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abhainnwhump · 10 months

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IMYM Chapter 8: Lure Into the Darkness: Nightmare

(Content warning: Minor conditioning, possessiveness, and emotional manipulation)

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“-and then he dared to blame me for it. Can you believe him?” Ink rambled, closing the restaurant’s door behind him. He no longer wanted to fight; Broomie rested on his back. Nightmare laughed to humor him, though it was flat and dry. He knew the artist was talkative, but he hadn’t stopped since Nightmare gave him the pink paint and kiss. It was rather excessive if you asked him, and he was already sick of it. The first thing he’d train him to do was to stay silent unless spoken to.

The two stepped through the portal Nightmare summoned. He stepped inside and offered a tendril to help Ink cross. Ink took it, grinning. His eye lights turned to stars. “I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not always spreading misery. I can be rather polite.” Nightmare looked around his main hall. Black and purple tiles shimmered on the floor. A black chandelier hung from a high ceiling, glinting light all over the room. Tall stained glass windows covered the back wall, designed with stars. Two staircases rounded on either side to an elevated point. A shiny railing surrounded it. The wall had an open gap the size of a train tunnel to continue walking through the castle.

Ink’s jaw dropped, speechless. His eye lights glowed. Nightmare crossed his arms. His tendril squeezed the artist’s hand as he looked over the hall. “Do you like it? This is my hall. I’ve never used it for its true purpose, I never have a reason to, but it does please me.”

“Are you kidding me? This is AMAZING! I’ve heard of your castle but I didn’t think it was this pretty! I thought that was a myth because no one could ever find you!” Ink vomited a puddle of paint on the floor.Nightmare stepped a foot away. At least it was of similar consistency to his tendrils, so he could clean it. Ink’s positivity shot a spike through Nightmare’s skull. He set a hand on his head to numb the pain, but it did little to help. Ink caught on and his voice lowered to normal. “You okay?”

Nightmare sighed. “Yes, yes, merely a headache. Don’t scream like that again. And keep your emotions in check.”

“Oops, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Inkblot. We’ve all done it at least once. As long as it’s not during one of boss’s caffeine highs, you’ll be a-okay!”

The last voice echoed and laughed from the top of the staircase. Killer sat on the railing, kicking his dusty white slippers with a cocky grin. Nightmare lost count of all the times he’s told the emotionless skeleton to stay off there. He didn’t bother scolding him as he slid down the barrier and landed with a showman’s bow. Ink smiled and snickered.

“How did the date go, boss?” Killer said as he stood back up. He looked between the two, hovering his finger at Ink. “And . . . do you have a title, or should I call you Ink?”

“You can address him as either ‘co-boss’ or ‘your highness.’” Nightmare said, holding Ink’s waist with a tendril. Ink shivered at the touch. “Regarding the date, it went excellent. But I assume you can already see that.”

“Co-boss? I can get used to the title.” The artist’s voice trailed off, either from awe or confusion. He stood in front of Killer on his tiptoes and held his hands behind his back, similar to Nightmare’s own posture. “That means I’m above you.”

Nightmare rolled his eye light. His tone was soft yet mocking. “Not yet, Inky. You need to prove you’re capable as a leader before you start ordering others around.”

“That’s going to be so weird.” Killer shook his head with a small smirk. “‘Cause you know, you are- were an enemy.”

“I know. That does sound weird . . .” Ink zoned out as he thought about it, cocking his skull.

Nightmare rubbed Ink’s shoulder and looked at Killer. “Well . . . let’s get Ink settled into his room, shall we? And by we, I mean me.”

Killer winked at Nightmare before looking back at Ink. “Right . . . well, have fun you two. I won’t get in your way.” He snickered before teleporting away. Ink smiled as Nightmare tightened his grip on his shoulder and turned him to the left.

The two walked down the corridor, Ink still clinging to Nightmare’s arm. He rambled on about ideas for their relationship. Nightmare attempted to shake the artist off, but he only squeezed tighter. He sighed. He supposed he did want obession, but not like this. He was thinking more . . . doing anything he wanted out of love and pleasure. He could hear Error’s condescending ‘I told you so’ as he handed him the chocolate bar of defeat. He shook the thought from his mind.

Ink examined the surrounding decorations. “Damn, you have nice taste in decor. I like all the purples, it’s pretty. How did you hide this place? I’m the guardian of the AUs and not even I could find it!”

Nightmare laughed. “Thank you. I found this place when I was starting to explore the Doodlesphere. There used to be other monsters in this AU, but they were . . . disposed of. This castle was destroyed and ruined and it took centuries to redesign.” He said with pride in his voice. “I happen to find interior design quite relaxing. Outdoors too, but not to the same extent. While we’re at it, I also enjoy violin, reading, and writing poetry on occasion.”

Ink’s eye lights turned into question marks. “Wait, you have hobbies? I mean, it all makes sense, but . . . . you? Not torturing and killing people?”

Nightmare nodded and hummed. “Yes, I have other hobbies besides torture and murder. What do you think I do when I’m not spreading negativity? Sit on a throne and give evil monologues while stroking a black cat?”

“Uh . . . yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you did.”

“Well, before I started looking into you, I thought you, Dream, and the other one made friendship bracelets and gave kindness seminars. Was that correct?”

Ink gagged. “No! What kind of altruist do you take me for? Dream does those kinds of things, but you wouldn’t catch me dead! Well, I like making bracelets and jewelry, but I hate giving speeches.”

Nightmare laughed, a genuine one this time. He appreciated Ink having a sense of humor. It would make it even more fun to shatter his spirit.

Ink let Nightmare go and skipped down the rest of the hall with the same smile and bouncing hands and feet. He looked around at the other rooms. Killer, Horror, and Dust all had a symbol on their door with their name under it in Nightmare’s old language. Killer’s door was a target with crossed knives. Horror’s was a skull with the flesh melting off. Dust was a scarf with two oval eyes above it. Nightmare’s, of course, was a moon and Ink’s was a paint pallet. Ink’s attention settled on a door and he walked up to it, tapping the silver plate. “So . . . is this . . . who’s room is this?”

“That would be Killer’s.” Nightmare opened the door and let him and Ink peek inside. Inside, the dark room was nothing special. A messy twin-sized bed, a closet, and a few shelves with trinkets and weapons. Rock and anime posters covered the walls, except one which held a collection of knives. The shortest was the size of a palm and the longest was the width of a school desk.

“Woah, this is awesome!” Ink exclaimed. He almost touched one of the knives until Nightmare’s tendrils stopped his hand. Ink didn’t seem to care and turned back to Nightmare with a smile. “What’s yours like? And what’s mine?”

Nightmare looked over into his shining eye lights. He looked forward to making them go glassy. “It’s . . . . well, how about I let you discover it for yourself? There’s no fun in me simply telling you.”

The dark king stopped in front of the newest room, right next to his. Before he could move, Ink ran up and threw open the door. It was plain with gray walls and a black floor, like Killer’s. The only furniture was a bed, closet, side table, and a dresser. However, Nightmare did set some of Ink’s canvases and painting supplies in the corner. Nightmare doubted it would be long before the furnutire was more rainbow than white. The colors in general were far duller than anything in his old room. Ink looked around, seeming disappointed yet excited. His eye sockets widened when he spotted his missing art supplies.

Nightmare leaned against the doorframe. “I decided it would be best for you to start from scratch. You will be creating a new reputation for yourself, so why not a new room? You may decorate as you like, but I expect it to be clean. Spotless if you can. This way, you won’t miss your old life.”

And you won’t miss your friends.

Ink laid back and bounced on the bed, stretching and yawning. He lay on his chest and looked at Nightmare. “Hey, speaking of new reputations, why do you hate us so much? Sibling rivalry? Jealousy? Come on, I love a good tragic backstory! The more messed up the better!” He leaned in close with a strange grin on his face. “Please? For me?”

Nightmare pursed his nonexistent lip. He supposed the story would spill sooner or later. He saw a chance for this. He sat on the bed beside Ink and cleared his throat. “Very well, I’ll tell you.” He held two of his tendrils out and shifted their malice to match the words he said. The first part was a tree and two skeleton figures beneath it. “Once upon a time, five centuries ago, there were two guardians, Dream and me. We were born from a tree nymph named Nim, who only created us so the Tree of Feelings would be safe. The Tree of Feelings was an apple tree that contained gold and black apples. The gold apples contained positivity, the black negativity. Nim guarded them but then she died from a human murdering her. She fused into the tree and created us with her last breath, leaving us orphans. I never knew Nim and I don’t consider her my mother.”

“Even so, Dream and I grew up together. We were . . . happy, believe it or not. We did everything together from picking berries to playing tag to sleeping in the tree. I used to read to him every night before he fell asleep on my shoulder.”

“But then the villagers came.” Nightmare scowled at the thought alone. “They knew of the power of the apples we guarded and wanted the gold ones all to themselves. They gave Dream all the love and attention and treated me as scum. I was beaten and insulted, thrown in the mud and called a monster. Dream was never around to help me. He chose the villagers over his brother. and was always too exhausted to say more than ‘hello.’” That part wasn’t a complete lie. Dream was never around when the villagers bullied him. He was always too busy doing work and favors for others. Nightmare didn’t understand why. He asked about Nightmare’s bruises and stolen bandages, but it wasn’t enough.

Nightmare took a deep breath and continued. “One day, one of the monsters decided to take the bullying further than usual. I was reading in the tree, minding my own business when I saw a group of them coming up to the tree. Dream was playing with his friends. They demanded I hand over the golden apples, but I said no. Then they started to beat me, same as usual, when one of them . . .” he touched his covered eye socket, “stabbed a gardening hoe through my eye socket. I was in so much pain. I curled up and cried as they kicked me. And they were going to kill me this time. Now, I didn’t want to die. I had so many dreams at the time. I wanted to see the ocean, go on adventures, and do the things I’ve only read about in my books. And who would take care of Dream if I wasn’t there?”

“As I was being beaten, I noticed one of the golden apples fell beside me. Dream and I had one rule: never touch the other’s apples. I didn’t listen. I wanted all this pain to stop and something told me I would have the power to stop them if I ate it. But the second I touched the golden apple, it corrupted and turned black. The rest of the golden apples followed.” Nightmare chuckled. “It was not a good move for me. Their negativity grew stronger with all but one positive apple turned black. The rest of the village grabbed their pitchforks and swarmed to the tree. Dream was still nowhere to be found.”

Ink’s jaw dropped. Shocking, he didn’t say much during the story.“Holy stars! That’s dark! And you were still a kid?”

Nightmare forced his tendril into Ink’s mouth to keep him quiet. He gagged on the bitter apple taste. “Yes, I was going to turn eleven in two months. As I was panicking under the tree, a voice whispered to me. It wasn’t Nim’s, it was a human man’s. I have a theory it was the same man who killed her. It’s not important. The important is he told me to eat the apple so I could gain more power. I decided to take a bite.” He lay a hand on his chest, grinning. “The corruption spread through my body and it was addicting. My heart filled with hate and resentment toward everyone, even Dream. In a way, it set me free. I was no longer the shy kid who took everyone’s violence. I realized had more power than all the monsters combined and I fought every single villager. I killed the entire village in a matter of minutes.”

“Finally, Dream arrived. He tried to stop me by eating the golden apple he planned to bring to the sick mayor. I told him a hundred times the villagers were using him to take the apples, but he told me I was being paranoid. I had the last laugh. Dream didn’t know how to use his new powers and I slammed him against the ground. Then I put a curse on him so he turned to stone. I couldn’t kill him because I needed the apple he ate, it’s the only way to ensure positivity will be gone for good. And to this day, I am still trying to take that last golden apple.”

Nightmare hovered his soul out of his chest. A melting black apple surrounded with a teal glow. It looked to be rotten and had a bitter cider aroma. He remembered how terrified he was as a child watching his heart be turned black and wicked. The pain that followed was unbearable. It felt as he was being ripped apart and having freezing oil poured on him. It no longer hurts and hasn’t hurt in over five hundred years.

Ink stared at him, then at his soul. “Wow that . . . that’s a sucky tragic backstory. Dream has always been kinda sketchy about bringing up his past, but now I get why. Are you doing alright now?”

“Now that I have you at my side, yes.” Nightmare cupped his cheek and kissed his head. Secretly, he waved his fingers to increase his guilt and shame. Ink’s eye lights changed into green swirls. Nightmare leaned back. “You know . . . since I shared my story with you, it would be fair if you told me yours. How were you created and how did you meet my brother?”

Ink’s backstory was the one bit of information Nightmare couldn’t figure out. Ink didn’t have a journal he wrote in, drawings that seemed to represent it, and he never heard him speak of it. But it could explain why Ink was the way he was, along with any deeper secrets he missed. Ink looked surprised at the question and rubbed the back of his neck. “Youwant to hear it? It’s cool, but compared to yours it’s not even close.”

Nightmare hummed, curious to learn and take in as much information as he could.

Ink took a deep breath. He talked so speedy, Nightmare struggled to keep up. “So, my very first memory was waking up in an empty white void. I was all alone. I didn’t have any memories, any clothes, any energy, or any emotions. I figured out I was a skeleton pretty quick and I had these tattoos all over my body and this mark on my cheekbone. I still don’t know if they mean anything. I spent all day every day either walking around or sleeping. It was . . . miserable.” His voice slowed, but it soon sped up again. “But one day, that all changed. I was walking around like usual when this giant blob of orange paint fell on my head. It was cold and I never felt something wet before, but that’s when I felt my first emotion. It was . . . courage? Yeah, I felt brave and it was the best thing I ever felt.”

Nightmare nodded along to the story, taking every detail in. “But then the paint ran out and I was back to being emotionless. A few days- or maybe weeks? Some point later, this red paint fell on my head. That one made me angry,” he blinked and his eye lights turned red, “so angry that I shot some paint out of my fingers! I figured out I could create things if I had enough power. But then the paint faded again, so I didn’t create much. Then I spent everyday waiting for the paint to fall so I could feel emotions again. I felt every single emotion with the paint, but it would always leave, so I found a solution! I used my new creation abilities to make vials and collected the paint in each one. And that’s how I got those!” Ink touched his chest, where his vials would be. He looked nervous. “Wait, what did you do with those?”

“They’re in my office, fear not.” Nightmare replayed Ink’s story in his head. It gave him an idea. Just in case Ink messed up. He stroked Ink’s head with his tendril as he thought, a subconscious action; they tended to find something to do. Ink grinned at Nightmare’s touch, leaning in it. Nightmare chuckled, proud his observations were correct. “You enjoy physical affection, don’t you?”

“Hey, blame Dream and Blue’s hugs and getting trapped alone in the void for who knows how long.” Ink trailed off, looking up at Nightmare. “Oh, right, you wanted to know how Dream and I met. So I found out how to make portals with my paint and found the Doodlesphere. I felt like I was supposed to protect it. Anyway, I was fighting Error one day and he destroyed one of my favorite AUs. I don’t remember what it was but . . . I cried because of it and Dream found me from my emotions. I thought he was some normal Sans kid who got lost, he didn’t look like the most scary guy. We argued a bit and Dream showed me those positive memory orbs he has, and then I felt better. I realized he wasn’t some kid and we helped each other. Dream helped me protect AUs and I taught him confidence and adventure! Then we became best friends and formed the Star Sanses.”

Nightmare kept petting Ink’s head. He was more distracted during the second part due to a torture idea coming to his mind. But he did follow along. “Interesting. I’m sure they don’t mind you’re no longer part of their team.” His touch turned colder. “But, I assure you you will thrive here. As long as you follow my rules, of course.”

The artist’s eyes turned to question marks. “What kind of rules are we talking about here?”

“Well, there’s only three.” Nightmare stretched and rested his hand on his knee. “Number one, you are not to leave the castle grounds without me or one of the MTT joining you. You can go outside, but you are forbidden from traveling AUs alone. Number two, you must follow allorders received, especially when we launch attacks. If you step out of line, it could ruin the entire plan. This also applies to your chores. Number three, you no longer have control of your paints. I know how much you need to take each day, so don’t worry.”

Ink furrowed his brow. “Wait, what about my job? I still need to protect the AUs from Error. If I can’t AU jump, then I can’t do my job. And if I’m not doing my job, no one will feel creative. And if no one is feeling creative, then the balance gets thrown off and everyone suffers!”

“You sound like Error, you’re both so worried about the balance. The multiverse will be fine. It won’t be an issue if you’re gone for a few months, we’ve all been alive for centuries. And you work for me now. If it’s important enough, Dream and Blue will handle the protection.”

Ink thought about it and smiled again. His eye lights turned into hearts. “Yeah, they’ll be able to handle it. It’s not the hardest job in the world, plus I get to spend more time with you. " He hugged him from the side. “There’s so much I want to do with you! I want to fight alongside you, I want to go on dates with you, I can’t wait until I get my throne so I can be close . . .”

“Ink, Ink, be quiet. Listen to me.” Nightmare snapped his fingers. Ink turned to him. He decided it would be a great time to teach Ink his first hand signal, his first bit of training. He put on a more positive tone, a challenge for him. “Here, let’s play a little game. When I raise my hand like this,” Nightmare held up his right hand, “I want you to go silent. No finishing your sentence, don’t continue speaking, be nice and quiet. Do you understand?”

Ink paused. Then he nodded, though there was a confused look in his eye lights. “Yeah. What do you want me to do? Talk until you hold your hand up?”

Nightmare nodded. “Precisely, talk about whatever comes to your mind.”

“Alright then . . ..” The artist cleared his throat. “The first AU ever made was Underfell! At least I think it was, that’s what the code said. It wasn’t made long after Undertale-”

Nightmare held his hand up. Ink noticed and closed his mouth. Nightmare pat his head. “There you go, try it again.”

Nightmare pratcied four more times until Ink had the concept down. Then he nodded, pleased. “Well, that’s progress. I will need to train you harder in the future, but for now, would you like to take your gloves off?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Ink’s words were shaky as he hid his hands behind his head, leaning against the wall and disguising it as a casual move. His eye lights dashed around the room.

Less than a day in and he was already lying to his face. It wasn’t even a good lie, his team members had said better. Nightmare’s tendrils caught his wrists and, against Ink’s protests, stole the gloves away. Dried black blood caked both of them, but Nightmare spotted the cuts underneath.

Ink sighed in defeat, sarcasm in his tone. “Okay, okay, I cut my hands on that rose you gave me. Dream walked in and I panicked so I dropped it. But it was a pretty rose!”

Nightmare ran his hand down his face, sighing. “You . . . absolute idiot. Stay still.”

Healing magic was not his strongest magic, but Nightmare had to learn it after corruption. He injured himself often, both before and after his corruption. Crouching down, he grabbed Ink’s hands and focused. A green aura fizzled at his fingertips, darker than what healing magic should have been.

Ink hissed as the healing magic sealed over his wounds. By some miracle, he didn’t cut his fingers, at least not the tops. Nightmare wrapped both of Ink’s hands in bandages made from his malice. It hardened over, becoming a light cover; they would break in a few days. He didn’t say a word as he made sure they were secure on both of Ink’s hands. “Be careful next time. You’ll have plenty of time to bruise and cut yourself. I need you in good condition.”

“Yeah, I knew. I’lI- wait what?” Ink looked at his bandaged hands. “What is that weird tone supposed to be? Do you want me to be hurt?”

Nightmare chuckled. “Well, if you are anything like the Murder Time Trio, you’re going to injure yourself regularly.” He snipped the end of the bandages off and crossed his arms, looking down at Ink.

Ink looked at the black goop bandages around his hands then looked at Nightmare with a smile. “So . . . what do you want to do now? What do couples do? I’ve never done this before . . .”

“Sleep.” Nightmare didn’t want to bother, he had too many notes to catch up on. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow you will learn your new routine.”

“Already? I’m not even tired!” Ink huffed. He grabbed one of Nightmare’s tendrils. “At least take me with you!”

Nightmare shook him off. He stared at him and thought about an alternative. “Well, how about you spend time with the others? I’m sure Killer and Horror would adore talking to someone as . . . colorful as you.”

Nightmare gave Ink a long, wordless look before shutting his door. He was tempted to lock the door, but decided he couldn’t put on that much control yet. He left Ink alone and walked down to his office. Something seemed off about Ink’s aura that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Reaching his office, Nightmare unlocked his drawer and removed the journal. He flipped to the next open page. He dipped his quill pen in ink and wrote down an entry.

October 13, 20xx

Plan PV was a success. Ink took the vial and now he’s in the castle with me. The blackmail worked. I had to force myself on him to make the potion work faster, but it was worth it. I hope his silencing training goes well, I’m tired of him talking already. Ink doesn’t seem to be as obsessive as I hoped, but I assume that will come with time. No matter what happens, I will not give up my plan. I will have the perfect weapon for Dream, even if I need to ruin the entire Doodlesphere to do it.

While writing the entry, Nightmare’s tendrils stroked each vial. He felt the emotions in them. They tingled as if sentient, alarmed like a warning signal. As if they knew. Something must have gone wrong when he used it at the restaurant. Nightmare had the feeling of Ink’s artificial emotions branded in the back of his hand. Metaphorically. Could it . . . no, Ink could not know what was going on. How come his aura was so dull then?

It hit him. Of course, he diluted the paint in alcohol. The effect would be weaker. The next few doses would be stronger, at least he trusted him now. Nightmare sighed, relieved he wouldn’t need to adjust his plans so early.

He had days to months to work with him. They were both immortal, they had all the time in the multiverse.

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