Mama Noot Wants To Come Home.

A crying blue ch.8

On the other side of the multiverse

Inks pov:
It's been hell here ever since the war ended. Because Classic jumped into the void, I've been unable to make aus as simple as I used to. He serves as a model for me to create more artwork because he is the original, but without the model, the process is ten times harder. I am forced to start from scratch, inventing my own techniques, trying and failing multiple times before finally creating something that's worthy of being called art. I am constantly reminded of the standards I have to live up to and the expectations that are thrust upon me, which makes it hard to remain creative and motivated.

Sitting on a chair before the fireplace with an art block in my hand gave me a sense of relaxation. My hand was moving on its own as my eyes were in a trance from the fire's flames. Suddenly, my pen broke in half, and I looked down at the art block. It was a bruised and chained-up portrait of error. It was clear that the portrait had been a representation of my inner thoughts and feelings. I sure had a scary mind, but I liked it. But my observation of the portrait was cut short when a small skeleton opened the door in a hurry. "Ink!" He said in between gasps for air and the continued " They have yet to find them; should I call them in? It is getting late, and everyone is exhausted."

I looked at the small skeleton, which was blue, and responded with a big sigh and a raised hand in the air. Blue responds with a nod and walks away. Still frustrated with the situation, I began to pinch the bridge of my nose. Fresh was on the bad sanses side which made it even harder for me to find them.

He's an expert at camouflage and covoring scent, aura, and energi, making finding him nearly impossible. I began to get frustrated, unsure of how I was going to find them. When I looked to my left, I saw a picture frame with me, Dream, and Blue under a bright sun. But the once-omnipresent thing that gave me energy was now fueling my rage. Every since the war, Dream has been acting strangely; he is always muttering something to himself, and I can hear him cry at night. Blue has been trying to help, but nothing he says or does seems to make any difference. Dream seems to have not recovered from Nightmare's death. He was always so strong and brave, but it is as if the war robbed him of his strength. Something that was very problematic for me. I have no use for broken tools.

I don't understand either why he is behaving like this. Didn't he despise Nightmare? They wept for him. Nightmare is not someone to weep over; he wasn't a decent brother to begin with. So why this sudden outpouring of emotion? To make matters worse, Blue appears to be heartbroken in the midst of all of this chaos. Idiots, that's what they are. Crying over trash is utterly pathetic. Even if I could show sadness, I wouldn't.

Blue should realise that Dust was just a killer, killing for fun and for his sick mind. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so naive as to think that Dust was anything but a remorseless murderer. No amount of tears can make up for the sheer depravity of Dust's actions. "The mighty Blue is now being trampled by a killer who never even looked at him with romantic interest." I muttered to myself sarcastically.
What had been a passionate, one-sided love between Dust and Blue was now a one-sided tragedy.

Let's stop thinking about them now. I could feel my veins exploding soon from disappointment and anger. I took a deep breath and forced my mind to focus on something else. I grab my phone and called Sci-sans to hear the daily rapport. Fresh, as usual, has made another day of my life a living hell. * smashes the phone in his other hand in two as he strikes the desk.*
"WHY IS EVERYBODY SO DAMN USELESS!"
*Glares at the portrait of Error he made*
* Ink makes his way to the portrait, while grabbing some tape on his way*
" UGLY BETRAYING BITCHES, TRAITORS!" I said this while biting off a piece of tape and placing it over Error's mouth in the portrait. I then continued, " BY NOW, I WOULD HAVE ERROR UNDER MY FEET!" I wanted to be the one on top, the one who controls it all. Not some ORIGINAL SHIT AND A GLITCH.
* tears the painting down and throws it in the fireplace to burn*

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A/N
As you may have sensed, Ink has a weird obsession with Error and the desire to have him at his mercy. A little arrogant, but who doesn't like that?
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On the other side

Cross's pov:

Everything has gone well so far, boss and Classic are fine, we've been killing useless aus, and some of our gang members have even started dating. But I can't shake the feeling that something is about to go wrong.

We've been camping outside a lot lately. I think we're getting a little too comfortable with our position. Our members are taking a risk by making the camp outside our territories, and even if we've managed to keep ourselves safe so far, I worry that we might be overstretching ourselves and that one day something unexpected could happen. And to make matters worse, it feels like a honeymoon every time we settle down. The couples can be heard comforting each other and having fun, which puts a sour taste in my mouth. I feel like our members are getting a little too comfortable in the camp, and while this sense of security might be pleasant now, it could be damaging in the long run. Maybe I am just thinking like this because my crush is out of my reach, but........ it's wrong.

I walked past the tent Fell and Dust shared and to my surprise was it slightly opened. I peaked inside to see a steamy and passionate kiss between them two with Dust taking the lead. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I too could kiss right now, I wanted to have Boss in my hands. But fate is too cruel for me.

I walked away and left the two lovers alone. I walked into the tent I shared with Swapfell G, and saw a red mess. A hungover mess that had drunk six bottles of red wine sat at the table. I let out a deep sigh of exasperation and tried to wake him up. But his drunk-ass began to sob while tightly holding a wine bottle. I knew he was beyond consolation in this state, so I simply put a blanket over him and went to my sleeping bag.

I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pity for him but who am I to feel pity for him when I too am feeling what he feels. Whit that I closed my eyes and doze of to a slumber.

Now,this is rewritten, and it makes more sense and is not as cringy as before. My brain back then must have been low on sugar to think that was good. HAHA

But on to the next chapter;)