Chapter Text
Chapter one
The doodle sphere was a bright place, drawings hanging everywhere as Ink patrols, checking the counterparts, observing the multiverse. Its been a normal day, nothing out of the ordinary.
No unruly outcodes, no attacks from the Bad Sanses or drama from the multiverse.
It was peaceful in fact, Ink realized, a thing that felt incredibly rare. It was a chance for him to be truly creative without any interruption, to create without worrying about other problems constantly.
As Ink sat on the floor, grabbing his brushes and a few pieces of paper, ideas already swirling in his otherwise empty head, the atmosphere unknowingly darkened.
Blissfully unaware as his brush meets paper, a swirling pit bled into reality behind him. It leaked across the floor towards him only, almost alive and wriggling.
He finished a sketch, an intricate little mess that portrayed a half made idea, obviously lacking in his opinion. Ink sets down his brush as he picks up the paper. The more he stares at it the more he can see he needs to add, the more he sees he needs to fix, to change until its perfect. It needs to be perfect, it can't be wrong.
It can't. To work it must be right. To be right it must be perfect.
Catching his thought process, he realizes he hasn't had one of his vials in quite a while. Thinking like this isn't good, the others don't like it.
He weighed his options, which color would he like at the moment? Rather suddenly he felt something... Not a feeling, but something physical that was slowly inching up his spine.
He stood quickly and spun around as he watched the black substance climb up his torso. It looked like a water bleed, something so dark there was no reflection. No highlight. No volume. Just void as he stared and it stared back. It snaked up and up, already covering his legs, slithering up his neck until gradually his vision started to dim.
He tried to scream, to cry for help, but no sound came. He tried to move, to get someone who can help, but he couldn't feel his limbs, almost as if he had none.
All he could do was stand as he was slowly consumed, the world turning black, until there was nothing.
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In the dark expanse on the plane of existence between universes, there is a a building.
A house it looks like, but a mesh of different things. It was obviously originally a small cottage but rooms and spaces were added later, expanding it for the many inhabitants inside. The place sits it the soundless space, the only object occupying the seemingly endless dark.
The silence was loud, no sounds of life, of anything living. Nothing natural at least as a dim crash of glass escapes the confines of the frankenstein home.
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Nightmare has lived a long time. He is older than many, an ancient some may say.
He is a figure feared by many. A name spoken in reverence, in terror, in despair. A creature who gods and fools alike respect. And the equivalent to a mother of the five absolute hellions in his home.
Just one day, one day is all he asks for peace.
Maybe to read a book or get some work done, to hatch some devious little plans to piss off his other disgustingly positive half. He may have agreed to less destruction, to not "being evil" as the little bright blue nuisance liked to supply, but he had said nothing about stopping fully. Death by a thousand cuts he says, even if those cuts are only equivalent to pranks. He'll take what he gets, if anything.
Back to the problem at hand
Sitting in his part of the house, in his cozy little cottage, he was going to finally read another chapter of the book he had picked up in passing. Finally relaxing on the sofa near the back wall, opposite of the front door.
It's been a long day, the other five given their chores and told to do. them. p r o p e r l y.
He hopes they're actually doing them.
He lounges, legs propped up on the cushion, the book sits near as he adjusts himself. Finally just right, he freezes. He carefully listens. Silence. A rare thing in this household, almost too silent but he's too tired to care.
He reached out for the book and pauses midway, he listens. Still silence. A small taste of what he hopes to be the beginning of a peaceful reading session. Just as his fingertips ghost the front cover of the book, a chain of crashes filled with glass and bodies emerges from the hallway to his right.
He sighs deeply as the frantic whispers and periodic loud curses gets louder. Any hope of a peaceful night has left him as he retracts his arm.
The sounds of objects being thrown around as the fight escalates gradually gets louder as they near. Oh how he's going to have to clean all that.... In fact absolutely not, either they clean it or no access to the TV. Seeing as how that's their main source of entertainment that seems punishment enough.
Maybe for once in their lives they'll read a damn book, although he severely doubts it.
A loud thump of a body hitting the ground draws his attention.
Looking to his right he sees that the skirmish has officially reached him.
The five imps jumping at each other, teeth bared, weapons brandished, strings dispensed, claws digging into whatever surface they snag. Dust was in the center, the violence mostly aimed at him save for the couple completely missed strikes.
Nightmare sighed. The day could not get anymore disruptive can it? And as if to prove a point, the universe threw him a curve ball.
Well actually, Horror decided to throw his ax and significantly missed. Seeing as his back was facing the front door, the trajectory was not too hard to predict.
The ax flew through the air, spinning so quickly it was a blur. A blur Nightmare had barely seen from the corner of his eye. Instinctively his arms went to block his face as a black tendril reached out to try to grab it in time. It stopped, held in his inky grip, the blade only an inch away from his face.
The peanut gallery had seemed to notice this and had gone deadly silent. They watched as Nightmare's face shifted from exasperation to absolute rage. Horror giggled.
"What. The fuck. Are you doing." His voice came out deep, darker with anger. His seething glare cowing any stray eyes making contact, a wriggling mass of needle sharp tentacles climbing from his back.
Cross gulped and shivered in fear. Dust looked away sheepishly, chuckling slightly. Killer glared daggers into Dust, the grip on his knife ever tight. Error crossed his arms, head turned away refusing any eye contact. Horror only grinned at Nightmare, crescent eyes showing the absolute glee on his face.
"Who started it and why?" he asked, voice still absolutely pissed but calmer too. Better than before at least, the criminals collectively thought, foregoing Horror of course.
It was silent for a moment, the only sound in the room was ceiling light distinct buzzing.
"Well?" Nightmare reiterated, starting to get pissed again.
Silence
The one time he gets it is the time he least wants it. But Nightmare knows how these little hellfires work, they only need a little... motivation.
He crosses his arms, "First person to tell keeps TV privileges"
Just like magic, the room lit up in a volley of accusations, yelling left and right over and at each other. Even Horror, although he didn't say anything, just pointed at Dust, his grin taking up half his face.
Over the commotion Cross swung his arm in a wide arc, pointing at Dust, "IT WAS DUST! DUST STARTED IT!" All previous fear gone, only thing left in his voice was anger and despair.
"And why?" Nightmare asks again
Cross turned to face him, crossing his arms, fuming, "He literally ate ALL of our secret chocolate stashes!" He whipped around to face Dust, "You don't even like chocolate!!" he loudly accused.
The prime suspect looked very self satisfied, retorting "And how would you know that?" He raised a hand to his chest, trying to sell the 'offended' part, " Plus, you never bothered to ask" he smugly said with a wide grin.
Killer pounced.
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A few attempted murders later, Nightmare seems to have finally found some sort of semblance of peace.
After a very one sided beatdown occurred upon finding his favorite picture broken on the ground and the rooms thoroughly cleaned, four were left wandering aimlessly as only one still had full TV privilege.
All that over chocolate he deadpans to himself. It sure did explain the conflict for Error, Cross, and Killer, but Horror? Horror doesn't really even care for sweet things in general. Then again he loves to fight, so he probably joined just because he found it amusing.
Nightmare sighed for the third time this night. At least its all over he thinks.
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Cross was having a great time. Yes he got beat to hell and back but he doesn't have to share the TV with a n y o n e h e h e
Anyways, so he has full control.. he doesn't need to fight anyone or have to watch something he doesn't want. Cross realizes, he's never felt more power in his life. To control the TV, a gift bestowed upon him only! Mostly because he was the loudest but no one said that was wrong. They just should've been louder.
Cross sticks his tongue out at nothing in particular, mind far away thinking about the endless possibilities. It was too late for him to notice the black, tar like substance leaking from the edge of the TV. It pooled on the ground, ripples going through the surface as it slowly dragged itself towards Cross. But he wasn't paying attention, he was carding through the shows in his head
'Time Adventures? No'
'Starlight Knights? Maybe'
'Telenovela? ....Not without Error'
'InvisoBill? Absolutely not'
He did always find that name dumb
Annnnd his foot fell asleep, how wonderful, he was thinking for so long his foot fell asleep...how???
He doesn't even have blood, or at least veins to pinch. Cross looks down at his leg and promptly screams. A high pitched noise that makes most people flinch when fully exposed permeates the house.
His leg, there's something on it there is something on it, it was covered in black, it was crawling up his leg. He can't feel his leg, he can't feel anything there. Ohhhh he does not like this.
He hears the others, they're yelling for him. Asking what's wrong.
"GUUUYYYYSSSSS. I DON'T LIKE THIS!!!!" he wailed.
Dust enters the room first, groaning to himself.
"You already still have the TV to yourself, what else could you- HOLY SHIT!" He exclaimed, finally looking up at Cross and the situation.
The black stuff was still crawling, inching up. Dust immediately went to grab him, of course getting himself stuck too. The black just spread to him too.
Soon the Killer entered, followed by Horror, then Nightmare, then Error.
All in various degrees on shock, they move to grab them before either Dust or Cross could warn them. .....Weeeell wonderful.... they're all stuck now.
Cross's vision starts to blur, sigh.
"Welp, see you on the other side!" He chirps
The world goes dark.