Latest Posts by egnidres - Page 2

Zu, it's just perfect. Nuisance's cute little face, his adorable little smile and Cross's smile (my my). It's really beautiful, and it's a real blessing for these two little treasures who deserve to be happy (♡ᵉ̷͈ัॢωᵉ̷͈ัॢ )‧₊°♡

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this gift, it's just perfect *ଯ( ॢᵕ꒶̮ᵕ)ॢഒ*♡

Have a wonderful night (人-ω-)｡σ.ﾟ｡*･♡Gσσ∂ Nιɢнт♡･*｡ﾟσ｡(-ω-人)

It's Nuisance's birthday （=´∇｀=）

Aim and Post Dark Cream belongs to @zu-is-here

English version

French version

I really like your story, it's cool to see a new take on Dreamtale (even though I know it's not the original Dreamtale as you said) (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) ♫･*:.｡. .｡.:*･

It's going to be really interesting to see how Shattered turns out, I can't wait to see what happens next ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

As for your drawings, I don't know if you want to put them on Ao3 (you can leave them off if you don't want to), but when you write your story on Ao3, there are two options: HTML and Rich Text. HTLM is always the default option, but if you click on Rich Text you'll get a bar with lots of extra options. If you click on a moment in your story and then click on the image icon, you'll be able to add an image. Rich Text also lets you bold, strikethrough or even italicise your text ヾ(｡･ω･｡)

I don't know if you'll find this interesting or useful ヾ(^^ゞ)

Have a nice day or night （〃・ω・〃）

Shattered Fates AU: The Beginning [ Chapter 1. ]

Read it on Ao3 ( Edit: fixed the problem )

Or

read it below! [ Exclusive Images Included ]

The battlefield, where it began… adorned with statues of the villagers they knew before, ruined buildings that used to be tall… the stump where their ‘mother’ laid. It was all there, and they were too… the guardians of this world, ending it all again with conflict. Such a cruel fate, these two. Arrows pierced in tar, while on the other side of the field was a skeleton covered in yellow, dripping from their chest and skull, a tendril impaled the being; keeping him still in this. The two souls looked to each other… one hoped that the other would give up, the other had differing intrusive thoughts.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

his grip loosened, the Dreamers head dropped more. One part of Nightmare felt.. Bad, however it was flooded out by the images which it provided; how Dream was the one to bring this upon himself.. By not helping but instead fighting what he has become.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

Dream lifts their head with the last of the energy that stayed within their core, something began to break in him… not just his heart. Their sunken eyes, the one not broken hues darkened; tainted by the battle.. Finally went out.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

The battlefield, where it began… adorned with statues of the villagers they knew before, ruined buildings that used to be tall… the stump where their ‘mother’ laid. It was all there, and they were too… the guardians of this world, ending it all again with conflict. Such a cruel fate, these two. Arrows pierced in tar, while on the other side of the field was a skeleton covered in yellow, dripping from their chest and skull, a tendril impaled the being; keeping him still in this. The two souls looked to each other… one hoped that the other would give up, the other had differing intrusive thoughts.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

his grip loosened, the Dreamers head dropped more. One part of Nightmare felt.. Bad, however it was flooded out by the images which it provided; how Dream was the one to bring this upon himself.. By not helping but instead fighting what he has become.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

Dream lifts their head with the last of the energy that stayed within their core, something began to break in him… not just his heart. Their sunken eyes, the one not broken hues darkened; tainted by the battle.. Finally went out.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

The battlefield, where it began… adorned with statues of the villagers they knew before, ruined buildings that used to be tall… the stump where their ‘mother’ laid. It was all there, and they were too… the guardians of this world, ending it all again with conflict. Such a cruel fate, these two. Arrows pierced in tar, while on the other side of the field was a skeleton covered in yellow, dripping from their chest and skull, a tendril impaled the being; keeping him still in this. The two souls looked to each other… one hoped that the other would give up, the other had differing intrusive thoughts.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

his grip loosened, the Dreamers head dropped more. One part of Nightmare felt.. Bad, however it was flooded out by the images which it provided; how Dream was the one to bring this upon himself.. By not helping but instead fighting what he has become.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

Dream lifts their head with the last of the energy that stayed within their core, something began to break in him… not just his heart. Their sunken eyes, the one not broken hues darkened; tainted by the battle.. Finally went out.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

. . .

[ * You need to live on. ]

[ * Wake up. ]

. . .

. . .

But what’s the point? It’ll repeat once more.

Attempts to prevent their downfall failed, the least the world could do was let him rest once more in this quiet place.

. . .

[ * You don’t have that choice. ]

. . .

[ * I believe that you'll change fate. ]

. . .

The Silence was soon broken, birds began to chirp and the light was starting to invade their resting place, the ray landed on the skeletons- they were both laying on top of a hay pile, dozing away from prying eyes.

they mumbled a bit, struggling to sleep before waking up in a cold sweat, their arms wrapped around themselves before settling on their ribcage. Even after going through this several times the phantom pain still gets to them.

after investigating It was clear that they were staying in a farm shed, a place where he and his brother would stay when they’d get the chance to; better than sleeping in those stone-like beds. Besides the dreamer was their brother, well what they were before the incident… still asleep.

...There was a brief moment where their imagination had gotten rid of it woke up- thinking of that even for a moment sent chills up their spine, what was wrong with them?

Soon after they brought themselves up from the makeshift bed, leaving the other behind. Dream walked to the door, making sure to stay quiet.. Their hands pushed and the rays poured in, waking their brother in the process- suddenly they brought up their hands, trying to combat the sun by blocking it from their face

“mmmgh…”

his expression scrunched up.

“Shut the doooor-”

the response to this was a slight chuckle from Dream, after they spoke

“I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep Night… though it’d be bad if Mr. Neriah found you hum?..”

The other jumped awake, stumbling up

“Gods no-”

he sighed, placing their hands on their head- saying in a defeated tone

“...I still remember how he made us clean the entire basement-”

a pause came out of their brother... they had caught what their sibling called them, confusingly they said

“Night?? Who- you know my name!-”

they were then cut off with

“-Because we didn’t show up for morning prayer! It’ll surely happen again if we don’t get there soon-”

they grinned a bit

“you’ll get your name out of my mouth once you beat me there yeah?”

Dream rushed to the door, swinging it open.

The door began to shut as one of the Skeletons left. They jumped up and scurried, putting on their worn out jacket

“Wait up!- wait up- I'm getting ready-”

they then followed, making sure the door wouldn’t slam on the way out.

“Jeez, aren’t you up and ready for this!”

they sighed as they finally began to catch up

“You normally avoid it..”

Dream quieted down for a second, thinking of what he'd say back then.

"...Just have a hunch, trust the gut! especially mine!"

The two strolled towards the Village from the farm shed, it was full of life, Humans and Monsters in harmony… working together to make things work, buildings in which they made.. Bakeries and shops galore; but in the very center of it was their ‘mother’. But even in this ‘paradise’ there were still things wrong, they should know this well. As they continued some waved, others looked at them in distaste… the two were used to this treatment, Dreams brother was just glad that group of kids weren’t here. Their brother was starting to notice the glares given to them… To ease tensions growing, Dream then asked.

“Think we should grab something after?”

their brother paused, thinking

“But we don’t have the money- you know this- interrupting the other”

tsk-

“who knows, a miracle could happen!”

The twin looked away slightly, surely if miracles happened it’d be better to hope on something else other than bread.. A real family, maybe?

“...Sure. let's say if one were to happen, who’d get it?”

Their brother jested, Dream beamed, smiled even

“Both of us, Brother.”

he suddenly pressed his finger on his brother's nose, causing them to kind of push Dream away a bit afterwards holding their precious nose

“you should know I wouldn’t leave you behind… or out of things, especially a meal.”

Dream mentioned, even after everything they didn’t exactly want to leave their brother out of the good things which fate provided. Their brother was grateful that he wouldn't be left behind if that were to happen.

“Now since that’s done-”

Dream clapped their hands together, now approaching the church.

“Let's say hi shall we?- haven’t seen everyone in a while.”

the other was confused about that last bit, raising a brow- considering they had just seen the others the day before.

“...We just saw them yesterday?..”

the Dream told them in kind

“Those hours felt like days.”

Now time for their 'grand plan'

They snuck into the establishment, making sure to step on the floor which didn’t creak. Being barefoot has its perks… navigating around the place was easy, they had been there many times.. Dream had even memorized the pattern in which they’d have to go however... their brother wasn’t as fortunate to remember. A sound emerged beneath their feet- fear arose. Silence came after. . . the anticipation of something happening was ruined with the pitter patter of footsteps- not as loud as an adult but it still frightened them.

 . . they stared at where it was coming from, the door at the end of the hall-

They were expecting it to be Mr. Neriah was going to be there at any moment but thankfully they were saved, a monster… one with a burn across their face arrived and greeted the two.

“Never seen you two arrive this early- is it a special occasion???”

they eagerly waited for a response, the rabbit crossed their arms.

“or did you fear that Mr. Neriah would give you that task?...”

Dream spoke up.

“Well, maybe. Just had a hunch something would’ve happened if we were late again!”

Felix commented after the other was done, then glanced to Dreams brother.

"Epiales you need to sneak up your game if you want to avoid it."

Nightmares name before the incident. Dream had almost forgotten it, but with this reminder it brought a weight off his shoulders.

Dream knew that very well… they had repeated this many times, mainly cause one of them couldn't sneak that well.

“Anyways that's fair, you could’ve been cleaning the outhouse next- after all it’s on rotation this week.”

“Whew, looks like we dodged a bullet…”

Epiales seemed a bit stunned at this, relief seemed to wash over him- while Dream acted normal as if they knew that was the outcome.

Dream spoke, un-phased. Felix then began waving them along, urging them to follow.

“Come now- be thankful later things are about to start!”

after investigating It was clear that they were staying in a farm shed, a place where he and his brother would stay when they’d get the chance to; better than sleeping in those stone-like beds. Besides the dreamer was their brother, well what they were before the incident… still asleep.

...There was a brief moment where their imagination had gotten rid of it woke up- thinking of that even for a moment sent chills up their spine, what was wrong with them?

Soon after they brought themselves up from the makeshift bed, leaving the other behind. Dream walked to the door, making sure to stay quiet.. Their hands pushed and the rays poured in, waking their brother in the process- suddenly they brought up their hands, trying to combat the sun by blocking it from their face

“mmmgh…”

his expression scrunched up.

“Shut the doooor-”

the response to this was a slight chuckle from Dream, after they spoke

“I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep Night… though it’d be bad if Mr. Neriah found you hum?..”

The other jumped awake, stumbling up

“Gods no-”

he sighed, placing their hands on their head- saying in a defeated tone

“...I still remember how he made us clean the entire basement-”

a pause came out of their brother... they had caught what their sibling called them, confusingly they said

“Night?? Who- you know my name!-”

they were then cut off with

“-Because we didn’t show up for morning prayer! It’ll surely happen again if we don’t get there soon-”

they grinned a bit

“you’ll get your name out of my mouth once you beat me there yeah?”

Dream rushed to the door, swinging it open.

The door began to shut as one of the Skeletons left. They jumped up and scurried, putting on their worn out jacket

“Wait up!- wait up- I'm getting ready-”

they then followed, making sure the door wouldn’t slam on the way out.

“Jeez, aren’t you up and ready for this!”

they sighed as they finally began to catch up

“You normally avoid it..”

Dream quieted down for a second, thinking of what he'd say back then.

"...Just have a hunch, trust the gut! especially mine!"

The two strolled towards the Village from the farm shed, it was full of life, Humans and Monsters in harmony… working together to make things work, buildings in which they made.. Bakeries and shops galore; but in the very center of it was their ‘mother’. But even in this ‘paradise’ there were still things wrong, they should know this well. As they continued some waved, others looked at them in distaste… the two were used to this treatment, Dreams brother was just glad that group of kids weren’t here. Their brother was starting to notice the glares given to them… To ease tensions growing, Dream then asked.

“Think we should grab something after?”

their brother paused, thinking

“But we don’t have the money- you know this- interrupting the other”

tsk-

“who knows, a miracle could happen!”

The twin looked away slightly, surely if miracles happened it’d be better to hope on something else other than bread.. A real family, maybe?

“...Sure. let's say if one were to happen, who’d get it?”

Their brother jested, Dream beamed, smiled even

“Both of us, Brother.”

he suddenly pressed his finger on his brother's nose, causing them to kind of push Dream away a bit afterwards holding their precious nose

“you should know I wouldn’t leave you behind… or out of things, especially a meal.”

Dream mentioned, even after everything they didn’t exactly want to leave their brother out of the good things which fate provided. Their brother was grateful that he wouldn't be left behind if that were to happen.

“Now since that’s done-”

Dream clapped their hands together, now approaching the church.

“Let's say hi shall we?- haven’t seen everyone in a while.”

the other was confused about that last bit, raising a brow- considering they had just seen the others the day before.

“...We just saw them yesterday?..”

the Dream told them in kind

“Those hours felt like days.”

Now time for their 'grand plan'

They snuck into the establishment, making sure to step on the floor which didn’t creak. Being barefoot has its perks… navigating around the place was easy, they had been there many times.. Dream had even memorized the pattern in which they’d have to go however... their brother wasn’t as fortunate to remember. A sound emerged beneath their feet- fear arose. Silence came after. . . the anticipation of something happening was ruined with the pitter patter of footsteps- not as loud as an adult but it still frightened them.

 . . they stared at where it was coming from, the door at the end of the hall-

They were expecting it to be Mr. Neriah was going to be there at any moment but thankfully they were saved, a monster… one with a burn across their face arrived and greeted the two.

“Never seen you two arrive this early- is it a special occasion???”

they eagerly waited for a response, the rabbit crossed their arms.

“or did you fear that Mr. Neriah would give you that task?...”

Dream spoke up.

“Well, maybe. Just had a hunch something would’ve happened if we were late again!”

Felix commented after the other was done, then glanced to Dreams brother.

"Epiales you need to sneak up your game if you want to avoid it."

Nightmares name before the incident. Dream had almost forgotten it, but with this reminder it brought a weight off his shoulders.

Dream knew that very well… they had repeated this many times, mainly cause one of them couldn't sneak that well.

“Anyways that's fair, you could’ve been cleaning the outhouse next- after all it’s on rotation this week.”

“Whew, looks like we dodged a bullet…”

Epiales seemed a bit stunned at this, relief seemed to wash over him- while Dream acted normal as if they knew that was the outcome.

Dream spoke, un-phased. Felix then began waving them along, urging them to follow.

“Come now- be thankful later things are about to start!”

They continued down the church hall, entering the foyer where the rabbit resided- following on they were soon gathered with the rest of the orphans. Most were monsters, the others humans… seeing the two enter made a few of them run up to the older siblings. Dream greeted them with ease, while Epiales stood slightly back not wanting too much attention- even with that though there were some they would interact with commonly.. Like the small feline Monster in a dress, their chosen name being Caspera. They showed off their dolls' new dress to Epiales and then he complimented it.

“Gloria’s dress is very nice, did you have Mr. Neriah help you make it?”

the smaller one shook their head- then pointed to themselves exclaiming

“Made it mythelf!”

They were proud of their accomplishment. after they pat their chest a bit and spoke proudly -

“no help thith time!”

The skeleton gave a sound of awe and then he placed their hand on Caspera's head, patting it slightly.

“I can’t wait for you to open up a store, I’m in dire need of new clothes and I love your style.”

He then gestured to their own clothes, Epiales was wearing a worn down jacket- it was handed down to him through someone who had previously been here. He then pointed at Dream and made it clear

“You should too!- your belt is practically falling apart!”

Epiales and Caspera continued their conversation, Dream started his own- with Felix. He sighed, looking at his homemade belt and pulling on it lightly, he really should get something new… maybe around the upcoming festival?.. they then turned to Felix. would there be any point in replacing it knowing what will come tomorrow?

someone, presumably dream hollered back, Epiales snickered a bit.

Caspera’s expression beamed, it was always their dream to be a tailor, to make things that they’d be content with… that their big brothers and sisters would be happy with too!

“...So any luck finding that hidden cache?”

Felix huffed a bit, then expressed

“not here, though I might let you in on what I found afterwards.”

he placed their hands on their hips, and stared at their belt.

“Need the funds from it for a new one don’t ya?-”

Felix teased, Dreams face flushed up in response.

The doors opened once again, a shadow covered the group.. A creepy light swayed back and forth and the children suddenly scattered. But the younger ones recollected by the figure which had entered- a few ‘Mr. Neri’s’ were said… some even said a few 'Papa Neri's'. The priest who ran the church was a Anglerfish monster, and despite their looks they were quite the angel- acknowledging the younger ones with nods and small greetings as they made their way to the pulpit. The priest opened the book, glancing over it and soon after to his kids.

They raised a brow once they saw the twins amongst the crowd- his voice rasped

“Good morning my children…. It seems like everyone is here, that is great- amazing even, we can keep this up… yes?”

Dream and Nightmare laughed nervously knowing it was directed towards them in general. Father Neriah then told the group.

“If things continue, perhaps a reward is in order… who likes the idea of getting a grand feast at the festival. my children?”

small gasps could be heard, clearly these kids were hyped towards the idea- then they all looked to the twins, urging them to keep this up! Stopping the glares, Father Neriah began to say

“Anyways, Now my children… Are we ready to give thanks to our mother Nimeeta?”

Also known as Nim, Nimeeta’s name was shortened due to religious views on speaking her full name. It is only permitted by high ranking priests, ones who hold similar views to the all-mother. neriah brought his hands apart, forming a sort of pose, a prayer pose one which resembled the two emotions coming together in unison.. The right hand represented the positivity in the world, the other Negative emotions both were equal in power and could influence the world. The children followed, a few of the younger ones messed up but were corrected after a few minutes. Neriah found this entertaining, seeing such young souls do their best. Now to what needed to be said.

. . .The prayer began, and Mr. Neriah spoke.

“ Our Mother Nim blessed us with life, giving up her divine form and created the tree of life; it breathed existence into us and our paradise.”

he shifted his arms to flip the emotions, reversing their positions

“Nim, a being of pure emotion, split her essence in two and gave it up for her guardians, her sons and daughters in future generations.”

he took a moment before continuing on

“We are grateful for the guides given to us, the two who protect the tree and the emotions which it holds… which we hold dear.”

Father Neriah then brought up

“ The emotions that were captured by the tree, souls that were given a chance to return to their Mother after their time was up… ”

lastly

“ We hope to find the new guides during this years festival, so that we may see your vision for us Mother.”

he then gives a bow.

“ Thank you mother…”

his hands clasped together, gently forming a connection between their hands

“We all give thanks for you listening to us, may we part with ease.”

he then loosened their grip before parting their hands, representing how Nim had parted their soul.

After all was said and done, the children rose once Mr. Neriah was done with their morning prayer. Dream would normally skip this all together.. It left a sour taste in his mouth, after all it was ‘Nim’ who cursed them with this repeating dream of his.  Dream sighed a bit, it was always hard to get through that-

“Why the long face?-”

Felix asked.

“I- uh it’s nothing, really.”

He that wasn’t the case- so they surprised the other by pinching their cheeks a bit-

“Wh- hey let go!"

Felix narrowed their eyes, countering with

“not until you let me in on whatever's going on-”

they paused then said

“don’t tell me those punks are messing with you and Epi again!?”

Dream shook their head, denying their accusations.

“No, just feeling a bit under the weather I guess?..”

Felix chirped back.

“well… if you’re like that maybe you shouldn’t see what’s in the cache eh?-”

Dream blinked, bringing himself to then say

“Man you really want to know don’t you??”

he huffed a bit. giving in.. but he knew that chance wouldn't come.

“..fine on the condition it happens after the festival.”

Felix thought about it, nodding in agreement- putting their hand after this too

“shake on it?"

Dream rolled their eyes, shaking their hand

"Fine I'll shake on it”

some sort of sorrow showed on his face as he made this ‘deal’... would there ever truly be a day after the festival where they could meet and let secrets be free? It seemed unlikely.

Epiales and Caspera finally brought themselves over to the rest of their little group.

“So what now? Should we go find out what that miracle you mentioned would bring us?”

they didn’t believe such miracles could happen, but were curious none the while. The smaller one commented

“ miracle? I want a miracle! Ariadne can I go pleathe? “

Ariadne, Dream's given name… how ironic how he and his brother would be given these names huh? Dream looked down to Caspera

“If you can keep up, then yes- yes you can Cas”

Caspera jumped a bit in joy, and hugged their doll tight.

“Gloria we're going to the village! we can get all the thweetths!”

Felix turned to Dream and Epiales, smiling.. It’s not everyday that Dream lets Caspera join in. He was always worried that they’d get themselves hurt especially with the bullies which roam around, he’s glad to see the change.

“So what’re we still doing hanging around here- lets go before Mr. Neriah thinks we’re trying to set up a bucket again, yeah?”

the Rabbit mentioned. Dream nodded- Epiales looked at Dream- so they were the reason that water got dumped all over their dad!?- and he got thrown under the bus for it... that's why they cleaned all of that!?- oh he’s so going to get back at Ariadne later. Seeing Epiales reaction, Felix not realizing what he said earlier...

“heh heh- oops?...”

Dream sweated a bit, just feeling their brother's death gaze on him and Felix- grabbing Felix's hand he kind of rushed themselves out of the building.

Dream and Felix went outside and continued on into the village, even if Felix was the best runner it caught him by surprise just seeing how much strength and stamina that Dream held.

“Ha- Why the rush? Your brother isn’t that scary-”

Dream then paused, turning to Felix- his expression was serious but changed to a more calm one.

“..I know, I just fear what he’ll do in the future because of that.”

Felix pushed Dream a bit, not so rough if anything playful

“like what, mark your body with a sharpie?”

A long pause came after.

“...maybe.”

a burst of laughter came from Felix

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about- you scared me for a second.. Thought something more serious would happen.. especially after that look ya gave.”

Dream punched their shoulder, his face full of yellow.

“It is serious!- I can’t show up to anything looking like that-”

footsteps could be heard coming approaching the two.

“Fighting already? It hasn’t even been an hour”

Epiales said as they strided towards them, holding Caspera on their back, the Feline monster was laying their head against Epiales' back comfortably with their doll Gloria in hand..  

“What’s it even about huh?”

Dream focused on Epiales

“Nothing much, just the usual.”

. Felix was about to say something but was stopped when Dream put his hands up to their mouth.

“Everyday matters!”

Dream didn't exactly want to give their brother Felix's ideas. in retaliation… after a minute passed Felix licked their palms- the skeleton shivered, afterwards sliding back- looking at his hands now making a

“eeeww.”

sound.

“That’s what you get!”

Felix blepped. Dream shook their hands, then laid them on their own pants trying to wipe off whatever the Rabbit left.

“Oh I know what you’ll be getting Felix-”

he rolled his sleeves up, the bunny quickly ran off. Epiales snorted at this. Of course Dream followed, needing to get back at that ‘friend’ of his. A distant

"You cannot silence me!"

could be heard. of course this caused Epiales to burst out laughing at the chasing and overall ridiculousness of the situation, this woke Caspera though but he quickly made sure to quiet down and assure them that everything was alright and that they'd get their sweets soon.

[ Time passed,  and it seemed as if that ‘miracle’ happened as Dream described. Someone had dropped their bag of fresh goods. Being the troublemakers they were Felix and Dream quickly took that opportunity to snatch it up… thankfully without notice. As the day began to turn to night, they all returned to the orphanage, sharing their goods. Of course Mr. Neriah had to question just where the various fruits and vegetables came from.. Hearing their explanation they had gotten a slight scolding; but were forgiven slightly due to their kindness amongst the younger souls. Everyone had a nice time, eating the dinner provided and then sharing stories.. Dream’s being the most adventurous, telling of different versions of himself saving the world and sometimes even other versions of himself! Soon after Mr. Neriah ushered the children to the beds, seeing how late it was. Dream and their brother of course snuck out at the peak of midnight, but made sure to give their goodbyes to the ones who were awake still… before they fully had left Epiales left some candy underneath Caspera's pillow, the sweets that they promised to them. The brothers ventured through the silent yet dimly lit village, making it back to the farm house where they had slept before, making themselves at home... at least temporarily. ]

“Ariadne?...”

It took a moment, Dream didn’t realize his brother was talking to him… after all he always went by ‘Dream’ and the other always went by ‘Nightmare’. He brought their hand up to their face- swinging it around to get their attention

“huh- yeah what?”

Epiales hesitated, continuing with

“I’m sorry-”

with a quick response

“For what?-”

the twin spoke up- it quickly turned into a few mutters-

“I’m sorry for not believing you earlier-”

Dream turned over on the hay, putting his hand up to his non-existent ears

“hum- didn’t quite catch that Epi-”

Their brother said aloud

“hmph- keep going like that and I might have to take it back!”

Of course, they were only joking around with each other… having fun.

“Alright alright- I accept your apology.”

Dream then laid down, trying to get into a more comfy position.

“So tomorrow… what do you think about it?”

Epiales spoke up

“The festival?”

a yes was given back

“Well… we might have a nicer life with the Guardians around, they’d whip the villagers into shape- get us all places to call home!”

Dream thought about it then responded

“You really think so?...”

and their brother talked back with a

“I know so… they’re supposed to keep the things in balance, there’s a lot of us who were dealt a bad hand… they’ll make things right.”

Dream looked to the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. He closed his sockets for a second..

“You’re right, they’ll make things right…”

As Dream talked, Epiales seemed to drift to sleep… as Dream kept looking at the ceiling, their hand then reached to it, he stared at it…

“I’ll make sure of it.”

That sentence ended off with him clenching his fist. The day of the Festival was approaching, Dream didn’t exactly want that day to arrive but his eyes began to shut on their own.  The next day was soon arriving, and so was the beginning of it all.

It's Nuisance's birthday （=´∇｀=）

Aim and Post Dark Cream belongs to @zu-is-here

English version

French version

(Late) Cream Day (=｀ω´=)

CrossOwl's design by @x0moth0x

DreamCow's design by @help-im-a-gay-fish

English version

French version

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for accepting my commission. These treasures are so beautiful and adorable ☆*✲ﾟ*｡(((´♡‿♡`+)))｡*ﾟ✲*☆

I'm really happy to see them like this ʕ̡̢̡̡̢̡̡̢♡ᵒ̴̷͈艸ᵒ̴̷͈॰ʔ̢̡̢̢̡̢̢̡̢✧

Commission for @egnidres ☆ Thank you very much for your support!╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Magicpunk AU by egnidres

Murder by ask-dusttale

Cross from xtaleunderverse by jakei95

Killer by rahafwabas / rahaf-wabas / rahofy-sketch

Horror from horrortalecomic by sour-apple-studios

Love or Betrayal first chapter is here : Fall (Fool) in Love ヘ(￣ω￣ヘ)

Cover by @zu-is-here

English version

French version

° ->

Thank you again for that sweet and beautiful gift *｡٩(ˊωˋ*)و✧*｡

It's so perfect, I can't stop smiling ☆*✲ﾟ*｡(((´♡‿♡`+)))｡*ﾟ✲*☆

A birthday gift for @egnidres (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

a teaser to the upcoming story by egnidres

Ink by comyet

Cross from xtaleunderverse by jakei95

If I were to die before you, I'd like my soul to stay by your side to protect and comfort you. And when I see that you are happy again, I will be reincarnated to wait for you in my new life, to love and cherish you again as if nothing had happened ~ Cross

He's perfect o((*^▽^*))o

@egnidres I did it

Imagine that this tiger shark was part of the silver before Cross arrived, but that also means that it's probably dead. Then you could also say that it just hasn't arrived yet. It would be cool if it was Color, given the friendship Color and Killer have in the "basic universe". Especially as I'm sure he looks great as a tiger shark Σ(♡＠﹏ ＠☆)ﾉ”

Get it? Its funny because in my shark back these three were next to each other BY PURE COINCIDENCE !!!

Happy birthday @zu-is-here (=ﾟωﾟ)ノ☆

English version

French version

Happy birthday to Aim and Winter ε===(っ≧ω≦)っ

Aim belongs to @zu-is-here

Winter belongs to @zelphin124

English version

French version

Happy (maybe early) birthday to @zelphin124 (＃⌒∇⌒＃)ゞ

English version

French version

I love your fic so much

I hope you get more well known soon ^^

Thank you for the bottom of my heart. You're so sweet and kind. I really hope you have a beautiful day or night (♡ᵉ̷͈ัॢωᵉ̷͈ัॢ )‧₊°♡

A one shot about Murder Time ship ]ｮ◡◕ั⁎)ﾉ✰⁎*

Tw : Drinking If you think I need to put more trigger warning, please tell me. Thank you in advance (´・ω・`)

The English version

The French version

A Kross ship one-shot ( ´͈ ॢꇴ `͈ॢ)･*♡

The English version

The French version

Leviathantale belongs to @skumhuu

I just wanted to say - you're doing amazing! I hope you will get more appreciated soon in likes and all

You deserve it! ♥️

Oh , and i hope you'll doing ok! If not then heres a virtual hug for you! o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

Have a great night/day!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I never expected to wake up and see such a sweet message. I can't stop smiling (●♡∀♡)

I'm doing great. I hope you are too (｡◝‿◜｡)

Never say no to a hug (っ≧ω≦)っ

Have a beautiful day or night too （*´▽｀*）

Just my happy little baby (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

Post Dark Cream belong to @zu-is-here

Nuisance belong to me

That's an interesting challenge. It's a great way to improve your skills while competing against other people. Everyone has their own way of seeing and telling stories (whatever the medium). I can't wait to see it 。(⌒∇⌒。)

SeasonTale Creative Challenge

PLEASE REBLOG SO EVERYONE CAN SEE THIS!

Greetings, Artists, Voice Actors, and Writers! It is I, Zelphin, and I am hosting an (annual?) competition! Introducing the first year of the SeasonTale Creative Challenge! 

This is a competition to express your creative talents by contributing to SeasonTale for a cash prize! There are three ways to participate: Art, Voice Acting, and Writing! Contribute some time to use one of the three involving SeasonTale to enter the challenge for the prize!

DEADLINE IS NOV 15th, 2023, 12:00 AM (GMT-6)

my birthday hehe~

Winners will be announced on December 1st!

Scroll down for details!

Rules

It must be a SeasonTale Sans. (I might do other characters from SeasonTale another year)

You MUST tag #SeasonTale Challenge and @zelphin124 in the post so I can see it! Or DM me on Discord!

You CAN do more than one submission (one per Sans for VA, two for writing)

You CAN do the Season Sanses interacting with OCs or popular Sanses, get creative!

DIFFERENT/SIMPLER OUTFITS ARE ALLOWED! I know they are a pain to draw...

You CANNOT steal/copy from other creators!

Please keep all content PG-13

Payments will be made via PayPal (unless negotiated otherwise)

Specific rules within the Google doc!

Prizes

All prizes are in USD currency!

Artists

First place: $55

Second place: $35

Third place: $20

VAs and Writers

First place: $40 

Second place: $30

Third place: $20

Prompts

Summer flirting with literally anyone

Particularly a feisty character

Spring cooking with Swap/Horror

Spring loves cooking Japanese Ramen

Autumn being a gremlin, as usual

Usually being feisty while training or hissing at a cat (he’s scared of cats)

Winter meeting your OC/you in the snowy mountains of SeasonTale

The Four Sanses in a training session

The four Sanses exploring a new AU

Spring comforting someone

Summer flirting with someone

Autumn getting frustrated at someone being annoying and telling them to go away

Winter is an awkward teddy bear trying to organize something

Ft. Iro!Sans for a female character/female voice actors!

Make something up! Be creative! Have fun!

Need more details? Here's the Google Doc:

Google Docs

SeasonTale Creative Challenge

SeasonTale Creative Challenge Please reblog to get this challenge to everyone! Greetings, Artists, Voice Actors, and Writers! It is I, Ze

References

HAVE FUN! I'm so excited to see what you all come up with!

Been dying to do this for a long time~

Error needs to calm down and learn how to talk to a child. It's great that Killer has learned a few tricks to defend himself from Aim (⁎˃ᆺ˂)

I wonder if the black spot is the corruption that appears or if it's because of Error's threads? And if it's corruption, wouldn't using his "emotional rewriting" power simply give him some control (´ε｀ )

I can't wait to see what you have in mind о(ж＞▽＜)ｙ ☆

The Error in Aim - Chapter three

Ya'll like this series? Hmmmm... I want to point out that I usually write with an outline and a set goal in mind. This series? I'm just winging it. Heck, I don't got anything planned out for the ending. I'm just seeing where this goes. Go check out the two people who inspired this series: @egnidres and @zu-is-here! Prologue + Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Whew... Here we go...

~oOo~

"I thought you said we were going to stay by my house," Aim inquired, shoving two knives in their scabbards on his body. "And why are we leaving at night-"

"I l-l-lied," Error shrugged, walking away from the house. "I d-don't think your p-parent would h-have agreed i-if I told y-you my real p-plans."

Aim stopped, shutting the door behind him. He didn't want to wake Dream, Nightmare, or Killer. But why did Error want to go at night? He was being so secretive about it. Aim knew he shouldn't trust strangers, but he also knew to not go back on his word.

His SOUL jolted.

Error didn't turn around fully to address the child. "A-Are y-you coming, boy?"

His thoughts raced. Run run run. Run run run. Run run-

Aim nodded and bounded after the destroyer, who rolled his eyes and continued walking forward, his hands pinned behind his back.

Aim caught up with Error and slowed to his pace, looking up at him. Error wasn't super tall but noticeably taller than Aim's family. The stripes on his face glowed. And his eyes... His eyes told millions of stories.

Aim didn't know how he could tell that the destroyer was not only angry but many memories were flashing across his mind. He could sense he was reliving some of his life. His emotions exposed that. Aim watched as millions of fights, deaths, and cries that everyone else would never hear crossed Error's mind...

But what Aim found interesting as he inspected Error's face was the feeling of sorrow. It was as if the destroyer, as immature, irresponsible, and psychotic as he acted, was mature deep down. He held so much pain in his SOUL and hid it from the rest of the multiverse.

Aim pondered this momentarily as the two continued to wander into the dark of night. Why would he feel such sorrowful remorse if he did what he was made to do? Nightmare had called Error a killer without remorse and without guilt. That he hadn't stopped killing. Maybe Error knew that he felt remorse but chose to hide it. But what was it about? Was it from the regret of his murderous habits?

Or something far from his forgotten past?

Error glanced at Aim, scowling. "S-Stop looking a-at me l-like that!" He snapped, speeding up.

And in an instant, the pain in his SOUL glitched away.

Aim sped up to keep up with Error. He didn't know the destroyer walked so fast. He thought it would be faster to teleport, but Error didn't seem interested. Error repeatedly backed away if Aim came too close until he told Aim to never touch him. It was hard for Aim to not pull him out of the way of objects; Error frequently ran into trees. He figured the destroyer couldn't see well, but he made no comment about it.

Aim skidded to a halt before he ran into Error, who had abruptly stopped in the middle of the path. He glanced behind him, to his left, then to his right. The stars shimmered in glory as they covered up the awkward silence.

Aim tilted his head in confusion. "What are we-"

He cut himself off as the destroyer stretched out his hand. The tips of his fingers opened a glitched portal. He looked behind him again before stepping into the white abyss, signaling Aim to follow him.

The moment Aim stepped into the portal, he started to feel sick. His code felt off and weird as he looked around. He was surrounded by white and couldn't make out any dimensions of the place. "What is this place?"

"The Anti-Void, i-i-idiot." Error snapped, closing the portal.

Aim started to look around. However, he didn't have time to observe the rest of his surroundings as he heard a gaster blaster charge up.

Aim rolled out of the way as it fired in his path, burning the ground. He panicked, glancing around at who had just attacked him before his eyes rested on the destroyer.

The blaster belonged to him.

Dream's worries suddenly returned to Aim's mind. He almost died and was now trapped in a place where his loved ones would never find him. Had he made a mistake? Had we walked into his death? "What the heck?!" Aim shouted. "What was that for?!"

"L-L-Lesson number o-one," Error narrowed his eyes, hating the child's attitude. "N-Never l-let your g-guard down. I-Ink is n-not going to c-come when you're p-prepared! Y-You must a-always be r-ready!"

Oh. So this was his way of training... Aim sighed. He had a feeling this would be normal throughout their time together. "But-"

Three more gaster blasters fired up, snapping Aim back into reality.

"I-I hope you're r-ready, anamonly #241," Error cackled, pulling out strings from his eyes. "Let's see i-i-if you'll die l-like the rest of e-em!"

~oOo~

"F-F-Faster!"

Aim barely ducked out of the way from another gaster blaster. His chest heaved in rapid breaths as his soul raced. He held two knives in his hands before he rolled out of the way of another attack. He was tired. He felt weak.

He felt something awakening.

"Tha-a-at's enough," The destroyer narrowed his eyes at the child, dismissing the blasters and untangling the strings around his hands. He looked down at his fingers, cursing as the strings again tangled into a knot.

Aim collapsed on the ground, exhausted. He had always brawled with Killer occasionally, but this was much worse. He had never felt so exhausted and barely escaped the practice attacks with his life.

Not that Error would care if he died in the process, anyway.

How was he going to beat Ink? The painter was much more skilled than these silly practice attacks. Aim did have patience due to everything that happened at his home taking forever since Cross' death. But how long would it last? Surely he didn't have to train for the rest of his life...

Right?

"I-I-It seems that k-k-knives aren't your fi-i-ighting style," Error stated, throwing the strings on the ground in a fit since they wouldn't untangle. "T-T-Try your mag-gic."

Aim stood up, his knees buckling and his legs shaking. He didn't know how to explain to Error that he had never used magic besides his emotionally manipulative power. He had faint memories of Cross using bones and blasters, but he was never able to. Or, he had never tried.

He wondered if he got Cross' or Dream's powers. Would he be able to use bones and blasters like his father before him, or would he use the positive bow and swords like his living dad? Surely he inherited some power from Dream, as he could manipulate emotion.

But how much did he inherit from Dream?

"A-A-Are you deaf, c-ch-child? I comma-a-anded you to d-do something!" Error snapped, pulling new strings from his eyes. "U-U-se your m-magic."

"I wasn't taught how, sir," Aim replied, hating that his tongue had betrayed him. "I've been protected from all forms of magic ever since... Ever since the incident."

Error smacked his head, cursing once more. "Dream y-y-you're such a-an idiot!" He murmured before turning toward the child. "The b-best way to p-p-protect you is t-to teach you t-to fight!"

"Killer taught me some things... In secret..." Aim objected.

"T-That explains t-the knife sssssskills," Error shook his head, glitching in and out again. "B-B-But they d-don't seem t-to be y-your thing..."

The Anti-Void outlined Error's dark features. Aim took a moment to observe the blue strings that hung from the non-existent ceiling. Most of them were just in loops, but some were strung down from the decor, holding various hearts fast.

Various SOULs.

Aim shivered, grabbing his chest. Many of the SOULs hanging from the blue strings were white, but some of them had human colors. There were blue, yellow, purple, red...

Fear struck Aim's SOUL again, but he removed it with power. The Destroyer was a quick and clever killer. Aim thought he was beginning to understand his father's worries, but his reckless wishes forced him to forget the worries once more.

He needed to do this for Cross.

To kill Ink.

Aim glanced back at Error. He had the look on his face that he had just yelled something but cut himself off. Aim froze; he didn't want to piss off the destroyer any more than he already had. However, in Aim's favor, the destroyer always seemed angry. He removed his worries away once more with his power.

"That!" Error suddenly pointed at Aim, walking towards him.

The child's eyes widened, confused. He stood in place as his breath quickened. How many times did he have to remove his fear? Error was really good at keeping the fear inside him. Or reinstalling it... Aim couldn't figure out which one it was.

"Y-Y-You just did i-it aga-ain," Error snapped. "Y-Your eye shined o-orange. You're u-using magic, what k-kind?"

Aim knew he would have to answer him, but everything in him hesitated. Would Error want him for his power too? He was always told to keep it a secret, even before his dad's death.

"I have the power to manipulate emotions," Aim answered. "I was removing some distracting ones from myself."

There was a moment of silence before Error broke into a burst of psychotic laughter. He held his face as he bent over, continuing to laugh.

Aim backed up slightly, concerned. He wasn't sure what to do.

"No w-w-w-wonder Ink wants you!" He cackled. "Impressive, y-you must've inherited D-Dream's powers."

Aim nodded slowly, coming to the same conclusion.

Error wiped his eyes, smiling with his bright yellow teeth. "That's h-hilarious..." he shook his head. "I-I'll train you m-more later... That's too-" he laughed again, sighing and smiling to himself.

As soon as the smile came, it faded. Aim could tell he was thinking hard. Error walked up to Aim and pulled a single string from his eye, snapping it and giving it to Aim. "P-P-Pull this i-if you n-need me," Error shrugged. "This i-is how you'll c-communicate with m-me. Go home, I'll t-t-train you agaaaaain soon."

"Wait, that's it?" Aim asked. "No training. You just fought me! What about-"

He was cut off when his SOUL was yanked out of his chest. It was painful, and Aim widened his eyes as Error pulled his SOUL closer to him with his strings. He smiled wickedly. "I-I make the rules h-here, you o-obey me, b-boy. Now g-go home."

Before Aim could reply, the entire Anti-Void wrapped around him, disappearing. He was back at his house, on his couch. Aim glanced around, looking for Error, but he was nowhere to be seen, but his SOUL floated in front of him. It had a strange black spot on it, but he ignored it as he pressed it back into his body.

It was nothing like he had ever experienced. He was excited after shooing away the fear and confusion with Error's character. His first training was done, and he had survived! He could prove to his parents that they had nothing to fear.

He hoped...

Poor Dream, it must be hard for him. They must all be afraid of losing Aim to Error, but only Dream is totally opposed to it ╥﹏╥

Then he can always see his son (and hit the Destroyer if anything bad happens to him) (`ω ´*)ノ

Aim is such a brave kid. I hope it gets better for all of them (ノ￣ω￣)ノ

I really love the way you write. Keep up the good work *ଯ( ॢᵕ꒶̮ᵕ)ॢഒ*♡

The Error in Aim: Chapter two

This is a continuation! Please see chapter one (by me) and the prologue by @egnidres here!

@zu-is-here, and Egnidres, here's the continuation!

-oOo-

"He did what?!"

The monster appeared inside Dream once more. Shattered lunged for Nightmare.

Killer had little time to grab one of the tentacles and hold him back, but somehow, he managed.

Nightmare stood perfectly still, not even flinching as Shattered's tentacles came centimeters from his face. He held his head high and stared the curse that consumed his brother dead in the eye.

Aim wasn't supposed to be watching. He was told to wait inside as the adults discussed the surprise meeting from Error outside. However, that didn't stop him from watching out an open window as quietly as he could. He felt bad that it caused his father to crack again. He hated seeing Shattered cover Dream in endless black goop. Aim himself had decided to accept the deal... as soon as he could find Error. Despite what his parents said, he wanted to get revenge on the assassin and destroy him, even if the destroyer took his life for it.

He was tired of being babysat. He was tired of being watched. He would no longer stand around and be treated like a child. He wasn't five anymore; he was thirteen. It was time he was treated as such.

"I told you to protect him! And you let Error, out of all people, find him?! How could you?!" Dream cried. Half his face was still Shattered, but both sides were still furious.

Nightmare's gaze contained irritation. He stood with his arms crossed, observing Dream. "I told him I would wait to discuss it with you," he inquired. "He should be back shortly for your decision."

"After my decision?!" Dream hissed, breaking free from Killer's grasp. "My decision is obvious! Absolutely not!"

"Don't write off Error's offer like that just because he's Error!" Nightmare cried. "He would do a much better job defending Aim than Killer ever could!"

Killer rolled his eyes. "Rude."

"He would murder my son!" Dream hissed. "Before or after the deal is done, you can't trust him, you're a fool for even conversing with him!"

Killer watched Nightmare's eyes flash blue. He backed up, pulling out his knives in defense. Usually, Killer would be all for a brawl, but something about Nightmare's blue eye unsettled him.

The blue eye terrified Aim. He had never seen it in his uncle before. Why was Dream so upset at Nightmare? Why was Nightmare getting upset? Was he not hearing everything that was said between the two?

"Dream, Ink is after Aim. Error is the only one who can solely protect him," Killer grimaced, disgusted to admit that he was powerless against the painter. "I... I think we should accept the deal."

Before Dream could retaliate, Nightmare uttered the dreaded words himself. "I agree with Killer. I think we should."

"No," Dream twitched with irritation, trying to fight the curse and shove it back. Shattered fought, wanting to stay in control. It resulted in a half-and-half face on the positive. "I trusted my old friend, and he killed my husband. I will not make the same mistake with your old friend!"

Nightmare seemed just as angry. "Ink will never stop hunting Aim! Error is the only one who can defeat him! I know Error, and if there is anything that he hates more than anomalies, it's Ink! I know he's unreliable, but would you rather put him in Ink's hands or Error's?"

"Neither!" Dream grabbed Nightmare's shoulders and shoved him back, about to spring on him. "I'm going to protect my son-"

But tentacles intervened Shattered.

Aim watched in horror as the negative was also consumed with goop, retaliating at Shattered. Nightmare grabbed Shattered's tentacles with his own, his face melting at the positive. He hissed violently, his presence quenching Dream's as if it had been coupled up in a cage for many years.

When Dream saw the curse on Nightmare, his eyes widened in fright. The curse immediately left him as he stared at his brother. He started to cry. "W-Why didn't you tell me?"

The purple returned to Nightmare's eyes once more. He took a step back and looked at his own hands, terrified. The goop suddenly disappeared, and he was his normal self once more.

"I thought we were done with the secrets," Killer narrowed his eyes. "All of you! Not only did you keep all this from each other, but you kept it from Aim! He has the right to know! He could have the curse, too, for all you know! You guys kept the secret that you were still struggling. It only hurt the family! Look where it's brought us now!"

Aim's uncle glanced down at the ground. "I wanted to tell you that you weren't alone in your fight, brother," he sighed. "Just because you couldn't keep the curse inside didn't mean you had to ignore your son for seven years. But it would have only overwhelmed you. And right now, you seemed overwhelmed. Let me make this choice for Aim. I-"

Aim didn't hear anymore. He closed the window and sat on a nearby chair. Unlike his father, he had thought it over. There was nothing else that Aim wanted more; he wanted to kill Ink. He wanted to make them pay. If that meant teaming up with an evil killer and dying afterward, so be it.

It was reckless, but he removed his fear with his own power. Little did he know how dangerous that was.

Aim wandered over to the front door and stepped outside. Dream, Nightmare, and Killer seemed to have calmed down. They were all sitting down on the lime grass, conversing quietly. Dream perked his head up when he heard Aim's footsteps near. His eyes softened. "Aim, honey, we are almost done. Please go back inside-"

"I'm accepting Error's offer."

The three adults stared at him in shock. Nightmare and Killer looked relieved, but Dream was in denial. "No, you're not. You don't know what you're getting yourself into-"

"I'm not five anymore, Dad!" Aim cried. "I've heard enough to know what Error is capable of, and I don't care. I know Ink wants me for my power, and I know he will attack again. None of you can protect me, but Error can. Not only that, but Error will help me kill him to avenge my dad!"

"Revenge is not the answer," Nightmare commented. "I learned that the hard way."

"But you want him dead too, uncle," Aim interjected.

"Smart kid," Killer added. "He's right. We do want the painter dead." Killer put his knives away. "We don't really have a choice, either."

"Good job being the voice of reason," the negative smirked.

Killer smirked his iconic grin back. "I try."

"I can't allow it!" Dream shook his head, his eyes shaking. "Aim, I can't lose you too..."

"You can't protect me forever," Aim answered. "The best way to protect me is to accept this deal. And I'm going to."

"L-L-Look a-at that, a-a-anamonly #241 is a-already smar-rter than y-you a-all."

Despite only meeting him once, Aim memorized that voice by heart. He-along with the adults-turned around to see the destroyer staring at them. His arms were crossed and his robe blew in the wind. He glitched in and out of code, but his gaze remained steady.

"Leave," Dream hissed, standing up as his tentacles appeared again.,

"Looks l-l-like you d-don't have c-c-control o-over this s-situation any-ymore, Dre-SHattered," Error mocked. "The b-boy has d-decided, has h-he not?"

"No, he-"

"I have," Aim interjected. "I accept your offer, Destroyer-"

"E-E-Error works f-fine," Error rolled his eyes.

Nightmare walked over to where Dream hung his head low as tears streamed down his face. His uncle hugged the positive closely. "This is our only choice," he whispered slowly. "It's going to be okay..."

"I-I'm not k-kidnapping h-him, i-idiots!" Error hissed. "I-I will v-visit f-frequently to t-train h-him here. W-Why is t-t-that an is-ssue, Dream?"

Dream death-stared Error through his grief-stricken eyes. "I don't trust you..."

"Y-Y-You d-don't h-have a c-choice," The smile that appeared on the destroyer's face shook Aim's soul. He stretched his hand out to the boy. "Come, b-boy, we'll make h-h-history."

Aim stared at the hand. This was it. The moment he would start his path to revenge. The moment he would stop being treated like a child. The moment there would no longer be any secrets.

Aim accepted Error's hand, which made the destroyer glitch. Time warped around him as everything appeared white around him. His family faded as well as the setting around him.

It was the choice that marked his destiny.

After 6 months, here's Dark Cream Week ꒰(@｀꒳´)꒱

Dark Cream and Dark Cream Week belong to @zu-is-here

The French version

This is the first time I've reblogged something (if it bothers you, let me know) (　´∀｀)

I really like the way you write, your descriptions, the way you just poke at our emotions to make us cry like them and the way you see the characters. I felt really bad for them, knowing that after seven years they hadn't managed to move on ヘ(￣ω￣ヘ)

Making a deal with Error is a good idea, but it can also be double-edged. He can keep his side of the bargain until Ink is a thing of the past, but after that? Would he attack Aim because he's an anomaly and because of his abilities? Will he get attached to the child in his own way? And will Nightmare even risk his nephew's life knowing what he means to him? And how will Dream and Killer react to Error's surprise visit ꒰(@｀꒳´)꒱

I can't wait to find out what answers you have to offer (of course, if that's your aim) (=ↀωↀ=)✧

There is the English version at the beginning and the French version afterwards •w•

The Post Dark Cream Comic and Aim belongs to @zu-is-here (and it's also thanks to her that you can read this story XD)

𓆩☬𓆪

The sound of a music box began to be heard in a distorted way, drowned out by the shores of the awakening. When the boy stretched, he tried to remember the melody. Where had he heard it? And who was that dark figure who had suddenly vanished into his dream?

He got out of bed, walking quietly towards the living room where Dream was, who had already started to prepare breakfast. Cross was still sleeping, taking advantage of this Saturday morning to sleep in. 

The little one helped his father take the cups and the bowl he gave him, being too high for him, before putting them on the table. He sat quietly at the table, before starting to put milk in his bowl, while the positive one went to wake up his husband. 

They both came back into the room, his father's eyes still clouded with sleep and calmly holding his soul mate, having still managed to trap him with his arms. Dream smiled, touched by this gesture he received from his husband every weekend. 

He managed to free himself from his hold by sitting down quietly. Cross, before sitting down, kissed his son's forehead, wishing him good morning. They ate lunch in good spirits, as usual.

Then, as he did every weekend, the little skeleton got ready to see his uncle. He looked in the small library in the living room for his favourite book. It was the only one that had been made by hand and his father had already told him that his uncle had made it. 

He loved its hardback cover covered with a layer of blue leather, where a huge apple tree was engraved. Some of the apples were completely engraved while others had only the outline defined. On the corners furthest apart, the leather was tinged with yellow at the top and purple at the bottom. Silver corners were attached to each edge of the book, representing a moon and a sun. He knew that the book was called The Power of Feeling, because his uncle told him every time, he read it. 

He grabbed it, and then went into the kitchen, taking two small chocolate bars as usual. He checked that he hadn't forgotten anything before opening the door and greeting his parents. Cross said to him: 

“You be careful going in.”

“I promise, have a good day.”

They said the same before he closed the door. He went as usual to the playground, where he always waited for his uncle. He liked to have fun here, and sometimes Killer would come and play with him too, but he left quickly after Nightmare arrived.

He walked over to the swing before sitting down, putting the book on his lap. He began to swing quietly, being careful not to knock the book off by going too fast. He stopped abruptly when he heard an unfamiliar voice behind him asking if he was expecting his uncle. 

He turned to answer him when he saw his face: a skeleton with pastel pupils and a paintbrush with an ink stain on his cheek. The skeleton his parents had always told him to watch out for. He remained silent, not knowing what to do.

“...You're very quiet. I thought you'd be more talkative than that. You must get that from Cross, he was never really talkative at first. But after we became friends, he was more so.”

“Are you a friend of Dad's?”

“Yes, although I'm more Dream's friend. We've known each other for a long time, and we've had many adventures together. He even bailed me out a few times.”

“Really, it's so cool!”

“But then your parents met, and I never really saw them again... But they never told you about it?”

In the face of Aim's silence, Ink added:

“They never showed you where they declared their love? If you want, I can take you there. It's a place full of so many memories.”

“But Uncle Mare-”

“Nightmare already knows this place; he'll join us when he gets here and doesn't see us. Don't you trust your parents' friends?”

Deep inside, his instincts were screaming at him no, reminding him of their warning. But on the other hand, he knew his uncle and fathers and was a friend of theirs, so he could trust him...? And his uncle knew this place too.

He took the taller boy's hand before the latter combed the ground with his brush, then jumped into the puddle, dragging the child with him. They found themselves in a wooded area, the smell of pine trees could be felt. The snow covered them gently, giving the place a fresh feel.

Ink began to walk through the forest, followed by Aim who marvelled at the place. It reminded him of the woods where he and his parents used to go in the winter. They would have fun skating on the frozen lake that hid in his place, having a snowball fight where his papa would watch them, before starting to have fun with them after taking a snowball on his shoulder because of his dad, and they would end their day all at home over hot chocolate. Maybe he would see a place like that here, and he could go with his parents, that would be nice. 

He was about to tell the other skeleton about it when this feeling, or rather lack of feeling, crept into his mind. It was strange, but usually he felt like he knew when someone was doing well or not, like a hunch. It had always been the case, yet when faced with this stranger he felt nothing, and unconsciously it twisted his stomach slightly, chilled his bones, without him really knowing why. 

Inwardly he tried to find a reason for this exception, as the trees around them became less and less numerous. Buildings began to appear in the distance. Aim, seeing this, wondered who they would find. If this was where his parents had declared their love, then surely, he would meet friends of theirs.

The excitement of seeing more of his parents' friends was short-lived when he saw that the buildings were in ruins. Some had their facades ripped open, others had their roofs and probably their interiors collapsed. Others had only broken windows, and the only ones that had no apparent damage made the atmosphere strangely even heavier. A ghost town, that was the vision before their eyes. 

Aim's bad feeling resurfaced, even more powerful than before. How could his parents have decided to declare themselves in a ruined place? What could have happened here? He pulled the book tighter to his chest, becoming slightly alarmed by the scene before them. He stammered: 

“Sir... Are you sure Uncle Mare will find us here? He was waiting for us in the playground, he might get worried if he doesn't find us, and it's not inhabited here at all, he might not find us.”

“Do you know who destroyed this place,” asked the protector, his back still turned to the boy.

“...No...”

“It was your uncle with Killer, to try to show Cross that he could never be happy, and also because of his betrayal and escape.”

“You're lying! Uncle Mare and Killer would never do that!”

“You seem to like them, maybe that's a good thing... But know kid that I never lie.”

As he said his last sentence, he turned around completely, his pastel pupils and his slight smile had given way to a face devoid of all emotion. He crouched down facing the child, before declaring: 

“What follows is simple: I ask for your help, you accept and after you have helped me, I will take you back to your parents, no one knows.”

“Help with what?

“You just have to use your power over me, you know the one that can change emotions.”

“Dad and Papa said that's a power that can hurt people, and that you shouldn't use it.”

“And why not?”

“They said that by using this power, people can get hurt because they wouldn't know if they really liked us. They said that it is more important that they like us for who we really are, than by lying to them and changing something so precious.”

Ink thought for a moment before saying:

“I won't mind you using your power on me, on the contrary. I have no soul; I can't feel emotions like others. But if you used it, I could be normal.”

“Don't you have a soul? But my power only works when people already have feelings.”

“How can you be so sure when you haven't even tried,” he asked in a colder voice.

“My power is used to change the emotions of others, to rewrite them. If they don't exist, I can't change them.”

“So, you can't help me... I don't see why I should do what I told you then.”

The atmosphere was becoming frightening. Ink's voice and face was like that of a cruel psychopath in frightening nightmares, and the quiet of the place seemed to become oppressive. The boy took a step back, shaking more and more.

“You're scaring me.”

“Scared? I'm just asking you to help me. Your parents never taught you to be nice,” Ink said as he grabbed Aim's arm, dropping the book he was holding.

A Gaster Blaster appeared beside him before firing at the other skeleton. At the same time, the boy's soul turned blue, throwing him into his dad's arms. He boiled with rage and anguish, his eyes now only two blood-red pupils.

The latter was about to use his knife to teleport with his son when Ink created ink bones which he hurled at them. Cross smashed them with his weapon before setting Aim down beside the tree behind him. He would have preferred to get his son to safety before starting this fight, but Ink prevented him from actually doing so.

So, he turned his knife into two daggers and teleported behind the protector, trying to slice him by surprise. Ink dodged before hitting him with a brush, knocking him back a few feet.

Even though the monochrome had failed to hit him, he was slightly pleased that the fight was taking place away from where his child was. He sent bones at his opponent, who liquefied, before resurfacing next to him and trying to summon a Gaster Blaster. Cross gave him no time, sending his leg slamming into his stomach, smashing it against the tree behind him.

Ink coughed from the impact of the tree and also from the kick. Even though they were skeletons and didn't have stomachs or diaphragms, their magic reacted as if they did, and they really didn't appreciate that kind of blow. He lay down on the ground to dodge the Gaster Blaster shot that Cross had just fired, which destroyed and burned the plant and those behind it.

Then he grabbed his brush which he had dropped before creating a wall of ink to protect himself from a volley of bones. This separation disappeared after his opponent sliced it with his daggers, coming closer to him. To keep him away, he created several rows of bones before landing on a low tree branch near Cross.

Black tears began to fall from Cross's eyes, showing his growing negative feelings to the point of overflowing. 

“I haven't seen your face like that for years,” Ink added. “The last time was the day I paid you and Dream a little surprise visit. I didn't expect to see you with a baby, but what surprised me most that day was that your child had this power. Honestly, we could have a lot of fun, and thanks to him, I could have feelings like the others again. You can do that for your friend.”

“You're not my friend, you're just a skeleton who has become obsessed with something he doesn't have and never will. Because of your madness, you put Aim in danger that day and you just did it again today.”

“... In danger... I didn't do anything wrong... I took him to a place that is important to you, I told him everything that happened here, and I kindly asked him to help me. There's nothing wrong with that. On reflection, maybe I should have been more radical... But I can always make it right.”

Three Gaster Blasters appeared in front of the boy, startling him and his father. Before the shots were fired, they heard the AU protector speak his words like a death sentence:

“If Error can create new things when he is repulsed by it and our agreement still stood at that time, then I may as well do the same. I'll never be forgotten again, even if it means going from good guy to bad guy protector.”

“AIM!!!”

Cross was too far away from Aim to get there in time, so he made a giant wall of bones to protect him. He didn't have time to reassure himself that he was okay or even make another move, as Ink had already launched a bone attack. He had let his guard down, desperate to save his son, and before he could even protect himself, bones had embedded themselves in his torso, several touching his soul.

His purple blood began to stain his white top, and to run from the corners of his mouth, before falling to the ground. Two shrill cries rang out at that moment: Aim's, who had moved away from the half-destroyed wall to reassure his father, and Dream's. He was teleported to his son in spite of himself, thanks to his husband. The latter had arrived in his place after sensing his soul mate's overly negative feelings. But he had arrived too late to protect him from the treacherous attack that Ink had launched against him.

Dream held him in his arms on his knees, his eyes flooded with tears, trying to use his healing magic on him. But the wounds on his soul were too numerous for him to do so. Aim rushed towards them, seeing with horror the gaping holes in his father's torso, his breath choked and his soul cracking from the damage it had taken. 

He searched his pockets, trying to find the chocolate bars he had taken a few hours earlier. He had taken two, but he was unable to find them. His hands were shaking, and his tears were appearing more and more, blurring his vision. He searched desperately before realising that they were not where he had put them. 

He had probably dropped them without noticing, then he remembered the playground, that moment when they had jumped into the gate. Surely that was when he had lost them. After all, he had been careful not to drop and damage the book, but he hadn't checked for the chocolate bars. 

“Dad...”

Aim didn't know what to say or do. His father was starting to crumble, and he didn't know how to save him. To reassure him, Cross pulled him closer to him, before giving him a kiss on the forehead, as he used to doing.

Then he put his hand on his husband's cheek, trying to remove the tears that were running down with his thumb, even though new ones appeared right after. He tried with difficulty to take a steady breath before saying: 

“I'm sorry, I let my guard down again. I couldn't protect you anymore... Don't cry... I've always preferred it when you smile... I wish I could keep seeing you smile and laugh...”

His husband tried to put on a smile, but it looked more like a forced grimace distorted by sadness. Cross stood up slightly before placing a final kiss on his soul mate's teeth. 

“You are my two rays of sunshine...”

He had spoken his words with the last of his strength, before disappearing entirely into a pile of dust. His son looked down at his remains, his tears growing more and more uncontrollable. His eyesight was blurred and he couldn't see what was around him, except for the dust as his tears fell.

Dream, on the other hand, stared into space before screaming at the assassin. His scream was filled with rage and hatred, changing to a promise of death as his voice became different, dark, corrupt. 

Bones cracked as tentacles ripped through the back of his jumper, moving uncontrollably like snakes preparing to bite their prey. Black liquid began to cover him, devouring his blind eye again, making it disappear.

Before he left to take his revenge, he saw the look in his son's eyes that was mixed with sadness, fear and horror. He didn't know if it was due to his appearance, which he considered hideous, or because he was afraid of simply losing his papa, but that look made him even more angry at the painter. Because of him, he had lost his husband, but he had also had to traumatize his child with his appearance. 

Nightmare and Killer arrived shortly afterwards, to see Dream in his corrupted form lashing out at Ink's inert and almost completely destroyed body, while Aim cried at a pile of dust. The two skeletons had quickly guessed who he belonged to by the scene before them. 

The negative one moved towards his brother to stop him, but Killer stopped him by holding his arm, feeling only angst at the scene before them.

“I need you to take Aim and get out of here, while I calm Dream down,” he announced, pulling his arm free of the other skeleton's grip. 

“No, you'll get killed. I-”

“Because you think you can do it? Take Aim and leave! That's an order,” he shouted.

The tearful man looked at him in despair, wanting to say something more. He knew that Nightmare was right and that he was just wasting time, but he couldn't help the fear that was eating away at his stomach. It was Cross who had managed to bring Dream to his senses, not Nightmare, so how could he be sure he would? He shook off his worries, confidently thinking that surely, he was the only one now who could do it. Then he walked over to the boy, before picking him up and teleporting into the boy's room. 

The negative began to rush towards his brother, getting between him and Ink, dodging the tentacles that struck in the protector's direction. He caught him in his arms, trying to block his movements. 

“Calm down, you can't kill him, he's immortal like us. Think of Aim and calm down!”

The attacks stopped, and his tentacles collapsed as if they were empty of energy. He dropped to his knees, his brother following his fall, still holding him in his arms. He turned his eyes and saw his husband's dust. If he had arrived earlier, he could have saved him, he would still be here. This sentence kept coming back in his mind, hammering him with blows, driving the nail of remorse even deeper.

Tears began to flow down his cheeks, creating ever larger wakes. He returned his brother's embrace, holding his coat as if it were the last thing, the last hope he could hold on to. His sobs were almost the only sound to be heard in this charred and destroyed world.

His soul froze, twisted, and felt as if it would crack and shatter at any moment. How he wished at that moment that it had. He would no longer feel that pain in his chest, that vice in his throat. He would like to join him, but he couldn't, and never would. It was one of the few privileges that was taken away from him.

The crackling of the flames was muted by the pain of the desperate cries that the positive was now throwing into the void, tearing at the same time at his brother's heart.

It was one of the few moments when the negative felt so helpless in the face of his younger brother's pain. What could he say, what could he do to heal his broken heart, except wait and show his presence and support through a simple hug. Only time would soften his grieving soul and they both knew it, but at the time it was hard to take.

All this pain and sorrow was preventing him from returning to his normal form. He didn't want to scare his son; he didn't want him to see him like that again. So, between his uncontrollable sobs, he stammered:

“I don't want to show myself to Aim like this.”

“Take your time,” his brother added in a calm voice.

Meanwhile, the boy was crying in Killer's arms, unable to get the image of his dad turning to dust out of his mind. It wasn't possible, his father had always been strong, he couldn't die like that. He would probably come back and say it was a joke, his papa would scold him for it, and to make up for it he would hug him, as always. As always, he would walk quietly out the door. He was coming back! He would come back... right?

He knew in his soul that reality was not what he wanted to see. He knew what fate had befallen his father, he had seen it with his own eyes, but he could not accept it. Or rather he didn't want to accept it. 

“Dad will come back, right? He's coming home,” the boy whined between sobs.

“It'll be okay,” Killer reassured him. 

It was the only sentence he repeated softly, as if he only knew that one, which was becoming more and more meaningless with its relentless repetition. He rubbed his back to soothe him. He kept a mask of calm to reassure the little one and not to show his feelings, even if his molten heart gave him away.

Aim slowly calmed down. He wished so much that time would wind up like a simple stopped music box. It was then that he asked Killer if he could rest, to wake up from this cruel bad dream, which the taller man accepted. Before going to sleep, he left his room, followed by Killer who did not understand why he was leaving.

The little skeleton walked through the house towards his parents' room. He entered the room and saw that it was in the same state as it was in the beginning, tidy, the bed still made in the same way, the wardrobe still closed, the sunlight partly filtered by the curtains almost entirely open. 

It was like an unchanged vestige of time, a vestige that reminded him of that happy time he spent with his parents. He kept hoping that it was a nightmare, so that he could wake up and hug his fathers again.

He walked over to Cross's bedside table, picking up the slightly cracked heart-shaped locket that lay on it. He had seen it once and simply asked what it was. He remembered the image as he opened it and turned a small mechanism inside, making the soft sound of a music box playing Always with me.

He remembered the wistful look on his father's face, before he calmly told him that this jewel was very important to him, and that he would rather leave it safe than risk it being damaged even more than it was by wearing it. He remembered that his father had not said who the people drawn with him were, nor the meaning of the word written above it, and he had preferred not to ask him.

He hadn't touched it again, not wanting to risk breaking something precious to one of his parents. But now he just wanted to have it so he wouldn't feel like he was breaking himself like a fragile object. Or maybe he just wanted something that belonged to him so that he would feel like it was still near him. 

He took it in his hand, tangling the golden chain between his knuckles. Killer said nothing, understanding that the smaller boy was trying to hold on to something that would remind him of Cross. Nevertheless, when the boy returned to his room, he said softly: 

“Kiddo, if you need me, I'll be right here in the living room. Dream and Nightmare should be back soon, I'll wait for them.”

“Will you stay with me? I'd like one more hug.”

The teary-eyed man agreed, sitting down on the bed with his back against the wall before taking him in his arms. Aim, for his part, had abandoned his Rubik's Cube, which he used whenever he felt bad. Instead, he opened the locket and activated the mechanism, which instantly pierced the silence with the soft crystalline notes of the lullaby. 

He stayed there, listening quietly, thinking of nothing but the hope of waking up from this nightmare. He closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the sound of the lullaby and the sleep. A tear rolled down his cheek, before falling onto the taller man's shirt as the last note of the song was heard, leaving them to be engulfed again by the morbid silence.

It was also at this point that Killer silently broke down, shattering the mask that had been forged on his face earlier, unable to hold back his tears and grief at the death of his friend. 

𓆩☬𓆪

Le son d'une boîte à musique commença à se faire entendre de manière distordu, noyé par les rives du réveil. Lorsque le petit s’étira, il essaya de se souvenir de cette mélodie. Où l'avait-il bien entendu ? Et qui était cette silhouette sombre qui s'était soudainement évaporé dans son rêve ?

Il sortit de son lit, se dirigeant tranquillement vers le salon où se trouvé Dream, qui avais déjà commencé à préparer le petit-déjeuner. Cross quant à lui, dormait toujours, profitant de ce samedi matin pour faire la grasse matinée.

Le petit aida son papa prenant les tasses puis le bol qu’il lui donnait, étant trop haut pour lui, avant de les poser sur la table. Il s’assit tranquillement à table, avant de commencer à verser du lait dans son bol, pendant que le positif allait réveiller son mari.

Ils revinrent tout deux dans la pièce, son père ayant les yeux encore embrumés de sommeil et tenant calmement son âme-sœur, ayant encore réussi à l’emprisonner avec ses bras. Dream sourit, attendri par ce geste qu’il recevait de son mari chaque week-end.

Il réussit à se libérer de son emprise en s’asseyant tranquillement. Cross, avant de s’assoir à son tour, fis un bisou sur le front de son fils, lui souhaitant bonjour. Ils déjeunèrent dans la bonne humeur, comme d'habitude.

Puis comme chaque week-end, le petit squelette se prépara pour voir son oncle. Il chercha dans la petite bibliothèque du salon son livre préféré. C’était le seul qui avais été fait à la main et son papa lui avait déjà avouer que c’était son oncle qui l’avait fabriqué.

Il aimait énormément sa couverture cartonnée recouverte d’une couche de cuir bleutée, où un immense pommier y était gravé. Ses pommes étaient pour certaines entièrement gravée tandis que d’autre n’avais que le contour défini. Sur les coins les plus éloignés l’un de l’autre, le cuir se teintait de jaune en haut et de violet en bas. Des coins en argent était accrocher sur chaque bord du livre et représentait une lune et un soleil. Il savait que ce livre s’appelait La force des sentiments, grâce à son oncle qui lui disais à chaque fois qu’il le lisait.

Il l’attrapa, et se dirigea ensuite dans la cuisine, prenant deux petites barres chocolatées comme à son habitude. Il vérifia qu’il n’oubliait rien avant d’ouvrir la porte en saluant ses parents. Cross lui dit :

—Tu fais attention en y allant.

—Promis, bonne journée.

Ils lui répondirent la même chose avant qu’il ne ferme la porte. Il partit comme à son habitude vers l’aire de jeu, où il attendait toujours son oncle. Il aimait beaucoup s’amuser ici, et parfois, Killer venait aussi jouer avec lui, mais il partait rapidement après que Nightmare soit arrivé.

Il s’approcha de la balançoire avant de s’assoir, posant le livre sur ses genoux. Il commença à se balancer tranquillement, faisant attention à ne pas faire tomber le livre en allant trop vite. Il s’arrêta brusquement lorsqu’il entendit une voix inconnue derrière lui demandant s’il attendait son oncle.

Il se retourna pour lui répondre lorsqu’il vit son visage : un squelette aux pupilles pastel accompagné d’un pinceau et ayant une tache d’encre sur la joue. Le squelette dont ses parents lui ont toujours dit de se méfier. Il resta muet, ne sachant pas trop quoi faire.

—…Tu es bien silencieux. Je pensais que tu serais plus bavard que ça. Tu dois sûrement tenir ça de Cross, il n'a jamais été vraiment bavard au début. Mais après qu’on soit devenu ami il l’était plus.

—Vous êtes un ami de Dad ?

—Oui, même si je suis plus l’ami de Dream. On se connait depuis longtemps, et on a vécu beaucoup d’aventures ensemble. Il m’a même déjà tiré d’affaire plusieurs fois.

—Vraiment, c’est trop cool !

—Mais après tes parents se sont rencontré, et je ne les ai plus vraiment revus... Mais ils ne t’en ont jamais parlé ?

Devant le silence de Aim, Ink ajouta :

—Ils ne t’ont jamais montré où se sont déclaré leur amour ? Si tu veux, je peux t’y amener. C’est un endroit chargé de tellement de souvenirs.

—Mais Oncle Mare-

—Nightmare connais déjà cet endroit, il nous rejoindra quand il arrivera et qu’il ne nous verra pas ici. Tu ne fais pas confiance aux amis de tes parents ?

Au plus profond de lui, son instinct lui criait non, lui rappelant leur mise en garde. Mais d’un autre coté il connaissait son oncle et ses pères et était un ami d’eux, alors il pouvait lui faire confiance... ? Et son oncle connaissait aussi ce lieu.

Il prit la main du plus grand avant que ce dernier peigne le sol avec son pinceau, sautant ensuite dans cette flaque en entrainant l’enfant avec lui. Ils se retrouvèrent dans un lieu boisé, l’odeur des pins se faisait ressentir. La neige les recouvrés doucement, rendant une sensation de frai à ce lieu.

Ink commença à marcher dans la forêt, suivit de Aim qui s’émerveillé devant les lieux. Ça lui faisait penser au bois ou ses parents et lui avaient l’habitude d’aller l’hiver. Ils s’amusaient à patiner sur le lac gelé qui se dissimuler dans ses lieux, à faire une bataille de boules de neiges où son papa les regarder, avant de commencer à s’amuser avec eux après avoir pris une boule de neige sur l’épaule à cause de son père, et ils finissaient leur journée chez eux tous autour d’un chocolat chaud. Peut-être qu’il verrait un lieu comme ça ici, et qu’il pourrait y aller avec ses parents, ce serait bien.

Il allait en parler à l’autre squelette quand cette sensation, ou plutôt cette absence de sensation s’immisça dans son esprit. C’était étrange, mais d’habitude il avait l’impression de savoir quand quelqu’un allait bien ou mal, un peu comme une intuition. Ça avait toujours été le cas, pourtant face à cet étranger il ne ressentait rien, et inconsciemment ça lui tordait légèrement l’estomac, lui glaçait les os, sans qu’il ne sache vraiment pourquoi.

Il essaya de trouver intérieurement une raison à cette exception, lorsque les arbres autour d’eux devenait de moins en moins nombreux. Des bâtiments commençaient à apparaître au loin. Aim en voyant ça, se demanda qui ils allaient trouver. Si c’était ici que ses parents avaient déclaré leur amour, alors il rencontrera sûrement des amis à eux.

Cette excitation de voir d’autres amis de ses parents fut de courte durée, lorsque qu’il vit que les bâtiments étaient en ruines. Certains avait leurs façades d’éventré, d’autre le toit et surement l’intérieur d’effondrer. D’autres encore n’avait que les fenêtres de brisés, et les seules qui n’avait aucun dégât apparent rendais bizarrement l’ambiance encore plus pesante. Une ville fantôme, voilà la vision qui était devant leur yeux.

Le mauvais pressentiment de Aim refit surface, encore plus puissant qu’avant. Comment ses parents auraient pu décider de se déclarer dans un endroit en ruines ? Qu'avait-il bien pus se passer ici ? Il resserra le livre sur son torse, devenant légèrement inquiet par les lieux devant eux. Il bredouilla :

—Monsieur... Vous êtes sûr qu’Oncle Mare va nous trouver ici ? Il nous attendait dans l’air de jeu, il risque de s’inquiétait s’il ne nous trouve pas, et ça n’est pas du tout habité ici, il risque de ne pas nous trouvé.

—Sais-tu qui a détruit ce lieu, demanda le protecteur toujours le dos tourné vers le petit.

—…Non…

—C'est ton oncle avec Killer, pour essayer de montrer à Cross qu’il ne pourrait jamais être heureux, et aussi à cause de sa trahison et de sa fuite.

—Vous mentez ! Oncle Mare et Killer ne feraient jamais ça !

—Tu sembles les aimé, c'est peut-être une bonne chose… Mais sache petit que je ne mens jamais.

En prononçant sa dernière phrase, il se retourna entièrement, ses pupilles pastel et son léger sourire de façade avaient laisser place à un visage vide de toutes émotions. Il s’accroupi face à l’enfant, avant de déclarer :

—Ce qui va suivre est simple : Je te demande de l'aide, tu acceptes et après que tu m'es aidé, je te ramène à tes parents ni vu, ni connu.

—De l'aide pour quoi ?

—Tu as juste à utiliser ton pouvoir sur moi, tu sais celui qui peut modifier les émotions.

—Papa et Dad ont dit que c'est un pouvoir qui peut blesser les gens, et qu'il fallait surtout pas l’utiliser.

—Et pourquoi donc ?

—Ils ont dit qu’en utilisant ce pouvoir, les personnes peuvent se sentir blesser parce qu’ils ne pourraient pas savoir s’ils nous apprécient vraiment. Ils ont dit qu'il faut plutôt qu'ils nous aiment pour ce qu'on est vraiment, qu’en leur mentant et en leur changeant quelques chose d'aussi précieux.

Ink réfléchis quelques instants avant de dire :

—Je ne prendrai pas mal que tu utilises ton pouvoir sur moi, au contraire. Je n'ai pas d’âme, je ne peux pas ressentir des émotions comme les autres. Mais si tu l’utilisais, je pourrais être normal.

—Vous n'avez pas d’âme ? Mais mon pouvoir ne fonctionne que lorsque des personnes ont déjà des sentiments.

—Comment tu peux en être si sûr alors que tu n'as même pas essayé, demanda-t-il d'une voix plus froide.

—Mon pouvoir sert à modifier les émotions des autres, à les réécrire. S’ils n'existent pas, je ne peux pas les changer.

—Alors, tu ne peux pas m’aider... Je ne vois pas pourquoi je ferais ce que je t'ai dit alors.

L'ambiance devenait angoissante. La voix et le visage de Ink était semblable à celle d'un cruel psychopathe dans des cauchemars effrayants, et le calme des lieux semblait devenir oppressant. Le petit recula d'un pas, tremblant de plus en plus.

—Vous me faites peur.

—Peur ? Je te demande juste de m'aider. Tes parents ne t’ont jamais appris à être gentil, déclara Ink en attrapant le bras de Aim, faisant tomber le livre qu'il tenait.

Un Gaster Blaster apparu à côté de ce dernier avant de tirer sur l'autre squelette. Au même moment, l’âme du petit vira au bleu, le projetant dans les bras de son père. Celui-ci bouillonnait de rage et d'angoisse, ses yeux n’étant plus que deux pupilles rouge sang.

Ce dernier allait utiliser son couteau pour se téléporter avec son fils lorsque Ink créa des os d’encre qu’il projeta sur eux. Cross les brisa avec son arme avant de poser Aim à côté de l’arbre derrière lui. Il aurait préféré mettre son fils à l’abri avant d’entamer ce combat, mais Ink l’empêcher de véritablement le faire.

Alors il transforma son couteau en deux dagues et se téléporta derrière le protecteur, essayant de le trancher par surprise. Ink esquiva avant de lui asséner un coup de pinceau, le faisant reculer de quelques mètres.

Même si le monochrome n’avais pas réussi à le toucher, il était légèrement satisfait que le combat se déroulais loin de là où était son enfant. Il envoya des os sur son adversaire, qui se liquéfia, avant de resurgir à côté de lui et d’essayer d’invoquer un Gaster Blaster. Cross ne lui laissa pas le temps, envoyant sa jambe frapper son ventre, le fracassant contre l’arbre derrière lui.

Ink toussa dû au choc contre l’arbre mais aussi dû au coup de pied. Même si c’était des squelettes et qu’ils n’avaient pas d’estomac ni de diaphragmes, leur magie réagissait comme s’ils en avais, et elles n’apprécié vraiment pas ce genre de coup. Il se coucha au sol pour esquiver le tir de Gaster Blaster que venait de tirer Cross, qui détruisit et brûla le végétal et ceux qui se trouver derrière.

Puis il attrapa son pinceau qu’il avait fait tomber avant de créer un mur d’encre pour se protéger d’une salve d’os. Cette séparation disparue après que son adversaire la trancha avec ses dagues, se rapprochant de lui. Pour l’éloigner de lui, il créa plusieurs rangés d’os avant de se poser sur une branche basse d’un arbre, proche de Cross.

Des larmes noires commençaient à couler des yeux de ce dernier, montrant ses sentiments négatifs de plus en plus important, au point de déborder.

—Ça fais des années que je n’avais pas vu ton visage comme ça, ajouta Ink. La dernière fois, ça a été le jour où je vous ai rendus une petite visite surprise à toi et Dream. Je ne m’attendais pas à vous voir avec un bébé, mais ce qui m’a le plus surpris ce jour-là, ça a été que ton enfant est ce pouvoir. Franchement, on pourrait bien s’amuser, et grâce à lui, je pourrais de nouveau ressentir des sentiments comme les autres. Tu peux bien faire ça pour ton ami.

—Tu n’es pas mon ami, tu es juste un squelette qui est devenu obsédé par une chose qu’il n’a pas et n’aura jamais. À cause de ta folie, tu as mis ce jour-là Aim en danger et tu viens encore de le faire aujourd’hui.

—… En danger... Je n’ai pourtant rien fait de mal... Je l’ai amené dans un lieu important pour vous, je lui ai dit tous ce qui c’était passé ici, et je lui ai gentiment demander de m’aider. Il n’y a rien de mal. En y réfléchissant, peut-être que j’aurai dû être plus radical... Mais je peux toujours rectifier le coup.

Trois Gaster Blasters apparurent devant le petit, le surprenant ainsi que son père. Avant que les coups soient tirés, ils entendirent le protecteur des AU prononcé ses mots comme une sentence de mort :

—Si Error peut créer de nouvelles choses alors qu’il est répugné par ça et que notre accord tenait toujours à ce moment-là, alors je peux tout aussi bien faire pareil. Je ne serais plus jamais oublié, même si ça signifie passer du gentil au méchant protecteur.

—AIM !!!

Cross était trop loin de Aim pour arriver à temps, alors il fit un gigantesque mur d’os pour le protéger. Il n’eut pas le temps de se rassurer qu’il aller bien ou même de faire un autre mouvement, que Ink avait déjà lancé une attaque d’os. Il avait baissé sa garde voulant à tout prix sauver son fils, et avant même qu’il puisse se protéger, des os s’étaient planté dans son torse, plusieurs touchant son âme.

Son sang violet commença à teintait son haut blanc, et à couler des commissures de sa bouche, avant de tomber au sol. Deux cris stridents retentir à ce moment-là : celui de Aim qui s’était décalé du mur à moitié détruit pour rassurer son père, et Dream. Il fut téléporté vers son fils malgré lui, grâce à son mari. Ce dernier était arrivé dans ses lieux après avoir sentis les sentiments trop négatifs de son âme-sœur. Mais il était arrivé trop tard pour le protéger de l’attaque traître que lui avais lancé Ink.

Dream le tenait dans les bras à genoux, ses yeux inondés de larmes, essayant d’utiliser sa magie de soins sur lui. Mais les blessures sur son âme étaient trop importantes pour qu’il y arrive. Aim se précipita vers eux, voyant avec horreur les trous béants qui parsemés le torse de son père, son souffle haché et son âme qui craqueler à cause des dégâts trop importante qu’elle s’était prise.

Il chercha dans ses poches, essayant de retrouver les barres chocolatées qu'il avait pris quelques heures plus tôt. Il en avait pris deux, mais il était incapable de les retrouver. Ses mains tremblaient, et ses larmes apparaissaient de plus en plus, brouillant sa vision. Il chercha désespérément avant de réaliser qu’elles n’étaient pas là où il les avait mises.

Il les avait sûrement fais tomber sans s’en apercevoir, puis il se rappela de l’aire de jeu, ce moment où ils avaient sauté dans le portail. C’était sûrement à ce moment-là qu’il les avait perdus. Après tout, il avait fait attention à ne pas faire tomber et abimé le livre, mais il n’avait pas vérifié pour les barres chocolatées.

—Dad...

Aim ne savait pas quoi dire ou quoi faire. Son père commençait à partir en poussière, et il ne savait pas comment le sauver. Pour le rassurer, ce dernier le rapprocha de lui, avant de lui faire un bisou sur le front comme il avait l’habitude de le faire.

Puis il posa sa main sur la joue de son mari, essayant d’enlever les larmes qui coulaient avec son pouce, même si de nouvelles apparaissait juste après. Il tentait difficilement de prendre une respiration régulière avant de lui dire :

—Je suis désolé, j’ai encore baissé ma garde. Je ne pourrais plus vous protéger... Ne pleurez pas... J’ai toujours préféré quand vous souriez... J’aimerais tellement pouvoir continuer de vous voir sourire et rire...

Son mari essaya d’afficher un sourire, mais ce dernier ressemblait plus à une grimace forcée et déformé par la tristesse. Cross se releva légèrement avant de déposer un dernier baisé sur les dents de son âme-sœur.

—Vous êtes mes deux rayons de soleil...

Il avait prononcé ses mots avec les dernières forces qu’il lui resté, avant de disparaître entièrement dans un amas de poussières. Son fils regarda ses restes, ses larmes devenaient de plus en plus incontrôlables. Sa vue se troublait et il ne voyait pas ce qui l’entourer, à part les poussières lorsque ses larmes tombaient.

Dream quant à lui regarder dans le vague avant de hurler en regardant l’assassin. Son cri était rempli de rage et de haine, se modifiant en une promesse de mort en même temps que sa voix devenait différente, sombre, corrompu.

Des craquements d’os se firent entendre lorsque des tentacules déchirèrent le dos de son pull, bougeant de manière incontrôlable, comme des serpents se préparant à mordre leur proie. Du liquide noir commença à le recouvrir, dévorant à nouveau son œil aveugle, le faisant disparaitre.

Avant qu’il ne parte pour assouvir sa vengeance, il croisa le regard de son fils qui était mélanger de tristesse, de peur et d’horreur. Il ne savait pas si c’était dû à son apparence qu’il jugeait hideuse, ou parce qu’il avait peur de tout simplement perdre son papa, mais ce regard l’énerva encore plus contre le peintre. À cause de lui, il avait perdu son mari, mais il avait aussi dû traumatiser son enfant par son aspect.

Nightmare et Killer arrivèrent peu de temps après, pour voir Dream dans sa forme corrompu s’acharné sur le corps inerte et presque entièrement détruit de Ink, tandis qu’Aim pleuré devant un tas de poussière. Les deux squelettes avaient rapidement deviné à qui il appartenait vu la scène qui s’offraient à leurs yeux.

Le négatif se dirigea vers son frère pour l’arrêter, mais Killer l'en empêcha en lui tenant le bras, ressentant que de l’angoisse face à la scène qui se déroulait devant eux.

—Il faut que tu prennes Aim et tu partes d’ici, pendant que je calme Dream, annonça-il en dégageant son bras de l’emprise de l’autre squelette.

—Non, tu risques de te faire tuer. Je-

—Parce que tu penses que tu peux le faire ? Prends Aim et pars ! C’est un ordre, hurla-t-il.

Le larmoyant le regarda désespérer, voulant rajouter quelque chose. Il savait que Nightmare avait raison et qu'il perdait juste du temps, mais il ne pouvait s’empêcher d’avoir une peur qui lui dévorer le ventre. C’était Cross qui avait réussi à ramener Dream à la raison, pas Nightmare, alors comment être sûr qu’il y arrivera ? Il se débarrassa de ses inquiétudes, en pensant avec confiance que c’était sûrement le seul maintenant à pouvoir le faire. Il se dirigea ensuite vers le petit, avant de le prendre dans les bras, puis se téléporta dans la chambre de ce dernier.

Le négatif commença à se précipiter vers son frère, se mettant entre lui et Ink, esquivant les tentacules qui frapper dans la direction du protecteur. Il l’attrapa dans les bras, essayant de le bloquer dans ses mouvements.

—Calme-toi, tu ne peux pas le tuer, il est immortel comme nous. Pense à Aim et calme-toi !

Les attaques s’arrêtèrent, et ses tentacules s’affaissèrent comme s’ils devenaient vide d’énergie. Il se laissa tomber sur ses genoux, son frère suivit sa chute, le tenant toujours dans ses bras. Il tourna les yeux et vit les poussières de son mari. S’il était arrivé plus tôt, il aurait pu le sauver, il serait encore là. Cette phrase revenait en boucle dans son esprit, le martelant de coup, enfonçant le clou des remords encore plus profondément.

Des larmes commencèrent à couler le long de ses joues, créant des sillages de plus en plus imposants. Il rendit l’étreinte à son frère, tenant son manteau comme s'il était la dernière chose, le dernier espoir sur lequel il pouvait se raccrocher. Ses sanglots était presque le seul bruit qui se faisait entendre dans ce monde calciné et détruit.

Son âme se glaçais, se tordais, lui donnais l’impression qu’elle allait se fissurer et se briser à tout moment. Comme il aurait aimé à cet instant que ce soit le cas. Il ne ressentirait plus cette douleur dans sa poitrine, cet étau dans sa gorge. Il aimerait le rejoindre, mais il ne pouvait pas, et ne pourrais jamais le faire. C’était un des rares privilèges qui lui était ôté.

Le crépitement des flammes se faisait discret face à la douleur des cris désespéré que lancer maintenant le positif dans le vide, déchirant au même instant le cœur de son frère.

Ce fut l’un des rares instants où le négatif se sentait aussi impuissant face à la douleur de son cadet. Que pouvait-il bien dire, que pouvait-il bien faire pour soigner son cœur brisé, à part attendre en montrant sa présence et son soutien à travers un simple câlin. Seul le temps adoucirait son âme en peine et ils le savaient tous deux, mais sur le moment c’était dur à encaisser.

Toutes cette peine et cette douleur l’empêchais de retrouver sa forme normale. Il ne voulait pas effrayer son fils, il ne voulait pas qu’il le voit comme ça de nouveau. Alors, entre ses sanglots incontrôlables, il bredouilla :

—Je ne veux pas me montrer à Aim comme ça.

—Prends tous ton temps, ajouta son frère d’une voix calme.

Pendant ce temps, le petit pleurait dans les bras de Killer, n’arrivant pas à enlever de son esprit l’image de son père qui se transformait en poussière. Ce n’était pas possible, son père avait toujours été fort, il ne pouvait pas mourir comme ça. Il allait surement revenir en disant que c’était une blague, son papa allait le gronder pour ça, et pour se faire pardonner, il lui ferait un câlin, comme toujours. Comme toujours, il allait passer le bas de la porte tranquillement. Il allait revenir ! Il allait revenir... non... ?

Il savait au fond de son âme que la réalité n’était pas ce qu’il voulait voir. Il savait quel destin avait eu son père, il l’avait vu de ses propres yeux, mais il ne pouvait pas l’accepter. Ou plutôt il ne voulait pas l’accepter.

—Dad va revenir, pas vrai ? Il va revenir à la maison, pleurnicha le petit entre deux sanglots.

—Ça va aller, le rassura Killer.

C'était la seule phrase qu’il répétait doucement, comme s’il ne connaissait que celle-là, qui se vidait de plus en plus de sens à force d’être inlassablement répétée. Il lui frotta le dos pour l’apaiser. Il garda un masque fais de calme pour rassurer le plus petit et ne pas montrer ses sentiments, même si son âme en cœur fondu le trahissait.

Aim se calma lentement. Il aurait tellement voulu que le temps se remonte comme une simple boite à musique arrêté. C’est à ce moment-là qu’il demanda à Killer s'il pouvait se reposer, pour se réveiller de ce cruel mauvais rêve, ce que le plus grand accepta. Avant de dormir, il partit de sa chambre, suivit de Killer qui ne comprenait pas pourquoi il partait.

Le petit squelette traversa la maison se dirigeant vers la chambre de ses parents. Il y rentra voyant la pièce dans le même état qu’elle était de base, rangée, le lit fait toujours de la même manière, l’armoire toujours fermée, les rayons du soleil qui était en parti tamisé par les rideaux presque entièrement ouvert.

Elle était comme un vestige inchangé du temps, un vestige qui lui rappelait ce temps heureux qu’il passait avec ses parents. Il espérait continuellement que ce soit un cauchemar, pour qu’il puisse se réveillait et serrait à nouveau ses pères dans ses bras.

Il se rapprocha de la table de chevet de Cross, prenant le médaillon en forme de cœur légèrement fêlé qui était posé dessus. Il l’avait vu un jour et avais simplement demandé ce que c’était. Il se souvenais de l’image quand il l’avait ouvert et actionné un petit mécanisme à l’intérieur, faisant retentir le son doux d’une boite à musique jouant Always with me.

Il se souvenais du regard mélancolique de son père, avant qu’il lui dise calmement que ce bijou était très important pour lui, et qu’il préférait le laisser en sécurité, que de risquer qu’il soit encore plus abimé qu’il ne l’était en le portant. Il se souvenais que son père n’avait pas dit qui été ses personnes dessinées avec lui, ni la signification du mot inscrit juste au-dessus, et il avait préféré ne pas le lui demander.

Il ne l’avait plus touché, ne voulant pas risquer de briser quelque chose de précieux aux yeux de l’un de ses parents. Mais maintenant, il voulait juste l’avoir pour ne pas avoir l’impression de se briser lui-même comme un objet fragile. Ou peut-être qu’il désiré simplement un objet qui lui appartenait pour avoir l’impression qu’il était toujours près de lui.

Il le prit dans la main, emmêlant la chaine dorée entre ses phalanges. Killer ne dis rien, comprenant que le plus petit essayer de se raccrocher à quelque chose qui lui rappeler la présence de Cross. Néanmoins, lorsque le petit retourna dans sa chambre, il lui dit doucement :

—Gamin, si tu as besoin je serais là dans le salon. Dream et Nightmare ne devrait pas tarder à rentrer, je vais les attendre.

—Est-ce que tu veux bien rester avec moi ? J’aimerais bien encore avoir un câlin.

Le larmoyant accepta, s’assit sur le lit, le dos appuyé contre le mur avant de le prendre dans les bras. Aim, quant à lui, avait délaisser son Rubik’s Cube qu’il utilisait pourtant à chaque fois qu’il se sentait mal. Au lieu de ça, il ouvrit le médaillon et activa le mécanisme, qui perça instantanément le silence avec les douces notes cristallines de la berceuse.

Il resta ainsi, l’écoutant calmement, ne pensant à rien d’autre qu’à l’espoir de se réveiller de ce cauchemar. Il ferma les yeux, se laissant emporter par le son de la berceuse et le sommeil. Une larme roula sur sa joue, avant de tomber sur le T-shirt du plus grand au même instant que la dernière note de la chanson se fit entendre, les laissant se faire engloutir de nouveau par le silence morbide.

Ce fus également à ce moment que Killer craqua silencieusement, brisant le masque qui s’était forgé sur le visage un peu plus tôt, n’arrivant plus à retenir ses larmes et sa peine face à la mort de son ami.

Happy birthday to my little baby ꒰♡ˊ͈ ु꒳ ूˋ͈꒱.⑅*♡

It's a bit short, but there's no angst, miracle. One day I'll publish some stuff about him ♪♪(o*゜∇゜)o～♪♪

Aim and Post Dark Cream belong to @zu-is-here

⊰✧⊱

Les deux enfants rentrèrent dans la boulangerie, accompagnés de Killer et saluant le vendeur, une tortue plutôt âgé. Ils se dirigèrent vers les vitrines, regardant les nombreuses tapisseries et viennoiseries disposés : des forêt noires, des gâteaux fruités remplis de crème, des milles-feuilles, des chou à la crème, des tartes au citron meringuée, des macarons, des éclairs au chocolat et au café, des pains au chocolat et des croissants.

— Ça a l'air trop bon, s'extasia Aim devant la vitrine, les étoiles dans les yeux.

Après avoir choisi deux gâteaux, une forêt noire et un gâteau au fruit, Killer demanda le plus naturellement du monde :

— Lequel vous voulez ?

— Mais Papa a dit que on devait juste chercher deux gâteaux, et qu'on devait pas prendre autre chose au sinon on allait pas finir de manger.

Nuisance avait dit ça en regardant le plus grand, comme s'il essayait de déceler si cela était un simple test ou oubli de sa part. En voyant son sourire confiant, il comprit qu'il n'avait pas oublier ça ou quoi que se soit d'autre, il n'avait juste pas envi d'écouter cet ordre qui lui avait initialement été donné.

— Night sais bien que quand on rentre dans une boulangerie avec des enfants il faut aussi prendre une petite pâtisserie pour le gouter. Et si on les mange sur le chemin du retour, il n'en saura rien. Alors, vous voulez quoi ?

— Celui au chocolat là-bas, répondit rapidement le plus petit.

— On appelle ça un éclair au chocolat... Mais j'aurais pensé que tu aurais pris le chou à la crème.

Tout en disant cela, il désigna la fameuse pâtisserie, sachant que Aim ne pouvait pas lire les petites pancartes devant la nourriture.

— C'est vrai que ça a l'air bon, mais il n'y a pas de chocolat.

Le plus grand sourit avant de demander la fameuse pâtisserie, ainsi qu'un mille-feuille au vendeur. Pendant que ce dernier commencer à prendre la nourriture pour les mettre dans une des petites boites en carton fins, il redemanda la même question à l'enfant aux yeux vairons, ne voulant pas qu'il soit le seul à ne rien avoir. Ce dernier regarda de nouveau le plus grand dans les yeux, avant de retourner son attention sur son cousin qui lui souriait comme pour l'encourager à prendre quelque chose. Finalement il bredouilla d'une petite voix :

— Des macarons.

Le squelette à l'âme bicolore lui frotta la tête, pas surpris le moins du monde par ce choix. Puis lorsqu'ils partirent de la boulangerie, remerciant la tortue, il donna les petits gâteaux aux deux enfants, qui s'empressèrent d'en prendre un morceau. Nuisance tendit un macaron marron à Aim avant de rajouter :

— C'est au chocolat si tu veux gouter... Kills, Papa va être en colère contre nous s'il découvre qu'on lui a désobéit.

— Ne t'inquiète pas, il ne saura pas. Et puis, s'il le découvre, ce ne sera pas contre vous qu'il sera en colère, mais contre moi.

⊰✧⊱

The two children entered the bakery, accompanied by Killer and greeting the shop assistant, a rather elderly turtle. They walked towards the shop windows, looking at the many tapestries and pastries on display: black forest, fruity cakes filled with cream, mille-feuilles, cream puffs, lemon meringue tarts, macaroons, chocolate and coffee eclairs, pains au chocolat and croissants.

"It looks so good", Aim exclaimed in front of the window with stars in his eyes.

After choosing two cakes, a black forest and a fruit cake, Killer asked most naturally:

"Which one do you want?"

"But Papa said we should just get two cakes, and that we shouldn't get anything else or we wouldn't finish eating."

Nuisance had said this while looking at the taller boy, as if trying to detect whether this was a simple test or an oversight on his part. Seeing his confident smile, he knew he hadn't forgotten that or anything else, he just didn't feel like listening to the order that had originally been given to him.

"Night knows that when you go into a bakery with children you have to take a little pastry for a snack. And if you eat them on the way home, he won't know. So what do you want?"

"The chocolate one over there," the little one answered quickly.

"It's called a chocolate eclair... But I would have thought you would have taken the cream puff."

As he said this, he pointed to the famous pastry, knowing that Aim couldn't read the little signs in front of the food.

"It does look good, but there's no chocolate."

The taller boy smiled before asking the vendor for the famous pastry and a mille-feuille. As the latter started to take the food and put it in one of the small thin cardboard boxes, he asked the same question to the child with the minnow eyes, not wanting him to be the only one without anything. The latter looked the taller boy in the eye again, before returning his attention to his cousin who was smiling at him as if to encourage him to take something. Finally he stammered in a small voice:

"Macaroons."

The skeleton with the two-tone soul rubbed his head, not surprised in the least by this choice. Then as they left the bakery, thanking the turtle, he gave the little cakes to the two children, who hurried to take a piece. Nuisance handed Aim a brown macaroon before adding:

"It's chocolate if you want a taste... Kills, Dad will be angry with us if he finds out we disobeyed him."

"Don't worry, he won't find out. Besides, if he does find out, he won't be mad at you, he'll be mad at me."

Speedpaint ▶

So that's the birthday present for @zu-is-here. Happy birthday again (๑•́ ω •̀๑)

✾❦

"Please," Cross pleaded.

His lavender tears flowed in torrents, unable to resist the urge to come out of their hiding place. They crashed into a part of his lover's shoulder, which was shaking with pain. Or maybe it was only the tremors of the former guard who was unable to calm his growing anxiety.

For his part, Dream was covered with apple blossoms, appearing at the ends of his gloves and long dark sleeves, like a cruel light in infinite darkness or a vain hope in total despair, which would eventually fade and break, taking everything with it. His eye sockets were not spared from these parasites, his left eye being destroyed by the liquid of the negative feelings that covered it and his right eye being devoured by the budding buds.

None of this should have worried or frightened Killer. Yet, his feelings were all about fear. He had always not cared about Dream or Cross, being only adversaries or shipmates before they became traitors. But strangely, without even being able to explain it, he was afraid of what would happen next, which he guessed would be worse than the twins' curse.

" I can't help you. You should leave now. "

Lying did not displease the skeleton, who always preferred to hide his true intentions, reasons and emotions. If they let them through, what would happen to Nightmare? Surely they would do nothing to destroy him at the time, so they could save the broken dream. But once done, they could very well eliminate the negative, being one of Dream's basic goals since his transformation. He was the only one who had taken him under his wing, who had never betrayed him, and who had always stood by him. He couldn't abandon him after all that had happened.

" Please let us through. We need to see Nightmare, we won't do anything against you, I promise. I'll do anything you want if you save him. "

The tearful man suppressed a grimace. Cross begging for their help, to the point of offering to do anything to get him... even in his wildest dreams he would never have thought it possible. Strangely, and without even knowing why, he felt bad to see him like this; going from a powerful and proud opponent, to a mere skeleton shaking and crying like a poor terrified little child.

"Let them pass, Killer," a voice behind him intervened.

He saw the former guardian moving toward his brother, and though he longed to hold him back, he did not. He had already made his decision, and despite all of Killer's arguments, he would not change his mind. He looked away, bending to his will.

"You remember where the rooms are, I guess. Take him to one of them. I'll go see him when he wakes up. "

The monochrome thanked his former boss, before leaving quickly. The one-eyed skeleton sighed before turning back to Killer, crossing his arms, his hands clutching the purple cloth.

" I already told you to let them pass."

" I didn't want you to be in danger, we didn't know if they would kill you as soon as they saw you."

" This story has been going on for over 500 years. It has to end, no matter what. Especially since I'm the one who started it all. "

Killer tucked his knife into his jacket pocket, before inhaling painfully, his throat tight. He knew that his boss was right, everything had to end now, but he didn't want it to be the way he wanted it, not with his sacrifice. So he proposed an idea that a part of his mind strangely repulsed:

"What if we end it differently than your idea. If you don't sacrifice yourself, it could very well be Dream who does. I mean, he's suffering because of the flowers growing on him, it would just be a favour to finish him off. And as far as I know he always wanted to save you, even if it meant putting himself in danger. "

" I'm disappointed in you for thinking that it can and should end like this. "

Nightmare seemed offended by his former subordinate's words, and decided to leave the room, walking away from him.

"To me, it's just as shocking as your idea of sacrificing yourself like that," he whispered into the now empty room.

Dream began to emerge from sleep, moving his head slightly. He knew he was no longer at home, and he could tell by his brother's feelings that he was in his brother's mansion. He tried to sit up when he felt something in his hand. Even though he couldn't see, he knew it was Cross' hand, which must have fallen asleep from all the stress of the last few days.

He waited quietly for his lover to wake up, enjoying the calmness of the monochrome's feelings, which had long since stopped being so peaceful. He moved his ring with his thumb, making it gently strike his knuckles, before changing direction. Cross began to wake up in turn, rising from the bed with a soft yawn. When he noticed that the other was up, he asked hastily:

" Are you comfortable? Do you want some more pillows or to sit up maybe? Or something else?"

"No, I'm fine, don't worry about it."

"Are you feeling better? Are you feeling less pain?"

" It's better. It's less painful than before."

The pain was there, throbbing, like someone having fun burning his bones in places while staying on them for a long time to make it worse. He wasn't desperately wanting and trying to tear them out like before, but it wasn't going away either. He took advantage of this moment of respite, if it could be called that, and talked about everything and nothing with his lover.

The latter reluctantly decided to leave him alone and get something to eat when his stomach and that of his lover protested. As he began to close the door, he saw Nightmare arrive silently, quietly asking if his brother was still asleep, lest he wake him by barging into the room. The monochrome smiled at him before answering in the negative, leaving the door open again, and leaving more serenely. The elder brother hesitated for a few moments before taking a deep breath and taking the first step into the room.

"Hello, Dream," he began.

"Relax a little," his brother reassured him.

" I'm perfectly relaxed."

The positive man seemed to look at him before smiling broadly and adding:

" I bet you have your arms crossed. You cross them all the time when you're uncomfortable or have too many feelings that bother you, as if you wanted to protect yourself with your arms as armour. I'm surprised you never use your tentacles like that."

"That's not true."

When he said this in an indignant voice, he uncrossed his arms and let them fall down his body, letting a discreet noise of moving clothes be heard. This action made his brother laugh, as he had heard and guessed his posture without any difficulty. Nightmare, for his part, moved closer to the bed before sitting down on the edge, beginning to knead his hands nervously.

"Is that all of Killer left? The others are gone," his brother asked.

" They've decided that their home worlds are probably not as bad as the end of this story is likely to be. I understand them, it's better, it ends well in some way for them. "

"And for you?"

"... It's better for everyone."

It didn't matter how he felt, not when he had been so horrible and manipulative to them. He'd been lucky that none of them had tried to kill him, and that Killer had decided to stay. He'd felt the latter's feelings; fear at seeing his boss's partly cracked face, incomprehension at the other skeletons' choice, only to end in a more neutral, deeper feeling. He wasn't so stupid as to not know what that feeling was, let alone to know that it wasn't like when he controlled his soul like a pawn.

He was not in control of anything, and that terrified him. But was he in control of anything at all? Before his transformation, he was just a victim unable to protect himself, mistreated by the villagers and the fate that was bearing down on him. When he had eaten most of the apples on the tree, he had promised himself that he would never be a victim of that fate again. He would destroy anyone who dared to take him back to that state or who knew nothing of the pain he had felt and continued to feel.

His brother was the first to try to " recover " him. It was at this point that he was most angry with him. He didn't understand, he couldn't understand, and that made him mad as hell. He had wanted to break that hope, not his brother. But he hadn't noticed that it was the other feelings of positivity that he had destroyed without any consideration.

He didn't notice his unhappiness, or rather he didn't want to notice it. He just wanted to control everything so he would never be the victim again. But instead, he had let his brother eat the black apple, he had let him suffer to his breaking point without any consideration for him, and he had given up and decided to run away when he had changed. Just as he had tried to escape this situation 500 years ago with the ebony apples.

"Night, calm down!"

His brother tentatively grabbed his wrist, pulling his hands away from each other. He hadn't noticed that his breathing had become more and more laboured, nor that he had scratched his palms and the backs of his hands to blood. It took him a long time to regain a steady breath, his hands shaking helplessly. When he managed to calm down, he stammered:

" I'm sorry for everything. It's my fault you're in this state. I'm the one who ate the first apple, I'm the one who destroyed your feelings and convictions without any remorse. It's my fault that you felt the need to see what I was feeling so that you could understand and help me. I don't even know how to save you from what's happening to you. I really am the worst big brother."

" Don't blame yourself for this, it's not your fault. I'm the one who made the choice and did it. And we were just kids at the time, you can't blame yourself for trying to change things. Especially since I should have seen your discomfort too. The main thing is not all the bad things we did, but how we try to change things for the better."

" ...These flowers are connected to your positive and negative feelings," Nightmare reminded, trying to change the conversation. "Both of them are trying to regain control in some way, so in order to stop all that, you have to stop their war of dominance. My negative feelings can decrease your negative feelings or increase them depending on what you want or need, until you can process them normally. I will take care of the excess negative feelings, but we have to find a way to destroy the negative effects of the black apple."

" We'll do it, don't worry."

The ex guard went into the kitchen, trying to think of what would be good for his lover, hesitating between a hot meal, or a lighter one. Both had their advantages, but he couldn't put a simple decision on it.

"So, have you finally decided to come here? Or maybe he ordered you to leave because he was tired of seeing you around."

The razor-sharp words and Killer's dark smile effectively hit their target: Cross. The latter seemed to tense up, his jaw tensing and his knuckles digging into his palms.

"Why won't you leave me alone? I didn't do anything to you."

"You didn't do anything? You're starting to have the same memory as Ink. Or maybe you're so stupid that even she decided to leave."

" What are you after? Always provoking you will eventually get the backlash. And for what? Just to piss off the world, to reach the limit, and to see the anger in the eyes of those you piss off. The Killer I knew knew where to stop at least."

Killer's sadistic laughter echoed around the room, before calming down, leaving only a sneer stretching his lips.

" The Killer you knew? But you never knew him. You never knew me. And do you know why? Because all you've ever cared about is yourself. Only YOU, only YOUR emotions, only YOUR wishes are important to you. No one is ever interesting enough for you to care about. You're just selfish."

Tears appeared in the corners of Cross's eye sockets, unobtrusive, but glistening slightly in the light of the sunny day. The skeleton with the ringed soul drew closer before adding:

"Aww, the guard who considered himself powerful and able to solve all problems by himself is crying. Do you want a handkerchief maybe? Such a shame I don't have one, don't you think? You know what they call people like you? Self-centred. Just like Error, you're no better than him. But if I understand correctly you inherited it from your Gaster. We can't expect you to be different, after all, like father like son."

The monochrome slammed him hard against the wall, his forearm latching onto the other skeleton's windpipe, exerting a pressure that was oddly mild compared to his anger. His pupils were now just two red balls, and his cheeks were covered in the same dark tears as the tearful one. The latter was not the least bit frightened or impressed, his smile stretching even further.

"What are you waiting for ? You want to hit me, I can see it a mile away. Come on punch, you know it feels good, you've felt it before when slaughtering people from other universes. Eh. And then it's self-proclaimed guard. So pathetic.

"All you want to do is destroy the people closest to you, opposed Cross. You say I'm self-centred, but you're no better. All you care about is the pleasure you get from the pain you cause them. You just need to hurt them to feel like you don't care and that your actions mattered to someone for once. You just need to feel like you exist because of all the new words and actions you do, regardless of anyone else. You just need-"

"I just needed you. I just needed you to stay or tell me to my face why you decided to leave. I needed to understand what had gone so wrong."

Killer's scream echoed around the room, startling them both. He didn't want to give him that confession, he didn't want to show how weak he'd been for giving Cross his trust. He didn't want to show how hurt he had been by his abandonment. Yet his aching soul had decided otherwise, as if the other skeleton's words had cut him thin and deep, when he wasn't supposed to care about his opinion. Why hadn't he managed to make fun of it as usual?

" Killer," Cross tried.

His interlocutor pushed him with all his strength, making him almost lose his balance, having to step back to avoid falling. Taking advantage of his distance, he left quickly, not wanting to face him anymore. He was tired of his feelings taking over. He was tired of not being able to not care about everything around him like he used to. He was tired of not understanding the mess that was his feelings.

He went into his room, closing the door as quickly as possible as if he was afraid the other had followed him. He moved towards the door of his bathroom, only to stop when one of his two cats came towards him, already demanding to be petted. At his cat's silent command, he sat quietly cross-legged on the floor, letting it settle comfortably on his legs.

His soul was deformed, so much so that one could hardly differentiate white from red. He hadn't even noticed that his black tears had started to flow when he was in the kitchen, and had remained even now, though they created a much smaller wake. He tried to find the other cat with his eyes, and saw it on his bed, sleeping peacefully.

Soft sounds were heard against the door, and thinking it was Cross, he decided not to answer, not wanting to see him at all. He knew that Cross would try to talk to him about what he had said, wanting to understand and help him. But he was not yet ready to show that part of himself. Not with him. The door opened quietly, revealing Nightmare. He sat down next to the other cat, making it move in its sleep.

" I told him to go back to my brother and give him his food. "

He knew who he was talking about, suspecting that Cross had discussed it with him, probably for fear of having done something wrong that he already regretted. A spike of pain struck his soul, which aware of the pain he had done to the monochrome suddenly twisted more than it had before. He didn't want to hurt him or make him regret his decision. After all, he had seen him with Dream before his corruption. He'd seen him happy and even though it had hurt him to not be the source of his happiness, he'd been glad to see him like this.

Nightmare sighed before moving closer to him and crouching down in front of him. He wiped away his former subordinate's tears with his sleeve, staining it black, before gently declaring:

"You don't need to feel so much guilt. If you really regret what you tell to him, you just have to talk to him, but you also have to stop repressing your emotions. Your soul will always hurt you because of it. Talk to him and talk to Dream, things that stay on your heart are not good things. "

Then he left, leaving him to think about it quietly. He went to his brother's room, before entering it and asking to speak to the monochrome, who reluctantly accepted, following him into the living room, which was one of the closest rooms.

Killer walked out of his room, before heading to the room where the positive was. He entered the room, surprised at the absence of the monochrome, before slumping down on the seat the latter had set up. He began to play with his knife, occupying his hands and trying not to feel all the feelings that were flooding into him, trying to annihilate them as much as possible.

" Hi Killer."

Dream's calm voice rose, deeper than before his transformation and filled with hidden pain. The maudlin man smiled his usual fake smile, before standing up and pointing his weapon at the other skeleton, touching the latter's throat but making no move to hurt him. He looked at it, feeling as calm as if he were standing in front of a fire in a fireplace, listening to the sound of the crackling flames and watching their controlled dance. Strangely, the knife began to tremble and slowly lower. Sadness was the first feeling he felt at that moment. Then anger and resentment. It was not directed at the gardian, but at himself. He didn't understand why, but for the first time in years, he felt pity for him and was unable to do what he wanted to do. He just wanted it all to change, but part of his soul was looking forward to it. Part of his soul didn't want to kill him.

" Why do I hesitate? Why didn't I dare do this? We haven't found a way to save you yet. It would just be doing you a favor. You wouldn't suffer anymore, and yet I can't. "

" Sometimes it's the choices that feel right that hurt the most. You've changed, Killer. You are able to feel compassion again, you are able to feel emotions again. You may not be able to understand or process them all yet, but you will one day. "

" What makes you think I won't kill you? I hesitated to kill my brother once, and yet I did it. What makes you think I won't do the same to you? "

" Your feelings tell me. I'm glad at least I could see the change in you. I know that one day you'll be able to heal all your wounds, even if it takes time. "

The blind man's sincere and radiant smile finally got the better of his interlocutor. The latter lowered his weapon completely, his tears flowed abundantly, black in his right eye socket, and translucent on the left, where his white pupil was visible. He added in a broken voice:

" I don't want to kill you, but I don't want to see you suffer either. I'm just an idiot."

" It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. "

As he said these words, the positive took the other skeleton's hand. The latter sat down on the bed and hugged him, unable to control his sobs. Dream returned his embrace, his flower-covered eye socket flooded with tears.

The other two skeletons, Cross and Nightmare, looked on, their throats tight. As complicated as it had been for both of them, especially for the monochrome, they had let Killer do as he pleased, not entirely sure if he would decide to spare him.

Several days passed, the twins tried to calm the growth of the flowers with the negativity of the elder, taking as much as possible from his brother. At first, the result was inconclusive, if not the opposite. The flowers didn't grow anymore, but the ones already there burned even more Dream, to the point that Cross begged the negative to stop in the face of his lover's screams of pain, starting to threaten him when he didn't stop. Killer had reacted at this point, quickly pulling him away.

When he had finished, Dream had noticed that the pain had dropped drastically, as if it had returned to where it had started, as if it were a slight burn. Then after a few days, they noticed that no more plants were growing. The ones that were left gradually began to wither, and one by one they began to fall off, taking the pain with them.

The negativity flowed away as well, due to the guardian now being able to deal with his negative feelings better, leaving his left eye socket cracked and visible. His right eye socket was cleared of parasites, his pupil no longer able to see properly from a distance.

Killer avoided Cross as much as possible, not wanting to talk about what was on his mind. Or rather, not being able to put words to it. But his friend's efforts to reassure him gradually began to bear fruit. He wasn't yet at the point where he could trust him with his soul like he had with Nightmare, but he was getting better at not trying to hurt him with his words whenever he tried to find out how he was or wanted time with him.

Even though Nightmare was trying to keep everyone away from him at times, probably because of his negative feelings or because of his remorse, he was glad that the people most important to him had decided to stay close to him.

✾❦

— Pitié, implora Cross.

Ses larmes lavandes coulaient à torrent, incapable de résister à cette envie de sortir de leur cachette. Elles se fracassèrent sur une partie de l’épaule de son amant, qui tremblait de douleur. Ou peut-être était-ce seulement les tremblements de l’ancien garde qui était incapable de calmer son anxiété croissante.

Dream quant à lui, était recouvert de fleurs de pommier, apparaissant aux extrémités de ses gants et ses longues manches sombres, comme une cruelle lumière dans des ténèbres infinies ou un espoir vain dans le désespoir le plus total, qui finirait par s’éteindre et se briser, emportant tout dans son fracas. Ses orbites n’étaient pas épargnées de ces parasites, son œil gauche étant détruit par le liquide des sentiments négatifs qui le recouvrer et son œil droit dévoré par les bourgeons naissants.

Rien de tout ça aurait dû inquiéter ou effrayer Killer. Pourtant, ses sentiments n’étaient tournés que sur la peur. Il s’était toujours moquer de Dream ou Cross, n’étant que des adversaires ou des compagnons de bord avant de devenir des traîtres. Mais bizarrement, sans même pouvoir l’expliquer, il avait peur de la suite qu’il devinait être pire que la malédiction des jumeaux.

— Je ne peux pas vous aider. Vous devriez partir maintenant.

Mentir ne déplaisait pas au squelette, qui préférait toujours cacher ses véritables intentions, raisons et émotions. S’ils les laissaient passer, qu’adviendra-t-il de Nightmare ? Ils ne feront sûrement rien pour le détruire sur le moment, pour pouvoir sauver le rêve brisé. Mais une fois fait, ils pourraient très bien éliminer le négatif, étant l’un des objectifs de base de Dream depuis sa transformation. Il était le seul à l’avoir pris sous son aile, à ne l’avoir jamais trahi, et à être toujours rester à ses côtés. Il ne pouvait pas l’abandonner à son tour après tout ce qui s’était passer.

— S’il te plaît laisse-nous passer. On a besoin de voir Nightmare, on ne fera rien contre vous, je te le promets. Je ferais tout ce que vous désirez si vous le sauver.

Le larmoyant réprima une grimace. Cross qui implorait leur aide, au point de proposer de faire n’importe quoi pour l’avoir… même dans ses rêves les plus fous il n’aurait jamais pensé ça possible. Bizarrement, et sans même pouvoir savoir pourquoi, il se sentait mal de le voir comme ça ; passer d’un adversaire puissant et fier, à un simple squelette tremblant et pleurant comme un pauvre petit enfant terrifié.

— Laisse-les passer Killer, intervint une voix derrière lui.

Il vit l’ancien gardien se dirigeait vers son frère, et même s’il désirait ardemment le retenir, il n’en fis rien. Il avait déjà pris sa décision, et malgré tout les arguments de Killer, il ne changeait pas d’avis. Il détourna son regard, se pliant à sa volonté.

— Tu te souviens où sont les chambres je suppose. Emmène le dans l’une d’elle. J’irai le voir lorsqu’il sera réveiller.

Le monochrome remercia son ancien boss, avant de partir rapidement. Le squelette borgne quant à lui soupira avant de se retourner vers Killer, croisant ses bras, ses mains serrant le tissu violet.

— Je t’avais déjà dit de les laissait passer.

— Je ne voulais pas que tu soit en danger, on ne savait pas s’ils n’allaient pas te tuer dès qu’ils te verraient.

— Cette histoire dure depuis plus de 500 ans. Il faut qu’elle se termine, peu importe comment. D’autant plus que c’est par ma faute que tout cela a commencé.

Killer rangea son couteau dans la poche de son blouson, avant d’inspirer douloureusement, sa gorge serré. Il savait que son boss avait raison, tout devait se terminer maintenant, mais il ne voulait pas que se soit comme il le voulait, pas avec son sacrifice. Alors il proposa une idée qu’une partie de son esprit répugnait étrangement :

— Et si on la terminait autrement que ton idée. Si tu ne te sacrifie pas, ça pourrait très bien être Dream qui le fais. Je veux dire, il souffre à cause de ses fleurs qui pousse sur lui, ce serait juste lui rendre service de l’achever. Et à ce que je sache il a toujours voulu te sauver, quitte à se mettre en danger pour ça.

— Tu me déçois de penser que ça peux et dois se terminer comme ça.

Nightmare sembla offusqué par les paroles de son ancien subordonné, et décida de partir de la pièce, s’éloignant de lui.

— Pour moi, c’est tout aussi choquant que ton idée de te sacrifier comme ça, chuchota-t-il dans la pièce dorénavant vide.

Dream commença à émerger du sommeil, bougeant légèrement la tête. Il savait qu’il n’était plus chez lui, et il pouvait savoir grâce aux sentiments de son frère qu’il était dans le manoir de ce dernier. Il tenta de se redresser quand il senti qu’il tenait quelque chose dans la main. Même s’il ne pouvait pas voir, il savait que c’était la main de Cross, qui avait dû s’assoupir à cause de tout le stress des derniers jours accumulé.

Il attendit tranquillement que son amant se réveille, profitant du calme des sentiments du monochrome, qui avait depuis longtemps arrêté d’être aussi apaisé. Il bougea sa bague avec son pouce, la faisant doucement heurter ses phalanges, avant de changer de sens. Cross commença à se réveiller à son tour, se relevant du lit en bayant doucement. Lorsqu’il remarqua que l’autre était debout, il demanda précipitamment :

— Est-ce que tu es bien installé ? Tu veux un peu plus d’oreillers ou te redresser peut-être ? Ou quelque chose d’autre ?

— Non, ça va ne t’en fais pas.

— Est-ce que tu vas mieux ? Tu as moins mal ?

— Ça va mieux. C’est moins douloureux que tout à l’heure.

La douleur était là, lancinante, comme quelqu’un s’amusant à brûler ses os par endroit tout en restant longtemps dessus pour aggraver son ressenti. Il n’en était pas à vouloir et essayer absolument de les arracher comme tout à l’heure, mais elle ne partait pas non plus. Il profitait de ce moment de répit, si on pouvait l’appeler ainsi, et parla de tout et de rien avec son amant.

Ce dernier décida à contre-coeur de le laisser seul et de chercher à manger lorsque son estomac et celui de son amant protestèrent. Lorsqu’il commença à fermer la porte, il vit Nightmare arriver silencieusement, demandant doucement si son frère dormait encore, de peur de le réveiller en faisant irruption dans la chambre. Le monochrome lui sourit avant de lui répondre à la négative, laissant de nouveau la porte ouverte, et de partir plus serein. L’aîné, quant à lui, hésita quelques instants avant de prendre une grande inspiration en faisant le premier pas dans la pièce.

— Bonjour Dream, commença-t-il.

— Détend-toi un peu, le rassura son frère.

— Je suis parfaitement détendu.

Le positif sembla le regarder avant de sourire de toutes ses dents en ajoutant :

— Tu as les bras croisés je pari. Tu les croises tout le temps quand tu es mal à l’aise ou que tu ressens trop de sentiments qui te dérange, comme si tu voulais te protéger avec tes bras comme armure. Ça m’étonne d’ailleurs que tu n’es jamais utilisé tes tentacules de cet manière.

— C’est pas vrai.

Lorsqu’il prononça ses paroles d’une voix offensée, il décroisa les bras les laissant retomber le long de son corps, laissant entendre un discret bruit de vêtement en mouvement. Cet action fit rigoler son frère, qui avait très bien entendu et deviné sa posture sans aucune difficulté. Nightmare, quant à lui, se rapprocha du lit avant de s’assoir sur le bord, commençant à malaxait nerveusement ses mains.

— Il ne reste plus que Killer ? Les autres sont partis, demanda son frère.

— Ils ont décidé que leurs univers de base était sûrement moins pire que ce que risquait d’être la fin de cette histoire. Je les comprends, c’est mieux, ça se termine bien d’une certaine manière pour eux.

— Et pour toi ?

— … C’est mieux pour tout le monde.

Son ressenti n’avait pas d’importance, pas quand il avait été aussi horrible et manipulateur envers eux. Il avait été chanceux qu’aucun d’eux n’essaye de le tuer, et que Killer décide de rester. Il avait ressenti les sentiments de ce dernier ; de la peur en voyant le visage en parti fissuré de son boss, l’incompréhension du choix des autres squelettes, pour ensuite se terminer en un sentiment plus neutre, plus profond. Il n’était pas idiot au point de ne pas savoir ce que ce sentiment était, et encore moins pour savoir que se n’était pas comme quand il contrôlait son âme comme un pion.

Il ne contrôlait plus rien, et cela le terrifiait. Mais est-ce qu’il contrôlait quelque chose de base ? Avant sa transformation, il étais juste une victime incapable de se protéger, maltraiter par les villageois et le destin qui s’acharner sur lui. Quand il avait mangé presque toutes les pommes de l’arbre, il s’était juré ne plus jamais être la victime de ce destin. Il allait détruire toutes les personnes qui oserait le ramener à cet état ou qui ne connaissais rien à la douleur qui avait ressenti et continuait de ressentir.

Son frère fut le premier à essayer de le « retrouver ». C’est à ce moment-là qu’il lui en avait le plus voulu. Il ne comprenait pas, il ne pouvait pas comprendre, et ça l’énervait au plus haut point. Il avait voulu briser cet espoir, pas son frère. Mais il n’avait pas remarquer que c’était les autres sentiments du positif qu’il avait détruit sans aucune considération.

Il n’avait pas remarquer son mal-être, ou plutôt il n’avait pas voulu le remarquer. Il voulait juste tout contrôler pour ne plus jamais être la victime. Mais au lieu de ça, il avait laisser son frère manger la pomme noire, il l’avait laisser souffrir jusqu’à son point de rupture sans aucune considération pour lui, et il avait laisser tomber en décidant de fuir quand il avait changé. Exactement comme il avait essayer de fuir cet situation il y a de 500 ans avec les pommes ébènes.

— Night calme-toi !

Son frère lui pris à tâtons le poignet, éloignant ses mains l’une de l’autre. Il n’avait pas remarquer que sa respiration était devenue de plus en plus saccadée, ni qu’il s’était griffait à sang ses paumes et le dos de ses mains. Il prit un temps considérable à reprendre une respiration stable, ses mains tremblantes sans qu’il puisse les calmer. Lorsqu’il arriva à se calmer, il bredouilla :

— Je suis désolé pour tout. C’est de ma faute si tu es dans cet état. C’est moi qui ai mangé la première pomme, c’est moi qui ai détruit tes sentiments et convictions sans aucun remord. C’est de ma faute si tu as ressenti le besoin de voir ce que je ressentais pour pouvoir me comprendre et m’aider. Je ne sais même pas comment faire pour te sauver de ce qui t’arrives. Je suis vraiment le pire des grands frères.

— Ne te blâme pas pour ça, ce n’est pas de ta faute. C’est moi qui est pris ce choix et qui l’ai fais. Et nous étions que des enfants à l’époque tu ne peux pas t’en vouloir d’avoir essayer de changer les choses. D’autant plus que j’aurais aussi dû voir ton mal-être. Le principal ce n’est pas toutes les mauvaises actions qu’on a fait, mais comment nous essayons de changer les choses pour le mieux.

— …Ses fleurs sont reliés à tes sentiments positifs et négatifs, rappela Nightmare en essayant de changer de conversation. Les deux essaient de reprendre le contrôle d’une certaine manière, alors pour pouvoir arrêter tous cela, il faut pouvoir arrêter leur guerre de dominance. Mes sentiments négatifs peuvent diminuer tes sentiments négatifs ou les augmenter selon ce que tu désires ou selon ce que tu as besoin, jusqu’à ce que tu puisse les assimiler normalement. Je m’occuperai du surplus de sentiments négatifs, mais il faut qu’on trouve un moyen détruire les effets néfastes de la pomme noire.

— On y arrivera, ne t’en fais pas.

L’ancien garde rentra dans la cuisine, essayant de réfléchir à ce qui pourrait être bien pour son amant, hésitant entre un repas chaud, ou un repas plus léger. Les deux avait des avantages, mais il ne n’arrivait pas à mettre une simple décision dessus.

— Alors, tu as enfin décider de venir ici ? Ou alors il t’as peut-être ordonner de partir parce qu’il en avait marre de te voir autour de lui.

Les mots aussi tranchants qu’un rasoir accompagné du sourire sombre de Killer frappèrent avec efficacité sa cible : Cross. Ce dernier semblait se tendre, sa mâchoire se crispant, de même que ses phalanges qui se plantèrent dans ses paumes.

— Pourquoi tu ne me laisse pas tranquille. Je ne t’ai rien fais.

— Tu n’as rien fais ? Tu commence à avoir la même mémoire qu’Ink dis donc. Ou peut-être que tu es tellement stupide que même elle a décider de se barrer.

— Tu cherche quoi ? À toujours provoquer tu vas finir par avoir le retour du bâton. Et tout ça pour quoi ? Juste pour faire chier le monde, atteindre les limites, et voir la colère dans les yeux de ceux que tu emmerde. Le Killer que je connaissais savait où s’arrêter au moins.

Le rire sadique de Killer s’éleva dans la pièce, avant de se calmer, ne laissant qu’un rictus étiré ses lèvres.

— Le Killer que tu connaissais ? Mais tu ne l’a jamais connu. Tu ne m’as jamais connu. Et tu sais pourquoi ? Parce que ce qui t’as toujours intéressé est ta petite personne. Seulement TOI, seulement TES émotions, seulement TES souhaits ont de l’importance à tes yeux. Personne n’est jamais assez intéressant pour que tu puisse t’y intéresser. Tu n’es qu’un égoïste.

Des larmes apparaissaient aux coins des orbites de Cross, discrètes, mais brillant légèrement à la lumière de la journée ensoleillée. Le squelette à l’âme cerclée se rapprocha avant d’ajouter :

— Aww, le garde qui se considérait comme puissant et capable de résoudre tout les problèmes par lui-même pleure. Tu veux un mouchoir peut-être ? Tellement dommage que j’en ai pas, tu ne trouve pas ? Tu sais comment on appelle les personnes comme toi ? Des égocentriques. Juste comme Error, tu vaux pas mieux que lui. Mais si j’ai bien compris tu l’as hérité de ton Gaster. On peut pas te demander d’être différent, après tout, tel père tel fils.

Le monochrome le plaqua violemment contre le mur, son avant-bras se logeant contre la trachée de l’autre squelette, exerçant une pression bizarrement assez légère par rapport à sa colère. Ses pupilles n’étais plus que deux billes rouges, et ses joues étaient recouvert des mêmes larmes sombres que le larmoyant. Ce dernier n’était pas le moins du monde effrayé ou impressionné, son sourire s’étirant encore plus.

— Qu’est-ce que tu attends, tu as envie de me frapper, ça se voit à des kilomètres. Allez frappe, tu sais que ça fais du bien, tu l’as déjà ressenti en massacrant les personnes d’autres univers. Hé. Et après ça s’auto-proclame garde. Tellement pathétique.

— Tout ce que tu cherche, c’est de détruire les personnes proche de toi, contra Cross. Tu dis que je suis égocentrique, mais tu n’es pas mieux. Tout ce qui t’intéresse est le plaisir que te procure la souffrance que tu leur causes. Tu as juste besoin de les blesser pour avoir l’impression que tu te fiche de tout et que tes actions ont eu de l’importance sur quelqu’un pour une fois. Tu as juste besoin de te sentir exister grâce à toutes ces paroles et ces actions nouvelles que tu fais, sans considération pour quiconque. Tu as juste besoin-

— J’avais juste besoin de toi. J’avais juste besoin que tu reste ou tu me dises en face pourquoi tu avais décidé de partir. J’avais besoin de comprendre ce qui avait aussi mal tourné.

Le cri de Killer s’éleva dans toute la pièce, les surprenant tout les deux. Il ne voulais pas lui faire ses aveux-là, il ne voulais pas montrer à quelle point il avais été faible d’avoir donner sa confiance à Cross. Il ne voulait pas montrer à quel point il avait été blesser par son abandon. Pourtant son âme douloureuse en avait décidé autrement, comme si les paroles de l’autre squelette l’avais finement et profondément coupée, alors qu’il étais supposé se ficher de son avis. Pourquoi n’avait-il pas réussi à s’en moquer comme à son habitude ?

— Killer, tenta Cross.

Son interlocuteur le poussa de toute ses forces, le faisant presque perdre l’équilibre, devant reculer pour ne pas tomber. Profitant de sa distance, il partit rapidement, ne voulant plus lui faire face. Il en avait marre de ses sentiments qui prenait le dessus. Il en avait marre de ne plus réussir à se moquer de tout ce qui l’entourait comme avant. Il en avait marre de ne pas comprendre tout ce bordel qu’était ses sentiments.

Killer rentra dans sa chambre, fermant la porte le plus rapidement possible comme s’il avait peur que l’autre l’aies suivi. Il se rapprocha de la porte de sa salle de bain, avant de s’arrêter lorsque l’un de ses deux chats arriva vers lui, réclamant déjà des caresses. Devant l’ordre silencieux de son animal, il s’assit tranquillement en tailleur au sol, le laissant s’installer confortablement sur ses jambes.

Son âme était difforme, à telle point que l’on ne pouvait presque plus distinguer le blanc du rouge. Il n’avais même remarquer que ses larmes noires avaient commencé à couler lorsqu’il était dans la cuisine, et qu’elles étaient restées encore maintenant, même si elles créaient un sillage beaucoup moins important. Il essaya de trouver l’autre chat du regard, et le vit sur son lit, en train de dormir paisiblement.

Des sons discrets se fis entendre contre la porte, et croyant que c’était Cross, il décida de ne pas répondre, le voulant plus du tout le voir. Il savait que ce dernier essayerait de lui parler de se qu’il avait dit, voulant le comprendre et l’aider. Mais lui n’était pas encore prêt à montrer cette partie de lui-même. Pas avec lui. La porte s’ouvrît discrètement, révélant Nightmare. Il s’assit à côté de l’autre chat, le faisant bouger dans son sommeil.

— Je lui ai dit de retourner voir mon frère et de lui donner son repas.

Il savait de qui il parlait, se doutant que Cross en aies discuter avec lui, sûrement de peur d’avoir fait quelque chose de mal qu’il regrettait déjà. Un pic de douleur frappa son âme, qui consciente du mal qu’il avait fait au monochrome s’était soudain tordu plus qu’elle ne l’était avant. Il ne voulait pas le blesser ou lui faire regretter sa décision. Après tout, il l’avait déjà vu avec Dream avant sa corruption. Il l’avait vu heureux et même si ça l’avait blesser de ne pas être la source de son bonheur, il avait été réjouis de le voir comme ça.

Nightmare soupira avant de se rapprocher de lui et de s’accroupir en face de lui. Il enleva les larmes de son ancien subordonné avec sa manche, la tâchant de noir, avant de doucement déclarer :

— Tu n’as pas besoin de ressentir autant de culpabilité. Si tu regrettes vraiment ce que tu lui as, tu as juste à lui en parler, mais tu dois aussi arrêter de refouler tes émotions. Ton âme te fera toujours souffrir à cause de ça. Parle-lui et parle à Dream, les choses qui reste sur le cœur ne sont pas de bonnes choses.

Puis il partit, le laissant réfléchir à tout cela tranquillement. Il se dirigea vers la chambre de son frère, avant d’y rentrait et de demander à parler au monochrome, qui accepta à contre cœur, le suivant dans le salon qui était une des pièce les plus proches.

Killer sortit de sa chambre, avant de se diriger vers la pièce où se trouvait le positif. Il entra dans la pièce, surpris par l'absence du monochrome, avant de s'affaler sur le siège que ce dernier avait installé. Il commença à jouer avec son couteau, occupant ses mains et essayer de ne pas ressentir tous les sentiments qui le submerger, essayant de les annihilés le plus possible.

— Bonjour Killer.

La voix calme de Dream s’éleva, plus grave qu’avant sa transformation et empli de douleur dissimulé. Le larmoyant souris avec son même sourire de façade habituelle, avant de se lever et de pointer son arme vers l’autre squelette, touchant la gorge de ce dernier mais ne faisant aucun mouvement pour le blesser. Il le regardait, avec cette impression qu’il était aussi calme que s’il restait devant le feu d’une cheminée, écoutant le bruit du crépitement des flammes et regardant leurs danses contrôlés. Étrangement, le couteau commença à trembler et à se baisser doucement.

La tristesse fus le premier sentiment qu’il ressentis à cet instant. Puis la colère et la rancoeur. Ce n’était pas tourné vers le gardien, mais envers lui-même. Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi, mais pour la première fois depuis des années, il ressentais de la pitié pour lui et était incapable de faire cet action qu’il désirait. Il voulait juste que tout ça change, mais une partie de son âme se réjouissait de ça. Une partie de son âme ne voulait pas tuer le gardien.

— Pourquoi j’hésite ? Pourquoi je n’ose pas faire ça ? On a trouvé aucun moyen de te sauver pour l’instant. Ce serait juste te rendre service. Tu ne souffrirais plus, et pourtant je n’y arrives pas.

— Parfois c’est les choix qui nous semble les plus juste qui nous font le plus mal. Tu as changé, Killer. Tu es capable de nouveau de ressentir de la compassion, tu es capable de nouveau de ressentir à nouveau des émotions. Tu as du mal à toutes les comprendre ou les assimiler pour l'instant, mais tu y arriveras un jour.

— Qu’est ce qui te fais dire que je ne vais pas te tuer ? J’ai déjà hésité pour tuer mon frère et pourtant je l’ai fais. Qu’est-ce qui te dis que je ne vais pas faire pareil avec toi ?

— Tes sentiments me le disent. Je suis heureux au moins d’avoir pus voir ce changement en toi. Je sais qu’un jour tu arriveras à panser toutes tes plaies, même si ça prendra du temps.

Le sourire sincère et radieux de l’aveugle finit par avoir raison de son interlocuteur. Ce dernier baissa entièrement son arme, ses larmes coulèrent abondamment, noires sur son orbite droite, et translucide à gauche, là où sa pupille blanche était visible. Il ajouta d’une voix brisée :

— Je ne veux pas te tuer, mais je ne veux pas te voir souffrir non plus. Je suis qu’un idiot.

— Ça va aller. Tout va bien se passer.

En disant ses mots, le positif pris la main de l’autre squelette. Ce dernier s’assit sur le lit, tout en le prenant dans les bras, incapable de contrôler ses sanglots. Dream lui rendit son étreinte, son orbite recouverte de fleurs étant inondée de larmes.

Les deux autres squelettes, Cross et Nightmare les regardaient, la gorge serrée. Même si cela avait été compliquer pour les deux, surtout pour le monochrome, ils avaient laisser Killer agir à sa guise, ne sachant pas totalement s’il déciderait de l’épargner.

Plusieurs jours passèrent, les jumeaux essayèrent de calmer la croissance des fleurs avec la négativité de l’ainé, prenant le plus possible celle de son frère. Au début, le résultat était peu concluant, pour ne pas dire l’inverse. Les fleurs ne poussait plus, mais celles déjà présentent brûlèrent encore plus Dream, au point que Cross supplie le négatif d’arrêter face aux cris de douleur de son amant, commençant à le menacer en voyant qu’il n’arrêtait pas. Killer avait réagis à ce moment, l’éloignant rapidement.

Lorsqu’il avait fini, Dream avait remarquer que la douleur avait drastiquement baissé, comme si elle était revenu au point de départ, comme de légères brûlures. Puis après quelques jours, ils avaient remarqué que plus aucune plantes ne pousser. Celles qui rester commencèrent petit à petit à flétrir, et à se détacher une par une, emportant la douleur avec elles.

Les écoulements de négativité partirent aussi, dû au gardien qui arrivait dorénavant à mieux gérer ses sentiments négatifs, laissant son orbite gauche fissurée visible. Son orbite droite, quand à elle fut débarrassée de ses parasites, sa pupille ne pouvant plus voir correctement de loin.

Killer évitait le plus possible Cross, ne voulant pas lui parler de qu’il avait sur le cœur. Ou plutôt n’arrivant pas à poser des mots dessus. Mais les efforts de son ami pour le rassurer commencèrent peu à peu à porter leur fruits. Il n’était pas encore au point de lui confier son âme comme avec Nightmare, mais il réussissait de plus en plus à ne plus essayer de le blesser avec ses paroles dès qu’il essayait de savoir comment il allait ou de vouloir du temps avec lui.

Même si Nightmare essayait par moment d’éloigner tout le monde de lui, sûrement à cause de ses sentiments négatifs ou à cause de ses remords, il était heureux que les personnes les plus importantes à ses yeux aient décidé de rester près de lui.

This story belong to @zu-is-here

☄𖤍☄

Killer coughed painfully as he spat blood before losing his balance, his legs unable to support the weight of his entire body. It wasn't long before the ground was stained scarlet. He felt something gently lift his torso and skull. Looking down at what it was, he noticed that it was Cross, his lover, tears of blood and negativity spilling from his eye sockets as he tried to hold them back in vain, as usual.

He always preferred to appear strong and stoic in front of others, and it had taken a long time for him to remove that mask in front of his soulmate, revealing a more anguished but also more caring side.

The tearful man knew that feeling, the feeling of cold and heat mixing together, the feeling of blur and the growing and insistent absence of sensation. His blood was still flowing profusely, as were the former guard's tears that were crushing on his cheekbones, yet he was less and less able to feel their flow, or the metallic taste in his mouth. He was going to die, that was certain.

He looked at his companion before smiling confidently. He was going to die, but that didn't mean he wasn't coming back. Not with all his determination. His tears began to dry up, as did his emotions. He began to see blurred; the sounds no longer came to him with as much intensity. Before his eyes closed and turned to dust, he thought he heard Cross's voice shrouded in a thick, almost impenetrable veil of fog.

When he opened them, he found himself in that jet-black space engulfed in a leaden silence, that space he had not missed at all. The Game Over menu. Two golden buttons were offered to him: Continue or Quit. As always, he pressed the first. As always, he expected the loading to be quick, finding himself in his room in Nightmare's mansion, where he saved every day.

Instead, an error message had appeared before him for the first time. ["lv_stable_manor_nm_xx_xx_xxxx" This item cannot be opened. It may have been moved, renamed or deleted. Do you want to delete this file? He looked incredulously at the screen in front of his eyes. He had never had this message, or any error message. What would happen if he deleted the file? He would surely lose several days, months or years because of this action. He might even lose his relationship with Cross.

[No] He clicked the second button, not wanting to damage the relationship that was so precious to him, the hope and love he felt for him. A new message appeared. [Do you want to continue to the last existing file? ] He couldn't go back to his last save point, which surprised him enormously, but at the same time he couldn't just sit there and wait to understand why this anomaly had occurred.

[Yes] His answer seemed strangely unsuccessful. For what seemed like an eternity, he saw an hourglass spinning over and over on the dark screen. To his surprise, another error message appeared. [The file or directory is damaged and unreadable] Before he could react, numerous error windows appeared filling the entire screen. Killer withdrew his hand before his malware could make contact with him. But he wasn't stupid, he knew that wouldn't fix the problem.

With an expletive, he pressed a new button, brighter than the others: Reset. He preferred never to use it, not knowing where it would take him, too afraid to return to the hell that was his universe. But at the same time, he didn't want to be swallowed up and erased by these things. He wondered if it could even turn him into an Error, and if the situation wouldn't be so critical, he'd probably be in time to laugh as he imagined Cross's reaction or even all the crap he could do in this form.

He pressed on, before the anomalies disappeared one by one, leaving one last message to appear, before his consciousness mysteriously slipped away. [Anomaly removal in progress...]

•°•°•

“I swear I'll do anything to save you.”

Cross spoke these words with all the honesty he could muster. He saw Killer turn to dust without being able to do anything or even know if he had heard him. He couldn't stop thinking about what he was going to do, or rather what the consequences would be. He knew what it felt like to discover that something had been rewritten, even more so when it was himself or someone he cared about. He knew that Killer might be angry at him for finding out, but he'd much rather have him alive and angry at him than dead.

He wiped away his tears, his cheekbones and the bottom of his eye sockets stained ebony and lavender. He had made his decision, and no matter what the consequences, he would get Killer back. He would do anything to be able to see him again, no matter if he had to stand up to Nightmare by rewriting the entire timeline. Nothing mattered as he looked at the pile of dust in front of him, where his lover had been just before, where he looked at him and smiled confidently and playfully, as if death would not mow him down moments later.

The former guard raised himself mechanically, still holding the dusty, bloody jacket of the tearful man in his arms. He brought up the Overwrite button, which had caused him so much pain in the past, and activated it with his dusty hand.

Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

He saw many files and folders appear. Some with names he recognised as important moments or people. He moved closer to the one that displayed his lover's name before clicking on it, moving the others away to show many files, all belonging to the dead man. He found many files that he knew, like memories they had had together or even his lover's abilities, but there were also some he didn't know, like the file "lv_stable_manoir_nm_xx_xx_xxxx" for example.

Under other circumstances he would have passed it by and avoided touching it to see what it was, but this file and several others with almost identical names, always beginning with "lv_stable", were condensed where he guessed Killer's source file would be. This file was the one that would allow him to bring it back to life, and these additional files were blocking it, as if they were trying to protect or lock up this code.

The former guard knew that each file was important. They could contain a memory, a way of thinking, an ability, some important object too. And deleting them could have a real consequence on his friend, he had already seen the result with people from his universe becoming radically different afterwards.

He took the file that was bothering him in his hand, resembling a sheet of paper that was slightly luminous and filled with a seemingly random binary sequence. He would only have to concentrate on it a little to find out what it hid, but he preferred not to do anything with it. Everyone had their secrets, memories they didn't want to show or admit to anyone, and Cross preferred to respect this secret garden that his lover would surely not want to show him.

Instead, he shifted his right hand and let go of the glowing piece of paper, letting it fly gracefully into the dark void before stopping quietly, regaining a peaceful stillness. He did the same to the other files that were bothering him, moving through the dense flow of information. He would put these files back in their place when he had finished what he had to do.

He arrived at the object of his research, a sheet brighter than the others, the code of his lover. When he reached for it, he concentrated slightly on it, seeing text appearing little by little. It was a simple sheet, giving basic information, like name, LV, or even birthday. One detail was different though: right next to his name, the words "dead, pending" were written.

Usually the status was either "alive" or "dead". He had never seen the notation "pending" appear. How should he process this information? Should he try to see what the new state meant, or should he rewrite over it and hope that it worked.

Unlike his father, he could not use Overwrite to its full capacity. He could only rewrite one thing from a person's code or environment. If he wanted to change several things about someone, for example, he would have to wait several days before he could transform the code back. He thought of it as water, malleable in a liquid state, that could be changed. But when he did it, it was as if he was changing its state, making it solid. At that point, the slightest change could shatter it, as if it were smashed to the ground.

Gaster was able to directly change its state with the part of the power that was blocked to him. He would be lying if he said that it didn't disgust him to learn that this power was partly blocked to him. Later he had learned another thing the hard way: he could not bring back the dead if their code was inaccessible to him. For that, it was enough that the person was dead after about ten minutes.

The problem was that it had taken him a long time to clear the code, longer than he had anticipated, and he risked not being able to change it if he continued to waste time with questions that were surely useless.

He took a deep breath before starting to modify the code. It seemed to work for a few seconds before the source file glowed with a yellowish glow, blinding him. As his pupils became slightly accustomed to the bright light, he could discern that the yellow colour had been replaced in part by a more purple light. The latter attacked the surrounding files, making them disappear one by one, with an unpleasant buggy noise.

Cross watched in horror as the pieces of paper disintegrated into nothingness. It took him a few seconds before he reacted, trying to use the Overwrite to try and fix everything, but without success. Traitor tears began to appear and he couldn't hide them for long. So that's what happened when it was too late, when he couldn't save him. He had succeeded, he was in time, it had worked. Why did it have to fail suddenly? Why didn't he at least let him have that little victory? So he had to lose all the time... all the time.

A movement to his right drew his attention away from the source file to another file. This one seemed to dance on the spot in a light breeze. He didn't even need to use his power to recognize the memory.

It was a mild, sunny spring day. Killer had taken him to a world he didn't know, to watch a movie at the cinema and eat at a restaurant. He was now holding her hand as he ran quietly along, a happy, eager look on his face. The embarrassment and blush on the monochrome's face made him chuckle, and if he didn't want to get there so badly, he would have stopped to tease him even more.

Instead, he led him through the streets of the small town, attracting the attention of a few passers-by who found them either cute together or annoying running around. Yet despite his looks, neither of them were bothered by them or even cared. One was too focused on his lover, and the other was rushing to finally arrive at his destination.

When they arrived, Cross had seen a huge blue expanse tinged with yellow, pink and purple by the sunset. It shone with bright lines and moved gracefully in the wind, carrying with it the pleasant iodine smell which was almost unknown to him. He watched as the waves formed, coming closer and devouring a small part of the beach, before retreating leaving a small wet trail. They made a soothing sound, like a natural lullaby.

“Happy birthday, Criss-Cross,” exclaimed Killer.

“You've already told me that a dozen times today,” intervened the other skeleton, his cheeks on fire.

“You never say it in access. And the day is not over~”

He kept his lover's hand, dragging him a few steps from the water, before sitting down, forcing him to do the same. He added quietly:

“You told me you'd never seen the sea in your world, and last time you didn't move for like five minutes when you saw it. I thought it would be nice to take you there. Besides, the sand here is soft, look!”

He took some sand in his hand, loosening it to let the grains escape, pushed by the breeze. Cross, for his part, amused himself with his free hand by sweeping them up, letting his hand roll over them as if he were stroking an animal's fur. Killer was right, it was soft but also slightly warm.

“You saw, he's a thousand times softer than you,” taunted the watery one.

“I don't see why you're comparing me to that. Besides, it's not true.”

“Awwwwwww~ My little guard is jealous. If it's really fake, why don't you show me some proof~”

He had reached out, gently grabbing the bottom of his lover's face, before kissing him passionately. It had been a fluffy day and he'd probably never had such a good birthday.

He quickly grabbed the piece of paper. He didn't want it to be deleted, not this, not this kind of file. He didn't want any of it to be deleted. So he copied it, creating an identical file, and then sending it off into the void, hoping it would get far enough away to be safe.

But he had made a mistake. In touching that file, duplicating it, and sending it off, he had forgotten to let go of the original. As the latter was eaten away entirely by the aggressive light, the monochrome code began to change in turn, several data points disappearing into an uncertain eternity.

•°•°•

Cross woke up in this white, empty place. He stood up and looked in every direction to see if anyone was there. He had this empty feeling, as if something or someone was missing. As if nothing was in its place, even in this endless nothingness.

“Chara?”

He got no answer, as he had strangely expected. He'd been stuck here for days with this horrifying kid by his side, and yet he knew he wouldn't see him again, not even being able to put into words why he was so sure or even why he'd suddenly disappeared. Strangely enough, when he thought about it, it wasn't the disappearance of the human that bothered him, it was the disappearance of someone else... But who?

His soul began to glaze over, unable to remember who he had forgotten. He just wanted to find this stranger and protect him to his last breath, without even knowing his name, his appearance or even how and where to find him.

“Hello,” intervened an unknown voice behind him.

When he turned around, he saw a skeleton a little shorter than him, a yellow jacket reaching his knees and fading to a cyan colour. He wore gloves of the same colour as his tunic, partially concealing the black cloth that reached down to his shoulders. A small golden crown adorned his head, bringing out his pupils of the same colour. He smiled gently and said:

“Don't worry, I don't want to hurt you. I'm here to help you.”

•°•°•

“Boss,” a voice called out.

Nightmare looked at his subordinate, stopping to focus on the negative feelings Cross was having. So one of his two skeletons had done something that had reset the timeline, but apparently in addition to being returned to the beginning, they couldn't remember everything that had happened.

“You stop talking all of a sudden. Is something going on?”

A smile stretched the lips of the corrupted being. He couldn't have asked for a better opportunity than this. He replied confidently:

“I felt a lot of negative emotions in one person. But in the end, he will not be useful to me. I'll leave him with his feelings, maybe they'll all get worse on their own.”

☄𖤍☄

Killer toussa douloureusement tout en crachant du sang avant de perdre l'équilibre, ses jambes n'arrivant plus à supporter le poids de son corps entier. Il ne fallut pas longtemps avant que le sol ne soit teinté d'écarlate. Il sentit quelque chose soulevant doucement son torse et son crâne. En regardant ce que c'était, il remarqua que c'était Cross, son amant, des larmes de sang et de négativité débordant de ses orbites, alors qu'il tentait surement de les retenir en vain, comme à son habitude.

Il préférait toujours se montrer fort et stoïque devant les autres, et il avait fallu beaucoup de temps pour qu'il enlève ce masque devant son âme-sœur, révélant une facette plus angoissé mais aussi plus attentionné.

Le larmoyant connaissait cette sensation, celle du froid et chaud se mélangeant, celle du flou et de l'absence de plus en plus importante et insistante de sensation. Son sang coulait toujours abondamment, de même que les larmes de l'ancien garde qui s'écraser sur ses pommettes, pourtant il était de moins en moins capable de ressentir leur écoulement, ou le goût métallique dans sa bouche. Il allait mourir, c'était certain.

Il regarda son compagnon avant de sourire avec assurance. Il allait mourir certes, mais ça ne voulais pas dire qu'il n'allait pas revenir. Pas avec toute sa détermination. Ses larmes commèrent à se tarir, de même que ses émotions. Il commença à voir trouble, les sons ne lui parvenaient plus avec autant d'intensité. Avant de fermer le orbites et de tomber en poussière, il crut entendre la voix de Cross envelopper dans un voile épais et presque imperméable de brouillard.

Lorsqu'il les ouvrit, il se retrouva dans cette espace noir de jais engloutis dans un silence de plomb, cette espace qui ne lui avait pas du tout manquer. Le menu de Game Over. Deux boutons dorés s'offrirent à lui : Continuer ou Quitter. Comme à chaque fois, il appuya sur le premier. Comme à chaque fois, il s'attendait à ce que le chargement se fasse rapidement, se retrouvant dans sa chambre dans le manoir de Nightmare, là où il sauvegardait tous les jours.

Au lieu de ça, un message d'erreur était apparu devant lui pour la première fois. ["lv_stable_manoir_nm_xx_xx_xxxx" Impossible d'ouvrir cet élément. Il peut avoir été déplacé, renommé ou supprimer. Voulez-vous supprimer ce fichier ? ] Il regarda incrédule l'écran devant ses yeux. Jamais il avait eu ce message, ou un quelconque message d'erreur. Que se passerait-il s'il supprimerait le fichier ? Il perdait sûrement plusieurs jours, mois ou année à cause de cette action. Il perdrait peut-être même sa relation avec Cross.

[Non] Il cliqua sur le deuxième bouton, ne voulant pas détériorer cette relation si précieuse pour lui, cet espoir et cette amour qu'il ressentait pour lui. Un nouveau message apparu. [Voulez-vous continuer au dernier fichier existant ? ] Il ne pouvait pas retourner à son dernier point de sauvegarde, se qui l'étonnait énormément, mais en même temps il ne pouvait pas juste rester ici à attendre de comprendre pourquoi cette anomalie avait eu lieu.

[Oui] Sa réponse sembla bizarrement ne pas aboutir. Pendant ce qui lui semblait être une éternité, il voyait un sablier tourné encore et encore sur l'écran sombre. À sa grande surprise, un autre message d'erreur apparu. [Le fichier ou le répertoire est endommagé et illisible] Avant qu'il puisse réagir, de nombreuses fenêtres d'erreurs apparurent remplissant entièrement l'écran. Killer retira sa main avant que ses nuisances rentrent en contact avec lui. Mais il n'était pas idiot, il savait que ça ne réglerait pas le problème.

Dans un juron, il fis apparaitre une nouvelle touche, plus brillante que les autres : le Reset. Il préférait ne jamais l'utiliser, ne sachant pas où cela le ramener, ayant trop peur de retourner dans l'enfer qu'était son univers. Mais en même temps il n'avais pas envi d'être engloutit et effacer par ses choses. Il se demandait même si ça pouvait le transformer en une Erreur, et si la situation ne serait pas aussi critique, il serait sûrement en temps de rire en imaginant la réaction de Cross ou même toute les conneries qu'il pourrait faire sous cette forme.

Il appuya dessus, avant de voir les anomalies disparaitre une par une, laissant un dernier message apparaitre, avant que sa conscience s'échappe mystérieusement. [Suppression des anomalies en cours... ]

•°•°•

— Je te jure que je ferais tout pour te sauver.

Cross prononça ses mots avec toute l’honnêteté donc il pouvait faire preuve. Il vit Killer se transformer en poussière sans qu'il puisse faire quoi que ce soit ou même savoir s'il l'avait entendu. Il ne pouvais pas arrêter de penser à se qu'il allait faire, ou plutôt aux conséquences de ce geste. Il savait ce que ça faisais de découvrir que quelque chose avait été réécrit, encore plus quand c'était soi-même ou une personne à qui on tenait. Il savait que Killer pouvait lui en vouloir en le découvrant, mais il préférait mille fois qu'il soit en vie et en colère contre lui que mort.

Il essuya ses larmes, ses pommettes et le bas de ses orbites taché d'ébène et de lavande. Il avait pris sa décision, et peu lui importer les conséquences, il arriverait à ramener Killer. Il ferait tout pour pouvoir le voir à nouveau, peu importe s'il devait s'opposer à Nightmare en réécrivant la timeline entière. Rien n'avait d'importance quand il regardait le tas de poussière devant lui, là où son amant se trouver juste avant, là où il le regardait et souriait avec assurance et espièglerie, comme si la mort n'allait pas le faucher quelques instants plus tard.

L'ancien garde se releva machinalement, gardant toujours la veste poussiéreuse et ensanglantée du larmoyant dans ses bras. Il fis apparaître le bouton Overwrite, qui lui avait causé tant de douleurs dans le passé, avant de l'activer avec sa main poussiéreuse.

Tout se passera bien. Tous va s'arranger.

Il vit de nombreux fichier et dossiers apparaitre. Certains ayant des noms qu'il reconnaissait comme des moments importants ou des personnes. Il se rapprocha de celui qui affichait le nom de son amant avant de cliquer dessus, éloignant les autres pour montrer de nombreux fichiers, tous appartenant au mort. Il découvrit de nombreux fichiers qui connaissait, comme des souvenirs qu'ils avaient eu ensemble ou même les capacités de son amant, mais il y en avait aussi qu'il ne connaissait pas, comme le fichier "lv_stable_manoir_nm_xx_xx_xxxx" par exemple.

Dans d'autres circonstances, il serait passer à coté en évitant d'y toucher pour voir ce que c'était, mais ce fichier et plusieurs autres qui avaient un nom presque identique, commençant toujours par "lv_stable" se condensaient là où il devinait que le fichier source de Killer se trouver. Ce fichier était celui qui le permettrait de le ramener à la vie, et ces fichiers additionnels le bloquaient, comme s'ils essayaient de protéger ou d'enfermé ce code.

L'ancien garde savait que chaque fichier avait une importance. Ils pouvaient contenir un souvenir, une façon de pensée, une capacité, certains objets important aussi. Et les supprimer pouvait avoir une réelle conséquence sur son ami, il avait déjà vu la suite avec des personnes de son univers devenant radicalement différents après.

Il prit le fichier qui le gêné dans la main, ressemblant à une feuille de papier légèrement lumineuse et rempli de suite binaire aléatoire en apparence. Il n'aurais eu qu'à se concentrer un peu dessus pour découvrir ce que cela cacher, mais il préféra ne rien en faire. Chacun avait ses secrets, des souvenirs qu'on ne voulais montrer ou avouer à personne, et Cross préférait respecter ce jardin secret que son amant ne voudrait sûrement pas lui montrer.

Au lieu de ça, il décala sa main droite en lâchant le bout de papier lumineux, le laissant voler gracieusement dans le vide sombre avant de s’arrêter tranquillement, retrouvant une paisible immobilité. Il fis la même chose aux autres fichiers qui le gêné, avançant dans ce flux dense d'informations. Il remettrait ces fichiers à leur place après avoir fin ce qu'il avait à faire.

Il arriva devant l'objet de ses recherches, une feuille plus brillante que les autres, le code de son amant. Quand il l'attrapa, il se concentra légèrement dessus, voyant du texte apparaître peu à peu. C'était une fiche simple, donnant des informations basiques, comme le nom, le LV, ou même la date d'anniversaire. Un détail était néanmoins différent : juste à coté de son nom, les mots "mort, en attente" étaient inscris.

D'habitude les états inscrits étaient soit "vivant" ou "mort". Jamais il avait vu la notation "en attente" apparaitre. Comment devrait-il traiter cette information ? Devait-il essayer de voir ce que signifier ce nouvel état, ou devait-il plutôt réécrire dessus en espérant que cela fonctionne.

Contrairement à son père, il ne pouvait pas utiliser l'Overwrite dans sa totale capacité. Il ne pouvait réécrire qu'une chose d'un code d'une personne ou d'un environnement. S'il voulait changer plusieurs choses chez quelqu'un par exemple, il devait attendre plusieurs jours pour réussir à retransformer le code. Il se représentait ça comme l'eau, malléable à l'état liquide, pouvant être modifier. Mais lorsque qu'il le faisait, c'était comme s'il la faisait changer d'état, la rendant solide. À ce moment-là, le moindre changement pouvait la briser, comme si on la fracassait au sol.

Gaster arrivait à directement la faire changer d'état grâce à la partie du pouvoir qui lui était bloquer. Il mentirait s'il disait que ça ne l'avais pas dégouté d'apprendre que ce pouvoir lui était en parti bloquer. Plus tard il avait appris une autre chose à ses dépens : il ne pouvait ramener les morts si leur code lui était inaccessibles. Pour ça, il suffisait juste que la personne soit morte après une dizaine de minutes environ.

Le problème étant qu'il avait pris du temps à dégager le code, plus qu'il l'avais prévu, et il risquait de ne plus pouvoir le changer s'il continuer à perdre du temps avec des questions qui étaient sûrement inutiles.

Il pris une profonde inspiration avant de commencer à modifier le code. Ça semblait avoir fonctionner pendant quelques secondes avant que le fichier source brille d'une lueur jaunit, l'aveuglant. Lorsque que ses pupilles s'étaient légèrement habitué à cette vive lumière, il put discerné que la couleur jaune avait laisser place en parti à une lumière plus pourpre. Cette dernière attaqua les fichiers au alentour, les faisant disparaitre un à un, dans un désagréable bruit bugué.

Cross regarda horrifié les morceaux de papiers se désintégré dans le néant. Il lui fallu quelques secondes avant de réagir, essayant d'utiliser l'Overwrite pour essayer de tout arrangé, sans succès. Des larmes traitres commencèrent à apparaître sans qu'il ne puisse les dissimuler bien longtemps. Alors c'est ce qui se passait lorsqu'il est trop tard, lorsqu'il ne pouvait plus le sauver. Il avait réussi, il était dans les temps, ça a avait marché. Pourquoi il a fallu que ça échoue subitement ? Pourquoi ne pas lui avoir au moins laisser cette petite victoire ? Il était donc obliger de toujours perdre... de tous perdre.

Un mouvement à sa droite attira son attention, détournant les yeux du fichier source pour les porter sur un autre fichier. Celui-ci sembla danser sur place dans une légère brise. Il n'avait même pas besoin d'utiliser son pouvoir pour reconnaître ce souvenir.

C'était une journée printanière, douce et ensoleillé. Killer l'avait amener dans un univers qui ne connaissais pas, pour regarder un film au cinéma et manger dans un restaurant. Il lui tenait maintenant la main en courant tranquillement, un air joyeux et impatient sur le visage. La gêne et le rougissement sur le visage du monochrome le faisait glousser, et s'il ne voulait pas autant arrivé à cette endroit, il se serait arrêter pour le charrier encore plus.

Au lieu de ça, il le guidait à travers les rues de la petite ville, attirant l'attention de quelques passants qui les trouvaient soit mignon ensemble ou agaçant à courir partout. Pourtant malgré ses regards, aucun des deux étaient gêné par eux ou même s'en préoccuper. L'un était trop concentré sur son amant, et l'autre se précipitait pour enfin arriver à destination.

Lorsqu'ils arrivèrent, Cross avait vu une immense étendu bleu teinté de jaune, de rose et de violet par le coucher de soleil. Elle brillait de traits lumineux et se mouvait gracieusement eu gré du vent, emportant avec elle l'agréable odeur iodé qui lui était presque inconnu. Il regarda les vaguelettes se formaient, se rapprochant et dévorant une petite parti de la plage, avant de se retirer en laissant une petite trace humide. Ils produisaient un bruit apaisant, comme une berceuse naturelle.

— Joyeux anniversaire, Criss-Cross, s'exclama Killer.

— Tu me l'as déjà dit une bonne dizaine de fois aujourd'hui, intervient l'autre squelette les joues en feu.

— On ne le dit jamais accès. Et la journée n'est pas fini~

Il garda la main de son amant, l'entrainant à quelques pas de l'eau, avant de s’asseoir, l'obligeant à faire de même. Il ajouta tranquillement :

— Tu m'as dit que tu n'avais jamais vu la mer dans ton univers, et la dernière fois tu n'as pas bougé pendant genre cinq minutes en la voyant. Je me suis que ce serait bien de t'y emmener. En plus, le sable ici est doux, regarde !

Il prit du sable dans sa main, la desserrant pour laissant les grains s'échapper, pousser par la brise. Cross, quand à lui, s'amusait avec sa main libre à les balayait, laissant sa main roulait dessus comme s'il caressait le pelage d'un animal. Killer avait raison, il était doux mais aussi légèrement chaud.

— Tu as vu, il est mille fois plus doux que toi, nargua le larmoyant.

— Je ne vois pas pourquoi tu me compare à ça. En plus c'est faux.

— Awwwwwww~ Mon petit garde est jaloux. Si c'est vraiment faux, pourquoi tu ne me montrerait pas une preuve~

Il s'était exécuter, attrapant doucement le bas du visage de son amant, avant de l'embrasser passionnément. Ça avait été une journée duveteuse et il n'avait sûrement jamais passé un aussi bon anniversaire.

Il attrapa rapidement le bout de papier. Il ne voulait pas que ça soit effacer, pas ça, pas ce genre de fichier. Il voulais qu'aucun ne le soit. Alors il le copia, créant un fichier identique, et l'envoyant ensuite se perdre dans le néant, espérant qu'il puisse s'éloigner assez pour être en sécurité.

Mais il avait commis une erreur. En touchant ce fichier, le dupliquant, et le faisant partir, il avait oublié de lâcher l'original. Lorsque ce dernier se fis rongé entièrement par la lumière agressive, le code du monochrome commença à changer à son tour, plusieurs données disparaissant dans une éternité incertaine.

•°•°•

Cross se réveilla dans cette endroit blanc et vide. Il se leva avant de regarder dans chaque direction s'il y avait personne. Il avait cette sensation de vide, comme s'il manquait quelque chose ou quelqu'un. Comme si rien n'était à sa place, même dans ce néant sans fin.

— Chara ?

Il n'eut aucune réponse, comme il s'y attendait étrangement. Ça faisait plusieurs jours qu'il était bloquer ici avec ce gamin horripilant à ses côtés, et pourtant il savait qu'il ne le reverrait plus, sans même pouvoir poser des mots sur les raisons de cette certitude ou même de cette disparition soudaine. Bizarrement lorsqu'il y pensait, ce n'était pas la disparition de l'humain qui le déranger, c'était la disparition de quelqu'un d'autre... Mais qui ?

Son âme commença à se glacer, n'arrivant pas à se souvenir qui il avait oublié. Il avait juste envi de retrouver cet inconnu et de le protéger jusqu'à son dernier souffre, sans même savoir son nom, son apparence ou même comment et où le trouver.

— Bonjour, intervient une voix inconnu derrière lui.

Lorsqu'il se retourna, il vit un squelette un peu plus petit que lui, une veste jaune lui arrivant jusqu'aux genoux en se dégradant d'une couleur cyan. Il portait des gants de la même couleur que sa tunique, dissimulant en parti les tissus noirs qui remettait jusqu'au bas de ses épaules. Une petite couronne dorée ornée sa tête, faisant ressortir ses pupilles de la même couleur. Il souris gentiment en disant :

— Ne t'en fais pas, je ne te veux aucun mal. Je suis là pour t'aider.

•°•°•

— Boss, interpella une voix.

Nightmare regarda son subordonné, arrêtant de se focaliser sur les sentiments négatifs que Cross ressentait. Alors l'un de ses deux squelette avais fais quelque chose qui avait reset la timeline, mais apparemment en plus d'être retourné au début, ils ne se souvenaient plus de tous se qui s'était passer.

— Vous vous arrêtez de parler d'un coup. Il se passe quelque chose ?

Un sourire étira les lèvres de l'être corrompu. Il ne pouvais pas rêvé une meilleure opportunité que celle-là. Il répliqua avec assurance :

— J'ai ressenti beaucoup d'émotions négatives chez une personne. Mais en fin de coup, il ne me sera pas utile. Je vais le laissais avec ses sentiments, peut-être même qu'ils aggraveront tous seul.

This is my little heart ～('▽^人)

Nuisance in its entirety with its flat colours

Dark Cream Comic belong to @zu-is-here

It takes place after the Dark Cream Comic

He's 8 years old, almost 9. He is the son of Error and Nightmare. Error abandoned him and Passive! Nightmare is now taking care of him, with the help of Killer ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

So, it's @zu-is-here and @help-im-a-gay-fish 's fault, I blame you for corrupting my brain with his little treasures 乁( • ω •乁)

Question of the day: what would be Night's reaction? After all, he just got home and he's surprised right now...

A new friend （＾ω＾）

Killer below to Rahafwabas