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PaperJam sat in the middle of their bed, small legs crossed as they waited. Across the room, their half-brother Palette slept soundly, soft snores rising and falling in the quiet. Their shared room was washed in gentle pastel shades—the result of countless arguments that had somehow ended in compromise when their parents let them choose the colors themselves.
Toys littered the floor, forgotten in the rush of play. They had been told—more than once—to clean up before bed, but like always, they’d lost track of time. Palette was ten. PaperJam was eight. With their parents often busy—or absent—they had become each other’s constant.
“Parents” didn’t always feel like the right word.
Ink drifted in and out of their lives, forgetting them more often than not, until eventually, he just stopped coming around. Error had tried, at least for PJ, but he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the Omega Timeline.
So it was Dream who stayed. Dream, and sometimes Swap.
PaperJam drew in a quiet breath just as the door opened.
Dream stepped inside, her presence gentle but unmistakable. Their “adopted mother,” if you could call her that. The Guardian of Positivity carried herself with a quiet grace—soft, regal, and steady. Since the war ended, she had become lighter somehow. Still busy, still burdened by responsibility, but more relaxed.
And no matter how busy she was, she always came to tuck them in.
“Oh, he’s already asleep,” she murmured, glancing at Palette. Her voice was soft, careful not to disturb him. Her light green nightgown brushed against the floor as she moved, her crown resting neatly atop her head. “He must have worn himself out today.” Her gaze shifted to PaperJam, gentle but knowing. “I believe I asked you both to clean up before bed.”
“Sorry, Mama,” PJ said, their voice small. “We forgot.”
She clicked her tongue lightly, shaking her head—not in anger, just habit.
“You always seem to forget,” she said, stepping closer. She pulled the covers up around them, tucking them in with practiced care. PJ squirmed for a moment before settling, the warmth of the blankets and her presence easing them.
These were their favorite moments—the quiet, the closeness, the way her voice filled the room.
“Your father will be visiting tomorrow,” she said softly.
PJ blinked sleepily. “Mr. Swap?”
“No,” Dream replied, shaking her head. “Ink. He and I will be meeting with Swap about a few things . . and I’m thinking it’s time he starts acknowledging you and your brother.”
PJ’s expression dimmed, any trace of excitement fading.
Ink never cared for them, so why should they care for him?
“Oh, don’t make that face,” Dream said gently. “You know his memory isn’t good. He doesn’t forget you on purpose.”
“It feels like he does. .” PJ muttered.
“He doesn’t,” she insisted softly. “He loves you, PJ. I know he does. And besides, one day you’ll need to understand his role—when it becomes yours.”
Right.
That again.
Sometimes, PJ wished they weren’t Ink’s child at all. That they wouldn’t have to inherit his title someday—the Protector of AUs. Just like Palette would one day take Dream’s place as the Guardian of Positivity. And their little cousin, Crescent, would become the Guardian of Negativity.
Palette talked about it all the time—how excited he was, how ready he felt.
PaperJam didn’t feel ready at all.
“I don’t want it,” they said quietly, pulling the blankets closer. “I don’t want his job.”
Dream tilted her head slightly. “And why not, little one?”
PJ hesitated. “Why would I want anything from someone who doesn’t care about me?”
A shadow of concern crossed her face. “He does care about you.”
“He doesn’t,” PJ said, more firmly this time. “Not about me. Not about Pal.”
Dream took a slow breath, steadying herself. “Then tell me,” she said gently, “what is it that you want to be?”
That question caught them off guard.
They’d spent so long dreading what they were supposed to become, they’d never really thought about what they wanted.
Well, maybe they had the smallest idea of what they wanted.
Sometimes, when they played superheroes and villains with Palette, they got to be the bad guy—the one who scared everyone and made the others feel small. But other times, they were the hero, fighting back, defeating the villain, saving the town.
They liked that part more. The part where they could stop the bad guys, where everyone ended up safe and smiling.
They wanted to be like that. Like Dream during the war.
“I want to be like you, Mama,” they whispered.
Dream blinked. “Like me?”
PJ nodded, their voice growing quieter with sleep. “I want to fight the people who hurt others. I want to protect people.. and make them feel safe. I want to be someone they can believe in. Like you.”
Her expression softened, warmth filling her gaze as she gently cupped their face.
“That path comes with great responsibility,” she said.
“I know,” PJ murmured, their words slurring slightly as sleep crept in. “But I won’t be alone. Pal will help me. And you can train me too, right? Will you train me when you start training him?”
A small smile touched her lips.
“How could I ever refuse you?” she said, pressing a soft kiss to their temple. “Of course I will. Both Swap and I will.”
Warmth bloomed in PJ’s chest—soft, steady, and real.
The feeling of being wanted.
Of being chosen.
“Okay,” they whispered, eyes closing. “I’ll be my own kind of hero. Not like Ink… Never like Ink.”
Ink.
Not Dad.
Never Dad.
“Sleep well, little one,” Dream murmured, kissing their temple once more before moving to Palette and doing the same. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mama,” PJ mumbled.
She turned on the star-shaped nightlight, its soft glow filling the room, and slipped out, leaving the door slightly open.
As sleep took hold, PJ’s thoughts drifted.
They didn’t want to become what everyone expected of them; they wanted something more than that. More than just being a protector, more than just inheriting a title.
They wanted to stand beside their brother, to fight for something bigger. To bring hope, the way Dream did.
Dream was a beacon of hope. Of love and happiness. Everyone adored their mother, and they could see why.
PaperJam didn’t want to be a beacon.
They wanted to be something stronger.
A symbol.
A Symbol of Peace.