Fictober 2024

That's rough, buddy

Universe: Dusttale

MC: Sans

Genre: crack, hurt/comfort

Warnings:
-OOC
-Barely edited
-Mention(s) of death
-Cigarette usage
-Mild profanity
-Bad therapy

A/N:

I was gonna make this super angsty, but then Ink appeared and said no. Fun fact, I have a note for headcannons of what each colour symbolises which emotion that probably needs an update-
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How did Ink get here?

Light blue and orange tint his vision, confusion, and curiosity, waring within him. The skeleton beside him has his skull in his hands, and he's pretty sure he's crying. Ink is also pretty sure he shouldn't be looking like a deer caught in headlights while a guy spills his life story and deepest darkest emotions, so he's rather happy he isn't seeing him, a tint of yellow in his orange eyelight.

... Which causes seafoam green to tint his blue eyelight, a bit of guilt forming in him. Maybe he shouldn't have drank all his vials.

Especially not the orange one. Dream always did say his curiosity would lead him to situations he may not like. Or was it someone else? He isn't sure.

A rough voice sounds from beside him, a strained and not very cheerful laugh leaving the skeleton.

"So no, I'm not okay."

Ink has to hold back the urge to say 'That's rough, buddy.' He remembers Dream not liking that response very much last time he used it. Trying to tamp down the weird expression on his face now that the skeleton (what was his name? Ash? Cinder? No, not those- he thinks Ash is closer, so he'll bet on that!) is looking at him. He gently pats his arm.

"That's... a lot."

Ash huffs out a soft laugh at that, rolling his eyelights, which, okay, fair. What else is Ink supposed to say when the guy confessed to killing everyone in his AU, including his closest friends and family, because of a homicidal child pushing him to the edge?

He's not sure that excuses his actions, but he can be sympathetic about it. At least, while he still has the vials affecting him. He can admit the creators can be a bit brutal with their stories.

Before he can figure out a response that wouldn't be too rude to say, the skeleton beside him shifts, grabbing a cigarette from one of his pockets and lighting it up with magic, gaze fixed in front of him at the pedestrians down below. He blows out smoke into the air, that unique taint of magic making it shift into various colours and designs in the air that make the yellow in Ink's eyelight much more evident, a sunglow star and yellow orange dot, before he focuses back on Ash.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Probably because you'll forget about it by tomorrow."

The skeleton chuckles, taking another drag from the cigarette and blowing smoke out again, but Ink doesn't focus on it this time. His gaze is firmly on the skeleton for a few seconds before he kicks his feet casually, looking down below, his eyelights shifting into a navy blue square and a reddish orange teardrop.

Frustration, and maybe a bit of fear.

"I'm not... uh, all that good with the emotions business."

Ink can basically feel the judgmental stare, as if saying 'You think?', and his teardrop shifts into a hexagon as he pouts, a bit more red in it.

"Honestly, it's probably better to get a therapist than talking to me."

Deciding to rip off the bandage, because he really has no way of putting it gently-

"I think your brother is a hallucination made through your own guilty mind in an attempt to remind you of your actions because you think you need to be punished for them but couldn't find anyone who could punish you for it. But you're also stubborn enough that it was the only option you respond negatively to anyone who does hold you accountable for your actions, which leads you further into your spiral that you think you deserve so you don't really genuinely look for help."

Ink shrugs, reddish orange hexagon shifting into a dark blue triangle, navy blue shifting to a greyish blue circle.

"Don't take my word for it, though."

He's really just repeating some of the theories the creators threw around about him occasionally, the ones he thinks make the most sense. He glances up at Ash to find him looking at him in shock, cigarette no longer in his mouth. His triangle shifts into a question mark, greyish blue turning to light blue.

"What???"

Ash doesn't answer him, looking away and roughly rubbing his face, another dark and very unamused laugh leaving him. It... sounds a bit teary.

"I thought you weren't good at the emotion crap? Damn it, I-"

Ash doesn't finish his sentence, groaning into his hands. One leaves his face to slip into his pocket again and his shoulders drop when he doesn't find another cigarette in it.

He huffs and glances at Ink, rubbing his face again before slumping backwards, hands splayed out in a starfish position beside him. Should Ink copy him???

"Whatever. You'll forget about this, anyway. What's the point?"

(They all always, always, forget-)

"I won't."

The promise leaves Ink before he can really think about it. He... doesn't actually think he can keep it, but he can at least reserve a spot in his scarf for this encounter. Ash raises a bonebrow at him, doubtful, but gives him the benefit of the doubt.

"If you say so."

Ink grins at him and tells him that he very much does. They lay there for a while before Ash has to go, Ink cheerily waving him off and going on his own way.

(Dust stares at the smaller skeleton in disbelief. Did he seriously forget his name and decide to call him Ash???)
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A/N:

The name sticks, btw, and he will forever be Ash to this multiverse's Ink.

Next up: Fellswap Gold, Toriel