Barmecidal(adj.): Illusionary or imaginary therefore disappointing
Day 1
Ink called in a joking tone out to the void,
"Error? You can stop this now, it's not funny anymore." There was no answer. "Maybe I took his help a little for granted." He mumbled in the brown scarf as he sat down. He's still hoping someone would come and get him. "I don't know..." He felt like sobbing again in the fabric of his clothes.
I just have hope now. Ink looks over at the pieces of wood on the ground, once his paintbrush. Error could've just took it, why'd he destroy it? That's a little overkill. He scoffed and tried to play off his fear like nothing, but he was terrified. He looked back at the brush's pieces, all organized in a pile of where each piece went like a puzzle. The same feeling of hopeless hit him and he pressed his face back into his scarf.
Day 2
Ink tried reaching out to Dream, but he didn't know how to except by positive emotion. As Ink didn't have a soul, he couldn't be tracked with Dream's ability to sense positive emotion. There would be so much negativity around him anyway.
Ink didn't have much positive feelings left anyway. His hopes plummeted when he drank most of the yellow. His sick and twisted laughter filled the Anti-Void and when it finally faded, he was fully submerged in the pain. And happiness was just gone for him, and he fell into despair.
Day 5
Ink went back and forth from staying silent and screaming out in frustration. His emotions felt out of whack, not in line with each other. It was like a mood swing from severe depression to boiling anger to insanely happy to gut-wrenching sickness. It was never completely another emotion but it was just one was stronger at that moment.
Day 10
"Error please let me out! I'm sorry!"
"Can't we just talk about it?"
"I hate you! You're so immature Error!"
"...I don't know what else to do..."
Day 11
Ink felt sick during a lot this.
He threw up ink so many times that he used the ink to try to make another brush or portal. It was useless. It felt desperate, but what else could he be?
He barely felt his emotions were like blurry words he couldn't see anymore. Too far away from his reach.
Ink knew this meant his emotions were running out. Whenever they did, he hoped they didn't have to.
Day ????
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.̵̢̡̧̧̦͉̞̞͖̖̥͕̗̩̘̤̠̙̠̪͎̙͍̰͎̘̭͕̪̌̑̄̕
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Y̴̢̨̡̡̢̡̧̛̥̯̲̭̗͇̖͔̖̜̯͎̰͉̻͇͕̟̤̹̰̥̲͎̱̯̲̟̲͔̯͍̯̘̤̗͓̞̯̞͚̜͎͓̼̲̬̟͉̫̮̻̯̹̖̣̩̟̻̲̭͈̫̟̲̆̄̏̀͋͑̎͛͋̽̀͋̓͆̍̒̋̒͗̔͐̿̀̏͊̇̾̑̐͛̈̔̏̄̔̔͐̐̌̄͛̌̄̂̽̄͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅo̴̢̨̢̲̠͕̼̖͍͖̫̩̲̝̥̲̹̫̠̱͍͖̘̰̜͉͖̹̮̣̗̯̯̞̦̬͇̗͈̹̫̜̤̞̘͂̐͐̎̒̃̆͋̊̌̊͜͜͝͝ų̶̡̠͖͈̲̝̪̝̙̈́̃͒̽̀̔͆̀́̈́̌́̈́͛͠'̸̨̧̡̢̧̧̡̢̡̢̧̡̛̛̰͉͓̹̥̩͕̗̦̥̟͚̖̝̲̖̪̥̘̬̗̟͖̠͉̟̝̹̙̟̣̬̪̹͉̺̝͉̤̹̝͓͖̺͓̫̹̥̟̟̮̦̯͍͍̼̣̪̤̿̄͊̇͗̑͊̒͂̓̄̈̌̂̇̃̿͋͋̓͛̀̔͒̇̋͌́̃̌̈́͛͆̉̊̍̆̍̚͘̚͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅr̷̛̳̻̞͔̓́͆̊́̆͛̂̅̒͑̈́͋͆͌̽̌̃̅̃̎̃̂̃̐͒͐͂̈̐͌͛̋͒̇̀̌͗̿̔̑́̑̅́̑̎̈́͐̆̊̆̾̑̄̀̏̂̒̐̃̕̕͘̚̕͘͘͠͝͝ͅê̶̡̢̛̛̝̮̦͈̙̩̗͕̳̳̱̲͉̥͚̭̭̦̭̖̩͔͎͖͚̹̩̬̙̜̄͒͐̉̋̓͋̾̅̒͗̈̓̋̀̅̀̐̑̎͊̿͆̀̌̅͆͐̍̎̏̆̂͆̈́̓̒̀̀̇̒̾̑̀̅̐̽͛̽̏̌̔̊͋̋͋̉̍̄͂̓̕̕͘͜͝͠͝͝͠ͅ ̷̡̨̢̛̛͙̥̤͎̝͈̰̘̦͍̭̤̱͎̣̱̝̙̘̜̳͎͔̗̦͕̹̣̱͔̓̆̀̓͑̓́͛̑̄̋̿̓͋͒͂̄̒̋̈̎̓͋̿̎͊̉͗̈́̀͛̇͛͆̐̅̾̊͐́̾͌̓́̎͋̍́̈́͆̄̌̏͗̌͑̕̚͘̕͘̚̚͝͝͝j̴̛͉͖͙̗̦̱̯̖̰͍̠͔͕͆̀̄̔̀̈́̔̈́͆̊̆̎̉̽̀͒̇͛́͐̑̂͂̌̾̌̒̅͌̿̉̆͑̋̆̃̍̏͌̇̄̀̊́͒̚̕͝͝͝͝ͅư̵̢̢̢̢̡̧̡̛̼̼̬̘͖̹̫͎͚̪̯̱͕̺̻͍͉̦͖̤̹̗̜͖̜͇̜̳̠͚̪̞͉̞̗̙͖̞̮͓̘̜̰͉̗̟̣͎̝̮͓̦̤̥̩̮̬̮̰͕͉̠̦̯̟̘͓̠̽́̽̅́̅̽́̇̀́̅͆͆͋̽͌̉̐̒̆͌́̅͊̂̄̈̈́͐̃͊͂͂̊͆̾̅̍̂͌͛̍͋̆̊̍͆̿̆̏̓͊͂̅͆̅͐̚͘͘͜͝͝ͅͅͅs̸̡̨̢̡̨̛̤̝̪̬̥͓͔͎̮̠̦̬̦̞̬̬̩͇̯̯͇̠̺̠̫͚̼̘̹̰͇͍͖̞͕̫̖̮͎̖̩̬͇̜̍̍̇̍̃͌͆͌͗͗̓̒̌̈́̋͗̑͛͗̔̍̈́̔̓̈́̇̑̈́̐̀͑̑̅̈́͆́̒́̇͒̄̄̏͋̑̐͛̈̕͘̚͜͠͝͠͠ͅt̶̡̯̯͈͉̞̳͙͍̤̝̲̲͓͓̳̻͚̗͙̺͖͖͇̬̙̥̬͍̺̱̞͙̻̖͔̮̣͕̘̬̳͛͛̐̐̈́̈̍̓̈́̉͐̑̾̇̽̂̍̔̀̉̈̆̒͗͒̔͗̐͗̽̑̐͋͗͗̎͊̔͂͌͋̊͒͑̒͆̄̍̽̈́̌̀̃̌̑̔̽̌͋̑̉̈̃͒͌̎̊̏̏̍́́͒͌̈̉̊̚̕͠͠͝͠ ̷̢̛̣̹̜̻͕̦̥̯̦͓̠̲̜̪̗͔͓̙̰̗̥̹̞̮̞͈̘̦̘͔̼͎̗͛̽̎̆͒͌̏̏͌̇̑̉̈̇͑͋̿̿̉̀́̽͗̊̔̋̀̆̾̆̈́̈́͌̊̽̑͒̀͌̈̊͋̓̈́̌͑̀̀͂̀̅͐͑̄̅̓͐͒̿̆̈́͛̊̕̕͘͜͝͝͝͝ͅà̸̢̧̧̨̨̢̛̛̙̙͚͙͍͔̩̥͙͖͓͔̲̱͙̱̭̯͇̫̩̱͇̠̰̘̭̥͙̯̰͎̩͔̣̪̣̹̮̻̻͉̙̱̤͍͓̙̰̩̺̖͖̠̪̟͕̹̖͎̦̥̞̲̘̀̔͛̅̋̈́̐̈́͋̈́̎̓̓͊̎̓̀̿͗̽̒͒̈́̾̓̆̀̚̚͘̕͜͜͝͝͠ͅͅ ̴̢̛̗̼͓̤̯͓̞͔̝̖̰̱̯̦̣̮̩͓̝̗̻̖̝͕̦͙̠̮̮̥̝͚̟͓̹̤͔͉͈̞͖̞͎̝͎͇̣̈̄͛̐̓͐̓͐͗̀̔̓̉͐̊̈́͊̈́̐̒̋̕̕͜͠͝ş̸̢̨̛͉̟̫͓̰̼͇̺̘͈̺̹͉̬͓͈̳͖͚̐̈͋̃̐́̒̔̂̋͒͑̎͆͌̑̑̅̂̿͌͑́̀̂́͐̂̄̈́͂͒͂͛͘͘͜͝ķ̵̨̢̡̡͍̝̞͉̥̯͍͍̮͍̹̳̟̲͙̖̟̘̙̣̮̮̫͍̳̠͚͕̹͉̦͍̼̪̘͍͎̝̙͕̩͖̫̬̈̓̍̋̐̅̄̔̄̐̂̐̌͛́̄͂̂͐́̌̃́͂̋͒͒͒͘͜͝ͅe̶̢̧̧̛̬̺͕̘͔͙͓͙̪̝̮͍̩̱̣̼̜̱̯͈̟̠͋̂̅̌̓̀̾̇̃̇̽̅̈̔̓̀͊̑̃̄̊̈́͌̈̌̈́̃̊̀̈́̋͛͑̓̀̊͊̓̀̑̋͛̀̆̀̂̏̄̃̚̕͘̚͘͘͜͜t̵̡̡̛̮̥̹̯̣͚̪̻͈͖̬͚͕̘̹͍̞͎̗͚̾̉̒̒̐̐͊̇̈́̆̄͌̍̅̎͑̏͑̃̂̓̀̔̂̐̒̆̏̓͋̎͛͒̃͑́̑̍̏̔̅̒̈̍́̇̎̕̕̚̕͜͠͠͝c̸̢̧̱̖̹̖̖̭̪̱̝̹͍͖̳̗̲͛̍̽̓͂͒̿̃̉͆̽̆͐̒̈́́͐͋͂́͗͋̕̚h̴̨̛̗̘̮̝̝̮͔͈̦͙͔͉͕͓̘̣̿̊̒̄̌̃̂͊̔̐̍̈́͌̓̎̅̓̇̒̔̾̋̔̽̂́͒́̇̏͂̇̓̓͂̈́̇́̑͌̔͋̕͘͜͝͝͝͝ ̶̨̡̧̡͇̘̝̗̭̣͍͔̩̖͖͈̱̜͔̯̰̠̘̯̘͍̼̲̟̹̫̳̤̲̲͔̟̤͉̩͔̗̫̟̪͔͚͕̘̮̯̳̫͔̥̗̰͙̤͎͖͔̱̜̙̬͇̜̣͎̼̲̖̯̙̌̄̿͐͌̉͜͜ͅơ̷̧̡̡̛̛̩͖̩͇̖̤̖̙̼͓̗̭͉̞̦̦͈̲̬͕̱̰̗̱̣̯̙̭͕̠̪̫̖͎͔̻̗̤̳̲͕̦͔̦͕̲̦͚̣̥̲͔̞̭͖̣̫͈͌͆̿̉̌͌̎̅͛͌̔̾̂̎͂̃̽͒̀̉͒́̊̈̔͂̈́̋͌̍̊̔͊̍̄̉̿̎͊́̌̑͑̈́̀̿̎̈́̃̆̊͐̔͛̊̐͌̓̒̏̚̕̚̚̚͠͝͝͝͝ͅň̵̡̧̡̡̧̛̛͕̮̼̤͔͕͔̠͙̠̪̮̔̍͗̈́̓͑̈́̿͗̽̔̽̄͑͑̍̈́́̃̈́̅͆̏̆̈͐̑́́͊̈́̏̅͑̏̓́̔̄͆͐̓͋̒͑̍̀̎̕̕̚̚͘͝͝͝ ̸̛̟͇̹̖̯͊͛̿̀͋̑̊̌̀͋͋̌̆̓̓̊̍̾̋́̂̊̄̀̄̍̐̊̐̑́͒̈́̋̀̑̽̎̿̑̄̽̑̎͊̐͆̈͂̒̐̽́̀̈́̾͘͘͘̕͝͝͝͠s̷̢̙̹̣̺̜̯̦͙̪̻͇̳̤̐̏́͗͂̓̿̅͛̏͗̌̔̐̄͐̔̓͐͐͊̊́͆̇͂͆̍̈́̏̈́̚̕̚͘͜͝͠ờ̸̧̧̡̨̢̧̢̡̮̩̝͈͙̜͕̥̞̝͉̟͉͕̤͔̤͎̻̗̝͉̯͈̖̺̦͈̟͙͎̗̱̱̺̣͍͇̞̠͙̜̳͔͕̣̫̭͚͔͚͖̲̲̠̳̮̪͇̣̪̣̩͖̥̲̱̹̭̠̈́́̇̒̂͑̂̌̎̒̾̑̑̓́̉̈́̇̓̈̿͋͂̀̐̀͆́̆̄̈́̽̏͋͒̆̈́͐́̄͆̈́͒̀̾͊̅́̊̈́̃͐͐̓͆̈́͂̿̏̔̏̚̚̕͘͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅm̸̡̨̨̨̧̮̩̯͚͔͚̦̥̹͙̦̯̠̯͎͍͕̬̺͎̮͙̪͕͍̩͙̺̪̻̪͍͉̝̜͉̻͔̹̝̦͕̤̤̗̬̜͕͕͔̠͎̻̮̙̳̍̀͌̔̈́̊͗̒̀̐͗̉̈̊̐̎͆̔͌̏̈́̎̀̈́̓͊̽̅͑͂͒̑̉̀̓́̾͌̃̅͊̚̚͜͝ͅͅē̸̢̡̡̡̧̧̢̛͙̻̱̥͎͕̳̘̜͎̝̱̫̬͇̱͇̭̥̫̣̤̯̲͇̗̦̤̲̺͎̟̤̝̔̂͒̇͗̊̅̅̉̂̚̕̕͜͜ͅ ̸̡̢̨̡̨̢̡͇̘͕̖͈̮͍̭̱̻͎̲̠̣̣̪̪̭̟͙̖̣͖̪̺̤͔͔̗̯͙͓̜̹̯̪̺͕̜̭̣̮̤̯̳̳̙̯̖̱̭͙̹̣̙̹̟͔̗̓͌̌̉̈̉̋̊̐̉̉̔̏̓̿̀̚̕͜͝͠ͅw̶̨̡̧̨̛̛̛͖̺͇̰͙̰̙͓̤̪̰̝͕̗̤̘̹̺̒̾̈́͑̈̄̏̋́̽̊̉̓̂̽̃̀̊̀̄͂̓̒̃̓̄̉̍̌̇̊͒̒̀͛͑̌̀̂̔̔͘̕̚͘͜͝͠͝͠ą̸̢̧̧̧̧̡͎̦͕͔̝̮͇̠̘̪̝͕̼̱̙̦̹̘̪͖͚͈͇͍͖͓̫̰̪̱͓̼͎̍̀̀͐̏́͆́͂́̅̆̉̅̄̍̄̀̀̅́̓̈́́̾͐̔̔͘̕͘̕͝͝͠ͅͅͅs̸̡̛͓̖͖̰͔̯̹͓̤͖̥̭͖͕̱̝̱̭̮̺̲̠̥̮̥̟̤̣̫̥̣̓̇́̃̐́̍͆͌̊͊̓̎̇̑̊̀̀̄̐̍̈́͗̋́̏̿̉͂̋͆̈́́̌̎̌̚͘̕͜͜t̷̡̢̨̨̨̢̙̣̟͈̤̗̘̥̝͉̣͇̳̣̣̦̰̖͉̺͔̩̞̳̤̗͓͎̤͉̯̲̻̗̜͈̠̯͍͚̪͚̙̞̳̺̱͓̯̠̭̙͔̣͍̲͒̏̿̈́́̅́̀̈́͂͌͂̓̇͑͂͛͐͐̀̅̽͒͒͛̈͊̚͘͜͜͜͝ȩ̸̡̧̨̢̧̧̻̯̹̘͎̱̙̣̠͙̰͔̟̳̙̰̭͎̭͖͉̼͉̹̬̞̘̝̮̜̗̠̹͈͔̙͚͍̹̜̺͊́͆̈̋͋̆̀̌͛͜͜͜͜ͅd̶̡̢̢̢̛͎͖̬̙̝̣͇̭͙͍͕̪̤͎̦̗̭̖͓̻̝̦͙̯̲̪̗̝͎͚̹͉͌̒̑̉̑͂̀̆̋͛̅́̽͘͠͠͠ ̴̧̡̢̛̰̳̝̞̰͙̤͓̭̟̮͈͙̝̦̱̙̎̒́̽̔̎̑̎̐̓̔̽͛͒̅͋̋̓̅̒̽̾̿̽̅̈́́̿̑͊̂̅́̌̉̀̀̕̕̚̕͝͝͠͝͝͠͝p̷̨̨̢̡̧̨̧̭̦̻̯̟̝̲̪̘̥͔͖̬̺̪͎̬͍̲̖̼̮͔̳̹̟̼̹̳̖̻͇̫̟̝̯̖̝̖̺͔̞̱̱̣̭̼̟̦̞͕͍͉̠͚̺̦̪̥͍̠̗̜͙̩͐͒̅͐̅͒͒̈́͐͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅͅą̴̨̛̙͙̩̤̩̜̤͙̞͓̘͉͓̗̠̘͕̠̼̳̫̱̱̱͈̺͙͎̬͕̻͓̳̺̖̗͍̟̯̻̠̭̆̀̆̈͑̐̿̽̌͂̂͆̑̃̽͋̊͊̀̉͊̍̇̄̐̈̅̏́̍͌̍̃̃͒̔̌̑̍͊͌͗̃̾̽͆͒̒̚̕̚͜͠͝͠ͅp̶̧̡̗̱̯͈̟̺̬̫͓̺̞̹͇̦̗̻̜͇̳̈́̈̉͋͛̍̐̊̽̀̌̅́̂͑͒̂̃̀͌̌̍͌̓̑͛̽͒̋̀̅͑̽̃͌̆̎͒̂̃́̅̓̈́͐̄̄͐̂̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͝ͅe̵̡̡̧̧̧͉͙̪̖̲̠͕̜͍͕̱̩͍̗̹̠̠͉̰͍̭̻̯͚̩͙̘̺̱͓͍̤͉̩͙̤̬̝̰̬̭̥̦̠͕͕̦̱̦̮̻͈̻͙̻̲͓͉͓̻̮̱͍̫̣͔͊͒̉̄͒͆͛̐̎̈́̽̀̓̀͐̓̈́̂̍͛̍̔͋̓̾̀́̓̍̀̀̑͊͂́̅̒̐̀̅̇̽̈̍͑͑͌̅͑̎̀̃̑̈́͌̑͌̕̕̚̚͘͜͝͝͠ͅr̶̛͓̳͇̹̥͔͖̖̠̘̻̞͎̙͐͊̇͂̒̈̎̍́͆̿́̅̎̂̃̐̂̾̀̐̍͒̈́̐̾̏̽̆̍̎́̂͗̍̾͑́̆̑͊̎́̾̈̓̕͘̕͘̚͜͝͝͝
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Hiraeth (Ink x Error)
FanfictionHiraeth(n.): 1. Homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, or for a home which may have never been. 2. An intense form of longing or nostalgia, wistfulness. 3. The grief for the lost places of your past. COVER NOT BY ME!!! 🤍Highest Rank...
