Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ink hadn't felt so empty, and that's saying something.

He thumbs his vials against his chest, listening to them clink together as he runs a finger over them. He stares at the end of his and Dream's shared bed, the guardian's side bare and cold. Ink had been alone ever since the incident from the previous day. He felt empty.

It's a weird feeling; his chest is hollow, and yet this feeling is not like any other. His vials provided the right mixtures of emotions to support his ideals and moods, but this type of feeling didn't compare to any panic attacks or overwhelming feelings he gets. It wasn't caused by white spaces. There was no issue with the creators. He didn't particularly feel unmotivated. He didn't overdose. He didn't even drink too much blue or red.

The offspring is gone.

He swallows a round lump in his throat, fidgeting with a cap from the blue vial. He nearly drank the whole vial; only half of the liquid is left. Usually, it would make him overly dramatic for the smallest thing or cry tears about absolutely nothing. But this felt like something to cry for. Ink sniffles, a hand caressing over his chest. It used to be filled with warmth, if not for only a flicker of light when it used to respond. It needed a spot to be kept safe, a hollow chest for a meaningful light being.

Over the past weeks, Ink and Dream were determined to try for an offspring. It was different from normal monsters. Instead of sharing SOULs, they shared feelings. Dream kept his positive aura in high spirits, the overly excited one of the two. Ink made sure to take a few drops more of his yellow and green paints, occasionally sipping some pink. It felt right to do so. With positivity shared, their mutual feelings created a light being of yellow and turquoise.

When Ink first saw the offspring, nothing could've pulled his attention from it being in his and Dream's hands. Its face was relaxed, tiny eyes closed shut as it pulsed. Its turquoise flames flickered and licked against their fingers. It was small, it was warm, it was pure positive magic.

It was his.

Ink would be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for that moment. Before he had dated Dream, he was interested in the idea of an offspring, made entirely from original code and separated from connected ideas. It was a foreign concept, and Ink had watched as it slowly became something that many out-code monsters and humans came to like. Ink didn't hold much romance in his body, but he did hold much love for his parents. He often wondered what it was like caring for a child.

It was different from his parents, but Gaster had sons. And he told Ink a few times that he reminded him of his Sans. Not a big thing, especially when Ink's a version of him, but it brought some things into perspective. Aster liked taking care of the blasters, especially near the tower. He never had children like Gaster did, but the blasters felt the closest thing to an offspring. Ink is adopted, belonging to a family that cares for him and took him under as their own, but this offspring was different.

It was his.

Once Dream had their hands closer together, he excitedly exclaimed, “It's him, isn't it? He's real!” 

It was evident that the night was spent gushing over the resting face of their offspring and shared peppered kisses with soft laughter—a night filled with happiness and tenderness for the light being between them.

The offspring had to be dormant, being made from a being of light, and a skeleton without a SOUL had a bit of a side effect. Swap had figured that out once the two announced it to the guard. It was noticeable when the offspring's sleeping face carried over into the next day. It was like he was growing, but without being inside the SOUL of a parent.

So he was mainly sleeping, nestled in Dream or Ink's hands, and most of the time inside Ink's chest. The offspring needed a place to rest, somewhere to be safe and sound from any wandering eyes. Dream couldn't risk his enemies finding him when his apple SOUL could be easily pulled out of his chest with blue attacks.

When Dream had to help out others in the Omega Timeline or sought out people in the AUs, Ink had time to himself in the Star Sanses base. There wouldn't be as many creators on some days, but he didn't waste an opportunity to just relax and comprehend. He had so much to think about.

It was such a burning question in his head, practically melting his thoughts. It was so… unreal to be able to see it. Sat in the living room with a hand over his torso, feeling the soft thrumming of his offspring alive and slumbering. Ink didn't think he'd get this far. He didn't think about the outcome either. 

It was a day or two when Ink started to feel something was wrong. In an early morning in Swap's house, there were faint thrums of the offspring. At first, Ink thought nothing of it. After all, he didn't have a SOUL, so anything from him was a foreign concept. He felt oddly dizzy. Ink managed to distract himself by talking with Swap and watching a movie the guard wanted him to see. Ink can’t recall the name now, but he can remember the concierge who spoke wonderful words of poetry, despite how vulgar he had gotten. Regardless of the distraction, Ink couldn’t shake off how woozy he felt.

He was concerned in the afternoon. He was checking out a few scripts in the Doodle Sphere when the offspring started to dim its flames, not very noticeable unless squinting. Ink had wondered if he wasn’t used to the gravity yet, becoming panicked as he quickly went to the Star Sanses base. Accompanied by the winds and soft singing of birds, he held the flames of his offspring with bated breath.

His face was disturbed, a slight furrow in his sleeping form. Ink had felt worried, the magenta in his chest swirling nervously. He wasn’t an expert in offspring; that was Gaster and Dream’s job, the latter having met many children in the Omega Timeline. He felt useless, trying to figure out what the problem was. He’s supposed to be a protector, helping others. And he didn’t know how to help his offspring.

He had waited, so confused as the offspring began to go dimmer. He felt perplexed, holding the offspring in his hands, watching as the flames flickered steadily. He might’ve waited for hours, but when Dream came to the house, it was nearing evening. The guardian wore a concerned look. Ink hadn’t paid attention to Dream’s questions, eyes locked on his offspring, fading slowly.

It was strange. Ink couldn't register the scenery changing and didn't realize that they were both in the Omega Timeline. He held the offspring close, away from Core Frisk's hands. He didn't want anyone to take him. He didn't want anyone to take his offspring. It wasn't until Dream calmed him down, holding the offspring and reassuring Ink he was near. But then Ink got too overwhelmed and threw up. He had fainted.

That night was cold. Ink's chest was numb. He had clasped his hands over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. The mattress dug into his back, not warm like it used to be. The room was dark. He can see Core Frisk's solemn face engraved in his skull. He can feel his bones trembling. It’s so quiet, cold, and chilling.

He heard Dream's portal in the hallway, the shimmering light coming through underneath the door. He didn't look over, not even when the door opened, shutting behind softly as padded feet sauntered close. He felt his eyes go wet. Dream's body sinks on the other side, a warmth against Ink's forever coldness. 

“Hey.” Dream's voice whispered. Ink couldn't feel the energy to speak.

So, Dream wrapped his arms around him, bringing Ink's skull close to his chest. Ink quivered. He turned around to his side to face Dream as he dug his face into his neck, feeling Dream's nearly dried-up tears. He didn't say anything else. Knowing this was a wordless conversation, Ink curled his knees to his chest. 

He wept. 

The night was long. Ink doesn't usually fall asleep, but he felt the pressure in his skull. He fell asleep in Dream's arms and woke up alone. The sunlight peeking through the window, the birds chirping. Morning, a casual morning. Too normal that Ink realized time passed and the world didn't end. He felt angry. He felt miserable.

From that point on, Ink knew their relationship wasn't the same.

***

It's been a couple of years since that incident. 

Ink and Dream had broken up on equal terms during the uncomfortable months. It was pretty uneventful. Ink can barely remember it; he chalks it up to blocking the memory out. The breakup strained their connection in the Star Sanses base. Once a coordinated team, it quickly became a mess. The group disbanded, and it was awkward for months on end. They had disbanded in private, together in public to avoid further curiosity from enemies. It wasn't until a year after their breakup that the truce was made.

The truce changed everything. Ink is still able to check on scripts, his first job above anything. Error refrained from destroying AUs, fully convinced by Swap as the two stayed best friends. It's a breakthrough now that AUs aren't crumbling every day. Dream managed to find a middle ground with Nightmare. To keep ties close, they often meet up to maintain a connection. 

It’s weird chatting up a storm with the members of the Bad Sanses. Then again, it was they who had the misfortune of being in the presence of Ink. It’s not his fault that they got caught up in Ink’s latest interest in machinery. Horror is okay in his book; he isn’t the most unstable monster in the group. Killer at least contributes to Ink’s ramblings. But he’s sure Dust usually blocks him out by napping. Hard to say with that hood of his. In short, he has an alright friendship with the three of them!

Ink is not too sure about Nightmare. He's eye-catching; he can admit it, but Ink doesn't feel any interest in interacting with him. During his time with Dream, he was privy to Dream crying buckets stemming from fights with Nightmare. Being with Dream opened doors to so much vulnerability. He was oblivious to Dream's feelings. The guardian just always had to grin and bear it. Ink can't help but still give the tentacled being a stink eye once in a while.

Error is still quite the enigma. He tries to talk with the former destroyer—Error still wants to be called the destroyer—but he either gets spooked or annoyed. The black boned skeleton still hangs around, but it’s usually in corners to avoid social interaction. He’s closed off, erratic. Error gets crazy mood swings, Ink can’t be hypocritical in that department though. He guesses that’s what happens to a monster that's lived in a white void for so long; he shivers at the thought of it. Ink just leaves Error to Swap. Speaking of the guard, Ink doesn’t think he’s ever found a friend like him. 

Since the breakup, Swap had been trying to help reconnect Ink and Dream. To bring a sense of friendship into the picture. It didn't go as planned. Ink didn't really feel the energy to try to talk with Dream afterwards. There were no hard feelings, Ink just felt… off. Swap quickly realized and didn't force any relations between them.

The offspring left a gaping hole in his chest. Sometimes, Ink brushes a hand over it subconsciously. He would find himself protective of his chest, even though it'd be enemies trying to get his vials. Dream and Ink never really talked about it. It was left in the room that was once shared. Ink hadn't slept in that room anymore. He still keeps it clean, to the best of his memory. But was there any point in cleaning up a base that's likely never to be used again?

Well, it is used to an extent. With the truce, meetings were held. Most of the time, it'd be at Nightmare's Castle, and for a few days, it'd be at the base. The castle is bigger; it could fit multiple people. Ink hadn't dabbled in medieval history before, but he thinks the castle is close to an ancient building like those stone castles. Perhaps Renaissance?

There's another meeting today, Nightmare's castle this time. Ink doesn't feel like going; he feels a bit off. But Dream put so much time into these meetings, it'd be rude not to contribute to them.

Ink sighs, looking over the papers as they rustle and crinkle. His face scrunches. Strange. It seems a bit windy here today, despite there being no wind at all. The gravity warps weirdly in some places, unnatural like he’s ever felt before. Ink brushes it off, looking over the papers more closely. Checking on scripts could get a bit boring, especially when there are barely any problems at hand.

He could draw for a bit. But he keeps using the same three colours, and it drags on for too long. He could go and explore an AU, although he'd stare at a pool of water or look longingly at store windows. He could visit his fathers, but they'll look at him with concerned eyes. He doesn't need pity.

It’s just recently that Ink started to feel something off in the Doodle Sphere. A disturbance that’s not directed to the AUs, but to himself. He can’t pinpoint why his chest swirls in purple, why he can’t shake off the uneasy feeling in his bones. It doesn’t help that with each passing day, it feels closer. He can’t ignore it like he used to. 

He can't exactly voice it to the others, not when everything seems to be going well. Dream deserves this, Swap deserves this, everyone does. With everything going on track, this feels like it'd throw it out of proportion. But Ink can't feel bad about it. In fact, he feels curious.

It's natural to have curiosity. The AUs aren't interrupted, creators are depleting, but creativity still flows. The multiverse is in the right hands. Ink is bored. He has been ever since his purpose had changed, a change he wanted to make for himself.

If someone had told Ink he searched for another purpose, he would've laughed in your face. He loves his job! He protects the AUs, providing happiness to the creators and encouraging them to create for the sake of the multiverse and himself! It's his purpose! His purpose is to motivate them, so he'd never be alone again! 

But he can’t stop thinking of him. He doesn’t know why it’s been years without letting go of the memory. His hands feel abnormally empty. His body moves on its own; he could barely remember yesterday. He doesn’t need to eat or sleep, but he knows it's been a long time. He just feels silly, so damn silly. 

Was it silly to want to protect something he created?

“Hey, Ink?” 

Ink looks up, staring at the form of Swap at the bottom of the Doodle Sphere. The guard has his hands on his hips, giving Ink a friendly smile. He guesses time has passed already. He grips the papers in between his fingers.

“You do know you're upside down, right?” Swap tells him, grinning as he tilts his head. 

Ink musters a smile, rolling back to sit upright. “Oh, yeah, I knew that.” He replies, leaving the papers and Broomie before floating down. “Any luck?”

Swap searches through his pants pockets, practically shoving the number of papers in Ink’s face. They’re slightly wrinkled, and a few have some of Ink’s old handwriting. “Did you say pacifist or neutral timelines?”

Ink furrows his brows, taking half of the papers. “You could read what I wrote down.”

“It’s all chicken scratch!”

Ink pouts. They’ve been getting nowhere. It doesn’t help the fact that Swap can’t read binary code, including Ink’s supposedly horrid writing. He lifts the papers back up, letting out another long-drawn-out sigh as he walks around the space to find other papers. “Well, is Underswap available?” He asks, skimming over his apparent lousy handwriting. 

Swap's eyes follow him, managing to hold out a wince. “Ink, don’t you remember? I couldn't get Papyrus to let us do the painting back home.” He says.

Ink blows a raspberry. “How long can he hold a grudge?” 

Swap sighs, crossing his arms. “You just need to talk to him more!”

Ink immediately grimaces. “Sure, if I want to get a concussion again.” He deadpans. 

The guard shakes his head, smiling. “So, Underswap is crossed off. We haven’t found a place for hours. How about the Omega Timeline?”

Lately, Ink wants to make a mural. He has a general idea, but it's the area that he still needs to find. He's been lacking inspiration for a while now. His mind is in another place. Three colours swarm his head for days; it's never-ending. Swap has been supportive, he suggested Ink to paint in his AU. They were going to plan and paint it in a place where monsters barely ever go. It was like an easter egg. However, Stretch's disagreement is a bit disappointing.

Painting in the Omega Timeline sounds like a great idea. Ink just has some mixed thoughts about it. It has a lot of space, plenty of walls to pick and choose from. It has a nice environment, perfect for painting. There are many benefits, though Ink is a little unsure about them. He's hesitant.

“Well…” He utters, but Swap doesn't give him the chance to speak. The guard grins and takes Ink by the hand, eyes two matching blue stars. He seems eager to leave. Ink feels the smallest amount of guilt in his system at that.

“Great! Let's ask Core Frisk!” Swap exclaims. He pulls Ink close and, lo and behold, there is a beige door behind him. Ink stares at it in complete bafflement. He stutters as Swap swings the door open, yelping once the skeleton tugs him forward.

The environment is the opposite of the Doodle Sphere. The Omega Timeline's sun washes over him, and the wind tickles his face, including Swap's scarf. Chatter erupts around him. There are many other doors, an array of colours and yet Ink can feel a sense of dread as they amble through multiple characters and colourful doorways. Though he tries to distract himself, chuckling at the guard.

“Does Frisk just let you use the doors all the time or what?” He teases, letting out a laugh at Swap's flushed, blueberry face.

“No! Of course not!” Swap denies. He huffs, pulling Ink closer to the main area where the void meets the grass. “We were stumped! I just got a shortcut!” 

“A shortcut, alright.” Ink says, smiling despite himself. “I could've taken us here.” He adds, rolling his eyes at Swap's knitted brows.

“I doubt it.” 

Ink pouts, then something catches his attention from the corner of his eye. Looking over, he tilts his head, intrigued by the smaller building next to the Omega Timeline's hospital. It seems a bit busy, as many monsters and humans are going in and out the doors. One key difference is that it's mostly women. 

The Omega Timeline has been growing abundantly fast. It used to be filled with small buildings and a large park. Now, the buildings have expanded to include apartments, offices, houses, and much more. The parks are still fresh and untouched. Most of the monsters and humans are usually there, keeping in touch with the nature of their long-lost AUs. But Ink is curious about why many are attracted to this new building.

He comes up to nudge Swap. “What's that thing?” 

Swap blinks, eyes looking over to the building before perking up. “That’s the fertility clinic! A couple of residents asked for it during one of the council meetings.”

Ink tilts his head. “They did?”

“Yeah! Some Toriels mentioned they had a few problems. Boss monsters have a very different anatomy.” Swap explains, then his face grows a bit sheepish. “It also aids other out-codes with their concerns about having offspring.” He adds, although with a hint of sadness.

And that’s right, isn’t it?

Having an offspring was a risky decision back then. Out-codes were cautious; they didn’t know if their code could affect a child. Out-codes were just in the middle of researching it when he and Dream decided to try. And of course, it didn’t end well. But most of the concerns over an offspring weren’t what Ink had experienced. 

He can faintly remember waiting in the Omega Timeline’s hospital a few days later after the incident. He had sat in the waiting room, eyes on the checkerboard tiles as others chattered and the receptionists tapped at their keyboards. Too many had coughed, too many had pressed random buttons at the ATMs, too many had lost their change while trying to grab a snack from a vending machine. It was insufferable. But Dream really wanted to make sure there weren’t any more problems. It had been quiet between them in a world filled with noise, their hands clasped together while they waited for their appointment. It was unclear whether it was for comfort or a tether for a relationship that was slowly falling apart.

Lost in thought, he bumps into Swap. He blinks rapidly as he turns away from it. He spots what stopped the guard, promptly smiling at the monochrome child that stares back at them with a friendly one. “Hey, Frisk! How's everything?” 

“Everything is fine.” Core Frisk replies, their voice an echo. Then, they tilt their head. “Is there an issue?” They ask, hollow eyes staring up at the two. 

Swap brightens. “Oh, yes! Frisk, we have hit a roadblock. We don't have an area to paint!” He exclaims.

Core Frisk just blinks, eyes locked onto the guard. “Paint, you say?” 

Swap nods. “That's right!” He affirms. “Sadly, my lazy bones of a brother decided not to let us create beautiful images in my own AU.” 

Ink is quick to interject. “But we are looking for another place! We're just here for other things.” He flashes them a pleading look.

The monochrome child clasps their hands behind their back. “I would love to help. I know artists like you do excellent work.” 

Ink deflates. Swap lets out a cheer. “Yes! Thank you, Frisk! Do you have any free space?” 

Core Frisk nods. “Fortunately, there are many free spaces around the Omega Timeline.” They turn around to amble, and Ink and Swap follow in turn. “All the residents are free to create their own expressions on buildings. It was Fresh's idea to allow it. I eventually said yes, it seems fun to do.”

Swap raises a brow. “I haven’t seen any paintings yet.” He says slowly, in thought. 

Core Frisk merely glances at them. “They are hesitant.”

Ink can vaguely remember seeing buildings with bare walls. But that’s a normal sight to see in the Omega Timeline over the years. However, the one thing that hasn’t changed is the residents' discouragement over their freedom of expression. 

He muses as they walk past the park. Faint giggles and voices arise near the picnic blankets and ponds. Ink takes a moment to look over, watching as boss monsters sit on the blankets while keeping an eye on their humans. He can see a few other monsters, playing with their offspring with gigantic smiles. He quickly looks away, inching closer to Swap as they stroll towards the municipal building. The destination confuses Ink.

“Is this another one of your strategies?” Ink inquires, frowning at the guard.

Dream takes council meetings seriously. Even with the truce, he still keeps himself busy. The guardian would be found with files at hand, isolated in the office. Dream didn't have an office before; an office isn't what Ink expected Dream to have. Ink thinks council meetings are a bit boring. He always drew in a sketchbook while characters babbled away. He tries to be supportive, but he can't care for characters’ lives. 

At the end of council meetings is the only time Ink manages to be alone with Dream. They're not exactly alone, especially when there's a whole block of chalk standing next to Dream. Cross was picked up from an AU Ink doesn't remember seeing before. Dream found Cross in a depressed state and immediately tried to help out the soldier at first glance. They've been together for a year or two. Ink doesn't really know the exact estimate.

Swap blinks, wide-eyed. “No? I haven't done one of those in a while. I feel embarrassed for myself.” 

Ink cannot help but chuckle. They halt as Core Frisk turns around to face them, wearing a smile that gives off a mischievous energy. In front of the three is a side of the municipal building, the wall smooth and empty. Ink is aghast at how blank it is. 

“I'd like something in return.” Core Frisk asserts.

Swap tilts his head, despite how amazed he looks. “Absolutely. Name it.” He responds. Ink frowns at his eagerness.

Core Frisk giggles at it. “As part of my generous offer, I would like you to help me with one of the Omega Timeline’s issues.” They say. “I’d like you two to be the first to show my people that they can express themselves, starting with the centre.”

Ink furrows his brows. “Why the centre?” 

Core Frisk merely shrugs. “They think it's a building of importance. They are afraid that this building will control them.” 

Are people really wired to believe they have to follow a rule that hasn't been spoken? Is it caution or fear of losing their only home? Ink doesn't get monsters who have anxiety over the unknown. It’s exciting to explore it and find out what is beyond. It might not be the same thought, but what else could Ink compare it to? 

He looks at the wall, musing. What would make the painting pop? It’s a tall and smooth wall, no bumps to be seen. The building has muted colours. It’s a pretty soft colouring and fits perfectly with its never-ending melancholic meetings. Ink had people coming up to him a few times, asking if the colours bothered him. It annoyed him a couple of times. Desaturated colours can be pretty good if executed right.

Do they not understand Ink knows colour theory? Do they not know Ink practically has the colour wheel engraved in his mind? Do they think Ink lives in a bright, colourful world and disregards dull colours? He’s an artist, for crying out loud!

What could the painting be? Red seems too intense. Purple could be cool. Orange can be nice too, and it fosters good feelings. But it doesn’t appeal to Ink. He doesn’t want to do a floral design either; green seems too much with all the grass around the three.

Ink looks at Swap. His colours are pleasing blues. Ink can see roses, butterflies, jellyfish, and so much more with that type of blue. It’s borderline perfect.

“Blue.” He mutters.

Swap’s eyes darted to Ink, a frown on his face. “I thought I told you guys to stop calling me that.”

Ink snorts. “No, I mean the colour.” 

Swap stares, then he blinks into realization. “Oh! Yeah! That can look nice!”

“Do you know what your project will be?” The monochrome child asks.

The guard gains a sheepish look. He rubs the back of his skull with a chuckle. “We don’t have an idea, but at least we know we’re using blue!”

Ink doesn't know what the mural will be. He knows that once he gets the colours, everything will flow together. Blue would look nice. But what else can accompany it? He doesn't have a clue. It's a missing puzzle piece.

Would blue flames look nice? 

Shaking his head, Ink frowns to himself. He ignores the pang in his chest. He takes out the green vial and sips from it, relief filling his chest as it flows through his system. His body feels lighter. He feels Core Frisk's eyes on him as he puts the vial back on his bandolier.

“We'll figure it out later.” He says, once he turns to face Core Frisk.

Swap perks up. “Oh! I do feel a bit famished. We can get to the castle early.”

Core Frisk tilts their head. “You two have a meeting today, am I correct?” 

Swap hums. “This meeting doesn’t have anything planned. It’s more of a simple hangout without Dream’s little activities.” He states.

The monochrome child nods. “Don't let me keep you waiting.” They reply with a smile.

That's new. Dream always implemented activities in the meetings. The Bad Sanses weren't very into it at the beginning of the truce, but as time went by, they came to tolerate it. Error is always forced to come, by Swap's terms, and Ink wonders if Error will skip this one out. He has a feeling that Swap would skip out as well.

Ink snickers, nudging Swap in the shoulder with a smirk. “Don't you have a date tonight, Romeo?” 

Swap has been trying out the dating scene. Practically being a third wheel for half of their old group’s time, the guard decided to give it a try once the truce was made. He had a few ups and downs with a couple of dates. Turns out, long-distance meant business when you’re an out-code. Swap still has his AU, and he fortunately found someone in Underswap. Up to now, this is Swap’s third date with Napstaton. Ink has his fingers crossed for them.

Swap rolls his eyes, pushing Ink back with a laugh. “I can make time for it! Napstaton will probably be late anyway.”

Ink makes a skeptic look as ink wraps around them. “Sure.” 

Swap scoffs, and their surroundings change to a purple castle scenery. “I can! A royal guard can make it on time.” He says, shaking Ink's shoulder as they tussle. 

Ink can't help but laugh. He struggles against the guard, letting out a snort as Swap lifts him by the waist and carries him over his shoulder. Ink could push him off whenever, but Swap's presence is nice to be around. He waves at Horror, the skeleton perplexed in the hallway, as Swap ambles to the lounge. The doorway is getting close. Ink can hear the sounds of Killer's boisterous voice carrying through the air. 

Killer stays at the castle, even though he didn't come back for a while when the truce was made. He ran away with Colour, and he didn't come back until a few months after the truce. Killer had changed. He still had bits of his personality, not fully healed from his trauma, but he had a cheerful nature. He seemed happy, getting there. Not to mention, he took every opportunity to gush over the cats he and Colour look after.

“That therapy dude is totally afraid of me. I might be going to the psych ward.” Killer says. Ink turns his head a bit to look for his voice. Killer is lying on one of the couches, his palm smushed against his cheekbone. His posture emits laziness, a stark contrast to his words. Next to him is Dust, wearing a bored expression.

“Obviously, you deserve it.” The hooded skeleton utters, scrolling away at his phone. 

Killer frowns; it's basically a pout. “Hey, what the hell!” 

“You're going to a psych ward?” Ink asks once Swap drops him off at the other couch.

“I might,” Killer emphasizes. He blinks, eyes squinting at Ink and Swap. “You two are oddly early.”

“I’m starving.” Swap mutters as he walks away from the couch, heading for the kitchen. “Want anything, Ink?”

Ink shrugs, sending an easy smile to the guard’s way. “Nah. I’m all good.”

“Dude, no way you’re just gonna raid our kitchen.” Killer says, despite being ignored.

Dust gives the skeleton a blank look. “You barely even eat anyway.”
 
“Can you shut the hell up, Dust?”

Ink brings his legs up to his chest, taking the end of his scarf close to his face to inspect. He has a 90s yard sale to go to by next Wednesday, although he knows Fresh will try to play another scheme. But the thought of seeing colourful objects and clothes sounds promising. Big Top wants to have another family dinner on Friday, followed by Aster giving an astrophysics lesson afterwards. He has another council meeting with Dream on Monday.

“So… Is Dream here?” He asks, looking up at the other two. 

Killer just shrugs. “Don't know. Don't really care. Probably letting Cross lick his boots.” 

Ink frowns. “Hey, that's my—” 

“Ex?” Killer interrupts.

Dust mutters, “Old flame?”

“Lay off him.” 

Ink turns his head to the doorway, watching as Horror saunters up to them with a grimace. He has a box in his hands, dropping it on the coffee table.

“Hey, H.” Killer greets, then he grins. “We're just teasing, don't worry your big ol’ self!” 

Horror does not look impressed. “I don't think you realize, but he's my only tailor for the kid.”

Aliza is a good kid. Ink had met the girl over the years. She doesn't often leave Horrortale and frequently asks for more dresses now that the truce has been made. She's a sweet and timid girl, and definitely has a sense of justice by living with Horror and his brother. Ink only ever got to see her whenever Horror needed him for tailoring.

Horrortale has gotten better. Food is delivered to help out the monsters, which improves many monsters’ mental states, and hunger is barely an issue. Aliza is no longer sought for, and she's been living comfortably with Horror. She's been more like her true self. She's very talkative, although she likes to talk about books and fashion.

Ink can never forget the look on her face when he had to tailor one of her dresses. He’d be merely teleporting to the AU, and all he’ll see first is her joyful smile and a quick hug. Horror had mentioned that she was naturally clingy and affectionate. It never bothered Ink; it made him feel warm with all the yellow in his system. Ink knows she’s just comforted by another presence that looks exactly like her father.

Horror denies being a father figure to Aliza, ignoring Killer and Dust’s teasing about him being a girl dad. Ink honestly thinks it’s a wonderful thing. Horror takes her hair seriously; it’s rarely seen messy or without a bow. He knows her favourite books, including her favourite authors like Ray Bradbury and Lewis Carroll. Horror makes sure Ink incorporates bows on some of Aliza’s dresses. He even takes her out hunting, letting her have a fur coat similar to the one he dons.

He’s so lucky.

“Fine, geez.” Killer rolls his eyes. He looks at the box, raising a brow. “What’s in there, big guy?”

“Just some vintage stuff. Dream wants the storage room cleaned up.” Horror replies, voice gruff. “With those exercises out of the way, he found something else to do.”

Killer blinks. “With Cross?”

Horror frowns. “Cross is with Nightmare. He seemed pretty nervous.”

“You think he cheated?” Dust pipes in.

Ink is baffled. “Cross would never do that. He’s too loyal, it’s practically in his code.”

“So, Dream has him wrapped around his finger?” Killer inquires.

“Who has wrapped around whose finger?” 

The four startle, heads turning to the hallway as Dream carries four boxes, two in each hand and stacked. 

Dream lets the boxes down next to the TV stand, wiping imaginary dust off his gloved hands as he looks to the group. He opens his mouth, freezing as his eyes land on Ink. He gives Ink an awkward smile, waving stiffly. “Oh, hey, Ink. You’ve arrived early.”

Ink awkwardly chuckles as he rubs the back of his skull. “Hi, Dream.” 

The guardian takes a moment to stare at Ink before clearing his throat and looking to the other three. “Would any of you mind taking these outside?”

Killer gapes. “Didn't you just carry four perfectly fine?”

Dream smiles, it's a bit strained. “Would that be a problem?”

The three stumble as they quickly move past the guardian, taking the boxes into the hallway. Dream has a watchful eye on them, sighing once their footsteps are no longer heard. He gracefully settles on the same couch as Ink, then flicks off a crumpled candy wrapper on the armrest.

Ink can't help but laugh airily. “You aren't backing down anymore, huh?” 

Dream gains a yellow flush on his cheekbones. “Was I too harsh?” 

Ink rolls his eyes. “I think you should be more than harsh.”

It's about time Dream speaks up. He used to be a bit timid, allowing others to speak over him. Ink has done it a lot, though he can't really help it. He just has so much to say and blurts it out! It's like word vomit. That's a rather funny word. Is it possible to vomit words?

He's getting off topic. Dream used to have problems with grammar and English. He had a wildly different accent. Dream still speaks a bit formally, but he sounds confident. He sounds authoritative, just like his brother. Ink internally frowns at the thought of the tentacled twin.

Dream sighs in response. “I don’t want them afraid of me. I am not like my brother.”

“Bold to assume he’s even scary now, you softened him up.” Ink jokes.

Dream's smile goes warmer, more genuine. “I did not expect you to come here. I was convinced that you were with Mr. Undertop and Aster.”

Ink raises a brow. “Really?”

Sometimes Ink forgets that Dream has met his parents. Dream was terribly anxious; he clearly wanted to make a good first impression. What the guardian didn’t know was that Ink’s dads were silly and exceptionally gay. Undertop had somehow intimidated Dream, and it was not surprising to see him get along with Aster. Those were good times.

“Well, I wasn’t completely sure. Swap said it was that or a project you two were doing.” Dream says.

Oh, Ink had forgotten about the project. Did he mean to write it down earlier? He quickly nods at Dream, as the memories rush to his skull

“It’s just an art project. I haven’t had inspiration in quite a bit, but Swap had a few ideas.” Ink answers. He picks the end of his scarf and takes hold of a small paintbrush on his bandolier. He writes down the details carefully.

“I would love to see it.” Dream replies.

Ink makes a shrug. “You’ll be the first.” He promises.

Dream lets out a few giggles, then the room goes quiet. 

Silence is something that Ink is already used to. He doesn't complain about it; he doesn’t have anything else to talk about with Dream. It’s kind of funny. They used to be best friends, but they drifted apart, and now all they can do is small talk. It doesn’t help by the fact that everyone else has noticed it. It feels a bit embarrassing. Ink rarely gets embarrassed.

Ink didn’t realize that others were perfectly aware of his and Dream’s relationship until the truce was made. Apparently, they didn’t hide it well enough. All they had were rumours and bits and pieces of information from nosey characters. The most controversial gossip was about the offspring. Looks like paparazzi were in the Omega Timeline too.

Dream wasn’t afraid to talk about it to the others in one of the meetings. Ink likes to be talked about, but it felt like he was trapped. He remembers Nightmare’s inscrutable face, the frown on Swap’s face, and the absolute look of pity from the trio. He remembers the blank look on Error’s features and the compassion in Cross’s eyes. Ink hated it. But their expressions weren’t like Dream's at that moment.

It was like he was reliving the moment. The situation had affected them both, and it was no wonder that they avoided the topic for so long. Dream had managed to answer questions, though there weren’t that many of them. The room was terribly sombre. Dream had excused himself after a few moments and went outside for a while. Ink was quick to follow. These silences reminded him of it.

Cross is good for Dream. He’s understanding, loyal, and crazily in love with the guardian. Ink doesn’t know the number of times Dream has asked for something, and Cross doesn’t waste a second getting it. The soldier is protective, like a knight in shining armour. Sometimes he can be a little whipped. Still, he is good for Dream.

Supposedly, as said by Killer, people often get jealous or angry once their ex gets with another person. Ink doesn’t remember feeling such a negative emotion. From the news, he felt indifferent. Indifferent but happy for Dream. Maybe there is something wrong with him. His other hand brushes over his chest.

“I would have taken the boxes outside myself, but it's oddly… windy.” 

Ink perks up, looking as Dream clasps his hands together on his lap. Dream looks up to meet Ink's eyes, his brows furrowed. 

Windy? Ink doesn't hear the whistling or the scratches of branches. As far as Ink can remember, Dream doesn’t have sensitive hearing; he hears everything like everyone else can. If Ink even dares to mention an owl, he knows Dream would get spooked. But animals can't possibly be the problem that's involving the weather.

But oddly? Ink needs to make sure before babbling out nonsense…

“What do you mean?” He asks. He turns his body to face Dream, taking note of the guardian's fidgeting.

“It's something that I noticed a few days ago,” Dream explains. “I had thought nothing of it, but I felt particularly uneasy today.”

Dream felt it too? So Ink wasn't going crazy. Why would they both get nervous over something that hasn't happened yet? Dream doesn't usually say what he feels negatively, but he would always tell Ink when they were dating. It honestly feels like a shared panic attack.

“Yeah, I felt that as well.” Ink replies, even as the purple swirls aggressively in his chest. Dream just confirmed that Ink isn't alone in this feeling, and he's uncomfortable. 

Dream begins to realize this as his frown deepens. “I did not mean to make you anxious.” 

Ink splutters. “Anxious? I'm not anxious!” 

Dream doesn't buy it. “You are lying. Your eyelights are very indigo coloured.” Then, his eyes narrow. “Were you already aware of this feeling?”

Ink opens his mouth and lets it hang for a second. He can't think. He feels cornered. At the last second, almost letting out a squeak, the sound of boots appears from behind the couch.

“What are you two talking about?” Swap's voice is muffled, munching on a cookie as his eyes dart between the former partners.

Ink can't form a word as Dream smiles up at the guard. “I was surprised Ink would show up. I take it you two are painting soon?”

Swap nods with a grin. “It took hours, but we finally found a place to do it! Core Frisk was a major help.” He says.

Ink diligently ignores Dream's eyes on him after Swap's sentence. He chooses to fixate on the cookie in the skeleton's hand. “Where did you get that?” He inquires.

Swap waves it around with a chuckle. “This? I bribed Horror to make these with me so Error can participate today.” He answers, then his other hand points to the corner of the lounge. The two look over across the room.

Error's hammock is hanging like a spider web. There are some crochet sticks on it, along with an unfinished doll that looks nearly identical to Outertale's aesthetic. There is no sign of the black boned skeleton, befuddling Ink and Dream. How long has Error been here? Another thing, how did they miss that? 

“Where is he?” Dream asks, looking faint as if distressed over the fact that he possibly ignored a friend. 

“He's just been hanging out in the kitchen.” Swap reassures. “He found a way to stash more chocolate bars.”

Dream blows out a sigh of relief. Ink raises a brow. “Does that mean everyone is here?” He questions.

“I believe so.” Swap replies, just as the trio comes back into the lounge leisurely. “I don't really know what to do today, to be honest.” 

“Drink.” Dust mutters.

Swap pouts. “Something other than that.”

“What? Can't hold your liquor?” Killer taunts. He falls back onto the couch, laying his legs over Dust's own. 

Ink snorts. “You're trying to provoke someone who spiked eggnog without any guilt in his body.” 

Killer grimaces. Swap nudges Ink's head, prompting Ink to grin. It was funny, too funny. Wouldn't it be awesome to lace chocolate chip cookies? He doesn't dare say it out loud.

“I guess cleaning up isn't a fun thing to do.” Dream muses, eyes locked on the lethargic trio. “It slipped my mind that a Sans is usually lazy.”

“That's why we were better.” Ink comments, ignoring the looks from Horror and Dust. Killer, on the other hand, scrolls on his phone with a smile. “You're technically not a Sans, Swap has the energy of a Papyrus, and I like to run around.”

“You mean your hyperactivity?” Swap teases.

“Hyperactivity, running around, yadda yadda yadda. It's the same thing!” Ink waves a hand around as he exclaims.

“You're a moron.”

Ink pouts, eyes darting to Error's form against the kitchen doorway. “Go make a doll or something, dude.” 

Error glares at Ink, grumbling underneath his breath as he heads to his hammock. Swap shakes his skull with a sigh. Ink can see Dream suddenly flinch in surprise as arms circle around his neck. He watches as Cross, standing behind the couch, presses his face into the back of Dream’s skull. Dream relaxes and leans into it, oblivious to the soldier’s smitten look. Maybe he did know.

Ink wishes they could talk.

“Hey, sunshine.” Cross greets, leaving a peck on Dream’s cheekbone. Damn, they got better with the PDA. It’s a good thing that nobody has to see Dream push Cross away with his inhuman strength. The guardian had accidentally pushed him into the walls a few times, leaving Cross-shaped holes in many Omega Timeline buildings.

A slight breeze hits him. Ink blinks, looking around the room. He notices Nightmare standing over the couch that the trio has claimed. They look nervous. Looking away from the scene, his chest swirls with purple. He turns to Dream, almost instinctively. Dream wears the same look, perplexed as he leans into Cross’s touch.

Ink stares, until he utters softly, “Dream?”

Dream’s eyes lock with his, leaning away from Cross’s arms. The soldier looks momentarily confused. “You feel it?” The guardian asks, quite hastily.

“It’s different.” Ink answers as his hand comes up to his chest. 

Swap frowns. “You okay?” Upon his question, Cross’s stance goes stiff. 

Why is it different? The wind was gentle, light as a summer breeze. This one feels colder, drier. It was like the type of wind you’d feel in autumn, taking a walk in the park as the maple leaves fell from trees. It kind of makes him want to have something with pumpkin in it.

But that isn’t right. It should’ve been light. It should’ve made Ink feel like frolicking in flower fields, looking into lakes or rivers, and painting anything that comes to mind. It doesn’t have the same air.

A knock erupts from the castle doors.

Nightmare frowns, his eye narrowed as if in thought. Alarmed, Dream gains a contemplative look. The tentacled being excuses himself from the trio as he saunters to the hall. Dream leaves a gloved hand on his forehead, weary.

Another gentle wind hits Ink. He faintly registers Swap’s hand on his shoulder. The wind is warm and refreshing. It reminds him of the damp earth and the break of a cold winter. It’s cool, and reminds him of dewdrops. It makes him want to do anything outdoors.

A breeze rushes over his face. Cold and almost bitter. It’s invigorating, like it’s motivational to do a task while indoors. It makes him feel a bit sluggish, making him feel like diving into a warm blanket or having a cup of coffee. 

It’s overwhelming. It must be overwhelming for Dream as well. It feels closer than ever before. So close that it can’t be a coincidence that the door is suddenly knocked and Dream feels intense emotions. A sudden memory comes to mind.

When Dream had been freed from stone, he was sensitive to the feelings of others in the multiverse. He used to get migraines after a bunch of AUs popped out during creators’ outbursts of creativity. They were very short-lived, and he had gotten used to it over the years. Ink doesn’t remember any creators creating newer AUs. 

Ink furrows his brows. He shares a glance with Dream before turning his head to the castle hallway. 

“Nightmare, I think…” Dream stops, trailing off as his brother comes back to the lounge, but there is someone beside him. Someone the whole room has never seen before.

Ink is enthralled by them.

They’re slightly taller than Nightmare by an inch. Ink knows if he got closer to them, his head would reach their torso. Their bones are black, though they look fluid, and half of their skull is floating. They wear a long magenta sweatshirt with intricate swirls, blue capri pants, and a faded beige scarf that’s clearly gone through a lot. They carry a small purple pouch that sits on their right side. They are pretty androgynous. Ink had many wardrobe changes throughout the years to recognize it. The absence of their feet is interesting, considering that they’re—

“Ink?” Dream’s voice breaks his thoughts. His tone is questioning and cautious. It’s at this point that Ink realizes he had stood up from the couch, halfway across the room and a few feet away from the new monster. They aren’t a skeleton, no, they’re something more. Not exotic, but something wonderful.

He looks around the tall being, eyes darting from their floating skull, their striking colours, and their face. So familiar he can’t figure out what even is familiar. Their eyes are spectacular, yellow shapes with blue pupils. They have pink and yellow markings on their cheekbones. Ink’s chest swirls in orange and yellow, fast and uncoordinated. He feels like he’s close to throwing up from this intense feeling. He’s curious, perplexed, excited, and frustrated. He feels like he should know this monster. Ink doesn’t have enough time to check his scarf for a description before the whole room erupts in chaos.

“How the hell did he get here?” Killer blurts out, eyes widening in surprise. Awakened from his boredom, his body is stiff like a board. Ink forgot that most monsters can’t teleport to Nightmare’s domain. Dreamtale is highly secured, and he and Dream can freely roam in it. Dream hadn’t been allowed before; the AU used to be filled with crazy negativity, and the guardian couldn’t stay long before he’d burn. 

“Wowzers!” Swap exclaims, his eyes changing into stars for a moment. He looks to be at a loss for words, simply staring at the monster with astonishment. 

A few whispers are shared, including the low voices of Horror and Dust. Ink doesn't think he's ever seen someone where others didn't know. Dream has an arm on Cross, giving him a stern look as the soldier takes a step forward.

“Is this another one of your monsters, Nightmare?” Cross questions, eyes narrowed.

Ink blinks at the accusation, and he notices that Dream startles at it as well. But Nightmare's negativity monsters aren't unique like this monster. Negativity monsters are icky, sludge-like, and emit a dark aura. Dream doesn’t look weary at the sight of them.

“I can assure you that I’m not brainless, Chalky.” The monster deadpans. Their voice is deep, sarcastic. 

Cross splutters until his face grows bewildered. “Excuse me?”

Someone giggles at the absurdity of the name. Ink knows it's Killer as he's quickly nudged by Dust. 

Dream takes the initiative to bring the room to thought. “Do you know this monster?” He inquires. His eyes try hard to look at Nightmare, but they trail off to the monster.

“No, I do not.” Nightmare answers. The room grows tense. 

Horror frowns. “And you just let him in here?” 

Nightmare crosses his arms, his eye boring into Ink's own. Ink shivers, grimacing. “He claims he is here for one of us.”

Ink feels eyes fall on him, and all he can do is stand awkwardly.

Is this why he struggles to recall this monster? Did he land in trouble without knowing the consequences again? God, he has to write things down on his scarf more. He was so occupied with the painting that he likely forgot about meeting someone.

So, he swallows and opens his mouth, wearing what he hopes is an apologetic expression. He ignores the way Dream frowns at it immediately. “Okay, I don't have the best memory, but… who are you again?” He says, tilting his head, one eye more squinted than the other.

“You don't know me,” The monster replies. Ink feels his body unwind with relief. Good, so he didn't forget someone he met. But that doesn't make the situation any better. “But I do know you.” They add.

“Everyone knows that squid.” Error grumbles from across the room. And that's when Ink realizes that he, and most of the skeletons, are on edge. How is it that Ink doesn't feel threatened? Did he not take enough purple? How is it that Ink feels familiar with this monster and the others don't? 

The monster steps forward, and Ink is incredibly reminded of their height. They look down at Ink, their face unreadable. “My name is Paperjam, PJ for short.” 

Paperjam. What… What a unique name. A printer error. They even have the colours of printer ink. It fits them. Ink feels the orange quicken, so much curiosity!

Paperjam narrows their eyes before scanning around the room. “I'm from another multiverse. There was a specific calling here that I couldn't ignore.” They explain, holding the strap of their pouch in a gripped hand. Their eyes dart back down to Ink. “And it led me to you.”

Ink raises his brows, greatly surprised. Interacting with another multiverse is uncommon. It's a bit uncanny seeing another version of yourself, sure, but seeing someone just like you is even weirder. It's why there's an unspoken rule about not hopping into multiverses. But the thing is, Ink has never seen this monster before.

“And it led others as well.” Nightmare adds, his face indecipherable.

Paperjam’s face scrunches at the tentacled being. Ink is momentarily stunned. He blinks rapidly, focusing as Paperjam sighs. The monster locks eyes with Ink, their face disgruntled.

“I'm your offspring.” They state.

Ink stills, hands falling to his sides.

A bunch of chatter erupts from the castle’s doors, impatient and rowdy. The skeletons tense at the sudden noise.

PJ doesn’t even react to it, deadpanning, “We all are.” 

Ink stammers. “What?” 

The wind ghosts along his face.