Nightmare mutters another curse under his breath as once again, he has gotten paint on his hands. They have always been a pain to wash away, especially when you are a skeleton.

Unempathetic to his misery, Ink lets out an amused snort.

“Shut up.” Nightmare huffs, redirecting his frustration to the Protector. “It’s not my fault I can’t do art.”

“Of course you can do art. You just need a little guidance.” With a bright smile, Ink says. “Here, let me help you!”

Nightmare’s SOUL nearly leaps out of his ribcage when Ink suddenly settles behind him, their slender fingers wrapping around his paint-stained ones. The Guardian of Negativity has to try his best to focus on the paintbrush, not the hot breath barely brushing his neck, not the bright lilac blush creeping dangerously close to his cheeks, and certainly not how much he really likes having Ink’s chest pressing against his back, actually-

Oh, Nightmare internally bemoans. I am so fucked.

“There!” The Protector’s cheery voice drags him back to reality. “Now you try it!”

Nodding meekly, he hastily compiles, all too grateful that Ink isn’t in his personal space anymore (even if the place where they touch still tingles with electricity, even if his SOUL wants-). He cleans his brush, dipping it into the palette-

And then knocks it all over his clothes.

“GOD DAMNIT!”

I don’t like onions :)

Yup! Since C!Frisk is omnipotent, it isn't hard for them to... well, accidentally stumble upon something.

(You don't specify which genre you want so I'm going to go ham with this. >:))

"Ink, that is enough sugar- Error, stay the fuck away from the chocolate chips!"

Error, your best friend, one of the strongest Sanses, and the Destroyer of AUs, hisses like a feral kitten, scuttering away in order to escape your attempt at swatting him with a spatula. You sigh, rubbing your temple. Why did you subject yourself to this hellhole again?

Oh right, because you wanted to make cookies with your friends. A horrible decision, really.

With another sigh, you turn around, only to feel a part of you shrivel up and die when you see Ink dumps an entire carton of eggs into the batter. Shells included.

"Ink," you whisper, unable to help the desperation slipping into your voice. "Just... Why?"

"I'm helping!" Is their reply, but the smile on their face tells you they know exactly what they're doing. And what they're doing is driving you insane.

Calm down, (Y/N). You can't strangle your best friend. You can't.

Maybe... Maybe you can still salvage this. You just need to take out the eggshells, and then... make a bigger batch? Yes, a bigger batch sounds nice. Even more cookies to eat. Think about the cookies, (Y/N).

"Let me bake it!" Ink exclaims, unaware of your growing horror.

"NO WAIT! THAT'S A FUCKING METAL BOWL!"

But it's too late. Ink has already put the very volatile, very flammable bowl inside the microwave.

The microwave, of course, explodes.

.

Standing in front of your burning house, once again, you wonder what madness had driven you to befriend the most chaotic people in this Multiverse. Error, at least, has the decency to look ashamed. And Ink? Ink just scoops the charcoal remains of what couldn't even be called cookies and stuffs them into their mouth.

"Hey, this isn't half-bad!" They comment with a bright smile.

“I need your help.”

“Okay!”

“I know this may be sudden but- Wait, what?” Nightmare’s words screech to a halt as he gapes at the paint-stained skeleton in front of him. “What did you just say?”

“Okay,” Ink repeats with a cheery smile. “I will help you!”

“But you don’t even know my name!” He says, unable to keep the complete bafflement from his voice. “Or whether I am a good person or not! Stars, do you even know where you are?!”

“Now that you mention it...” Ink glances at the total nothingness surrounding them. “Where are we, by the way?”

Nightmare resists the urge to rub his temple. He’s seriously reconsidering this idea. In the first place, why must it be this airhead, goldfish brain protector? Why can’t he get someone better? Like Blue, for example. The Royal Guard is soft-hearted enough but even he will be a little cautious of something as shady as this. And he’d take it much more seriously, too.

But at last, his weak magic can only manage Ink. Somehow. What makes them so different from other monsters, anyway?

No, focus, Nightmare. You have more important matters to worry about.

“This is the dreamscape.” Taking a deep breath, he starts to explain. “The place you visit every time you fall asleep. Each person has their own dreamscape, but this is the first time I’ve seen one that devoids anything like this- Are you even listening?”

The Protector tears their sockets from their surrounding, eyelights changing from purple square and dark blue target to orange question mark and green oval.

“Oh? Yeah, of course!” They give a long pause. “What were we talking about again?”