BadNight

I’ve ended up accumulating a lot more posts than I expected, so I reorganized my tags a little to make things easier to browse/search through.

Posts that include drawings are now tagged by character as well. For ideas that started as small doodles but somehow kept coming back multiple times, I also made separate IF tags. In those cases, posts with drawings are grouped under the IF tags, while lighter stories and extra ideas from asks are separated under the talk tags.

I’ll probably keep adding more tags over time, so I’ll pin this post and update it whenever needed. I might forget a tag or accidentally use the wrong one sometimes, but I’ll fix it whenever I notice 😉

Main tags

#my art #my asks #Shipping post #humanization

character name tags

IF tags

#Skeledoggy IF #Skeledoggy IF talk #Skelekitty IF

#Cat Dream IF #Cat Dream IF talk #Dog Dream IF talk

#Cat Night IF #Cat Night IF talk

#Mini Gangs IF #Mini Gangs IF talk

To get straight to the point, Nightmare hates his own appearance. However, he also sees letting that show as a weakness. Because of that, he wants people to believe he simply doesn't care about how he looks, so he always maintains the same form.

The "Sans-type" appearance he currently uses is simply the most common skeleton form throughout the multiverse. Nightmare doesn't even care much about reproducing the finer details. Sometimes he'll imitate everything down to the stitching on his hoodie pocket and the hoodie strings, while other times he'll only bother recreating the overall silhouette.

When he can't be bothered, he can end up looking almost like a blob of slime. He'd never actually go outside looking like that, of course, but it's a form the gang has seen fairly often. Sometimes he'll be practically melted into the couch, and when some commotion makes him lift his head, the gang will instinctively react before realizing it's just their boss, then immediately relax and go right back to chatting.

At the same time, though, if you look at the way he decorates his castle with elegant, old-fashioned furnishings and how he consistently prefers beautiful, luxurious things, the fact that he appears completely indifferent to his own appearance almost feels... deliberate. As if he's trying a little too hard to prove something. The gang has vaguely noticed that contradiction as well, but they've never really questioned it or tried to speculate about it.

In reality, Nightmare's dislike of his own appearance isn't simply a matter of personal taste or preference. It's much closer to a childhood trauma, which is exactly why it's a weakness he can never allow anyone else to see.

When he was little, Nightmare loved looking into the lake with Dream and pointing out all the ways they resembled each other. They would happily list everything they had in common—the shape of their eyes, their round faces, the shape of their noses, even the color of their bones. To them, it felt like proof that they truly belonged together.

But once the abuse began, people started mocking Nightmare by pointing out every difference between him and Dream. Deep down, Nightmare always believed those words were lies. He was certain he looked exactly like Dream. Even so, as time passed, that certainty gradually began to fade.

The reflections in the lake never changed. The two children still looked exactly the same. Yet Nightmare began noticing more and more differences than before. The exhaustion around his eyes, the subtle sadness in his expression, the way the corners of his mouth drooped—he slowly began mistaking changes in his expression for changes in his appearance. Little by little, the constant insults and the things people kept telling him began to wear away at his confidence.

Eventually, Nightmare convinced himself that perhaps looking alike had never been a good thing to begin with. If the twins had been so alike that no one could tell them apart, then perhaps the humiliation directed at Nightmare would have been directed at Dream as well. He found comfort in telling himself that it was a good thing Dream wasn't as ugly as he was.

As always, Dream wanted to keep finding similarities between them. So when Nightmare told him that it was better if they didn't look alike, Dream could only respond with confusion. He couldn't agree with him at all. But Nightmare was his older brother, and he seemed to genuinely believe what he was saying, so Dream reluctantly accepted it. Even then, Dream stubbornly continued pointing out all the ways they still resembled each other, while Nightmare could only answer him with a quiet, subdued smile.

Then came the day fate finally caught up with him.

Nightmare completely lost the body he once had, becoming nothing more than a mass of black corruption. His true nature was now little more than a body of corrupted liquid. Every form he took was merely an imitation. Immediately after his fall, Nightmare had lost all sense of reason and pursued nothing but negativity. At the time, there wasn't even the shape of a skeleton left—let alone anything that could truly be called a living creature.

But one day, Nightmare found himself absentmindedly staring into the lake. For some reason, something about the reflection felt... wrong. It felt as though there should have been something else reflected in the water. He remained there for a long time, gazing into the lake. As if trying to recall a forgotten memory, he began recreating every image that surfaced in his mind, one after another, until at last he imitated the appearance of the stone skeleton statue that stood beside the severed tree stump.

At that moment, everything suddenly felt as though it had fallen into place. The gentle smile that face had always worn, the warmth of the sunlight, the sound of a kind voice... One memory after another returned, and Nightmare finally remembered who he had once been. Then he recognized the face that should have been standing beside that smile—his own, now hideous in his own eyes.

The moment he remembered who he was, he naturally fell into complete confusion. As everything he had done came flooding back, every act of violence, every desperate plea, every death he had witnessed seemed to flash before his eyes all at once. Yet more than anything else, what truly horrified him was the fact that none of it disgusted him. Those memories should have been horrifying, but they weren't repulsive in the slightest.

Instead, he found himself unable to suppress a smile as he remembered the deaths of all those people. Everything had been enjoyable. He was convinced they had deserved it. He even found himself laughing at them. But as his mind continued tracing backward through countless deaths, eventually reaching Dream as he turned to stone through his tears, and the Mother Tree as she was brutally cut down... every trace of that joy vanished as though it had never existed.

Fear rushed in to fill the emptiness left behind. Only then did the weight of everything he had done finally become real. He had never once felt guilty after killing hundreds... thousands... tens of thousands of people. Yet before those two figures alone, that guilt became so painfully real that it wrapped itself tightly around him.

Nightmare forced himself to his feet, but after spending so long without ever walking on two legs, the unfamiliar form refused to obey him. He stumbled clumsily, unable to even walk properly. In the end, he let his form collapse once again and returned to the familiar hill. Standing before the severed stump, the scorched earth, and the stone statue forever frozen in tears, Nightmare finally understood everything he had lost. Everything he had destroyed.

It hadn't mattered if everyone else died. It hadn't mattered if anyone suffered. To be honest, he hadn't even cared what happened to himself. But Dream and Mother had been different. No matter what else had to be sacrificed, he had wanted only the two of them to remain safe. And now he realized that he had been the one who had killed them with his own hands.

How could he have done something like this? How could he have treated the ones he had loved most with such cruelty? Perhaps the villagers had been right all along. Perhaps every accusation they had ever thrown at him had been true. When he thought about what had become of the people he loved... how he had killed them... and how much joy he had taken in doing so... perhaps he had been something fundamentally wrong from the very beginning.

Logically speaking, Nightmare and Dream had both been spirits created by the Mother Tree. If there had truly been something wrong with him from the start, then perhaps that fault should have belonged to his creator instead. But standing before the stump of the Mother Tree he himself had killed, Nightmare could never bring himself to think that way. Everything felt like his own sin. He no longer wanted to do anything at all.

Dream's expression only deepened his pain. Never, in all his life, had Nightmare ever seen Dream wear such an expression. He had always wanted to make his little brother smile, and he had tried so desperately to make sure that face would never show sadness—or even anger.

Dream had been stubborn, but endlessly kind. He had always believed in Nightmare. No matter how unbelievable Nightmare's excuses sounded whenever he claimed his injuries had been accidents, Dream accepted every single one of them. Simply because he trusted his brother. Because he believed his brother would never lie to him. That was simply the way Dream loved. If it came from someone he loved, he would accept even a lie without question.

But Nightmare had lied to him. He had pushed him away, envied him, resented him... and in the end, left him with nothing but despair. The stone Dream no longer looked alive. No matter how desperately Nightmare searched, he couldn't find a single sign that life remained within him. The more he traced his fingers across the statue, the more deeply the despair carved into the stone seemed to reach him. Nightmare became certain that Dream was dead.

Nightmare spent a very long time grieving, lost in despair. Just as he had once spent years consumed by rage, destroying everything in his path, he now remained on that hill for just as long, crushed beneath an overwhelming despair. Even by the time he finally managed to collect himself enough to think about doing something, his body was still nothing more than a mass of black liquid.

Once he had recovered enough to move again, the very first thing Nightmare did was drive the negativity away from the area surrounding the hill, creating something of a sanctuary. Dreamtale had become blanketed in black, negative mist as a result of the massacre and destruction he himself had caused, and he simply couldn't bear to leave Mother and Dream's bodies in a place like that.

This would eventually give Dream a chance to escape before being immediately overwhelmed by negativity when he finally awakened. But at the time, Nightmare never imagined such a future. To him, that hill was simply his family's grave.

Just before leaving the hill, Nightmare stood before Dream's stone statue and recreated his own appearance. Truthfully, he could barely remember what he himself had looked like anymore. But Dream had always loved how alike they were. No matter how many times Nightmare had tried to convince him otherwise, it had never worked. Dream could be incredibly stubborn about certain things.

To be honest, Nightmare wasn't even sure whether Dream would still have wanted to resemble the Nightmare he had become. Even so, the Dream Nightmare remembered would have. So, in order to remember Dream, he carved every detail he could still recall into himself.

The clothes he used to wear were the blurriest part of his memory, but somehow he managed to recreate their overall shape. Most of the finer details had faded away, leaving only vague outlines behind. The only thing he could remember clearly was the crescent moon emblem.

Speaking of the moon emblem, Nightmare was certain he had lost his crown somewhere. He thought he had still been wearing it during the early days of the massacre, though those memories were too vague for him to be certain. He knew he would have to retrieve it, and once he left the hill, he had no intention of ever returning.

After saying one final goodbye before the severed stump and the stone statue, Nightmare finally left. Walking on two legs still felt unfamiliar, but this time he didn't collapse back into liquid. Instead, the tentacles that had naturally grown from his lower back gradually began helping him keep his balance, allowing him to move much more comfortably.

For a very long time afterward, Nightmare continued wearing that form. As his memories gradually faded, some of the finer details changed with them, but a few defining features always remained the same. The crown he eventually recovered always rested upon his head, and whenever it slipped or became crooked, Nightmare would stubbornly straighten it again.

By then, it had become a keepsake. It had belonged to Mother. To Dream. And to Nightmare.

But after someone directly pointed it out during one particular encounter, Nightmare realized that the crown was an unmistakable weakness. By then, he had gradually become more attached to his own life, and as he continued discovering who he was becoming, he also began establishing a clear set of principles for himself. According to those new principles, showing weakness was something that could never be allowed. So Nightmare fashioned himself a new form.

He didn't change Nightmare's face, but he copied the clothing worn by the most common type of skeleton found throughout the multiverse. As for the crown, he hid it in the safest place within his new home. If no one could ever find his weakness, then it was no different from not having one at all.

The reason behind that change was painful, but to be honest, Nightmare didn't particularly dislike the life he had now. Losing his family hurt, but the power and freedom he had gained in return were intoxicating. He had once been a child who hated leaving the shade of the tree, forever bound by his role and the expectations placed upon him.

Taking whatever he wanted, killing, tormenting others... it never seemed like something he would grow tired of. He even found himself wondering whether the people who had tormented him in the past simply couldn't help themselves if this was how enjoyable it felt. Of course, that didn't mean he intended to spare them. If they had found joy in what they did, then Nightmare deserved that same joy as well.

For many years after that, he continued shaping the person he had become, justifying everything about himself along the way. His preferences, his hobbies, the pleasure he found in violence, his capricious nature, his indifference toward others... he gave every part of himself a reason, constantly convincing himself that it was all acceptable.

Nightmare had not been born evil. No matter how much he tried to embrace the person he had become, he still knew what kindness was, and he knew Dream never would have approved of any of this. In a way, Nightmare had always been in the habit of making excuses to himself. There had been a reason. It had been the logical choice. He repeated those justifications to himself until they stopped feeling like excuses and simply became part of who he was.

Yet even while he managed to justify everything else, the way he looked never changed. Insults about the way he looked remained one of his greatest weaknesses. He had no intention of insisting that there was nothing wrong with his appearance. But the insults he had heard most often as a child—the ones that had hurt the most—still reopened old wounds.

Those insults had been far more than simple mockery. They had taught him to doubt himself, driven a wedge between him and Dream, and ultimately become the beginning of the tragedy that led him to destroy the people he loved. To expose that vulnerability now would mean admitting that he was still someone who could be hurt by the words of others.

To Nightmare, admitting that he was still capable of being vulnerable felt as though it would damage the stronger version of himself he had spent so long building. Everything about the person he had become had been built upon strength and malice. Acknowledging that a part of him remained painfully human would threaten the very foundation of that identity.

Well... I didn't mean for this to get so long again... Anyway... for that reason, Nightmare makes a point of appearing completely indifferent to his own appearance. Honestly, after pretending for so long, I think part of him really has stopped caring. He's always been the type to build habits through repetition, then turn those habits into lasting parts of himself. In a way, the Nightmare he is today was shaped through that very process.

Thankfully, the gang doesn't really care what he looks like. On days when he can't be bothered maintaining his form, he'll often spend the entire day looking like little more than a blob of slime, or simply communicate by extending a tentacle somewhere within the castle. The gang instinctively tenses up every time it happens, but the moment they realize it's Nightmare, they immediately relax and go back to whatever they were doing.

They behave as though it makes no difference whether Nightmare is speaking through a single tentacle, or whether they can't see him at all and only hear his voice echoing through the castle. They might privately think it's a little strange, but they already understand that Nightmare is fundamentally different from them. They're also well aware that his way of thinking can be... rather unusual.

Because of that, Nightmare rarely hears anyone comment on his appearance when he's around the gang. And even when he does, it's usually nothing more than jokes like, "Looking a little melty today, Boss," or, "Oh, you've even got hoodie strings today."

Nightmare usually does nothing more than glance at them without replying. As those reactions became familiar, he gradually stopped paying much attention to what form he took around the castle. After all, he knew they would never mock him for it.

Maybe it was little things like these that made Nightmare more attached to his gang than he ever cared to admit. In the end, even if they never realized it themselves, they never touched the wound he wanted to hide more than anything else.

The fact that Nightmare can relax around them regardless of what form he's in isn't simply because he sees them as possessions. It's also because, in his own way, they're people he genuinely feels comfortable around.

This ended up wandering all over the place, didn't it? I had fun writing it, though, and before I knew it, I'd gone on much longer than I meant to. I hope it wasn't too boring to read... 😳

Before I explain anything else, I'd like to start by talking about how Dream died. Personally, I think it's the most important part of answering this question.

As I mentioned in my previous post, one thing has always been true: Nightmare kept avoiding killing Dream.

Nightmare always had opportunities to kill Dream. Physical means were certainly possible, but more than anything, Nightmare was exceptionally good at provoking negative emotions. There were countless ways he could have driven Dream into despair until he no longer wanted to resist.

Of course, that wouldn't have been easy as long as Dream continued to fight back. But Dream was deeply influenced by the people around him. Simply targeting the friends he cared about would have made things much easier. After all, they had more than enough time, and slowly wearing someone down wasn't difficult. Someone with many things to protect is bound to have many weaknesses.

But Nightmare never dealt with Dream that way. He would prepare for Dream's attacks and learn as much as he could about his capabilities, but whenever they actually confronted each other, he always chose a direct fight. Most of the time, he simply responded after Dream came to challenge him. It was almost as if he barely acknowledged Dream's existence whenever Dream was out of sight, only to find himself unable to hold back his anger the moment Dream stood before him.

And yet, even in those confrontations, Nightmare never finished Dream off. Whenever the opportunity to kill him came, he always ended up missing it for one reason or another. He would begin a long speech, giving Dream's companions enough time to come and help him, or leave an opening for Dream himself to counterattack, even though he never did so consciously.

So the fact that Dream actually died could, in a way, simply be described as incredibly bad luck. Or perhaps it was the moment when something that had been building up for a very long time finally burst.

During one of Nightmare's personal outings, he ran into Dream, and the two of them fought fiercely, just as they always did. Dream stood his ground without backing down, but in the end, Nightmare found himself holding Dream's life in his hands.

As usual, Nightmare stood over the helpless Guardian and mocked him relentlessly. He criticized his weakness and laughed at how utterly powerless he was despite the lofty ideals he claimed to uphold. His words kept going longer and longer, and throughout all of it, Dream simply listened in silence.

But no one came.

Nightmare realized that something was wrong. He looked around, briefly caught off guard. Normally, by this point, either the Guardian would have fought back, or one of the Guardian's companions would have appeared dramatically, attacked Nightmare, and pulled Dream away.

But nothing happened. Even as Nightmare scanned his surroundings with his guard raised, as though expecting an ambush, there were only the two of them. Nightmare, ready to kill Dream, and Dream, offering no resistance at all.

Nightmare, unusually flustered, raised his voice once again and mocked Dream's pitiful lack of support. Even as he declared that no one would come to help him, he never lowered his guard, as though naturally expecting someone to come for Dream.

Even so, no one came. No matter how many words Nightmare kept talking, how much time he dragged out, or how many different excuses he found to criticize Dream, nothing changed.

And the Guardian simply listened to all of it, looking up at him with a tired expression. It was almost as though he had already realized that this would be his end. Even Nightmare himself had never thought this would be Dream's end, yet Dream remained composed, as though he already knew something.

Dream never took his eyes off Nightmare, almost as though he wanted to look at his brother's face for just a little longer.

To Nightmare, the whole situation was absurd. Was the Guardian really going to die here? Dream, who had stubbornly survived every time, no matter how hard Nightmare had acted as though he meant to kill him.

None of it made any sense to Nightmare. Because this wasn't how the universe was supposed to work. Dream was always the one who survived, the one who endured, the one who stood in the light. Just as Nightmare was always the one who had to lose to him, Dream was always supposed to be loved by everyone. It was as though miracles and fate existed for his sake.

Yet in this desolation, there was unmistakably neither love nor miracles. It was almost as though everything Nightmare had believed until then had been nothing more than his own misunderstanding. As though Dream had never been loved either, proving that Nightmare had never been the only one abandoned by fate.

And in the end, Nightmare realized it. Dream wasn't moving. Fate wasn't going to save him. No miracle was going to happen. The only one who could act now, the only one who still had a choice, was Nightmare.

The only one who could make Dream die was Nightmare.

He could no longer run from that choice.

Dream's faint yellow eyes remained fixed on Nightmare. In the helpless figure lying before him, Nightmare saw many things. He saw the lovable little brother who used to fall asleep in his lap as a child, and he saw himself, lying helpless before unjust violence. Everything passed through his mind in an instant.

For Nightmare, not killing the Guardian was never an option. The Guardian was an undeniable threat to his existence. Nightmare could not continue living in the same world as the Guardian. Ignoring him forever was impossible. They both knew that this would only end when one of them died. They simply never imagined that it would be today.

He has to kill the Guardian.

He is going to kill his little brother. Again.

He is going to lose him.

Unfortunately, the end always comes suddenly. It had been the same that day as well. When Dream waved goodbye as he left the tree, who could have imagined that the place he would return to would disappear forever? Not even Nightmare, who couldn't take his eyes off Dream's back as he walked away, thought that would happen. He believed that, even if there would be pain, he would always be there to welcome his little brother back.

To Nightmare, everything felt like a repetition of a long-forgotten past. It was as though everything he thought he had left behind had become reality once again.

And it happened all over again.

The moment Nightmare stabbed him, Dream trembled as though all his strength had finally left him. Even so, he raised his hand, gently touched Nightmare's cheek, and quietly whispered, "I'm sorry."

Nightmare couldn't understand. What was Dream apologizing for? Why hadn't he resisted? Why had he kept looking at Nightmare until the very end? Instead of stabbing him one last time, why had he wanted to reach out to him just once more? Was that really all he had wanted to say? Dream hadn't done anything wrong. Because it had always been Nightmare who ran away. He couldn't admit that he didn't want to kill him. He couldn't choose his little brother. He couldn't make that choice. And because he couldn't, Dream had always chosen his brother...

The one who should have apologized, the one who had truly wanted to say those words, had never been Dream...

Nightmare couldn't stop thinking. His thoughts kept reaching further and further into the past, trying to find where everything had gone wrong. What had he wanted in the first place? After becoming this strong, what had he wanted to protect? What had he been so afraid of losing? What had any of this meant? Had it ever been worth it? As every question led him further back, Nightmare found himself facing the contradiction he could no longer escape, and slowly began to fall apart.

Eventually, when it all became more than he could bear, he stopped thinking altogether, as though a string had suddenly snapped.

The twins were originally pure spirits, created without souls. They each had a sense of self, but it wasn't particularly strong. It was only after becoming involved with humans and taking the apples as their souls that they came to possess souls, along with more developed identities.

But because they were never meant to have souls in the first place, and because the apples themselves are such unusual cases, much of who they are is shaped by their souls. This was especially true after they became the Guardians of Emotion, taking on the role of maintaining balance. The apples always respond to positive and negative emotions respectively, and the twins act according to the will of their souls within their own sense of self. In that respect, the innate nature of the souls has a very strong influence over them.

So whenever they are shaken or begin to fall apart for any reason, and their sense of self grows weaker, much of what determines their actions is taken over by the nature of their souls instead. Their purpose becomes responding to and giving rise to positive or negative emotions. You could say that this happened because their souls were simply too powerful compared to what they had originally been.

Dream had the chance to adapt gradually because he only inherited a single apple. Even then, he still had to turn himself to stone for hundreds of years in order to protect himself and allow that change to happen safely. Nightmare's case was, naturally, far more severe. His vessel was completely destroyed, and he himself broke down mentally and became twisted. Immediately after the transformation, he spent a long time behaving like a mindless beast with no sense of self.

Even so, Nightmare somehow managed to preserve a part of himself. Clinging to that small fragment, he spent centuries building a new self. He had been that unstable, and that desperate, that the appearance of the Guardian—someone capable of shaking everything he had built in an instant—could only ever feel like an overwhelming threat to him.

And as the identity he had spent so long building began to waver and lose its will, what drove Nightmare became something closer to the apple than to Nightmare himself. In other words, Nightmare gradually faded away, while the corruption took his place.

There is one thing I'd like to point out here. Corruption and Nightmare are not exactly the same thing. They share similar purposes, exist as one being, and cannot truly be separated from each other, but they are not identical.

Because Nightmare was changed by the corruption, he naturally desires negativity and cruel acts. At the same time, however, he still has his own sense of self, one that he has strengthened over time into something uniquely his own. His hobbies, habits, interests—every one of them belongs to the person he has become.

The corruption is different. The corruption—his tendrils—is closer to the apples' original nature. It always longs for negativity, power, and the remaining apple. That is why Nightmare keeps striking the tendrils away whenever they try to consume the golden apple, protecting Dream instead. For the first time, their purposes, which had always been nearly the same, have begun to conflict with one another.

And yes, despite everything, Nightmare still hasn't completely lost himself. That is precisely why he protects the apple—his little brother—from the corruption.

Part of that comes from his attachment to Dream, but it is also a form of self-preservation. If he allows himself to consume the final apple, Nightmare will be overwhelmed by the apple's influence, lose himself completely, and become nothing more than a mass of corruption that exists only to pursue negativity.

So... we've finally made it this far. Because of everything I've explained, the important questions become what the golden apple really is, whether Dream can return, and whether Nightmare would ever choose to make that happen.

To be honest, I feel a little bad saying this after explaining so much, but I haven't really decided exactly what role the remaining golden apple plays.

Still, the fact that it never turned black, even after Nightmare touched it, could be taken to mean that some part of Dream still remains within it. So if it were possible to use it to bring Dream back in some form, I do think it could become one way to stop this situation from continuing down such a catastrophic path.

The real question, then, is whether Nightmare would choose to do that. He is protecting the apple, but at this point, it would be more accurate to call it an obsession than protection. He can't explain why, but every instinct tells him he must not lose it. He has already reached the point where "because it's my little brother" is the only reason he can still give, having already lost any real logic behind his actions.

In the end, Nightmare's conflict can be divided into three parts: he doesn't want to lose himself, he doesn't want to lose Dream, and yet the Guardian is still a threat to his existence. Those three things cannot coexist, and that is why he has always behaved so contradictorily.

Even so, the current Nightmare is, in a way, surprisingly close to being at peace despite all of those contradictions. Because from his point of view, everything is as perfectly balanced as it can be.

He hasn't lost Dream. The apple is still in his hands, so the Guardian can no longer threaten him. The tendrils that threaten Dream are still under his control. In a sense, it is the ideal situation, one that seems to solve all three of his problems at once. What might happen in the long run is another matter, of course, but he is no longer in a state where he can think that far ahead.

That is why I think what I mentioned in the previous post—the actions of others and the way events unfold—will ultimately become the most important factor. This is no longer a problem Nightmare can solve by making a decision on his own. He has already reached a standstill, and more than anything else, what he wants now is for things to remain exactly as they are.

I can't say for certain how outside persuasion, direct conflict, or future events might unfold, and personally, I don't really want to decide on a single answer either. But I do think one thing is important: in his current unstable state, Nightmare will no longer be able to remain as unwavering as he once was.

He might be persuaded. He might make a different choice. Or he might become openly hostile, or even collapse completely. How that balance is maintained, and where everything ultimately leads, is something I think has to be left to imagination—and to chance.

In the end, this version of Nightmare is no longer someone who wants to gain something. He is simply someone who doesn't want to lose anything anymore.

And besides, even if Dream were to come back, the problem of the gang would still remain... God, my boys... I was only away from them for a little while because I was writing all of this, and I already miss them so much. Part of me even wishes someone from the outside would intervene before they die... Please, you all are far too precious to lose 🥲🥲

This ended up being much longer and more complicated than I expected, but it was genuinely a lot of fun to write. I hope it wasn't too boring to read.

Here's a conversation between Error and Nightmare after Nightmare obtained the Golden Apple. This scene takes place when Error notices that something is wrong and decides to visit him.

N: Oh, you're here. That's unusual. E: Yeah, idiot. I've been hearing all kinds of nasty rumors about you lately... Damn, it's even worse in here. Why is it so cold? N: Is it? I hadn't noticed. E: Guess your senses are numb. Then again, you were never even a monster. N: That could be. E: Tch… How the hell do your bugs put up with this place? Don't skeletons get cold? N: What bugs? E: Your worthless monsters. N: ...Ah, those. They're gone. E: What? N: I got rid of them. They were being noisy. E: ...You got rid of them? You? ...After all the hell you gave me for even touching them? N: Yeah. You don't have to worry about that anymore. E: ...I think there's something seriously wrong with you. N: What makes you think that? E: Everything. You're the kind of guy who loses it if someone puts the tiniest scratch on something you own. N: I suppose I was. It doesn't matter anymore. E: Doesn't matter? So you're saying I could tear this whole castle apart? N: Sure. I'll just get another one. E: ...Have you lost your mind? N: Why do you think that? E: You... You've been holding that apple this whole time. N: Of course. It's my brother. E: ...Your brother is dead. You killed him. N: That's right. So? E: ...Damn it. I knew something felt wrong. You've completely lost it. N: Why do you think that? E: The fact that you don't even realize it makes no sense. Have you even stopped to think about the state you're in? N: Of course. There's nothing wrong. E: Everything's wrong with you, you idiot. N: I really can't understand what you're talking about today, Error. Did you just come here to insult me? E: Yeah, you miserable bastard. Looking at you makes it impossible not to. N: Is that so? Hmm. Then I think it's time for you to leave. Dream and I were just about to go for a walk. E: Like hell you— N: Goodbye, Error. E: Hey, you seriously... You lunatic! If you keep this— (Nightmare forcibly sends him away through a portal.) N: I'll come visit you next time.

At first, Error approached him the way he always did—throwing insults around, trying to test him and see what kind of reaction he'd get. But Nightmare's responses were nothing like his usual self, and Error immediately began to sense that something was deeply wrong.

Normally, Nightmare's conversations revolve around digging into everyone else's business while revealing almost nothing about himself. He always prefers to keep control of the conversation, and although it varies depending on who he's speaking to, he's generally not the type to offer information willingly.

That tendency is even stronger when it comes to Error. He enjoys provoking him, constantly getting under his skin with that peculiar mix of malice, interest, and curiosity while prying information out of him. He does occasionally explain things himself, almost as if he's being generous, but even then, it's never the whole truth—only the carefully curated pieces he chooses to reveal.

In this conversation, however, the flow belongs completely to Error. Nightmare spends almost the entire exchange simply responding, as though Error no longer interests him whatsoever.

That doesn't mean he's lost his regard for Error, either. He still greets him, and he never acts hostile toward him. But almost none of the interest he would normally show remains. It's as though he's simply going through the motions of the person he used to be.

At this point, Error's uneasiness becomes something far beyond ordinary concern. He may genuinely have been worried about someone he'd known for such a long time, but the moment he sees Nightmare for himself, that concern turns into a very different kind of fear.

As Nightmare himself once pointed out, he and Error share surprisingly similar histories. Both of them experienced the destruction of their identities, spent a long period consumed entirely by madness and destruction, then gradually regained themselves and spent centuries rebuilding who they were.

That's also why Nightmare paid so much attention to Error's relationship with Blue. If someone as similar to himself as Error could change, then perhaps the same possibility existed for him as well—and he wanted to remain aware of it and prepare for it.

Error would never admit it, but in many ways, he judges Nightmare from the same perspective. In a sense, they've always viewed one another like mirrors.

The most unsettling part is that Nightmare hasn't become a completely different person. He still remembers everything he used to, and he still behaves the way he always did. But now, he carries out violence almost like an obligation, with perfect calm. He no longer takes pleasure in anything, forms attachments, or even feels curiosity.

What's even stranger is that he doesn't question any of it. And this is someone who always acted as though everything—including himself—had to remain under his control.

For someone who constantly questioned himself and painstakingly built a logic behind everything he did, casually saying, "It doesn't really matter anymore," is unmistakably abnormal.

In that sense, what Error sees isn't simply a change in Nightmare—it feels like the collapse of his identity. Nightmare always had an exceptionally strong sense of self. If someone like him could fall apart so completely in an instant and continue moving like an empty shell, then it means Error himself could one day suffer the same fate. Even if he never had someone as irreplaceable as Dream, merely realizing that such a possibility exists is enough to leave him deeply unsettled.

Nightmare has been part of Error's life for a very long time. When they first met, neither of them was stable. For quite a while, all they ever did was fight. They tried every method they could think of to kill—or erase—one another, repeating the cruelest things they could possibly imagine.

That's exactly why Error is probably the only person who truly believes Nightmare never genuinely wanted to kill Dream. That conclusion doesn't come from observing the way Nightmare treated Dream. It's simply because Error knows, better than anyone else, exactly what Nightmare is capable of when he truly intends to kill someone. He's the one who experienced all of it firsthand.

Error is convinced that if Nightmare had treated Dream the way he treated him, the Guardian of Positivity would've died hundreds of times over already. And not merely in a physical sense. Nightmare has always had a frightening talent for breaking someone emotionally until they no longer wanted to keep living.

So when he finally heard that Dream had died, it came as a tremendous shock. Not because Nightmare had killed him, but because if Dream had died despite Nightmare so clearly never wanting that outcome, then something must have gone terribly wrong. There had to be something fundamentally unnatural about what happened.

That's why Error went to see him himself. Unable to bear the uncertainty of knowing nothing and simply waiting, he decided to find out with his own eyes. And as their conversation continues, the feeling of unease only grows stronger. He can tell that something has completely fallen apart—and that it may already be too late to undo it.

Realizing that someone you've known for ages—even someone you never intended to become close to, yet still believed you understood remarkably well—has become almost unrecognizable is far more terrifying than it sounds. It's as though only a record of who they used to be remains, mechanically moving an empty shell.

To immortals, death isn't particularly remarkable. No matter what happens, they'll eventually wake up again in their own way, ignore pain they've long since grown accustomed to, and do little more than grumble about it.

The same is true for Error. Physical death stopped being meaningful to him a long time ago. For him, death was never an ending—it simply became another part of an endless cycle. Again and again, he would awaken in the Anti-Void, stare into the same endless white world, brush aside the familiar pain, complain to himself, promise another round of revenge, and then throw himself into one of his hobbies to cool off.

If physical death has lost all meaning, then what reason is left to fear death? More importantly... what does death even mean to an immortal?

The body can recover. The mind cannot. If the identity you've built is severed completely, then perhaps that is what death truly means for someone who cannot permanently die. In that sense, the true death of an immortal is the loss of their identity.

That's why this experience awakens a fear Error had forgotten long ago. The vague anxiety that his own existence could one day disappear no longer feels hypothetical. As he looks at Nightmare, it suddenly becomes terrifyingly real.

Because of all that, Error may end up being the one who searches the hardest for a way to bring Nightmare back to who he used to be. Thankfully, Ink and Blue are still alive. But as Nightmare himself mentioned, the Gang no longer exists. The castle has fallen completely silent, and one by one, the relationships that once meant so much to him have disappeared. In reality, there simply aren't many people left who would actively try to save him.

Error finds himself carrying a strange sense of responsibility. He's one of the few who understands what's really happening, and he feels as though he has to do something. The thought that failing to stop this would mean accepting the possibility of a conceptual death only fuels his growing sense of urgency.

On top of that, if Nightmare continues behaving like this, there may soon be no way left to stop him from destroying the things that still matter to Error. For now, Nightmare still affords Error the same consideration he always has, almost as though he's simply continuing the relationship he already had. But judging by the way he acts, it's obvious that won't last forever. Before long, he'll stop seeing any value in maintaining this relationship. Unlike before, he no longer has any desire to invent reasons to keep unnecessary relationships alive.

Rare as it would be for Error, I think he'd genuinely try. He might even ask Blue and Ink for help. Reaching out to Ink would be incredibly irritating for him, but once the Guardian of Positivity is gone, the Guardian of Negativity is no longer just a personal problem. At that point, there's no telling how far he could go.

Fortunately, for reasons that remain unclear, Nightmare hasn't absorbed the final apple. It's still the Golden Apple, which means the situation hasn't yet become completely hopeless. But no one knows when things might take a turn for the worse. After all, that final apple—the last fragment of his power as the Guardian of Emotions—is still resting in his hands.

As for where the story goes from here... I think it's more fun to leave that up to your imagination. It's not that I don't have ideas of my own, but honestly, I've been imagining several different possibilities myself... I've never really been the type to settle on a single ending.

Somehow this ended up becoming almost entirely about Error... but I felt that his perspective was the most appropriate way to explain the situation. I think I'll probably have opportunities to talk about the questions that still remain another time, so if you're interested, I'd be happy to see you again then 😌