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abhainnwhump · 2 months

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IMYM Chapter 22: Mind Sickness: Dream

(Content warnings: Referenced tortured, referenced abuse, inaccurate medical procedures, very brainwashed Ink, nearly 10k word chapter. I need to stop torturing Dream so much in an Ink-centric whump story.)

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Dream’s joy and happiness faded as soon as he slammed into a wall of black paint. They fell onto the broken road, rubbing their head and staring at its height. The wall shook and splashed over him, Fresh, and Epic like a waterfall.

Dream spit the thin bitter paint out of his mouth. He resembled his twin more than he liked. He looked up with shock. “Wha- what was that for?”

Ink broke into laughter, except . . . it was all wrong. Not just because he played a cruel joke, but his laugh didn’t sound like his. Ink should have snorted and sounded carefree. Instead, he had a quiet giggle and he hid it behind his hand. Laying on the ground, Dream started to notice other strange things.

Ink showed no signs of being in pain. No limping, no bandages, no bruises, no scars, not even fear of his captor. He appeared more uneasy about Epic, Fresh, and him.

Even with his positive aura, something else was amiss. He was too healthy with the circumstances. He also looked more diminutive than Dream remembered, at least with a thinner waist. Was he shorter or was Nightmare taller? Ink stood in perfect ballerina stance with an uncanny smile that never faded. In fact, his entire face was too round and soft. And the artist’s outfit . . . Nightmare had to have forced him into it. Ink would never wear those lavender bows and that lacey white dress unironically. Dream didn’t process it at first since all he saw was his best’s friends face. Only one person in the multiverse had that cheek mark. Maybe Ink had scars and bruises under the white fabric. He had to be hurting somewhere.

Then he saw the worst of it. His eye lights. The lilac hearts and white pupils replaced them. Lilac, pink, bows, the bows around his waist and on his head.

Wait, bows . . . oh stars. Bow. Bow.

Dream went cold and he felt like an idiot. Everything clicked into place. It was like working on a puzzle but not knowing what the picture is until you find the last piece. Core warned them about this not long ago. Killer lied and faked Ink’s death, he was with them all along. But yet, he was left with more questions. Most began with Why?

He turned to Epic for his input, but he disappeared. Fresh was as stunned as he was, hiss aura was almost heartbroken. Dream prayed to the Creators that Epic had some common sense and ran through the portal. The guardians should handle this, not a mortal who isn’t experienced. He looked back at Nightmare and Ink. Nightmare crossed his arms and a smug smile plastered across his face. Dream scowled at his vanity and cruelty toward Ink.

Dream blinked to make sure he didn’t imagine this. “Ink, your clothes. . .”

The artist looked hurt, picking at his frilly sleeves. His voice sounded different too, higher-pitched and soft, it was adorable. “Is something wrong with them?”

“Of course not, my little doll.” Nightmare reassured. He ran a hand down his skull. Ink closed his eye sockets in ecstasy, leaning into the touch. Dream cringed. “You look adorable. Dream is just dense and doesn’t understand the new you. Nor what we have.”

“New . . .” The Guardian of Positivity trailed off. He refused to believe what the last sentence implied. Fear filled his mind, shutting down all logic. He barely held his anger back. “Nightmare, what have you done? What did you do to him? WHAT DID YOU DO TO INK?”

Ink answered for him. “He fixed me!” His smile didn’t match his words, as if his twin did a good thing. Dream went nauseous. The sleep deprivation had to be affecting him. Yes, this had to be a bad dream. This couldn’t be the real Ink. He couldn’t be in love with Nightmare. He couldn’t have killed for him. He took him prisoner!

It’s true. A dream wouldn’t be this detailed. It’s an undeniable aura., but he can be saved.

Dream took a deep breath and held out his hand. He hoped for him to see it as a sign of peace. “Ink, listen to yourself! I don’t know what Nightmare told you, but he’s lying! He’s messing with your head! He’s using you! Look what he’s done to you!” Dream gestured at his . . . everything. He tried not to cry. “He didn’t fix you, he made you worse!” It came out harsher than he intended it. Ink lowered his head and stepped behind Nightmare, taking hold of his tendril. His little whimper broke Dream's heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Nightmare pinched his nasal bridge. “Now do you see why I kept you in the castle? I told you they’ll hurt you for being my partner.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Dream protested. “What I'm trying to say is that you’re not . . . his. You’re your own person. Nightmare has no right to treat you like this! You’re not a doll! Oh stars, Ink please! Snap out of it!”

His brother shook his head. “More lies, for shame. Is it so hard to understand-” He paused and gained a malicious grin. “Oh, is a demonstration what you need? You always were a visual learner. Come here, my angel.”

The artist obeyed with a smile and stood in front of him, bouncing on his heels. At first, Dream didn’t understand what was happening. Nightmare wrapped his tendrils tight around Ink and lifted his chin to face him. He caressed Ink’s cheek. Otherwise, he stood still as stone. His eye made contact with his twin’s, conveying a thousand words without uttering one.

Now show Dream who you belong to.

Ink threw himself at Nightmare, cupping his captor’s cheekbones and kissinghim. Nightmare pulled him into a low dip, still locked into the kiss. Any possibility that Ink may have been feigning vanished. He wouldn’t fake his happy aura. Nightmare wrapped his hand around the back of the artist’s skull. He hadn’t stopped glaring at Dream, smirking as he fed from his disgust and horror. It was like a car crash. The guardian couldn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. He gripped his swords and Fresh followed with his bat.

They stopped when a sound resembling a lightning bolt crashed in the distance. A Gaster Blaster appeared behind Nightmare and Ink. Purple flames flicked and flickered in its eye sockets. Jacket blowing in the wind, Epic stood on top of the blaster’s skull. He gagged and looked like he wanted to vomit.

“Are you kidding me, bruh? You destroy my home, kill my friends, and I leave for eight minutes only to come back to you snogging Inkblot? The hell . . .” Epic shrugged. “I got other things to worry about. See ya.” Epic snapped his fingers and shot the blaster. Nightmare wrapped his arms around Ink and he melted them both into the ground. Dream’s heart stopped as he thought he had taken Ink away again. But then he sensed a strong negative force behind him. He turned around and slashed Nightmare’s tendril aside with his sword. Nightmare retracted his tendril, glaring him down as he kept an arm tight around Ink. Ink clung to him like he was the last good thing in his life.

“Inky brah, let go!” Fresh shouted. Dream could have sworn he saw a purple tendril peek from under his glasses. It vanished and he snapped his fingers. Four furbies surrounded them. Nightmare blocked the explosion by covering both of them in a shield made from his tendrils. Dream still didn’t understand. Was Nightmare protecting Ink? His arms were tight around his frail form.

Scowling, Nightmare snapped his fingers. Ink twitched as if a button was pressed in his mind. He flipped his parasol into a fighting position. He looked to Nightmare, who pointed his finger at Epic. “Fight that one, I’ll humor Dream. You can do it, my sweet Ribbon.”

Epic paused at the name. “Woah, woah, what did you just call hi-?”

Before Epic could finish, Ink charged with the parasol. Nightmare melted into a puddle of sludge and mixed with the shadows. Dream held his daggers out as he watched for any sign of movement.

Ink and Epic clashed. Ink danced, staying light on his feet and gliding around Epic. It would have been beautiful if not for the circumstances and the blood on his dress. Epic brought down his rubber chicken and Ink twirled away. The chicken squeaked.

Fresh launched his first attack at Nightmare, who shot at him from the shadows. A hurricane of rainbow paint and confetti pushed Nightmare back. Dream combined their swords and fired an arrow at their brother. Ink had a strangely potent amount of positivity as he fought Epic.

Nightmare waved his hand and harnessed the malice surrounding the area. The monsters corrupted in the Code Purple rose from the dead and crawled close. Dream slashed them aside, muttering apologies as he cut the heads off each one. Fresh bashed them with his baseball bat.

Ink blocked off paint and blaster beams with his parasol. Epic jumped on broken building parts and eyed Ink. Ink kept watching Nightmare with a nervous glance. Epic found the highest platform he could and jumped off with a scream. He had his rubber chicken ready and close to Ink’s head.

But in the last second, Nightmare threw Epic aside and blocked Ink off. Epic made a safe landing. Nightmare turned around and cupped Ink’s cheeks. Dream, Fresh, and Epic took the chance to duck behind the debris of the building. They panted and looked at each other.

Epic peeked up from the rocks. “Hm . . . ooo-kay, bruh. I see a good shot. I can throw a bone and it should go straight threw Nightmare and we can grab Ink. I don’t know what’s going on in his head to stay with that guy. Look at them!”

Epic sharpened a bone attack and watched for the two. Nightmare didn’t notice as he fussed over Ink, cleaning grime from his face and cooing. Dream leaned over to Epic and whispered. “Now, please.”

Epic threw the bone with all his fury. Ink looked up as Nightmare tended to him and gasped. “Nonononono, Nighty look out!”

Jumping in front of Nightmare, Ink blocked the attack with his body. The bone lodged through his chest. He didn’t make a noise as if he couldn’t feel it, but he stumbled and twitched. Nightmare caught him before he hit the ground, sitting down and holding him. He lay his hand over his head and used magic to put him to sleep. With extreme gentleness, Nightmare sat down with Ink in his lap, stroking his skull. Dream, Fresh, and Epic ran over. Nightmare glared at them, but he turned it into a charming smile.

“By the way, I forgot to ask, do you like him so far?” Nightmare readjusted Ink so his arms wrapped around his waist. “It took a fair bit of trial and error, but he’s a fast learner. He was so fun to break, both physically and mentally. He’s adorable when he begs, you should hear him.” He brushed his cheekbone. “Not a single defiant thought in this little head . . .”

Epic stared with an unreadable expression. “Bruh, what is wrong with you? I mean, what is actually wrong with you?”

Nightmare frowned. “How rude, you didn’t answer my question. I assumed you would love the new Inky. He’s gone from a pest to a sweet, obedient doll. I washed away all his annoying habits and replaced them with polite manners. I recall you hate how arrogant and loud he was. Well, now he’s humble and silent. He loves being my servant. He- oh, I have an excellentidea. I will allow you to keep him for a few days and see how much better he’s become. Once that time is up, I will return to bring him home.” He lifted Ink with his tendrils and dropped him at Dream’s feet.

Dream kneeled and rested his sleeping friend’s head on his femur. He wondered what kind of torment or spell Nightmare put him through to make him so submissive. He glared at his twin. “Whatever you did to mess with his mind, we’ll free him from it. We’ll tell him you handed him over. We’ll tell him what you truly see him as.”

Without turning around, Nightmare said, “And who do you think he’ll believe? The love of his life? Or the person he believes abandoned him? You should be more grateful, brother. I usually hate sharing my toys.” With that, he melted into a puddle of darkness.

Fresh eyed the shaking beams. A pipe snapped and whistled. Rumbling sounded from the ceiling. “Come on, brahs! This joint is going down!”

Dream found he could lift Ink with no trouble at all. He never could before. Epic grabbed Dream and Fresh’s arms and snapped his fingers. He teleported them to the Omega Timeline portal. The building they were in collapsed not a moment later, dust covered the air in a black and gray blanket. Black negativity devoured it. Fresh reached his arm out and twisted it, changing the location of where the doorway would take them. His portal abilities were stronger after becoming the Guardian of Creativity. They jumped through the entrance.

The four skeletons appeared in a small white waiting room with wooden bookshelves. The Omega Hospital. Core and Blue chatted at a round table. Blue’s left eye socket was bruised and forming a small scar. Core’s hair was burned at the tips. The knight caught sight of the skeletons and waved, pausing mid-greeting as soon as he saw the mess.

“What happened to you guys?” Core peeked up at the unconscious body in Dream’s arms. “And- oh my stars, is that Ribbon?

“Ribbon?” Epic and Blue asked at the same time.

"He's Nightmare's most recent hi-" Core stopped. Dream’s fingers slipped, revealing Ink’s paint mark tattoo. Core went pale. Their aura was consumed in shame and guilt.

“Oh, um . . . so why are you covered in malice?” the child asked, looking everywhere but at the three skeletons.

“A lot happened . . .” Dream admitted. They were hiding something, but it wasn’t important right now. Ink was in critical condition. “Don’t worry. This isn’t malice, this is paint.”

Epic took Ink from the guardian’s arms. Ink shifted so he nestled into his jacket. “We’re going to need to heal him and check for extra injuries. Most of the scars seem psychological, but who knows what else that creepy octopus bruh did to him.”

Core nodded and the two talked over medical procedures as they entered a hospital room down the hall. Dream and Fresh joined Blue at the table. “How did saving Underfell go?”

He perked up when Dream mentioned his mission. “Not bad! They didn’t believe me at first. Red thought Core and I were looking for attention and cussed at us. But once he saw the corruption, he helped me out! But forget about that, what happened with Ink? What did Nightmare do to him?”

The three skeletons summarized their adventures. Underfell Frisk gave Blue a cinnamon bunny as a thank you. Blue and Dream split the treat, Fresh didn’t want it. It tasted and smelled like spice, butter, and brown sugar. Dream didn’t realize how hungry he was and devoured the snack in seconds. His magic was running low. Despite that, he still healed Blue’s bruise.

“That’s . . . wowie.” Blue said once Dream and Fresh finished their story, exchanging parts. “When Core and I were fighting the Murder Time Trio, they said something about a ‘special surprise’. I thought they were messing with us. I never would’ve guessed they meant Ink! Bow is Ink?”

“Mm-hm.” Dream ate the last of his cinnamon bunny. “Nightmare did something to him. Toture, or some magic. He was acting so strangely and. He acted like he loved-”

The screaming started from down the hall.

Dream shot up and was about to check it out as Core ran down the hall, bracing themself on the corner. They panted and rubbed their arms. “Dream, Blue, Fresh, we need your help. Now. It’s Ink. He woke up, he’s strangling Epic, nearly broke half the bones in my body, and- don’t stand there, get in here!”

The Stars shared a concerned glance and followed them into an emergency room. Epic and Ink wrestled on the concrete floor. Anti-Magic cuffs around his wrists forced Ink to rely on physical strength. Epic huffed as he pinned his back to the ground. The artist struggled as much as he could, yipping and tearing up. Epic made his movements quick. He flipped around, lowered Ink’s wrists behind his back, and brought them both standing. Ink tried to kick him. Epic forced him on his back onto the hospital bed. Core held his arms to the banister, which turned out to be a laboring task.

“No, no, NO! Please, you don’t understand! I’m not Ink! I’m Ribbon! I’ll do anything you want, just give me back to Nightmare! Please! I belong to him!” Ink wailed and kicked. His face dripped with tears. His aura burned with agonizing fear, but strangely, he didn’t stop smiling. “Nighty, save me! HELP!”

Dream watched, paralyzed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It stung his golden apple soul to see his friend suffering this way. Blue found his strength first and summoned two magic wristbands to hold down the artist’s arms. Fresh snapped his fingers and used confetti-infested paint to hold down his legs. Core exhaled in relief. Ink wailed louder. The sound helped Dream refocus. Ink needed him; Dream would worry about his obsession with his twin later. Removing his glove, Dream rushed over and placed his glowing hand over the artist’s foreskull.

“Shh, it’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe now, it’s okay, it’s okay. Calm down, that’s it. Breathe in, breathe out, nice and slow. I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Deep breaths. Focus on the sound of my voice and nothing else. Relax. Go back to sleep.” Dream rubbed Ink’s cheek with one hand, trying to soothe him.

Ink stopped thrashing and began to settle down. But he fought against the magic and Dream was weak, so he sobbed harder at the touch. “Stop . . . stop it. Hands off, liar.”

Liar?

His negative emotions pulsed strong enough so Dream couldn’t put him to sleep. Thankfully, Core was three steps ahead of him and wrapped a clear gas mask over his face. Ink tried to fight the sedative too, squealing in protest. His attempts fell fruitless as Core turned the machine on. “I’m sorry, Ink.”

He fought, his eye sockets fluttered, and his arms slumped against his sides. Even if it was only for a little while, he was at peace.

The sudden silence was haunting. No one spoke for a full two minutes, instead sharing looks of question and worry. Fresh didn’t look away from Ink. Dream had imagined what Ink’s return would be like before, even in his wistful fantasies. None of them involved this level of fear, horror, and crying.

“Phew.” Core’s voice was quiet. They wiped their forehead with a sleeve. “What in the world was that about? Why was he crying for Nightmare to save him?”

“This is what I meant by ‘long story’. Nightmare . . . brainwashed him. To what extent I don’t know, but he’s madly in love with him,” Dream said.

They looked over at the artist. Now that he was up close and away from danger, they could see some of the physical effects of his brother’s ‘care’. His face was beautiful, along with the rest of his body, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And that made Dream clench his teeth. He doubted Ink consented to having his body mutilated like this.

Dream took a white towel from the counter and gently wiped Ink’s face. He intended to dry his tears, but the surface revealed itself pink. A streak sliced across his left cheekbone, blush. “Why is- is this makeup?”

“Bruh, if Nightmare’s got him in dresses, why are you surprised he went for the full sugar-and-spice look?” Epic brushed his fingers against his bruised neck. He flicked the heart charm around his neck. Dream thought it was part of his dress. “We’re going to need some permanent restraints, at least for his arms. Otherwise, he’s going to kill someone. Seriously, all I did was try and hook him up with an IV and his murder mode was on. It wouldn’t go in for some reason.”

Blue released his magic. “He does have trypanophobia, but that can't be it. I think I have something that could work! I'll be back." Blue ran out of the room, his smile twitching the entire time.

Dream finished cleaning Ink's face, but not before he heard asound like a china plate against a table. He tapped Ink’s eyelids.

Clink clink.

No . . . no, Nightmare couldn’t have been that cruel.

Dream forced the tip of his finger under Ink’s left eyelid and lifted it. It was certainly plastic. His whole face glimmered with a porcelain covering, not bone. He ran his hand down his neck, resting on a pull-string charm again. Dream gave it a pull and his snores became more audible.

Core's face was grim. "That’s a voice box. I don't know how he even managed to do it, it should be medically impossible."

"Only one way to find out." Epic undid the buttons on Ink’s blood-stained dress, adjusting and lifting his body to slide it down. He tugged at the bone through his chest. “Could someone lend me a hand and fetch the magic stabilizers? They’re clear and in little vials.”

“Of course.” Dream walked across the room and found the medicine. Core helped him. Fresh stood between them, watching Epic and Ink. His aura was a mix of disappointment and sadness, not too different from how Dream felt. Epic pulled Ink's dress off and shimmed it down to his waist. He paused.

“Holy. Shed.” Epic’s voice sounded tight. “I figured out why the IV didn’t work.”

Dream carried the syringes over and Fresh peered over to view Ink’s now-exposed body. His breath caught in his throat; it was so much worse than he was expecting. No wonder the bone hurt so bad and he had such a little waist. The attack didn’t hit his ribs, it broke through thick plastic and porcelain. Ink had a feminine human-like torso, not a skeleton’s bones. Fluffy stuffing fell out of the battle wound like blood would. In the center of his chest was a dark crescent moon brand. Nightmare turned him into some twisted arts and crafts project.

Core stood on their tiptoes to see better. They pushed their hand to their mouth and gagged, turning away. “Oh my stars, I’m going to vomit.”

“I don’t blame ya. Oh, thanks, bruh.” Epic took the vial and opened Ink's mouth, slowly pouring it in. The stabilizer medicine was usually delivered in syringes, but they couldn't do that. He took off one of Ink’s white lace gloves. A ball-jointed plastic hand was underneath. “I’ve never seen something like this, same as you Core. This type of body modification shouldn’t be possible. He should be long dead. Back in medical school-"

“Ya went to medical school?” Fresh interrupted.

“Yeah, I have a medical degree and a robotics degree. I went a few years ago for personal reasons.” Epic grinned mischievously. “Okay, where was I . . . oh right. Back in medical school, we learned a bit about artificial limbs. But this is something else. There's gotta be some magic involved in keeping him together. He should've died from blood loss when he cut off his arms."

"Nightmare must have found away around that . . . I don't know how." The guilt returned to Core's aura and they looked out the window instead.

Dream noticed Core’s strange behavior. “Core, you looked nervous earlier. Why was that? No one is angry, we just need to know. It could help him. Did you know Ribbon was Ink?"

"No, I didn't." The child hung their head. “Two weeks ago . . . I went to this show outside a Mafiatale variant. I could sense the unnatural activity and it was Nightmare showing Ink off. He called him 'Ribbon'. He gave a speech and then made him sing. I knew there was something off about that whole thing, but I didn’t know it was Ink! His paint mark was covered and he didn’t look like him at all. He was wearing a dress like that except it was blue and more revealing. His voice was so high-pitched it sounded nothing like him. Nightmare made up this story about how he found 'Ribbon' in an abandoned timeline. I feel bad I didn’t do anything but watch."

Dream set their hand on their shoulder. "Don't feel bad, none of us would have known either. Nightmare tricked the entire multiverse into believing Ink was dead and we believed him. We're not calling him Ribbon, we won't let Nightmare win like that." He looked at Ink with his hand still on their shoulder. "But just to be safe . . . can you check Ink's mind? In case Nightmare put any spells on him to hinder his healing."

"Sure . . ." Core removed their hand from Ink's head. They looked at the others. “The test worked. . . . do you guys want the good news or the bad news first?”

Dream tried for a hopeful smile. “The good news first."

“The good news is that whatever Nightmare did improve him. Ink has stronger abilities, senses, and stats than he did before. His ATK and DEF are up almost twenty percent.”

Fresh grinned. “Dat's all great! What’s da bad news?”

Core looked guilty. “Everything that isn’t that. It says his mind has a history of spells, but it does not say which type. Nightmare could be seeing through his eyes for all we know.”

Epic glanced at Ink before tearing off a spare piece of bandage and wrapping it around his eye sockets.

“He was weirdly weak." Epic pondered aloud. "I’ve arm-wrestled Ink before and we were an even match. He won too. That was the night we went skating and he went missing. But I crushed him this time. His arms have almost zero muscle on them. And not just because we’re skeletons, bruh.”

Dream rubbed Ink's head and crouched down, pressing his skull against his. "Can you fix this and make him himself again? Or . . . or is this permanent? Will he live?"

Epic leaned back and crossed his arms. “That’s what it looks like, bruh, he'll be stuck as a weird porcelain doll. But if he’s made it this far and can fight as well as he did, he’s going to be fine. Now the conditioning on the other hand, that needs to be rid of as soon as possible, once he calms down a little.” He snapped a pair of medical gloves on. “Let’s get this taken care of and I’m going to see my brother and check on my girl buddy, Undyne. Her girlfriend, Alphys, died in the corruption and she’s not doing well. Also, I could use a cookie break, I'm still not over my AU getting destroyed."

==============================================================================

Dream hesitated with a breakfast tray in his arms. He’s volunteered at the hospital several times before, but this was the first that made him nervous. He opened the door to Ink’s hospital room, only a crack. Ink was fast asleep. Dream dropped his defense and the corner of his mouth perked up. Ink always was the one who slept in the longest. He could almost imagine everything was right again.

His wrists were bound with the white plush straps Blue brought. So far, they succeeded in keeping him from fighting and/or injuring himself. His legs were also tied to the bed with matching bands. The guardian disliked they had to restrain him at all, but they were soft enough and tied with comfort in mind. It was the best for everyone.

Setting the tray aside, Dream took advantage of his sleepiness to check on his bandages. The ones on his torso were secure and healing nicely. Little smiley face bandages covered his arms and neck where he was test-injected. Dream made the mistake of shifting his t-shirt to see his torso better. Ink’s eyes flashed open. He hissed and Dream pulled the heart string so he could speak.

“B-back off!” Ink cried. His struggle was weak and slow from drowsiness. “Please don’t touch me, sir!”

Dream did as he asked and retracted his hand. Ink shuffled away as much as he could. Fear and anger clouded his aura. He didn’t like anyone, but he had extra apprehensiveness for Dream. He wished his friend wasn’t so scared. Dream shivered, though his jean jacket and sweater should have kept him warm.

“Okay, I won’t touch you, I’m sorry. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’.” He thought he saw a look of confusion cross Ink’s face. Despite the outburst, Dream tried for a bright smile to increase his positive aura and calm his fear. “Are you hungry? The croissants are fresh-baked!”

He shook his head. “No thank you.”

“Just one bite? Please? You haven’t eaten anything in days! You’re going to get sick!”

Ink stared at the food for a long time, ravenous hunger shining through his eyes. He flicked his head away.

Dream sighed and left the tray on the side table. Ink refused to give up his hunger strike. A nurse tried to spoon-feed him the first time he awoke and the only thing he consumed was a panic attack. Crying, flailing, and all. He wouldn’t take any painkillers either; the medicine terrified him more than the food. Core has also tried to force-feed him and he bit their hand hard. Dream thought of using a tube, but with Ink’s new clockwork organs, it would be too risky. They didn’t know how they functioned. Since nothing worked, he decided it was best to wait for Ink’s permission. The guardian pulled up an armchair from the wall and sat beside his friend.

“If you want to help me, I kinda want these bands off.” Ink tugged at his wrists. “I swear, I’ll be good! I won’t fight this time. Please?” He gave him puppy-dog eyes, which were both cuter and more uncanny with the body modifications. “Please?”

Dream looked away. “I can’t do that.” He wanted to. He wanted to so badly, but he knew Ink was lying. He’d make a break for it, run away, and harm someone in the process, maybe even himself. “I’m sorry, it’s for your own good. Once the pink paint wears off, we’ll remove them. I promise. You’ll be able to see clearly.” Ink’s sad smile made Dream feel guilty. “But if you want, I could bring you your sketchbook and some crayons so you could draw while we talk. Blue and I kept it and the rest of your drawings. That way, you would be free and have something to focus on, but I can still keep an eye on you. I would also need to put the restraints back when I leave, sorry. I know you must be bored from doing nothing in this room. I would be too.”

He laughed to lighten the mood, but Ink didn’t join in. On the contrary, he looked more miserable. “I don’t want to draw, all I want is Nightmare.”

Dream stopped laughing and Ink sunk into his pillows, his aura miserable. The two remained quiet for a long time.

Dream carefully planned some questions. It may have been for nothing. Ink remained silent every time he was asked a question, especially if it was about Nightmare. But he had hope with the paint losing effect. One of his old village friends once said something like, ‘If you want to sell a lie, tell them what they want to hear’. Could the same logic apply here?

With a deep breath, he broke the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you see in Nightmare? I know you love him, but how can you fall in love with someone who kidnapped you?”

The artist looked offended. “Nightmare didn’t kidnap me! He asked me on a date. He offered to let me live in his castle as his boyfriend and I said yes. As for why I’m in love with him . . .”

For the first time since his rescue, Ink’s eyes sparkled, filling with life. “Everything, he’s a masterpiece. He’s smart, caring, handsome, mysterious, has an amazing voice . . . I could go on forever. Sure he’s a bit overprotective, but he only means to keep me safe. He made me better and stronger, he wouldn’t protect me if he didn’t care! And he makes me feel special and understood like I’m the most important person in the Doodlesphere. Then there’s his aura. Sounds weird with it being pure negativity, but it’s addicting to be around. I can’t get enough of it! No one else makes me feel the way he does.” His eyes frowned and he looked away from Dream. “I miss my Nightlight.”

Dream froze. He hadn’t heard that nickname in years. Technically centuries, but he didn’t count the time he was frozen in his stone prison. ‘Nightlight’ was the nickname Dream gave his twin when they were children. Nightlight and Daydream. If Nightmare told Ink about the nickname, he must have put a lot of trust in him. Maybe he did see him as something more than a weapon. He didn’t know which option was better. It wasn’t even close to the worst aspect of his answer, but it was the part that disturbed him the most.

Dream decided to keep getting answers while Ink was talking, not risking the chance. “Did he ever hurt you?”

Ink narrowed his eyes, which looked more sinister than angry. He seemed to panic. “No! He never hurt me! Not once!”

Dream’s expression turned firm. “Ink, I know you’re lying. This all started after I didn’t push you to talk, I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll even take a yes or no answer. Did. Nightmare. Hurt you.”

“. . . he’s hit me a few times, but not recently! And I deserved every single punishment! I was too dumb to follow his rules even though he made them easy to understand. And my name isn’t Ink, it’s Ribbon!”

“He hits you?” Dream’s heart hurt. He pressed his jaw together. trying to keep his temper calm. He would let his anger toward Nightmare out in another way, not in front of a traumatized Ink. “Ink, you don’t deserve to be hit by your partner, no matter what you did. You’re not a masochist, I know you. You sometimes joke about pain, but you don’t want it. And for stars’ sake, you are not dumb! What about the dresses? Did he force you to wear them?”

“No! I’m a doll, and dolls must wear dresses, otherwise I’m doing something wrong. He likes it when I wear cutesy things. I like them too, they’re comfy. Nightmare says I look my best when I’m in skirts and bows.”

Dream fiddled with his thumbs. That didn’t sound like Nightmare’s taste at all. Nightmare loved the gothic aesthetic. What twisted game was he playing? “One last question.”

Ink squirmed in his spot. His aura was full of shame. “On that first day, when you were crying and fighting, you called me a liar. Why is that?”

Ink raised a browbone like it was a joke Dream didn’t understand. “You- you know why.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“You do,” the artist said with gritted teeth. It wasn’t in an angry way, more fearful. “Can I ask you a question, sir?”

Dream smiled. “Of course! You know you can ask me anything.”

“Why do you care so much about what happened to me? I don’t get why you’d think twice. Nobody cared when I disappeared, you left me. ”

“Nobody care- that’s not true at all! We stopped searching for you because Killer gave us your scarf and told us you were dead!” All the built-up stress from the past few months tumbled out of Dream. He raised his voice. “I thought you were being used as a living training dummy or kept as a slave! But I never could’ve guessed that you- that you became so . . .” Dream gestured his hand around, unable to find the words. He eventually gave up. “Everyone misses you and we need you. The Doodlesphere has been falling apart without you protecting it. no world is safe from Error or Nightmare. Fresh, Core, and I are patrolling it, but it’s getting more difficult each day. So many monsters and humans are losing hope thanks to the constant Code Purples! They’re getting worse and more violent! Come on, Ink, I know you’re still in there. Buried under brainwashing and lies, but something in you has to hear me. Please. We’re friends, remember?”

For a brief moment, something in Ink’s expression changed. Regret? Realization? Embarrassment? No matter the emotion, the artist was lost in his mind, his eyes resembling a child who made a grave mistake. Then he hit himself against the headboard again, hard with each word. “Idiot! You’re so weak-minded! Gullible! Bad doll! Bad doll!”

“Stop that!” The guardian took the round pillow from his armchair and set it between Ink and the headboard. He’d need something more permanent if he was going to keep this up. “You’re not any of those things! You’re just confused right now, and that’s okay. We’re going to help you get better-”

“I’m stupid for believing the lies of a brother killer!” Ink halted as Dream went still. “Nightmare told me everything. I know all about that mysterious past of yours. Your naivety and selfishness got him bullied and turned him into a monster. And then you were using me to get stronger by taking advantage of my magic. And-and everyone took advantage of me! Everyone knows I’m as dumb as a rock. Nightmare rescued me from you!” He shook with a crazed look. “All of you . . .”

Dream was speechless. Nightmare had to have exaggerated the story, he knew he did, but it still stung. He couldn’t believe Ink’s self-esteem was this low. “I-”

“Don’t answer that! I hate you, Dream! I hate you so much! You don’t care about me! You just want to manipulate me like everyone else!” Ink thrashed in his restraints and started to wail.

The Guardian of Positivity didn’t know what to say. He wanted to take his pain away but didn’t know how. He couldn’t fix this problem. He slowed his breath down and sighed. He stood up and trudged toward the door. The handle was freezing in his hand. He resisted the urge to look back at Ink. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.” He opened the door and crashed into another skeleton.

Dream and Fresh both fell into the white hallway, Dream on top of Fresh. He rolled off. The parasite rubbed his head and Dream readjusted his jean jacket. He had no disdain towards Fresh, but he was hoping no one would be out here so he could have a good cry. His head pounded and he rubbed his eye sockets.

“Sorry ‘bout dat, Dreamboat! How’s Inky-brah?” Fresh asked as he stood up. He kept his word and didn’t tell anyone Ink was alive, other than the nurses, doctors, and a few of their friends. The artist’s condition was too unstable to be known to the public.

“Um . . .” Dream peered back into the room. Ink still shook, cried in hysteria, and muttered something to himself. Something with the word monsters. If he kept his behavior up, he would need to be sent to special care. Dream shivered at the thought of Ink in a straitjacket. He would hate it, it would terrify him more. Dream turned to Fresh. “He’s not doing well. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, sorry. We had an argument and . . . we were both hurt.”

Fresh frowned and he stared into Ink’s room. “Still? Geez, he’s been a real downer . . .”

Dream sensed his aura and set a hand on his arm. "He'll get better. Core and I are working on getting him therapy so he can remember who he is. He's just a little confused right now, it will be fine. Come on

Fresh looked back at Ink's room one more time and decided to follow Dream. Ink would have likely started crying again at the sight of him. They walked through the hospital hallways. A few doctors and nurses walked past, continuing business as usual. Their footsteps echoed through the sterile hall.

How could this happen? How could everything go so wrong? It was all too much. First Ink’s disappearance, then the drop in positivity, then the corrupted worlds, and now this. Dream wanted everything to return to normal, for his brother’s sick game to end.

And it was all his fault.

He was the reason Ink was abducted, tortured, and brainwashed. He was the reason all those worlds and innocents died from corruption. He was the reason everyone was suffering. It was all so Nightmare could steal the last golden apple. If he gave him what he wanted, would the darkness go away? He looked up at Fresh.

No, he had to stay positive. Smile for the others, give them hope.

He and Fresh made it to the hospital lounge. It was white with a few black seats and small tables. Visiting hours have been restricted since Ink showed up, so it was empty except for one person. Core Frisk sat alone on a chair, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. They read a book written in Wingdings. As leader of the Omega Timeline, they had special privileges. They sensed Dream and Fresh before they opened either of their mouths.

“Is Ink still- oh no, something happened,” Core noted, wiping a spare chocolate drip from their face. Bandages wrapped around their right hand where Ink bit them.

“No, I-” Dream sighed and wiped his eye sockets as he sat on the chair beside Core. They were met with a wave of dizziness. “Yes, something happened. Ink hasn’t stopped asking for Nightmare. I coaxed a few answers out of him and he said some . . . hurtful things.”

Core set their book down, suddenly looking concerned. “What did he say?”

“He explained the dresses and why he loves Nightmare. It’s because . . .” He felt sick remembering Ink’s worshipping look and couldn’t finish the thought. “Stars, he has Ink wrapped around his bloody finger. He can’t think about anything else but him."

“And he was shakin' and cryin' in dere. I'm all up and talkin' with him, but he didn't make a peep, so I dipped!" Fresh leaned against the chair with his hand on the armrest. His arm grazed Dream and he paused. Fresh patted the sides of his cheekbones. "Hol' up. Dream, ya burning hot.”

"I am?” The guardian placed a hand on his forehead. “Strange, I’ve been feeling cold all morning. Now that you mention it, I’ve had this weird dizzy headache too. Maybe I should drink some water.”

Core watched him with concern. “I can get some for you if you want to lay back a while. You’ve been working non-stop.”

“Thank you, but it’s no trouble. You shouldn’t need to-” Dream collapsed onto the floor, barely catching the table. His head swam and ached; his throat hurt. The whites and grays of the lounge merged. His teeth chattered from the unknown source of cold.

“DREAM!” Fresh and Core each caught one of his arms and dragged him back toward the couch. The guardian didn’t resist as they pushed him on.

“I can sense your magic is unstable.” Core said, clenching and unclenching her hands. Dream didn’t argue. "I need to grab a thermometer so you-"

"No need, gotcha already." Fresh snapped his fingers and a painted thermometer. He tossed it over to Core. They almost missed it, but they caught it.

“Oh . . . thank you. Dream, open up.” Core stuck a thermometer under Dream’s tongue. A few seconds passed before they pulled it out. Their void-like eyes went wide. “Holy stars, you have a fever of a hundred and seven! Dream, you're very sick! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Dream heaved air and tried to steady himself, preparing for a dizzy spell. “Because . . . I didn’t think it was that bad. And it isn’t. Ink and Nightmare are much more important, especially Ink. He needs us, he needs me.” He sat up with his cape loosely hanging over his shoulders. “I don’t have time to rest. I have so much work to do and-”

“Nuh-uh!” Fresh pushed him back down. “Ya can’t get any sicker than ya are now. Da multiverse will be fine, I can watch it! Y'all keep forgetting I'm a guardian and have radical superpowers now!”

“That's true . . . okay.” Chuckling, Dream had to admit, he was quite tired. He lay on the couch and let sleep take him within minutes.

He awoke to a dark hall. A massive glass window graced the back of the room and showed a rainy night. The decorations of flowers and white silk banners suggested a party of some kind. Or an event. A glimmering chandelier dangled from the ceiling.

But despite the breathtaking interior, signs of a recent battle littered the place. Bones stuck out of the rubble from the walls and ceiling. Blood and clothes were scattered about, even a broken Gaster Blaster head. Nightmare's malice dripped across the room. Dream realized he was standing in his castle. Muffled screams sounded from the hall behind him, but he couldn't make out any voice in particular.

Core Frisk stepped through a white portal. Their face was frozen in shock like they witnessed a traumatic tragedy. They weren’t paying attention to where they were walking and almost hit one of the bones. They frowned until they saw what was hanging on it. A dark blue scarf. Core took a shaky breath as they stared at the scarf in their hands.

“Core . . . help!”

The child looked around the room and spotted Cross trapped under rubble and sludge. He shivered, beaten and bleeding. His body was covered in scratches, scars, and burns. His left hand was caked in a hard layer of malice. Dream fought as hard as he could to reach for and comfort him, save him. But he couldn’t move or offer help.

Core ran over to his side. Cross’s ribcage was broken open and he lay in a pool of blood and grime. His fingers twitched.

“Cross, where’s everyone else? Where’s Dream? Where’s Epic? Blue? Or Error? Is he . . . dead?” Core asked as they crouched down beside him. They held up the scarf.

Cross groaned and tried to shift under the rocks. He moaned and fell back down. “They . . . Nightmare took Blue and Dream. They said something about Error, but I didn’t catch what they said. Sorry, kid.”

Core stood still, their dark eyes staring into nothing. Their coordination was off as they tried to lift the fallen pillar off of Cross. Their nine-year-old arms couldn’t lift it. Glancing between Core and the archway, Cross gritted his teeth. “Leave me here. One of them is going to be back any second and-”

A clatter rattled from behind Core. Core looked up and before they could react, they were slammed against the rock with blue magic. Horror held his hand out and chuckled. He wore a ripped black suit, unlike his usual jacket. Core struggled and pulled for their freedom, but it was no use. Horror slammed them down again and knocked them out. Cross screamed.

“Lucky . . . day.” Horror grinned. He breathed heavily. “Boss . . . is goin’ . . . be happy about this . . .”

The scene changed. The ruined castle was gone. Instead, five skeletons and a human child were held in a dungeon. They all wore silver Anti-Magic cuffs on their wrists, pulsating with purple magic. Blue tried to lockpick his way out of the cage. Cross kicked and punched the stone wall, not caring about his bleeding knuckles. Epic tossed a scrap of paper in the air as he lay on the floor. Error paced around in circles, occasionally grabbing his bars and shaking them. Core sat cross-legged on the ground, tracing lines on the floor. In the final cell, Dream saw himself, lying in the corner, thin, and bruised up. His eye lights were dim, losing strength from the negativity in the place.

“Bruh, you’re going to break your knuckles. Calm down, you’re not getting anywhere.” Epic scolded Cross.

Cross dropped his hand down to his side and sighed. He looked down at it, covered in blood and scratched bones. He slumped down on the bench in his cell. “I don't care, it's the one thing keeping me sane right now."

“Cross, please.” Dream’s voice was quiet and monotone. He barely looked up. "Don't hurt yourself more than you are now. You have to save your strength, you're already weak."

Error's fingers scratched the bars, echoing across the entire dungeon. "Don't pull that 'oh I'm so selfless and so worried about everyone!" crap on me." He spoke in glitchy falsetto to mock Dream's voice. "This is all your fault. You got everyone involved when you couldn't wait one more day to rescue stupid Ink. I could be in the Anti-Void right now laughing at this but noooooo, you needed my help."

Dream narrowed his eye sockets. "I didn't make you! And I didn't mean to screw this up! I said I'm sorry a hundred times! Again, I'm sorry!"

Core stood up. "Stop arguing, all of you. It won't free us. You both have points. Nightmare will either become bored and kill us or let us go with a twist. We need to stay patient and determined."

They stayed silent and went back to their former activities. Blue almost broke his lock, but then he stopped. He cupped his hand to the side of his skull and listened.

The floor broke open beneath them, and they all fell through the floor of their cells into portals. Instead of finishing, the dream changed. Nightmare stormed through the door of what appeared to be the Omega Hall. The colors faded into monochrome black and gray. It was dead silent with only the occasional whisper of wind against the banners. He opened the door to the meeting hall. It was as empty as the rest of the desolate building, but someone was there.

Dream gasped as he recognized the variant from his hallucination back in Candytale. The other him stared out the window with a blank stare. The Omega Timeline was barren and lifeless, only zombies created from malice wandered. Dream scrunched his face at the sight of his home destroyed. How could something like this happen? The fake Dream turned to Nightmare and bowed at his presence. "Hello. Can I help you, Your Highness?"

"I do. Come here." Nightmare pointed at the ground and the fake Dream kneeled before him. The moon mark glowed brighter. Nightmare pushed his hood down and his chin up. "Did you find them, yet?"

The fake Dream shook his head. "No, but I have found some of their group members in captivity. They're set to be executed tomorrow morning. I have troops surrounding the timeline. I found out from one of them that they're after your baby doll. They're going to torture him until you step down from your throne."

Nightmare's expression tightened and his tendrils waved, almost sending the banners down. "Thank you for the information. I'm not ending my rule, but I'll keep Ribbon inside the castle until they're taken care of." He turned around. "A progress check was all I needed, you may continue your work. But next time there's noticeable gain, report to me immediately, do you understand?"

"Understood, Your Highness." Dream said. The real Dream sensed the bitterness in his voice. He didn't like that version of himself. He couldn't feel hate, but it was close."

He left Dream alone. Nightmare opened a portal to his bedroom and lay on his bed. He pinched his nasal bridge and took a deep breath. A while later, the door opened, and Ink stepped inside.

“Nighty, is everything okay? You look sad.” Ink looked like he did in his hospital room, only his outfit was different. He wore a pastel pink and white dress and a pink beret with a bow on it. He held a baby skeleton in a blue onesie in his arms. He had black star markings gracing his skull.

Nightmare sat up. He smiled at Ink as if nothing was wrong. “I’m fine, my sweet doll.” He kissed his foreskull and then kissed the baby. “How come Crescendo isn’t in bed? Is Aurora?”

“I couldn’t get him to sleep, so I thought walking around and rocking him would do it, but Aurora is sleeping. It’s working.” Ink rocked the baby. "Maybe he was worried about you!"

Nightmare watched him with pure adoration and kissed his cheek. Dream could sense the emotions in his soul, but he wouldn’t call them love. No, this was something much darker, more dangerous, more toxic.

The scene changed one more time. Dream looked around and touched a soft white cloud. The sky was a pleasant pink with droplets of purple and blue. His back felt strangely heavy. He found out he could move when he turned his head to the left and stroked the feathery gold wing.

“Daydream?”

The guardian spun around. The voice had the same British accent as he does. He turned around to a skeleton not much taller than he was. He wore a purple vest over a white dress shirt. His eye light matched his clothes. The right side of his face was a gash of melted and broken bone. Atop his skull was a gold crown with a moon symbol in the center. Dream teared up, but this time, they were tears of joy.

“Nightlight!” Dream ran to his twin and threw his arms around him. The long-lost brothers hugged each other, neither wanting to let go. Dream’s fingers traced over something velvety. Confused, he removed them to a purple feather lodged between his fingers. Nightmare had wings. Angel wings, just like his, only far larger.

“Even after five hundred years, you’re still a crybaby,” Nightmare teased. He laughed, and Dream didn’t realize how much he missed the sound. He drew back once “Hey, what’s wrong? We’re together now.”

Dread and failure consumed Dream’s thoughts, though the latter was confusing. He thought of several failures, but none of them felt quite right. “I’m dead.”

Nightmare sighed. “You did your best. I watched the whole fight, that monster overcame you. But you were brave, really brave. He tricked you, that wasn’t your fault.”

"Which wasn't my fault?" Dream panicked. He didn't know what Error spoke of, nor Nightmare now. "Please, tell me so I can fix it before it happens."

“You don't remember? Oh, well it will only hurt you if I say it. Speaking of saying . . . um . . . there’s no way I can put this lightly. Your friend, Ink was it? He doesn’t exist. His mind is so far gone that even if he falls in battle, he’ll still be Ribbon in the afterlife." Nightmare looked guilty and stared at the ground.

Dream's smile faded. Nightmare noticed and kept talking. "But not all is lost. You still have a chance to rescue him. You can do it, brother. I believe in you. Don't lose hope yet."

Nightmare stepped away from him. His boots faded into wisps of air as his voice began to trail off, slowly growing louder. Dream . . . Dream . . .

“Dream! DREAM! Wake up!” Cross shook his shivering body awake. “It’s alright, wake up. It’s not real.”

Dream’s skull dripped with sweat. Seeing he was safe and not in that horrible dungeon with bloody knuckles made him cry. He hugged him with full force.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Shit . . . that must have been a worse nightmare than I thought . . .” Cross spoke mostly to himself. He returned the hug and rubbed the back of his skull. His aura was perplexed and worried. “What did you dream about? I thought you couldn’t get nightmares.”

“I can’t.” The fact scared him. He never had a nightmare in his life, only pleasant dreams or none at all. Through the tears, Dream explained the vision to his boyfriend. He left out the part about seeing Nightmare pre-corrupted. He told Cross about Nighty a few times prior, but it hurt too much now.

“If it makes you feel any better, I doubt Nightmare would keep you in a fancy coffin for all of eternity, that’s not like him at all. I could handle a rock falling on me too.” Cross sat down and laid an arm across his shoulders as he drank it. The corner of Dream’s mouth curved up. “Everyone’s fine. I talked to Epic and Blue about five minutes ago and they told me about Ink’s . . . condition. The Stockholm Syndrome hit him hard, didn’t it?”

Dream nodded. “It’s not even that alone. Nightmare made him believe he’s a doll named Ribbon. He dressed him in cutesy dresses, altered his body, changed the way he speaks and acts, and Ink is obedient to a tee. It’s so . . . creepy. Ink thinks it’s love, Nightmare thinks it’s duplicity. But he didn’t break him, yet. I know it. The real Ink heard me! Even if it was for only a few seconds.”

“Are you sure? Dream, I believe you, but I also believe you're taking on too much negativity. You can't handle the Code Purples, Nightmare, Ink, and your mental health at the same time. It's killing your soul and we can all feel it." Cross touched Dream's chest with his finger. He pulled out his soul. It darkened from the pure gold to a dim gold, yet it still shined.

"But . . ." Dream gasped as a painful tingle vibrated through his body. The same feeling he had whenever there was a strong source of negativity. Whenever . . . him.

“Nightmare!” The Guardian of Positivity jumped as if he was shocked with electricity. “Nightmare’s back. He’s in the hospital. He has to be close to Ink.”

“This is exactly what I mean. You have that shield around the base, it's impossible for Nightmare to get in here. But if it will make you feel better, I’ll check it out. Besides, I want to see this ‘dollified Ink’ for myself. I’ll be back.” Cross grabbed his daggers and ran out of the room.

Dream stood up to follow him, but he was met with a wave of dizziness and sat back down. He put his hands together and prayed to the Creators that it was a mishap. And that he would get better so he wasn’t useless like this.

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