The promised suffering lol, mandatory tag @ancha-aus :D
TW: convulsing, choking on goop, vomiting, intense pain, passing out, past child abuse, symbolic burning of a body
Let me know if I forgot a warning
... There is fluff at the end I promise, it should also be the last time Nightmare suffers ( this much, at least )
Also little bit of headcanon concerning Nightmare's magic first:
He can use negativity and harden it to create a sort of crystal, this crystal ( that is really hard negativity ) can take the shape of anything he wants, can be a shield, a sword, an armor, claws, a flower, a chair, ... he can shape it however he wants to. The crystal is very solid too, very resistant. It can be either a light pink or a dark purple, pink if it is "outside" negativity ( negativity from other people ), and purple if it is "inside" negativity ( his own negativity ).
And just like Dream with his positivity arrows, he can create negativity arrows that are purple.
Alright now the chapter ( and last thing, don't follow Dust and Killer's advice, these mfs never went to therapy )
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Nightmare turned in his bed for maybe the hundredth time, he had trouble finding a comfortable position, a position in which he didn't feel that heaviness in his chest, like something was crushing him. His body hurt, and he knew it was bad, he knew he should have gone to Dust, he had told him to himself, that no matter the hour of the day, or in the present case the night, Nightmare should come get him if he felt bad, but old habits died hard and Nightmare was sure that if he just slept he would feel better in the morning...
Dust had told him that magic could get affected by strong emotions, and he had a lot of those in the last few weeks, so Nightmare knew he needed to be careful, especially since – he hadn't told Dust at the moment, he forgot – his magic was almost entirely based on emotions. But he didn't have time with all the preparations for the reception, and even after that, he had spent the next day writing letters with his brother to thank everyone who came, and apologize for having suddenly left, then the day after that they wrote even more letters, sending congratulations for marriages, for babies, condolences, best wishes of recovery, asking how one was doing, … they treated all of the news the guests had told them, and they told a lot. So now it was night, two days after the reception, Nightmare still hadn't relaxed, and everything hurt. Eventually, he fell asleep, or rather he passed out, too exhausted from the pain to stay awake long enough to ask for help, even with Killer at his side...
He woke up with a paralyzing bolt of pain piercing through his body, his breathing stopped in his throat for a moment, and he brought his hands to his chest, feeling as if a cage was closing all around it, a cage that was made of his own ribs caving in. He couldn't see anything, partly because it was still night, but mostly because his vision was blurry, filled with black stains. He wanted to scream, but didn't make any noise. Mother didn't like it when he screamed, so he forced himself to remain silent as the pain made him shot his head back against his pillow, staring at the ceiling without seeing it as his back arched, convulsing despite being painfully tensed. He brought a shaking hand to his throat, it started burning, the sensation soon spreading to his face and chest too. He could hear his soul beating like drums in his head, making the noises surrounding him muffled, impossible to tell apart, all he could tell was that there definitely were noises, and movements, around him. Was it Killer ? Did he wake him up ? Did he call someone else ? He couldn't concentrate on anything, on the things, people ? Moving all around him.
He started to choke, a disgusting gurgle escaped his mouth, already opened in a silent scream. He couldn't breath anymore, and he started panicking even more, until he felt firm hands on his back sitting him up enough so he could vomit the black goop, feeling the burning of the passage as it came out in chunks from his mouth and nose, falling on his legs as he had brought his knees up when he tensed. Noise was filling his head, he felt agitation all around him, different energies that his magic intercepted without Nightmare actually being able to see who they came from. Were his friends here ? He couldn't focus, and with his throat allowing for air to pass again, he started hyperventilating.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, heard someone speak to him, the noise was muffled but he thought he heard ''magic'' and ''out''. Another bolt pierced his soul, he felt like he was being impaled, and the voice started to get more insistant. It sounded like Dust. Nightmare searched for him, reaching out until his hand grabbed onto something, the other one still around his throat as he felt another urge to throw up, and choked on the goop once more. The other hands were still holding him up, on his back, as the goop fell out. His eye stung, was he crying ? He hadn't noticed, it wasn't important. He felt the cage around his soul tighten, and so did his grip on what he thought was Dust's arm, his vision darkened again, and Dust yelled at him, loud enough for Nightmare to understand : he needed to let his magic out.
Mana build up inside of his chest, menacing to burst it open, and Nightmare released a first chockwave that shook the walls and everything around, plastering it with pink and purple crystals forming peaks. He panted, feeling a weight lift from his soul, though it didn't last long as the feeling quickly returned, tensing his body as he released another wave, crystal peaks rising all around his bed. Some pression left, and he was able to concentrate a bit more, enough to recognize who was in the room with him : Horror behind him, Dust in front of him, Killer by his side, Cross having backed up to dodge the peaks, Dream at the knight's side too... He felt someone else, someone he didn't know, standing in the back, but he didn't have time to try and guess who it was : a third wave was coming, and he released it too. The presence disappeared, everything turned around him for a moment, he let go of Dust's arm, and felt Horror catch him when he fell over, drifting into unconsciousness...
An uncomfortable feeling in his back woke him up. He felt heavy, sore, he didn't want to move but the feeling in his back persisted and he knew what it meant. He was laying down, his head on something sturdy that definitely wasn't his pillow, but he didn't take time to question it, instead rolling on his side to give just enough space for his tentacles to come out. He heard gasps and three of his tentacles reflexively curled around him in a protective manner, the fourth one curling around the nearest person who turned out to be Horror, Nightmare's head resting on his laps.
There was some light in the room, and the crystal had vanished. Did his friends stay with him the whole night ? He felt touched at first, but that feeling soon got replaced with worry as it meant his tentacles were out in front of them. He didn't dare look up, he didn't want to see the look of disgust on their face, because they surely had one. He heard Dream talk, but he was still dizzy and sound was still a bit too muffled for him to make out the words yet. Horror's hand rested on his shoulder, delicate, comforting as his thumb rubbed on the noble's bones. Killer curiously touched a tentacle, and the appendage curled around his wrist, making him flinch, but he didn't try to pull back. Nightmare dared turn his gaze over them, slowly, and saw how Dust was looking at the tentacles in awe, and how Cross scooted closer to take a look too, slightly worried, but very much amazed too, they were quite the unusual sight after all.
Nightmare felt relief wash over him, relief upon seeing his friends stay near despite the freak show they just witnessed, relief upon not feeling any disgust from them, relief upon once again being proven just how amazing they were... he could have cried if he wasn't so exhausted, and if he wasn't already falling back asleep. Maybe a tiny part of him also wanted to stay on the viking's laps a bit longer...
He woke up again later, he wasn't sure what time it was but the room was now very well lit by the sun, which at least told him it was later in the morning. Horror and Killer, having been made hostage by his tentacles, hadn't moved from his bed, but Dust, Cross and Dream weren't in the room anymore, they surely left to eat breakfast or get dressed. Nightmare shifted, startling Horror who thought he was having another crisis and waking Killer up, but the two calmed down when the noble yawned and his tentacles untangled to stretch themselves and roll up at his sides again.
- Þú'st sakeyrir ? Horror asked if he was fine, a hand on his back in case he fell over again.
Nightmare nodded, rubbing his eye and looking down at his hands and legs. He was filthy. He was also in his night clothes, with his shirt falling a bit from his shoulder from his convulsing, but he didn't have the strength to care at the moment. Killer shifted, sitting closer to him, he bent down a bit to catch his attention as Nightmare's gaze was turned towards the mattress.
- Auxilio tibi opus est ad surgendum.. ? He asked if he needed help to stand up.
Nightmare thought for a moment, he still felt very sore and tired, but he couldn't ask them to help him in the bathroom, it wasn't their job. He sighed.
- Mirandam voca... quaeso... he answered to call for Miranda.
Killer nodded, and practically jumped out of the bed to go look for Miranda. She always helped him after a crisis, when it left him too tired, she would help him get cleaned up and dressed, like when he was a kid and couldn't do it himself yet. She had been one of the rare ones not to have been afraid of his corruption, not to have changed any of her habits.
Horror was still with him, not thrilled about leaving the other alone after the night they just had, and Nightmare, even without using his magic, could tell he was still worried. The noble tried his best to give him a reassuring smile, regretting not having Dust's dictionary under his hand to tell him he really was fine, he actually felt lighter than he usually would after such a crisis. Releasing his magic instead of trying to hold it back inside of him really did help... he would have to thank Dust again and again, though he was pretty sure Dream already did.
- Merci d'être restés... he thanked Horror, and the others, for having stayed.
The viking looked at him for a moment before smiling and giving him a small pat on the shoulder, putting his shirt back in place at the same time, a gesture that, even if he tried not to show it, flustered Nightmare a lot. Killer came back in the room before he had time to think more about the viking's fingers brushing on his bare bones, Miranda following him. She of coursed had been informed about the events of the night. Nightmare thanked the roman and let Miranda help him walk to the bathroom, his tentacles half dragging behind him and half serving as a cane, as the other two left : they needed to get dressed too.
It took a moment for him to get ready, he had chosen some more loose clothes than he was used to, opting for comfort above style, and retracted his tentacles just enough so they wouldn't drag on the floor while still keeping them out to burn the eccess magic that still made his chest itch a bit. He thanked Miranda, and joined his friends as they were discussing in a small living room. They stopped talking when he arrived, and Dream was the first to get up and come to him to check if he was fine, rapidly imitated by Dust.
- Dream told us about.. about what happened, about your mom, the crisis, the punishments for using your magic... he confessed in a low voice, I'm sorry you had to hurt for so long, do you feel a bit better now... ?
Nightmare didn't understand everything, only that Dream talked to them about their mom, that Dust was sorry, and that he was asking if he felt better. Maybe Nightmare should have been mad that Dream revealed his past without him, but right now, he could only feel relief at the idea of not having to do it himself, not having to find the words and say them out loud, not having to dive into these memories once again. He nodded, he did feel better, lighter, like he could breath again after having been drowning for too long.
- Merci... he thanked him, to which Dust smiled, relived too to know he felt better.
He let his twin guide him to a couch, help him sit as he had to shuffle his tentacles to the side and struggled a bit to find a comfortable position, not use to having them out, and finally sighed once he settled. Killer shifted a bit on his seat, catching the noble's attention.
- Uh.. he hesitated, unusual for him as he glanced at the others, Dust et ego ideam habuimus... Dust and him had had an idea.
Nightmare tilted his head, curious, and waited for the rest, a tentacle curling upward next to him.
- Mater tua te laesit... eeeet... putamus tibi prodesse si eam vicissim laederis...
His mother hurt him, and they thought it would make him feel better to get back at her, have a sort of vengeance. The noble frowned, glancing at Dream who didn't seem surprised, already knowing about the idea. Nightmare wasn't particularly against the idea, God knew he had wished many times for misfortune to happen to his mother, but there was still one tiny but important problem to consider...
- Mater mea mortua est.
His mother was dead. He didn't see how he was supposed to get back at her in this condition.
- That's the next part of the idea, Dust informed, and Killer nodded before talking again.
- Tu et frater tuus res eius comburere potestis.. ? Killer suggested Dream and him could burn her belongings.
- Par condicion que vos soiiez consantant, Cross rapidly added that it was only if he consented to it.
The noble frowned, thinking about the proposition, he wasn't sure what to respond to that. He hated his mother, he wished her nothing but the worst, but burning her belongings ? It felt highly dishonorable, very disrespectful, if anyone heard of it their name would be stained forever and he would be even more disliked among the nobles, they wouldn't talk to him anymore, wouldn't invite him to receptions, wouldn't come to receptions at his house either, he wouldn't have any more marriage proposals, even with a lower ranked woman, he would lose any interaction with nobility that he currently had...
- Je suis d'accord, he quickly nodded yes.
Killer sighed, relieved that the proposition hadn't been met with anger or outrage, and Dust smiled too.
- Whenever you're ready, then, Dust reassured.
Nightmare looked at Dream again, he felt ready to say goodbye to Nim forever, he always did, but what about his brother ? He knew he didn't particularly like her either, but he still had a better relationship with her than Nightmare ever had, would he want to keep some things ? An item that belonged to her ? A portrait ? His twin turned to him, his eyelights were sparkling, and Nightmare knew : Dream wanted to burn her just as much as he did. He smiled, he already knew what they would make disappear.
The morning stayed calm, Nightmare relaxed a bit, let Dream take care of gathering the items to burn with the others as he stayed with Killer, the roman being particularly curious about the tentacles, a curiosity that the noble couldn't help but smile at as he let his friend watch them from closer, poke them, let them curl around his fingers and arms... it felt nice not to be seen as a beast.
They ate dinner, a little later than usual as they had woken up later too, and finally went out in the garden in the afternoon, where Horror and Cross had helped put the items in a pile, far from denser vegetation as to avoid an uncontrollable fire. There were mostly jewelery and dresses, the fourniture having been in the house for generations, and still being in use, they didn't bring them. Paintings had been taken out of their frames, they could be used again after all, with the latest portrait of their mother put on top of the pile, looking at them, waiting for its fate, her destiny.
Dream had taken out his bow as well as Nightmare's crossbow. They had both learnt how to hunt as it was a very popular noble activity, but Dream had never enjoyed it and avoided it as much as he could when their mother was alive before abandoning it completely after her death, and Nightmare was often too sick to join in on parties, and when he did it soon became apparent that his back was too weak for him to use a bow, so he had switched to a crossbow, more gentle on his shoulders. He didn't particularly enjoy hunting either, at least not when it was for fun instead of a necessity to feed oneself, in which case it was acceptable, so when his mother passed and his brother expressed his disgust towards the sport, he was more than content to stop too. Since then, their weapons had been safely stored away, sometimes Dream still trained with his bow, finding pleasure in archery and hitting his targets, but only when said targets weren't alive, and sometimes Nightmare joined him with his crossbow, they would take horses and go train in the woods, hitting trees and branches that after some time became easily recognizable targets for them to shoot at. It was fun, even if Dream was way better than Nightmare at hitting his mark, but the simple fact he was having fun with his brother was enough for him to be happy.
And now, he was standing in front of his mother, crossbow in hand, about to make her disappear forever, remove her completely from this house in which she caused so much suffering, about to put an end to the hold she still had on him, and yet, he couldn't lift his weapon, couldn't grab one of the arrows that waited next to him, next to a torch so he could light the tip of the arrow on the fire before shooting. He had frozen, staring at the portrait as if it was his mother staring back, and she knew what he was about to do. Could he really do it ? Could he destroy the only things left of his mother ? Could he betray her, betray his family like that ? Could he disrespect the woman who had given birth to him, to his twin, in such a way ? He had already armed his crossbow, all he had left to do was grab an arrow, but his arm refused to move. His tentacles twitched.
- You can still say no if you don't feel like it... Dust reminded him.
They were all here, waiting in silence, giving him time and space, his brother was by his side too, letting him shoot the first arrow whenever he was ready to. He swallowed his saliva, glanced at the torch, and back at the painting. He shook his head, he wanted to do it, he just had to grab an arrow and shoot it, it wasn't hard...
- Nous pouvons faire cela une autre fois... Dream told him they could do it another time., worried that this might be to much for his brother for now, that they had rushed it.
Nightmare didn't want to do it later, he wouldn't have the strength to do it later, it had to be done now, while he was in front of it, while his friends were there, while it was still his choice and not a chore, a burden to be taken care of later. He wouldn't allow his mother to put another burden on his shoulders. He lifted his empty crossbow, and pointed it at the portait. A soft purple light shone around his weapon for a second, and his own arrow appeared. He shot it, and hit his mark, right in the heart. The magical arrow ignited the portrait, purple flames slowly strating to eat at it, growing taller as they spread to what was underneath. There was a sort of irony in watching his mother crumble under the very same magic she had tried to keep locked away. He lowered his weapon.
Silence for a moment, then Killer cheered, rapidly imitated by Cross and Horror. Dust pat his shoulder, smiling proudly at him, and Dream stared at the fire, arming his bow with his own blue arrow, he followed his brother's example and shot at the portrait. Purple and blue flames danced together without mixing, consuming everything that could have reminded them of her. It felt... liberating. Nightmare didn't think it would feel so good, and yet he found himself smiling with satisfaction as he watched Nim's face get eaten by the fire.
They stayed in front of the fire, watching the flames grow and die out, Nightmare would shoot another arrow each time it happened to revive it, eventually throwing the torch on the pile as well as to not waste it. Dust had started chanting ''burn the witch'' when he grabbed the torch, the others joining him, though none of them knew what it meant, but they could easily guess it wasn't some nice words for the woman.
Overall, the burning of Nim had been quite festive, and lasted until all that was left of her were ashes that the wind carried away, never to be seen again.
It had been nice, and now they were back inside, relaxing in a living room. Dream had gone to bed early, tired from the night he spent awake, worrying for his twin, so Nightmare was alone with his friends. He was sitting on a couch next to Cross, he had grabbed an old project of his in his room, a nice lace pattern that he decided to continue, and juggled with the bobbins, planting his needles in the stiff pillow under the fabric to guide the strings and create the shapes he wanted. The knight was looking at him work, mesmerized, though he sometimes glanced at Dust and Horror playing a game of chess on the small table, Killer playing with the eliminated pieces that had left the board.
It was peaceful, relaxing, so calm that Nightmare's vision started to blurry and he had trouble focusing on his work. He held back a yawn, looked down at his bobbins, and decided that he was too tired to do a nice work with them. Lacing was meticulous, he couldn't do it if he didn't see the strings. He tied the bobbins together with a ribbon so they wouldn't move, and put his work to the side, opting for watching the game of chess, one that he didn't know the rules of as it was a game from Horror's time.
He watched them until he struggled more and more to keep his eye open, and eventually fell asleep, his head falling on the knight's shoulder, and his tentacles curling around them both...
He missed how Cross instantly froze, staying as still as possible as to not disturb his friend's sleep, a slight blush on his cheeks as a tentacle wrapped itself around his waist, how Killer stopped playing so he wouldn't make noise, how Dust carefully moved his lace project from the couch to the table so it wouldn't fall, and - lord he would have hated to know that he missed that - how Horror carried him back to his bed when they decided to go to sleep too...
All that he knew, was that he had never slept better.
yap about any of your bad sans headcannons if u want to pleasepleaseplease
Ummm sure here’s some for Cross my Soul specifically. Nothing that may be super important to the story but just lil things about them.
When Killer gets upset his tar gets runnier at first but then it gets thicker. If it’s really bad his sockets can’t handle it and it’ll start leaking down into his throat and mouth, he chokes on it.
Dust and Horror are both super observant due to their universes, and notice little things easier. Dust however tends to get obsessive about it, and likes to watch the others from a difference or even near by. All the time, he wants to know what they’re doing, when they’ll do it, how they’ll do it. He’s eased up on watching Horror and Nightmare, simply because Horror tends to stick to a schedule that doesn’t vary too much, and Nightmare doesn’t like to leave the office.
Because Cross is new, Dust is watching him closer than everyone else and Killer is a very very jealous person.
Horror has a tendency to sneak up on the others, at least at first. He still gets Killer the most often, and Dust on rare occasion. It’s not on purpose, but in his Horrortale, it’s eat or be eaten, and walking silently is crucial for survival.
Nightmare is not Passive. Nightmare is the amalgamation of Negativity put onto a solid form, and didn’t know how to treat the people he cares for a long time. He and Killer spent a few decades alone together. It wasn’t pretty for a long time.
Due to Nightmare piercing their souls when he first acquires his new tenants, they don’t age, just like him. They can die, but Nightmare’s magic has a weird hold on them to prevent them from natural causes, and holds back other ways a little longer. Which is why Cross didn’t die from his exhaustion and starvation.
Nightmare does need pure negativity to function, but likes the finer tastes of negative feelings. Like grief and longing, loneliness.
Cross, Chara, and Frisk were all really close, but Cross’s main job was to keep Chara in check after the 7th overwrite.
Dust lives and breathes coffee. If every meal could be coffee, Dust would be convinced he’s in heaven.
Horror ate one of Killers cats when he first got there in an episode.
Killer’s cats are now happy in Farmtale just in case and they both visit them sometimes. Sticks is happy for the extra farm hands to be rid of mice.
Dust makes bombs. He loves bombs.
Cross despises needles.
Cross has cleaned and organized almost every room he has been in. He does not remember being in Horror’s room.
None of them have ever properly healed, but they’ve done their best, and know how to manage one another. Sometimes their problems clash, and things are said that they don’t tend to mean.
Don’t let Horror fool you, he forgets things and needs a minute when he speaks, but that man is fast. He thinks faster than he can talk, and he worries alot. He’s lethal on the battle field.
Nightmare and Error aren’t exactly friends, but they have an odd relationship. They constantly have to owe one another a favor for this or that, simply because they tend to be the only other person that can help. It can take a while sometimes between each favor though, with Error’s terrible sense of time.
Cross would have to pretend that everything was fine in front of The Queen, and everyone else. But Queen Toriel had a fondness for Cross, especially with how close he was with her sons. (Her sons also had to pretend, lest XGaster do something otherwise)
Killer gets bored easily, and gets sent out the most often.
Dust has extremely high LV, it causes him to shiver uncontrollably sometimes. It aches until he can’t take it, the hallucinations get worse during this.
okay. credits. lets go.
Nightmare & Dream belong to UT community. Art was taken from Underverse by Jakei.
Killer!Sans belongs to Rahaf. Art was taken from Underverse by Jakei & picture from Killer!Sans' wiki page & superyoumna's tumblr blog.
Underswap!Sans belongs to UT community. Art was taken from Underverse by Jakei.
Goth belongs to UT community. Art was taken from Undertale AU Offspring Wiki.
Palette belongs to UT community. Art was taken from Undertale AU Offspring Wiki.
Cross!Sans belongs to Jakei. Art was taken from Underverse.
Ink!Sans belongs to Comyet. Art was taken from Underverse.
Error!Sans belongs to LoverOfPiggies / Crayon Queen. Art was taken from Underverse.
Farmer!Sans belongs to GuinongTale_AU. Art was taken from Undertale AU Wiki.
Horror!Sans belongs to UT community. Art was taken from Undertale AU Wiki.
Color!Sans belongs to superyoumna. Art was taken from their blog.
Murder!Sans belongs to ask-dusttale. Art was taken from their blog.
Please correct me if any of this information is wrong!!
