Released CHAPTER 2 of the official Purple Glitch AU fanfiction! 💜
When 16-year-old Nightmare hits his breaking point under the cruelty of Dreamtale’s villagers, a violent outburst of his negativity fractures reality itself. Across the space of the Multiverse, a dying Geno Sans escapes into a blank Save Screen. Two identical bursts of agony resonate, forcing the system code to crash and opening a glitching portal between two lonely, rejected souls. Heavy AU story focused on psychological drama, angst, and slow-burn tragedy.
Chapter 2 is available right below! Please enjoy the read.✨
Geno Sans (Aftertale) belongs to @loverofpiggies
(Crayon Queen) Nightmare Sans (Dreamtale) belongs to @jokublog
Original !Purple Glitch story and artwork cover by me (@pastelmore32)
# PURPLE GLITCH: VOLUME 1. THE RESONANCE OF PAIN
## CHAPTER 2: SUFFOCATING FEELING OF FROZEN TIME
The castle of Dreamtale was never meant to be an impenetrable fortress. Its grand, white stone walls wrapped loosely around a massive, sun-drenched courtyard, where the great Tree of Feelings spread its magnificent canopy over the world. The heavy iron gates always stood wide open, inviting hundreds of pilgrims and travelers every single day to bask in the radiant warmth of the golden fruits.
Dream loved those gates. He loved the laughter of the children running through them, the grateful smiles of the village elders, and the soft, collective sigh of a valley that knew no sorrow. Born as the embodiment of positive emotions, Dream lived in a world where everyone always smiled at him. He was drowning in adoration, blinded by the pure, unfiltered light of his own power. To Dream, the world was inherently good, and because his own heart was filled with boundless joy, he genuinely believed that everyone in Dreamtale was happy by default. He simply couldn't comprehend that darkness could fester right under his nose.
But for a seventeen-year-old Nightmare, those wide-open gates were nothing short of a curse. The castle offered him no sanctuary. While Dream was away on the other side of the valley, handing out positive ripples to the farmers, the mob would corner Nightmare in the deep, shadow-choked hollows of the massive roots right in the middle of the courtyard. They kicked him, hurled heavy stones at his head, and dragged his face through the dirt, whispering viciously that his very presence "defiled" the holy ground.
And the castle guards, standing just a few dozen yards away, would intentionally turn their backs. They didn't see Nightmare's blood as a crime; they saw his dark aura as an anomaly that shouldn't exist in their perfect paradise. They ignored the cruelty, believing they were protecting the castle's harmony. This absolute, legalized betrayal in his own home was what broke Nightmare's heart every single day, forcing his magic to rip open a portal, fleeing into the blank, silent canvas of the Save Screen.
Over those eighteen months, the blank emptiness of the Save Screen had subtly transformed into the only place where Nightmare could truly breathe. It was a bizarre, ironic paradox: a glitching, monochromatic void had become his safest, most comfortable home, while his own beautiful, sunlit kingdom felt like a hostile prison. Whenever the weight of Dreamtale’s hatred became too heavy to bear, Nightmare didn't just flee; he ran to Geno.
A year had bled away since his first meeting with Geno. Nightmare had grown significantly, his purple jacket now fitting a bit too tight around his shoulders, but every single time he stepped through the portal, a suffocating wall rose up in his chest.
But for Geno, time stood still right after his escape from the genocide incident. Due to the stagnant magic of the Save Screen, his body and mind were permanently locked at the age of twenty with his 0.1 HP. He was a grown man who had survived a brutal war and the terrifying deaths of all people he loved. And Nightmare... Nightmare was still just a frightened, underage boy in Geno’s eyes, someone to be covered with a warm scarf and fiercely protected like a fragile child.
They had developed their own quiet, comforting routines. Nightmare loved the soft, rhythmic sound of Geno’s breathing, the way the older skeleton would grumble but always make room for him on the sterile white floor, and how they would sit side by side for hours in absolute silence, reading books under the artificial glow of the system screens. Geno had become his anchor. For a boy who was constantly feared or despised, the fact that Geno looked at him without a single drop of malice was the greatest comfort he had ever known. He had attached himself to the glitching skeleton with all the fierce, desperate loyalty of a lonely heart that had finally found its safe harbor.
Nightmare couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened. Was it when Geno grumbled but still wrapped the scarf around him tighter? Was it when he caught Geno actually smiling at one of his stupid jokes from books they read together - a real, tired, genuine smile that made his whole face softer? Or was it the night Geno told him, barely above a whisper, that he used to read to his brother too?
Nightmare only knew that one day he looked at Geno and his soul ached for a completely different reason. It wasn't the ache of loneliness anymore. It was the ache of wanting to be seen. To be held. To be the reason that tired smile appeared on that scarred face. He buried his face deeper into the red scarf and silently cursed himself for being too young, too small, too broken to ever be taken seriously.
Nightmare sat on the sterile white floor, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, quietly watching Geno unpack the heavy basket he had brought. The young prince had tried everything: ordinary clothes, medical salves, bandages, and homemade food. He desperately searched for anything that could help, but the neon system counter above Geno’s chest never budged from its lethal mark.
" - Kid, I’ve told you a hundred times,"
Geno sighed softly, his voice echoing in the emptiness as he accepted a slice of blueberry pie.
" - The magic of this white box keeps my code in absolute stasis. Your bandages and medicines don't work here. The wound won't heal from mortal food."
" - I just... thought maybe it would work this time,"
Nightmare murmured, lowering his gaze and burying his face in the thick scarlet scarf that always smelled of dry dust and safety.
He reached out to take the empty plate, but as he did, his fingers accidentally brushed against Geno’s cold, glitching hand. An electric, terrifying jolt shot straight up Nightmare's spine. He flinched, pulling his hand back so fast he nearly dropped the basket. His heart began to hammer violently against his ribs, a wild, chaotic rhythm that had nothing to do with the fear of the villagers.
Geno blinked, tilting his head slightly, his single visible eye socket blinking in confusion.
" - You okay, kiddo? Your face is... kind of bright purple."
" - I-I'm fine! Just... hot. It's hot in here,"
Nightmare stammered miserably, completely forgetting that the Save Screen had no temperature at all.
“ - Or I’m just… I've с-сaught a cold. ”
Geno shrugged in response. He didn't seem to suspect a thing.
“- Hm? Tough luck, buddy. “
Nightmare squeezed his eyes shut, burning with a deep, suffocating blush that stained his cheekbones a dark violet. He quickly buried his face back into the thick scarlet scarf, trying to hide. But the scent of dry dust and Geno’s soul caught in his throat, making his head spin. Right there, trapped in his own sudden panic, Nightmare realized the terrifying truth. He wasn't just running here for safety anymore. He loved the way Geno looked at him. He loved the rough, comforting edge of his voice. He was falling for him, deeply and irreversibly, and the sheer weight of that realization made him feel smaller and more helpless than ever before.
A mature, deeply rooted affection had long been burning in the young guardian's chest for this glitching skeleton with red scarf, but Nightmare was terrified to speak of it. To a twenty-year-old man like Geno, he was just too small. A child. A burden. Nightmare stared at Geno’s sharp profile, at the white pixels flickering erratically by his eye socket, and mentally pleaded with himself:
“I just need to wait. Just a little longer. I need to reach his twenty. I need to grow up. Just a little bit… When I turn eighteen, he will finally be able to see me as an equal. Not as the crying child from the portal... but as something more. Not as a mere replacement for the lost brother he mourns so deeply...”
This feeling of frozen time was suffocating.
It was on an ordinary morning when Grillby, a quiet and observant elemental servant of the inner chambers, approached the golden prince, Dream. The servant shared important information about finding something important. The castle laborers, while clearing out ancient, collapsed debris in the deepest cellars, had stumbled upon a false stone wall hidden behind heavy oak shelves. Recognizing the sheer historical importance of the find, Grillby immediately went to Dream. As the servants suggested, this new-founded room could have once belonged to Nim, the previous keeper of the Tree of Feelings before the birth of the new guardians. She died suddenly.
Dream’s eyes lit up with pure, childhood excitement. An adventure right inside the castle! Without hesitation, he dashed across the hall, spotted Nightmare sitting quietly in the shadows, and forcefully grabbed his twin brother by the hand. He refused to unearth any royal secrets without Nightmare.
Grillby led the way down the spiral stone stairs, holding a lantern high. Yet, as they walked, the servant’s demeanor shifted noticeably. Grillby kept a respectful, warm distance from Dream, answering his enthusiastic questions with a polite smile, but every time his fiery gaze accidentally brushed past Nightmare, his flames flickered with a cold, guarded bias. He didn't say a word, but the way he subtly tilted the lantern away, leaving Nightmare to walk in the dim shadows, spoke volumes. It was that familiar, painful prejudice that the entire valley shared. Nightmare pretended not to notice, tightly gripping his own sleeves.
At the bottom of the stairs, behind the broken masonry, lay a completely hidden, dust-covered wing of the ancient library.
Toriel, the grand, wise keeper of the realm of books, stood waiting by the arched entrance. She adjusted her heavy robes, her gaze calmly evaluating the three who had just entered. First, she looked at Grillby, then at the beaming Dream, and finally, her soft, intelligent eyes rested on Nightmare.
The contrast in treatment was instant and striking. While Grillby stood tense, pointedly ignoring the dark prince, Toriel stepped forward. She didn't flinch from Nightmare’s heavy, negative aura. Instead, she offered the group a welcoming, deeply meaningful nod, her gaze lingering on Nightmare with a profound, unspoken warmth. With a gentle sweep of her hand, she silently granted them permission to pass into the deepest, most sacred vault of the archive, her subtle smile making it clear to the reader that she did not share the kingdom's prejudice.
It was there, among the half-rotted scrolls of the world's creators, that Nightmare's fingers brushed against the hidden journals of the Tree of Feelings. As his eyes scanned the faded, elegant handwriting, his heart skipped a beat.
The golden apples held a concentrated, creative magic of pure emotions, a magic capable of rewriting damaged code and permanently closing even the most fatal wounds of a shattered soul.
Nightmare felt a surge of wild, overwhelming joy. Geno could be saved. His 0.1 HP could be restored.
But right on the heels of that joy came a cold, paralyzing fear. If he brought the golden fruit to Geno right now, Geno's code would release its grip on the Save Screen, and he would move forward in time into the normal world. He sure is an independent man who would drift far ahead, while Nightmare remained trapped in his vulnerable teenage years. The gap between them would widen, and Geno would forever look down on him as a child.
So, Nightmare made a heavy, selfish, yet deeply human choice: to wait.
He would give Geno the gift of healing strictly on his own eighteenth birthday, proving they were finally both adults, ready to step into the future together, as equals.
From that day on, Nightmare began visiting the hidden room archive completely alone, studying Nim’s old journals, scrolls and tiny notes about Tree of Feelings and magic apples. Every afternoon, he would sit at a long wooden table beneath a dim magical lamp, quietly translating the ancient glyphs. Toriel was always there, moving silently between the tall bookshelves, her presence a peaceful anchor in his turbulent life.
During one of those quiet evenings, as Nightmare carefully rolled up a fragile parchment, Toriel paused beside his table. She placed a warm, heavy hand gently on his shoulder. A simple, maternal gesture that no one in Dreamtale had ever offered him.
" - You possess a very bright mind, young prince,"
Toriel said, her voice a soft, comforting hum in the silence of the library.
" - Never let the whispers of the courtyard dim your spirit. Knowledge is the ultimate light, Nightmare. It is a light capable of guiding, healing, and saving even the darkest, most neglected souls. Keep searching, young prince of shadows. The answers you seek are already within your reach."
Nightmare froze, a lump forming in his throat. Someone looked past his dark aura and saw him. He raised his head, looking up at the kind face of the librarian, and a genuine, radiant smile broke across his face. It wasn't the shy, hidden smirk he usually wore. It was a warm, happy smile of true gratitude. Toriel smiled back, softly patting his shoulder before returning to her duties, leaving Nightmare with a heart full of renewed motivation to find the finest golden apple for Geno’s cure.
He could give it to Geno right now. The perfect apple was ready and waiting. Nightmare looked thoughtfully at this sacred fruit lying before him on the library desk, caught between hope and unease. One bite, and Geno's 0.1 HP would begin to heal…
But then Geno would be free. His code would unlock, and he'd step into a world that moved forward while Nightmare stayed trapped in his vulnerable teenage years. The gap between them would become a canyon. Geno would see him as a child forever - a frightened little thing to be protected, not an equal to stand beside.
No. He had to wait. Just until his eighteenth birthday. Just until he could stand before Geno as an adult, as a man, and say: " - Look. I saved you. I'm not a child anymore. I'm the one who healed you."
The words burned in his chest like a vow. He pressed the apple to his heart and closed his eyes, drowning in his own dreams of the bright future.
Weeks later, the bright meadow in the inner courtyard of the castle was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers. Dream ran up to Nightmare with a playful, teasing grin, his eyes sparkling with brotherly amusement:
" - Hey, brother! You've been disappearing somewhere pretty often lately... right after we found out that golden apples can heal deep wounds. Oh! Don't tell me... Did you find yourself a lady of the heart?! Trying to help her, noble prince?"
" - Not exactly..."
Nightmare turned away sharply, pulling his hood down to hide the sudden purple flush creeping up his cheekbones.
" More like just trying to be useful. I am not capable of feeling such things. I am the guardian of negativity, remember?"
" - Liar!"
Dream laughed out loud.
" - I feel you can. Knew it!"
And then he came closer, nudging his brother playfully with an elbow.
Dream happily ran ahead, laughing and shouting to the guards about the upcoming grand preparations for their eighteenth birthday of the prince-keepers. Nightmare remained standing entirely alone under the shadows of the mother Tree.
The sounds of Dreamtale rustling through the treetops were supposed to be calming, but... to Nightmare, the world suddenly felt freezing cold. From afar, he looked with anxiety at the crowd preparing to celebrate the festival in the royal courtyard. Slowly, he lowered his hand into the deep, dark pocket of his jacket and pulled out a flawlessly round, shimmering golden apple - the very fruit whose healing magic he had spent months calibrating for Geno. Thinking of it, Nightmare pressed the warm, glowing fruit against his chest, closing his eyes tightly. A fragile, dreamy smile brushed his lips.
He waited. He waited patiently.
A day when he would cross the threshold of adulthood, hand this gold to Geno, and finally be seen as a man. Not as a substitute for a dead Papyrus... but as an equal capable of protecting him. Nightmare drowned in his own hopes, desperately forcing himself to ignore just how cruel, unfair, and agonizing the world was to him. He endured the beatings of the crowd, the silence of the guards, the crushing loneliness. He endured it all for the sake of that single day.
But beneath his fingers, where his trembling hands clutched the perfect golden skin, something dark was happening. From the sheer weight of the suppressed, unwept negativity that had been rotting inside his soul for years, the apple... began to turn a suffocating, bruised black. Dark, barely visible corrupt veins slowly crept outward from his palm, tightening around the gold, completely unnoticed by Nightmare himself.
Hope, deeply stained by the approaching dark.
