’re not alone anymore,” Dream said quietly. He shifted, cupping Ink’s face fully now, and Ink let him, shivering as the spirit thumbed his stain-mark. His face was blank, but Ink could see the fire in those eyelights were torrid.

"I love you, Ink. Will you be my mate...?"

The Creator choked on a laugh, wide-eyed and strangled. “Are you serious right now?” He croaked, voice cracking somewhere between a sob and bafflement. “You- You just sacrificed your soul and now you’re proposing?”

Dream didn’t flinch. “Yes,” he said simply.

...Well, when he put it like that.

"Of course, Dreamy." Ink didn't even have to deliberate on it. "You're always the one for me."

The spirit exhaled, shoulders dropping in relief. “Thank you.”

. . . .

The two gods sat together, watching the revitalized multiverse expand all around them, enjoying the Doodlesphere's cradling warmth as they nuzzled into each other.

And it wasn't perfect. But it was fine. This was fine.

...And neither would have it any other way, if it meant giving this moment up.

Chapter Text

It wasn't often that Dust's LV surges got so bad that he had to leave the castle, but when they did he made sure to get his EXP's worth. The negativity runs were fine and all, they got his blood pumping some days, scratched the itch a little in a few of the more extreme trips, but they were never really enough.

Can't feed off the negativity of dead people, as Killer liked to taunt when he noticed Dust getting twitchy.

Now though? He got to enjoy the bloodcurdling screams of humans - without coming to the expense of their god - as he tore through their defenders one by one. Making mincemeat out of the Royal Guards' human counterparts, picking off the brave who tried to play hero, had to put down a monster or two if they got in the way.

But hey, it wasn't like they won't come back after a good hard RESET. He could make peace with that now. See, Nightmare? Progress!

Once the street was sufficiently caked with guts and scorched corpses, the public seemed to realize that running and fighting weren't proving effective, and began taking on a hiding route.

Now he could just move on to another AU...

But he was too lazy for that. Besides, unlike some people - Killer, cough cough - Dust liked being thorough.

So he picked a random location- which turned out to be an apartment complex, broke into that bitch and started cleaning shop. Like that one zombie videogame, but instead of cleaning out the undead, he was finishing off the residents. Heh.

He’d started on the ground floor and worked his way up, kicking in doors, dragging out hiding residents, savoring the way their begs and pleas made his LV sing in addictive pleasure. By the time he reached the fifth floor, his sweater was sufficiently stained and pretty mussed up.

But his appetite was not yet satisfied. He could feel it. Maybe two... six... fourteen more, and he'll be up a level. Feel the heady rush of power gushing through his marrow and flooding his skull with a high better than sex, unless it was with a particularly needy Cross or hot and bothered Horror.

...Okay maybe just almost better than sex. Killer's mouth was good for a few things more than running it, and he'd take a titjob from the Boss any day of the week over a LOVE up.

The skeleton growled as he approached the next door, clenching his teeth in agitation as his raunchy thoughts caused his magic to flare up, his eyelights flickering wildly as they crackled with overcharged energy.

Fuck. Horny can come later. He needed to focus. He needed the kill now.

With a sharp kick, the door splintered open and all but fell off its hinges, revealing another generic living space with little to low lighting. The kitchen was actually pretty clean, which was an unusual sight he had come to find on his way up.

When nothing stirred in the home from the commotion, Dust was worried that whoever lived here wasn't around. But daring to look a little further in and take a glance around the main living area, the skeleton came to a halt in his tracks.

"Oh."

A human.

Female-presenting, sleepy-faced with drooping eyes, curled up on a couch and bundled in blankets that looked more fitting in a grandma's cottage. She just looked at him, slow blinking at the bloodied monster that just broke into her home.

Dust stared back. Waited.

Most people would start panicking: either by scrambling for something to defend themselves with or by pleading for their lives. Or occasionally just try to throw themselves out the window.

But... this one actually looked like they were falling asleep. What the actual fuck...?

“Hey,” he rasped, licking blood off his teeth. “You blind, or just stupid?”

You roused yourself up from whatever half-daze you fell into, giving the jittery-looking murder skeleton your - mostly full - attention. "...I don't think so," you murmured, eyes trailing to the bloodstains marking the monster's clothes.

Damn... He probably killed your neighbors. That was unfortunate. They weren't exactly good people- but they weren't bad people either... They didn't steal your mail. Let you borrow duct tape, once.

"Hey!" The skeleton suddenly snapped, bringing your attention back to his face- which was now twisted up with a complicated scowl, "hurry up and start fuckin' screaming or at least try to fight back or something!"

Dust shuffled on his feet, anxious for that struggle for survival, the adrenaline rush, the screaming of your soul as it cried out with FEAR/DESPERATION/REGRET as it crumbled to pieces before his eyes-

You just huffed. You huffed at him, completely uninterested by the thought. "Why would I bother doing that...?"

"What?" Was this chick really stupid after all?

"You're clearly stronger than me. Like, I know about the whole human power superiority junk or whatever, but you clearly got like..." You squinted your eyes, as if trying to get a better look at him, "a shitload of LV. I've never killed anybody before, nor do I have the motivation to, so it's a no-brainer that it's useless to try and fight back or run away."

Dust took a moment to think about what you said... only to scowl harder when he realized you were right.

"That doesn't mean you just roll over and die, lady!” Dust snapped, stepping further into the room. His slippers left bloody prints on the carpet, his eyelights glowing wildly as magic sparked around him in agitated bursts. “What are you, suicidal or something?! I live for that struggle- you’re supposed to cry, scream, beg!”

Nothing. Your soul didn't even twitch in the face of his annoyance. "I'm not suicidal," was your only response.

Dust stared, the magic around him stuttering like a flickering candle the longer his craving went unanswered. "Then why the hell are you acting like a buggy NPC? You're supposed to be... be! Doing- not this!" He dramatically gestured to all of you.

You just shrugged. "I'm just tired... And there's nothing I can do to stop you, so... why bother?" You huddled deeper into your blankets, shivering as if a cold draft went by.

The words were so dry and so anticlimactic they actually made him pause. Not in that 'my brain is trying to process a dramatic moment' kind of way. No. It was a hard stop, like a record scratch in his skull.

"...Tired?" He repeated dumbly. That was your fucking excuse?!

"Mhm."

. . . .

Dust suddenly teleported to your side, looming over your blanket burrito with a demented grin, imagining all the ways he can kill you so easily- in an instant!

...But it wouldn't be satisfying. Not with you lying there like a sick dog. No fear, no fight, no nothing! Just a lukewarm puddle of apathy bundled in a crocheted granny-blanket.

Dust’s grin faltered.

He cocked his skull to the side, glaring harder at you like maybe - maybe - if he stared long enough, he could force you to emote something. Anything. A whimper. A tear. A single wide-eyed flicker of survival instinct.

Still nothing.

He summoned a bone attack, brandishing it threateningly. Your eyes zeroed in on the eerie glow of the magic attack, watching the way it flickered with ill-intent. But other than that, you didn't do much else.

"...Seriously?" Dust groused. Growing surly and kind of uninspired. "You know- I can just torture you, or something. Make you start screaming that way," he threatened.

You actually seemed to consider that, mulling over whatever it was you had in your head.

"Okay... I mean, I already figured you were gonna do that anyway...?"

. . . .

That shut him up. At least, long enough to realize that his head was way too fucking clear right now.

“...Huh.”

You just watched the murder skeleton suddenly step back, looking in your living room mirror with a vague expression of surprise on his face.

Eventually, a flicker of curiosity got the better of you.

“What?” You muttered, tilting your head in consideration.

“My LV surge,” he murmured. “It’s... fading.”

You made a small 'oh' sound, before shifting into a new position.

Dust stared after the movement. You remained as blank as you had been when he entered. Completely indifferent to his rage, his LV, and even his magic.

Something inside him - something horrible and curious and devious - began to hatch an idea.

"...Hey," he said slowly, pacing around to the back of your couch. “You got a name?”

“Mm.”

“You gonna tell me it?”

“...(Y/n).” You halfheartedly grumbled- though not out of any distaste as much as it was out of irritation in having to be awake.

Dust grinned.

"(Y/n), huh? That's a name I can work with."

He vanished with a crack, then reappeared in front of you, crouching low, arms resting over his knees, gaze scrutinizing. Dust's grin widened into something dangerous and smug. “Y'see... My boss has been ridin' my ass about getting a pet.”

"Uh-huh..." You gave him a weird look.

“Yeah. Like how Killer's got his herd of cats and Horror’s got his chickens and whatever else. They keep telling me I'm the only one who hasn’t domesticated some stupid animal for comfort or whatever.” He leaned forward. “So... I'm thinking you'd make a great 'emotional support' animal."

"Uhhh..." You didn't look perturbed by the thought, which made it all but an acceptance in Dust's books. "Why?"

The monster chuckled mischievously. "You're domesticated. You won't trigger my LV. And you're stupid."

Your eye twitched at the last comment.

Dust jabbed a thumb toward your disheveled form. “Plus, if I do happen to accidentally kill you, I won't feel bad about it since you're just a human anyway."

Wow. Fair enough, but wow.

Before you could argue, Dust pulled a phone out from his shorts... Despite the fact you couldn't see any pockets. He scrolled past a small handful of contacts before clicking on one with an octopus emoji as its profile pic.

Nightmare picked up on the third ring, sounding harried. “Dust? Has your surge tapered down enough to return? Horror made dinner and he's quite upset that you-”

“I found a pet.”

Pause.

"...Really? As in- a pet you actually want?" Nightmare actually sounded interested, his tone shifting from stern to cautiously hopeful.

“Yup,” Dust said, popping the p with an entertained little grin, looking you over like you were a nice haul of loot. “Not fluffy. Not scaly. Pretty low-energy. Looks like she’s already domesticated and caught up on her vaccines.”

Nightmare hummed, “what kind of pet is she?”

“A human.”

A longer pause.

“A what.”

Dust flicked open his camera and snapped a quick picture of you, sending it to Nightmare's DMs, already expecting the spirit to have it open, he wasn't surprised to quickly hear the aghast sound he made over the phone.

“She doesn’t need toilet training. Actually calms my LV down. Won't get trampled underfoot...”

Nightmare sputtered. "Dust- that's! That's a human! A whole ass human! You can't possibly be serious!"

“I am,” Dust said flatly, twirling the bone shard idly in one hand like a fidget toy. “I mean, c’mon. You said I needed something that wouldn’t trigger me, something easy to take care of, yeah? She just fucking huffed at my LV surge and went back to napping.”

“She’s- napping?” Nightmare sounded like he was being strangled. “While you’re in the middle of an LV surge?”

Dust held the phone out and started live-streaming. “See for yourself.”

Sure enough, you’d managed to fall back into some manner of sleepy daze while Dust was bickering with his boss. The squishy face peaking out from the fluffy mass and discreet shuffling of limbs added to the effect.

Nightmare had a hard time truly registering what he was seeing. “...Are you sure she’s not drugged? In the beginning stages of falling down, perhaps?”

“She made solid eye contact, was lucid enough to hold a conversation, aware enough to define logic in her bullshit. If she’s on anything, I've never heard of it.”

Nightmare exhaled, actually considering the wild request from one of his less materialistic - and certainly harder to please - subordinates.

"...I'm coming over to make an evaluation."

Nightmare cut the call before Dust could respond, and the screen of the phone blinked dark.

You cracked one eye open from your nest of blankets once things grew quiet again, brow quirked as if this whole ordeal had nothing to do with you.

Dust looked pleased with himself.

He plopped himself down on the floor across from the couch, sitting criss-cross like he didn’t just murder his way through half a district. You stared at him in silence for a few seconds.

And then, with a sudden black ripple, Nightmare himself appeared: towering and regal and extremely out of his element as he took in the carnage leading up to your doorway, his blood-soaked skeleton on the floor, and finally...

You. Wrapped in a granny blanket, tucked into the couch like a sad baked potato, and blinking owlishly at him without a single break of cold sweat upon his entrance.

Dust gestured at you with both arms like he was presenting a prized goat. “Behold. My human.”

You didn’t even bother sitting up. 

Nightmare stared. You stared back, your expression the epitome of "this is fine" like that one meme Killer loved to use as a reaction in the group chat.

And he stared.

And stared some more.

Then, with the wariness of a man who knew nothing good ever came easy, he knelt beside the couch and reached out with his magic, barely brushing against your soul with the gentlest probing tug-

-and nearly recoiled when he felt your apathy drain through his reserves.

“What the hell,” he muttered. What does one even do to reach this level of emotional exhaustion?

“Told you,” Dust said smugly. “She’s like... a little vacuum cleaner for bad vibes, but warm and fuzzy.”

Nightmare was quiet for a long moment, then sighed.

“...You know what? Fine.” He straightened up, pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge. “Fine. If she actually suppresses your surges, I’ll allow it. But she'll be sleeping in your quarters- because I refuse to remodel the castle again, for a human taken in by what I'm assuming is a whim. And you'll be responsible for her needs. And if I so much as hear you call her your ‘pet’ in front of Killer, I will withhold sex for a week."

Nightmare turned to you. “And you. What’s your name again?”

“...(Y/n).”

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because clearly you are not.” His eye narrowed. “But if at any point you change your mind about this situation, you may speak to me directly.”

“’Kaaaay.”

Another pause. Then, unexpectedly, Nightmare’s gaze softened. Barely. The kind of softness reserved for things that were too pitiful to hate but too baffling to accept.

“...You remind me of Error after a soft-crash.”

That was probably the highest compliment you’d ever get from him.

Chapter Text

Blue's Magnificent Guide to Surviving Your First Week on the Job!!

Introduction

Hello new friend! This is the Magnificent and Marvelous Blue, who - at the time of writing this - is Senior Creature Caretaker at the Ebott Sanctuary for the Fantastical! (And currently on my way to becoming Senior Creature Handler!!).

If you're reading this, then that means you've just been hired to join our wonderful team! Yay! We are going to have so much fun together! (Responsible fun!). Here at the reserve, we have to handle many wild and often times feral creatures of the magical variety, so safety is a very big must!

Which is why I wrote this for new hires! (You'd be surprised by how high our turnover rate is here!). Inside this manual, you will find a variety of rules, notes, tips, and other informative pointers/tidbits that will help you get through your first week with us!

Make sure you read this manual after your first day! The kid gloves will be coming off starting next shift, and preparation goes a long way in helping you stay out of the infirmary!

I can't wait to get to know you better! And good luck friend!

- The Magnificent and Marvelous Blue (Who will be future Senior Creature Handler!!)

Note: Our Amazing Staff!!

Before we delve into the creatures you'll be handling, it's just as important to know who you're working with and who to go to in a time of emergency or crisis!

Below is a list of reliable senior workers who will never let you down!

Me! (Blue): I am a very reliable person! I know all the habits of the creatures we have in residence, completed a degree in magic ecology and environments, and can be called/texted at any time! (here's my number if you didn't get it already! (XXX) XXX-XXXX).

Dr. Gaster: He's the Head Scientist and 'philanthropist'; was the guy who built this place and runs it on his own funds, actually! He's also apparently a very famous scientist- so that's where he gets the funds from. Anyway! If you ever suspect something not normal is happening to the creatures, or otherwise suspect something is affecting their health or behavior, I would advise you to go directly to him! He's very smart!

Classic: He's the doctor's son (and I'm 53% sure he's a nepobaby) and a Senior Creature Handler (specifically for the more non-aggressive and docile creatures). Classic is a little... lazy, for my tastes, but he's a good person! And has helped me many times during my early years here. If you ever find yourself stuck in a pinch, or are unsure of what to do, I'd suggest going to Classic. (Tip! Bribe him with a bottle of ketchup after work!).

Papyrus: He's Classic's brother and is a very, very friendly and good sort! Unfortunately, due to his job as a Senior Foster Caretaker, Papyrus is often kept in the nursery and doesn't have much time for other duties. However! If you're ever feeling down, or need another perspective, I highly recommend going to him! Papyrus is very wise and very encouraging!

Red: As of right now, Red is a Rookie Creature Caretaker, however, during his first few weeks with us, he has shown incredible potential! Despite being new, he’s already proven himself to be very hardy and resilient (especially when dealing with Lust: more on that later). If you ever need backup handling the more enthusiastic creatures, Red’s your guy. Just don’t let him near the griffons unless I’m there! Wine tolerates him, but only barely.

Fresh: The tech guy. Don’t ask how he got here, but he’s the reason our barriers, eco-friendly tranquilizers, magic monitors and other securities work so well. If something’s beeping weirdly or you think a situation calls for some advanced tech- go to him. (Between you and me, the other tech workers don't seem to have the same passion Fresh does).

Notice: Who to Look Out For When Assigned to 'The Creepy Crawlies' Area!

Here's a quick roster of some permanent residents we have in this area!

Name: Ink   Species/Subspecies: Avian/Harpie
Danger Level: B-   Enclosure: 3S 2J
Assigned Handler: Epic   Reason Preventing Return to Wild: Domestication & Hazardous Behavior

Name: Error   Species/Subspecies: Insectoid/Arachne
Danger Level: A   Enclosure: 2J
Assigned Handler: Edge   Reason Preventing Return to Wild: Hazardous Behavior & Disability

Name: Lust   Species/Subspecies: Serpentine/Lamia
Danger Level: C-   Enclosure: 5A
Assigned Handler: Dance   Reason Preventing Return to Wild: Domestication

Name: Outer   Species/Subspecies: Alien/???
Danger Level: D   Enclosure: 5A
Assigned Handler: Classic   Reason Preventing Return to Wild: We Have No Idea How

Rule #1: Don't feed Error outside of his designated feeding times!

Three years ago - which was just before I applied for a position here - Dr. Gaster got a call from an associate, telling him about a rouge arachne that had been terrorizing a nearby town. The creature - later named Error - was unlike any arachne on record. His magic was volatile, his size twice that of his brethren, and his webs carried a potent electricity exceeding 1000V. The poor creature was finally apprehended by local authorities and awaiting euthanization when the reserve stepped in.

Once they managed to claim responsibility for Error, a quick examination discovered that his condition was the result of a rare combination formed from magical and genetic mutations, not inherent aggression. Now, Error's condition has stabilized greatly thanks to the work of our incredible and fantastic doctors and pharmacists! (Thank you Alphys!). They've put him on a strict regimen of medication that he takes with his food.

Which is why it's important not to feed him outside of feeding times!

If Error fills up on snacks, then he won't eat his meals, and if he doesn't eat his meals, then he won't take his medicine, and if Error doesn't take his medicine, then we'll have to lockdown his enclosure- which is a very hard thing to do with Ink constantly flying in to see him!

A healthy Error means a happy reserve. And happy Error is...! For the most part.

He’s still temperamental - prone to hissing fits and wrapping people up in frustration - but he’s no longer a danger to himself or others! Once, Error swept me up! This happened when I was still new- so I was quite panicked at the time! Turns out, Error's a real sweetheart as long as you respect his boundaries. He just wanted to sit on me for a few hours, so if he does that to you, expect to be used as a heat pad until he's satisfied.

THE DAILY EBBOT GAZETTE - "EBOTT RECLUSE" CAPTURED AND NOW AWAITING EUTHANIZATION! [Archived]

Byline: Heats Flamesman

Residents of rural Ebott County are finally breathing easy after a task force of SWAT units apprehended the infamous "Ebott Recluse," a mutated arachne responsible for a month-long reign of terror.

The creature first gained notoriety in early March after a campsite was discovered to be completely overrun with electrified webs following the disappearances of five hikers (two human, three monster) along Craigpeak Trail. They were found two weeks later, cocooned in pulsating, glitching silk- still comatose, their bodies wracked with seizures whenever medical staff attempted to remove the strands.

The five hikers and four first response medical staff have since been hospitalized and officially determined as unresponsive following the rescue operation. None have yet to awaken from their comas.

Following this discovery, a spiral of terror that shook the whole town:

• March 12th: A logging crew near Icecap Creek reported their equipment completely demolished after an overnight break. When the team supervisor tried to investigate further, they suffered an attack that led to four broken ribs and a crippled leg.
• March 15th: The Ebott Power Grid blacked out for 12 hours after the creature nested in a substation. Three responding technicians suffered injuries that later sent them into comas.
• March 21st: Several homeowners reporting missing pets and children crying about a spider in the woods.

Everything came to a head at March 24th, when a group of teenagers - nine total - were rushed to the hospital with grievous injuries after emerging from the woods. Matthew Walkner (14) suffered from a ruptured intestine and several broken ribs, while others like Prima Quin (16) lost her eye and had to amputate her left leg from the knee down.

With the arachne now contained in a high-security magical detainment facility, officials are debating its fate. Families are demanding justice for their loved ones, while conservationists and other advocacies are arguing for the creature's relocation to a safer environment.

Nonetheless, as of press time, the county magistrate has 72 hours to rule before the scheduled euthanization, and only time will tell how this story will end.

Rule #2: If you see Ink in Error's enclosure, don't try to force him out.

Yes, we know that Ink should be in the aviary with the other avians. But he won't. See, Ink, our resident harpy with zero survival instincts, has decided that Error is his now.

At first, it was just harmless stalking: perching on the trees near Error’s enclosure and watching him sleep, chattering at him in that weird, sing-songy harpy tongue of his, dropping shiny trinkets into his webs like a crow trying to woo a mate.

Usually, all it would take was a water gun or raising a fuss, and Ink would retreat back to his side of the reserve. But then things escalated. (In hindsight, I suspect it was due to incoming mating seasons).

Ink started sneaking in by tearing holes into the chain-link barriers. Then it was the keeper tunnels. We had to reinforce the entire eastern side with a special magic-conductive alloy. Which, for the record, is not cheap!

But that only made him angry.

Ink started attacking anyone who'd try to get him out of Error's enclosure. Began to tear his own area apart in violent fits. Someone... required medical attention at the worst of it. And in the end it was decided that we should just... let it be. Dr. Gaster figured that we could only interfere with nature so much; if Ink was so eager to die, then there was little else we could do but hope that Error would make it minimally painful.

Except - as you probably have already figured - that didn't happen...

A few weeks later, Error's appetite took a sharp upswing. He began to stress out a lot more- leading to us increasing his medicine dosage, and would turn violent when staff tried to clean his den.

Classic was the one to realize that Error was gravid (I still don't know how, though). We’re not entirely sure how many eggs to expect. Error refuses to let any doctors close enough to take an examination, and Ink goes crazy whenever we try to bring Error in for a check-up.

According to the doctor, Error should be laying (at the time of writing this!) in another fourteen months due to them belonging to totally different species. So yeah, unless you want to trigger a territorial response from Ink, I would not recommend trying to chase him from Error's enclosure.

Rule #3: Lust is not allowed to be alone with Red.

Lust is our lamia. Technically speaking, he’s an exotic pet rescue. Confiscated from a black market operation, and due to having been raised entirely by humans he's unable to live in the wild; which is to say that Lust is... not what you'd call traditionally wild. In fact, he's arguably one of the most domesticated and 'civil' creatures in the sanctuary.

He’s smart, social, and has a good basic understanding of our language- which has been a point of interest to many visiting scientists. But the thing about him is that he also has zero understanding of boundaries. Or any concept of shame.

So while Lust is allowed to venture out of his enclosure for the most part (half the reason being that we can't really stop him since he's memorized the lock codes and figured out how to lockpick), we have strict rules about his interactions with staff- primarily to try and discourage some of his more problematic habits.

One of the big rules is to avoid leaving Red alone with him.

Red is a great guy, he did almost as good as me during his first week, and that says a lot! He's a softie once you get to know him (do not let him see I wrote that), and he surprisingly has strong integrity. Unfortunately, he also happens to be Lust’s absolute favorite person in the entire reserve.

And when I say favorite person, I mean he wants to make babies with him.

Lust has been known to stalk Red, flirt with him (he flirts with everyone really, but he lays it on thick for Red) and break into the staff room when Red is on lunch. However, he's also been caught pinning Red down and well- using his endowment very effectively. Which is not Red's fault at all!! While I personally fail to see the appeal, I have no doubt that he is an attractive monster to many!

So, if you're ever on a shift with Red as your partner, please keep an eye out for him! The poor guy gets so embarrassed about it! Especially after... 'the incident'.

Note: Ink has a tendency to try and perch on people's shoulders. He's clingy!

Harpies are reportedly one of the more shy and people-unfriendly creatures among the lot, however Ink is... special, among his kind. Which is why he's here.

As far as we know, he's been born and raised in the wild, had little to no contact with humans or monsters prior to reaching maturity, and had no reference level to compare us to. So we have no idea why Ink is so friendly.

Our reserve was given several calls regarding a harpy living down the outskirts of Auda City. He'd follow people along hiking trails, scavenge food from campers, and loot unattended items from unsuspecting folk. Ink even had a social media presence for a while.

Locals started posting videos of him sneaking into picnic baskets or striking dramatic poses in front of car windows. The fan favorite was a clip where Ink very clearly stole a hot dog and then pretended he didn’t have it by standing completely still with the entire bun in his beak. Like a kid hiding a mouthful of stolen cookies.

Eventually, the city called in magical wildlife control, but all attempts to reintegrate him into a proper flock failed. The others would reject him, and then he'd try to sneak back into town- particularly toward the bakery district, where he apparently developed a taste for fruity danishes. (P.S his favorite is rhubarb!)

The only place left for him after that was us.

Dr. Gaster has a theory that Ink might think he's a civilized monster- and that's why he's so clingy to people, but personally... I think he just can't tell the difference.

Rule #4: Don't touch Error's webs carelessly!

Thanks to the medication, Error's magic has gotten lots more stable. However, that doesn't mean his magic isn't dangerous to the touch! Error's webs can be running on up to 300V of magic electricity at any given time- especially when he's agitated. And with him being gravid, that happens twice as often.

If you find any of Error's webs in concerning places where staff have to go through often, or somehow reach a place where visitors can hurt themselves, don't try to clear it alone!! Inform your buddy and go to the manager for further instructions!

We've had too many past incidents of newbies carelessly handling his webs- only to end up rushed to the infirmary. It's one of the most basic and common mistakes.

Oh- and avoid touching any webs with intricate designs! Error doesn't mind us clearing up his regular webs, but the patterned ones are webs he frequently uses and/or needs for structuring other things. He'll throw a tantrum if you accidentally clear one of those.

Rule #5: Be gentle when handling Outer.

If you've already met Outer, then you no doubt know how skittish he can be. As the only known extraterrestrial in the reserve (and possibly the world), Outer is understandably wary of his surroundings- especially after crash-landing on an unfamiliar planet.

Frankly, we're still figuring out a lot of things, and taking care of him has been a bit of trial and error, but one thing we're certain of is that he needs to be handled with care. Outer's bones are incredibly fragile- at least twice as much as humans! And his only real structural support is his turtle-like shell (hence why he's in the marshland enclosure).

If you ever need to bring him in for something, you can find some helpful equipment in storage shed 3. (Pro tip: keep the equipment out of boggy or flooded areas).

[CONFIDENTIAL] (Leaked) Incident Report: The Staff Room Ambush

Date: [REDACTED]
Location: Staff Break Room
Subjects Involved:
Red (Junior Handler)
Lust (Lamia, Problem Child)
Classic (Senior Handler, Unfortunate Witness)

Description of Events: (Transcript of Security Footage)

[00:00] Red enters the staff room alone, muttering about "stubborn griffins" while grabbing a coffee. He does not notice Lust’s tail coiled around the ceiling support beam.

[00:12] Lust drops directly onto Red’s back, and uses his momentum to knock him face-first into the couch. Red lets out a strangled yell and begins to struggle as Lust pins his wrists with one hand, already yanking his shorts down with the other.

Red: "LUST- WHAT THE FUCK-"

Lust (translation): "Shhh, relax. Nobody -(illegible)- eggs now."

[00:25] Red’s protests are muffled as Lust slides down for a better position, using his other hand to tug at Red's waist, dragging his pelvis flush against the lamia’s abdomen. The camera angle mercifully obscures the worst of it, but Red's startled moan leaves little to the imagination as to what must be there.

Red: "I- ah- wait! Wait, we can't- I can't-"

Lust (translation): "Mmm, [you] want this, sweetie. [I can] smell it."

[01:42] Lust shifts up and uses both hands to keep Red's pelvis pinned to him, sensually grinding and rolling his hips, likely rutting against him and encouraging his ecto to form.

[01:58] Red's struggling begins to notably weaken. A flush develops on his cheekbones as his hips start to buck on their own. His legs stop kicking out.

Red: "Lust- stop...! I'm- haah, I'm -(illegible)- get in so much shit if -(illegible)- yer eggs...!"

[02:31] Lust lifts Red higher, allowing the camera to catch hints of red- confirming that he had summoned his ecto body. As he lowers him back down, there are signs of resistance, indicating that he is likely mounting Red with his hemipenis.

Red: "LUST- FU-"

[02:47] Lust proceeds to muffle Red's voice with his hand, non-violently shoving Red down into the cushions as he begins to thrust inside of him earnestly. Wet slapping quickly builds up in the room as Lust mounts Red wildly.

Lust (translation): "-(illegible)- mine, mine, mine, -(illegible)- breed [you] like [a] bitch."

Red: "-(illegible)-"

[05:08] Lust is now slowing down, assumedly growing close to climaxing.

[05:25] Lust is pressing down, fully sheathed inside Red and breaching the womb, his coils tightening around his thighs to keep him spread. Red’s voice has devolved into choked noises, his fingers clawing at the couch cushions, limbs spasming in pleasure.

Lust (translation): "Take it. [You] feel so good... [I] want to give [you my] eggs."

Red: "-(illegible)- pl- please!~"

[06:12] The lamia has gone near completely still, his grip on Red’s hips bruising as his body floods with tension. The camera captures the moment Lust’s tail arches: a telltale sign of impending eggs preparing to deposit.

Red: "N- No- shit...!~ Lust, wait!~"

Lust: "-(illegible)- take it take it take it...! Give [you] my snakelets!!"

Red: "M- Mmphhh- aaaah~"

[06:44] Just as Lust’s grip shifts (likely positioning for optimal egg deposition), the door can be heard slamming open.

Classic: "...Holy shit."

Red: "Cla- ahh!~ Hel- Help...! I can't-!~"

[07:08] Classic vaults over the coffee table, grabbing Lust by the back of his neck and yanking him backward. The lamia hisses, his hemipenis slipping free with an obscenely wet sound as Red collapses forward, panting.

Lust (translation): "[You] ruined it!!!"

Classic: "YOU CAN’T JUST MOUNT PEOPLE, YOU MENACE-!"

[07:36] Lust hisses, thrashing for Red as Classic quickly brandishes a spray bottle to fight him away.

Classic: "BAD SNAKE. NO."

[07:53] Classic starts to furiously spray Lust with the bottle, causing the lamia to flinch away and whine in frustration.

Classic: "Fuck! Why can't you just- fuck around with the other creatures?!"

Lust (translation): "No! -(illegible)- Red -(illegible)- my mate!"

[8:18] Classic drags Lust out by his tail, calling for assistance.

[11:43] Footage ends as Red remains motionless on the couch for a full three minutes. His ecto can be seen flickering out before he weakly reaches for his discarded pants.