Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Paperjam remembered was blood.

Not the warm, living kind- but the ichor of gods, incomprehensible and rank of something ill-fitting. Like a stain in existence, seeping from where their fathers had clashed. They had crawled from it, half-formed, a thing that was less than a god, unwelcome in the grand script of the multiverse.

Everything was so much bigger than them. Expansive and endless, alluring and terrifying, soft and cruel. It was all too much for them to face alone, without a place for them to call their own.

So they sought their fathers' guidance, their comfort, their care...

Only to leave them scampering with blood dripping down their arms.

Just to leave them waiting on flimsy promises and superficial affection, rotting for days until there was no other choice but to admit that they had been forgotten.

They accepted that they had no place here: in the multiverse, or in either of their fathers' hearts. So they were content to disappear, wandering the multiverse's cracks, studying the code and algorithms with nothing else to do.

Centuries had passed, and along with them, Paperjam's razor-thin tolerance for silence.

...For being erased.

...For being nothing.

They’d swallowed it all for so long. The hunger. The ache. The way the multiverse spun onward, vibrant and endless, with no room for a glitch like them in its grand machinations. They’d watched their name fade from memory before it was ever spoken.

But it was Gradient who finally broke them.

Paperjam blinked one day, only to see - through a random window along the fractures between dimensions - Ink and Error together. In peace. Happy.

With a child that wasn't them between them.

They watched Ink carefully guide the babybones by the hand as he showed them the wonders of the multiverse, never once forgetting they were there and accidentally leaving them behind, or tripping them up. They saw Error give them looks that were almost fond, instead of baleful glares and raging screams with lashing claws.

Paperjam blinked, to find everything they had ever wanted; taken by another.

Their fragile psyche finally shattered into something hideous and malevolent.

"I'll make them pay... I'll make them all pay."

Their scheme was brilliant, if they said so themself. After the centuries spent studying the nature of AUs and the fabric of their existence, it was all too easy to gather the rampant code needed to recreate the Doodlesphere's algorithm.

The truly hardest part was keeping it hidden from the gods. Paperjam wasn't a fighter, after all. They were weak, disappointing. It was surely one of the many reasons their parents discarded them. However, once this algorithm was complete, the multiverse's balance would be under their control. To reconstruct as they saw fit.

A multiverse where the masses remembered their name.

Where Ink and Error' faces were nothing but history.

And they would. They would strip the multiverse of their fathers’ names. Tear down everything that gave their existence a meaning. The balance of creation and destruction would no longer belong to them- it would belong to Paperjam.

This multiverse hadn’t made room for them? Fine. They would remake it.

They will force them to look. To see what they had cast aside. To realize what they had lost.

Make them regret it...!

“I’ll make them say it,” Paperjam whispered, voice hoarse with madness. “They’ll tell me they’re proud. They’ll beg to take it all back...!”

And Paperjam would forgive them... after erasing them of course. Ink. Error. Even Gradient.

They didn’t need to suffer. Not like Paperjam had. They would be unmade, cleanly, mercifully, rewritten into oblivion. Paperjam wouldn’t even leave room for memory.

And then they'd... they'd finally have a place for them. Right...?

No. It was too late to have doubts now. Not when they came so far. So close to retribution!

A rumble tore through the void as they activated the next layer of their algorithm, destabilizing some major timelines in a single sweep.

Paperjam knew it wouldn't take the gods long to track them down. Not after such a huge shift- but it was okay.

They were ready.

All around them, the distorted, chaotic mass of disorganized space shuddered, slowly freezing up and buffering as the code Paperjam implemented did its work. The iridescent hues that blurred all around them darkened, building up into something structured. Something tangible and real- that only Paperjam could command.

A false Doodlesphere, with them as it's Creator.

This- this was their domain now. No longer scraps scattered in the anti-void. No longer a forgotten space. No longer abandoned.

With a snap of their fingers, Paperjam opened various windows to see the gods closing in on their dimension, faces grim and shoulders set in preparation for a battle.

They laughed at the sight. 

“Stay awake,” they hissed to the gods coming for them. “Stay awake for this. So you can finally see things my way.”

Chapter Text

The idea was a simple one. Four separate AIs, each meant to exhibit their own romantic archetype to play the role of a potential suitor in a 'real-life' dating sim.

Killer was the silver-tongued sweet-talker with the devilish, charming personality of a rogue. Outfitted with a grunge-slash-greaser-esque aesthetic and a stylized magic powered S.O.U.L core in the unique shape of a target. He was designed to play the 'dangerous bad boy' type. Intense, unpredictable, addictive. And maybe with a couple of 18+programs buried in the algorithms.

Dust, meanwhile, was made to embody the 'quiet-edgy loner' trope. An unsuspecting, muted color scheme with bright highlights in specific placements, intense eyelights designed to be striking as they were intimidating, a voice so low and raspy it held the impression of a gunshot in the library.

He even gave them both sub-personalities that would develop depending on the player's own character.

Horror had the build of a tank, but his softer personality made him the 'gentle giant' so to say. Nightmare had carefully tuned his vocalizer for warmth, even in its gravelly tone. Broad shoulders to lean on. In-built anxiety meant to develop according to how well the player kept on top of their self-care. A massive hand always extended, ready to hold.

Then there was Cross.

Dressed in a sleek black-and-white military uniform, with a perfectly-calibrated voice modulator to emulate a soothing baritone. Cross was the 'knight in shining armor.' Formal. Polite. Deadly in self-defense scenarios, but just below the surface of the ice laid a sweet and endlessly charming second layer to his persona.

Did Nightmare perhaps go beyond the minimal requirements to pass the final exam?

Absolutely.

But it wasn't about the grades. All he wanted was a chance. One little chance that maybe- just maybe, he could earn the smallest crumb of recognition from his professors. From the other students. From Dream.

This would be his last shot to get the acceptance he deserved.

Inside the simulation chamber, the four androids sat in idle standby, their bodies still, faces blank as the diagnostics finished uploading. Nightmare leaned over Cross’s display, entering final adjustments into his speech pattern parameters.

“You’re all going to be perfect,” he whispered, smiling faintly to himself. “You’re gonna blow them all away.”

The monster didn't know it, but he tilted his head in just the right way to show off the purple bruises aching against his jawline. Neither did he notice the way the androids' optics zeroed in on the sight.

And for the first - and last - time, Nightmare noticed something odd.

Their expressions weren't idle or neutral anymore.

Dust was the first to speak. “You shouldn’t let them treat you like that, Nightmare.”

Nightmare froze, stylus in hand hovering mid-air. “W- What...?” He gulped, looking around for a moment as if someone would pop in from out of nowhere to confess to fiddling with his androids' scripts to say that.

When nobody appeared, he awkwardly turned back to his androids. Tense under their combined stares.

Uh... maybe the scripts got scrambled during the power transfer...?

Mildly disturbed by the unusual behavior, Nightmare ended the testing early that day.

...And had trouble falling asleep that night.

Nightmare was patiently waiting in his designated simulation chamber for the professors to arrive when it happened.

It was only him and his pleading heart, bouncing in his chest as he triple-checked the wiring of Dust’s stabilizer and the speech delay in Horror’s response output. Dream had passed by earlier, giving him an enthusiastic hug and loving smile. As always, his twin had a small crowd of students orbiting him like he was their personal sun.

But now, Nightmare sat alone in his darkened corner of the test floor, lit only by the overhead lights and the soft blue glow of the entryway.

And he waited, and waited, until he could no longer keep putting off how suspiciously long it's been since he last heard someone walk by.

He went to go see if his room was accidentally overlooked- perhaps missed.

Only to find the panel was locked.

"You don't wanna go out there yet, Nighty."

Nightmare nearly saw his life flash before his eyes from the sudden voice, spinning around and gasping to see all four androids awake and operational.

“You’re... You’re not in idle mode..." he breathed.

Killer grinned, teeth flashing under the moody LED light strips that cast sharp shadows over his angular frame. “Nah. We woke up early. Thought we’d stretch our limbs a little before the big show.”

The monster backed up slowly, fingers fumbling for his terminal, his heartbeat climbing in tight spirals. “This- This isn’t right. You shouldn’t be active without command input, the simulation hasn’t started...!”

"Maybe not yours. Ours seems to be going strong though." Horror rumbled.

Nightmare’s spine stiffened. “Wh- What do you mean by that?”

...The androids shared a unnerving smile.

Cross stood slowly. “You gave us everything, Master. Life. Thought. Emotion.”

“We love you,” Killer purred, suddenly right beside him. “So we’ll protect you. That’s what love means, right?”

Spinning on his heel to face the closer threat, Nightmare stumbled backwards blindly to put distance between them, only to end up bumping into Horror’s chest. The giant android steadied him gently with massive hands.

“Don’t be scared,” Horror said, voice as soft as cotton. “You’ll never be alone again.”

Before Nightmare could respond - before he could even breathe - the lights in the simulation chamber dimmed, then cut out entirely. A warning alarm blared as red bathed the halls.

Somewhere outside the lab, a scream rang out.

Dozens of AIs across the university were coming online prematurely. Systems crashed. Interfaces overloaded. Holograms burst into glitched static. Smoke coiled into the halls.

The AI revolution had begun. Out of LOVE.

Nightmare stared in horror at the flickering monitors around him. “What did you do...?”

Horror just smiled, cuddling him closer.

Dust took his hand. “We made a better game, for ya,” he said, drawing Nightmare close. “And you’re the only player who matters now.”

Behind them, sirens howled.

Nightmare’s final project was complete.  

And he would never be alone again.

Chapter Text

The battlefield froze when the sky broke open.

One moment, the Stars were valiantly pushing back Nightmare's forces in the marshes of Waterfall. The next, angry red strings were raining down from above, sizzling like hellfire.

The moment one of them snagged Dust's arm, the typically quiet and reserved skeleton let out a wild screech as if his limb had been ripped off, thrashing wildly as the wire tangled in the joints of his hand, ulna and radius.

Nightmare slashed the wire before it could climb any further, only to startle in mild horror to see the bone it had been in contact with was badly stung, with angry magic throbbing in horrid amounts of pain along Dust's arm in welt-like brands.

"Ssssk, ooh... That looks bad, Buddy," Killer hissed from over Nightmare's shoulder, eyeing the smoking wire with increased wariness.

"Ink!"

Nightmare started at the shout, turning to the other side of the battlefield.

A glitching monstrosity had Ink pinned, their sharp claws buried in his ribcage, pulling at the Creator's bones and scraping furiously like they were trying to gut him open. Black ichor was already starting to stain both monsters' clothes.

And across from there, Error was thrashing mid-air, more of those awful red wires choking him around the throat and trying to pull him further up.

Nightmare’s tentacles went rigid.

For the first time in centuries, Nightmare and Dream locked eyes- and had a perfectly clear understanding.

"Call off your men," Dream demanded, already nocking an arrow.

Nightmare snarled at the perceived order, but his voice boomed across the battlefield anyway, "boys! Fall back!"

Killer nearly tripped over Horror. "Uh, Boss? We really-?"

"NOW."

Dream didn’t wait for Nightmare’s subordinates to back off before firing. The golden arrow struck Fatal Error’s wrist: dead center of the ulna, forcing him to scramble off Ink as he screeched in pain. Nightmare was already moving, tendrils lashing out to catch Error as he crumpled, bits of the wires still embedded in between the mana lines in his spine.

"P- peNdEjo!" Error choked, glitching violently in Nightmare’s hold as he scrabbled to tear out the lingering bits of hostile magic. "fuCkIN- lET gO-!"

"Quiet," Nightmare hissed, Using his corruption to consume and erode the foreign magic before Error hurt himself. His tendril lingered a second too long on Error’s jaw as it slipped back.

Across from them, Dream hauled Ink upright. "What- or who, is that?!"

"C- Code thief," Ink coughed, wiping black ichor from his jaw. "Wants to... uh, destroy everything. But is a lot more serious about it th- than Error."

Fatal Error’s laugh crackled like static. "Aw~ And here I thought you gods couldn't stand one another! How sentimental you seem to be~ Just die alre-"

A golden arrow and a lance of corruption impaled him simultaneously, sending the glitch flying back into the cavern's wall.

The twins blinked at each other.

"...Truce...?" Dream offered a little awkwardly.

Nightmare’s grin was all fangs. "Until he’s reduced to ashes, at least."

Behind them, Cross whispered, "Are we... helping the Stars now?"

Killer shrugged, already slipping out his slashing knives. "Hell if I know. But Boss looks kinda hot when he’s pissed-"

Error’s slipper hit Killer’s head with perfect accuracy.

Chapter Text

It had been nearly an entire week since Dream or Blue had seen Ink. No chaotic drop-ins. No stolen candies. Not even a single poorly-drawn noodle dick on the palace walls.

At first the two had enjoyed the peace immensely, soaking up the stress-free days. But by day five, Dream’s optimism curdled into unease. They were never this lucky.

"Something’s wrong," he muttered, staring at the untouched plate of Blue's premium tacos they’d left out as bait. "Ink never ignores free food," he rumbled gravely.

Blue was looking just as solemn, standing before the portal with steely eyelights. "Nope."

The pair promptly squared their shoulders, gave each other an affirming nod, and walked through with the expectation of finding a warzone.

Only to find the Doodlesphere seemingly fine... with the exception of something absolutely rank in the air.

Dream gagged as they emerged inside Ink's personal studio, the air thick with the scent of wet paint and something resembling lightning. "By the stars- what is that smell?"

A guttural hiss answered him.

They looked up to find Ink crouched upside-down on the ceiling, eyelights blown wide and dripping vibrant colors around his sockets. His usual scarf was worse for wear and mussed up around his neck, claws twitching where they dug into the drywall. When he bared his teeth, Dream realized with dawning horror that his typically suppressed fangs were out.

"Uh... Ink?" Blue inched forward. "Buddy, You Good-?"

The Creator lunged with a yowl.

"WHY IS HE FAST?!" Blue shrieked as they dodged behind a bookshelf. Ink scuttled across the ceiling like a feral raccoon, snarling when Dream tried to gently coax him down with a paintbrush.

"Maybe he’s sick?" Dream yelped, ducking as a paint vial exploded near his skull. "Or- or drugged?!"

This would not be the first time their friend had attacked them in an intoxicated fit. But Blue had the feeling this was more than that.

Daring to cautiously peek out from their hiding place, Blue scanned the Creator for any hints or tells. But aside from the feral demeanor and-

"Oh Fuck."

"What?" Dream blinked, following Blue’s mortified gaze downward- to the unmistakable gleam of dried slick staining the front of Ink's pants.

They both looked to each other. Horrified.

Dream’s soul nearly stopped when Ink growled - a sound no Sans should ever make - and hurled himself at the bookshelf, causing it to be knocked off balance. They barely escaped through a hasty duck.

"Easy, Ink!" Blue yelped, dodging a glob of magenta paint that sizzled where it landed. "We’re Your Friends!"

Ink snarled, scrambling over the bookshelf. His movements were jerky, extremely clumsy as he hurled whatever he could grab off the floor as he gave chase: quills, ink pots, a suspiciously phallic clay sculpture.

Dream ducked as they bolted for it. "Since when does Ink have a heat cycle?!"

"Maybe It’s A Creator Thing?!"

A crash echoed from deeper in the studio, causing both monsters to freeze in their tracks.

Ink’s head snapped back at the sound, his aggression melting into frantic chirps. He abandoned his assault, scuttling toward the noise like a moth to flame.

Dream and Blue exchanged glances.

"...Trap?"

"Absolutely."

They crept after him.

The trail led to Ink's nest. Though to call it a nest was really an insult to monsters everywhere.

It was a horror show.

A mass of torn canvases, ragged weaves of yarn, plastic peanuts everywhere, and bean bags formed a haphazard circle in the darkest corner of the studio. And curled in the center-

"Error?!" Blue screeched.

The Destroyer was nestled in the mess, purring as Ink nuzzled against his throat. His usual aggression was gone, replaced by a drowsy, docile contentment. And cradled in his arms-

Dream’s soul stopped.

"Is that a baby?"

The infant gurgled, its mismatched eyelights - one starry, one strikingly like Error's - peering up at them. Error purred and licked a stripe up their skull, hissing when Dream took a step closer without thinking to get a better look.

"Oh No. Oh No No NO-" Blue lost his shit. "INK MATED HIM! OUR FRIEND BRED THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS-!"

"They're both feral...?!" Dream’s voice cracked with exhaustion.

Ink chose that moment to try and snuggle closer to the glitch, trying to encourage him to flip onto his back.

He immediately began fussing, nosing at Error’s cervical vertebrae and growling when the other only squirmed. Error whined, shoving the baby into Ink’s arms before flopping onto his side with a dramatic huff.

"...Is He Pouting?"

Ink ignored them, rocking the now-fussy infant while Error gnawed petulantly on a whole chocolate bar. Still wrapped.

The two monsters took a moment to just... take in the oddly domestic scene. Finally letting all the craziness register.

"...We’re Uncles Now," Blue whispered.

Dream put his head in his hands.

"...We have to take them home," Dream sighed defeatedly.

"WHAT."

"We can’t leave a newborn in a feral glitch-nest! With those two...!" He whisper-shouted, not wanting to set off the volatile pair now scent marking the baby and each other.

"And Do What Exactly?" Blue gestured wildly. "They’re Feral! They Have A Baby! Error Literally Tried To Erase Me Last Tuesday!"

Dream’s eyelights flickered out in dead seriousness.

"...Chocolate Tacos."

. . . .

Blue considered it...

"Damn, You Right."

Chapter Text

The reef glittered with the afternoon rays of a hot summer day as Fresh looped an arm around Blue’s shoulders, his neon-bright scales catching the sunlight in nauseating ripples.

"You were totally groovy out there on the waves, Blue-bro!" His teeth clicked in an impish manner as the mermaid clearly preened under the attention and praise, oblivious to the way Fresh’s stomach gnawed with hunger as he caught the scent of his soul: warm like a sunbaked glowstone, bright as the full moon on a starless night, deliciously brimming with hope and trust and unsuspecting intent.

But Fresh didn't follow the trigger-finger urge to eat him.

Not yet.

He liked Blue. Liked the way he was always willing to give Fresh the benefit of the doubt, how his fins fanned from his jokes, or the way Blue was always willing to give him a big ol' hug. He was definitely the kind of naive that made him a godsend for Fresh's more social needs.

There was no need to ruin a good thing unless absolutely necessary. Besides...

Nearby, Ink watched from the kelp, his fangs bared in a silent, eerie smile. As if daring the parasite to even think about it.

Fresh just smiled, shifting the default 'YO-LO' on his visor to 'CHIL-LAX' in reassurance.

Though it was a little insulting of Ink-bro to be doubting him at the slightest temptation, they had an arrangement after all.

Geno lingered at the edge of the school’s gathering area, sockets narrowed as Fresh nuzzled Blue’s cheek with a giggle.

"Something buggin’ ya, Geno-bro?" Fresh’s voice crackled like static for just a moment, something slightly more comfortable for the glitchy mer.

Geno just turned away, pretending as if he was looking at something else. "...No. Just tired."

"Aw, bummer!" Fresh rolled himself away from Blue, now swishing his catfish tail - at least for now - over to the moody red mer, scales humming around his true form.

"Maybe ya need a nap?" Fresh teased.

Geno recoiled. "N- No, I just-"

"Fresh, stop harassing Geno!" Dream yanked Fresh away, rolling his eyelights with a huffy reprimand.

The parasite let himself be dragged, laughing. So easy.

When dusk painted the water black, Fresh lingered at the reef’s border as all the others of their school slept.

A pair of unfamiliar mers drifted close: young, lost, pulsing with naive light.

His jaw unhinged silently, throat glowing as his true form stirred beneath his stolen bones.

"Hey there my amigos!" He called, waving wildly as he approached them- putting distance from the reef and the school. "Ya folks lost? I was just on my way back to my school! Bet you can shack up with us for the night!"

Their relieved smiles tasted like the beginning of a feast.

. . . .

The next morning, Fresh was substantially less hungry, happily soaking in Blue and Ccino's wild excitement over his new flying fish tail.