Welcome to the Acute Incident Multiverse blog. [DreamSwap and Fell!Multiverse fusion]. This blog would be created to differentiate Acute Incident Multiverse from my other projects, and yet there is a connection between all of them, so expect information to be on both blogs. (Most likely this blog will be a sort of Archive that will contain important information on this AU) Enjoy! ^^
- I am an artist, call me Mitsura or Woof. I'm the creator of this blog and also the creator of the @blacksunsquad blog. I'm also a member of the blog @undercouch and run my personal blog @pigerludio, where I work with fanfics)
I'm always happy to answer questions regarding my AU's or anything else :D
Enjoy! <3
Links:
ASK Frink Sans (Acute Incident Multiverse)
«Who is she?» meme (Acute Incident Multiverse)
«Memories» (Acute Incident Multiverse)
Character info:
Frink (Acute Incident Multiverse)
Mirror (Acute Incident Multiverse)
FAQ:
1- What is an acute incident?
Acute Incident - A Multiverse in which a disrupted balance and a glitch in the Swap au code led to [Incident]. This resulted in [____________________] and under certain conditions, the balance was upset. After the [Incident], the Multiverse lived in a kind of ghetto mode, generally being a dystopia.
The [Incident] is a kind of merger of the Multiverse(Dreamswap/Fell)
The Multiverse restarted, wiping out everything in its path. After the rollback, it underwent a major change, putting the guardians in an aggravated position. More specifically, it rolled back further than the Apple incident (Dreamtale) taking with it some of the old AU protector notes (in a notebook that "magically" ended up in Frink's possession). In general, Frink prevented the events of the Acute Incident in Dreamswap, preserving the balance of the Multiverse. The name of Multiverse changed - Acute incident.
2- What characters are in this?
All of them, lol =D
The difference is that the relaunch after the mv merge changed their character towards the Fell component.
Important to the plot of the AU are characters you are familiar with:
Frink (DS!Ink&Fell!Ink).
Mirror (DS!Error&Fell!Error).
Seller/Leer (DS!Swap&Fell!Swap).
There are others but their designs have no visual reference yet :p
3- Why is the Seller not in this Multiverse if it is his home one?
Seller was the one who escaped and survived the restart of the Multiverse. He is now in another MV.
4- This all... sounds really weird, you know? It doesn't make sense, aren't?
Seller had changed. He had changed long before the Multiverse faded into nothingness. Long before he got trapped in an endless white void. Long before he lost his brother and his home universe.
His world had changed him. The Underground had changed him. The war of the past—a war he hadn’t even taken part in. His father’s death—a death he had no hand in.
Only one thing remained unchanged, time and time again — Seller wanted to live, desperately and fiercely. And he survived. He clawed his way to freedom, sparing no effort.
Yes, Seller had changed. He became stronger, slyer, more dangerous. Seller is alive—and that’s what matters.
What he wished to forget would never change. It would never disappear from his mind, no matter how hard he tried to erase those thoughts.
The demons of his past would never leave him. They would never forgive him for what he had done. The memories of Papyrus, Error, the Guardians would never fade. The memories of the war he was unprepared for would never quiet down. The thoughts of the Multiverse’s destruction — a destruction he did nothing to prevent — would never end.
...
What I love most about this bastard is that if you don’t dig into his lore, he just seems like a victim of tragic circumstances.
Not that it isn’t true, but the situation is far more interesting and complicated.
When a peaceful time comes, you sit and think that everything is finally over. You’ve won. Trees rustle around you, the wind scatters leaves and dust, the sun wraps you in warmth. At last, you allow yourself to relax, to rest. You’ve survived. You’ve made it. You’re strong.
But inevitably, the moment comes when an inner voice begins whispering ceaselessly — "This isn’t the end. Look around —there’s so much of it still here!" And this keeps you in a state of constant readiness, building more and more barriers —primarily within yourself. You get lost in this labyrinth of walls and, in the end, lose touch with reality. You start searching for a reason, but it all comes down to one thing — hatred. It doesn’t even matter who it’s directed at. It exists. And there’s a lot of it.
But the truth is, the problem isn’t the world around you. It’s in your soul. In you. And as long as you can’t overcome what’s inside, the world outside will always seem this way — bleak, gloating, and predatory. And the future will remain blurred and meaningless, terrifying no less than the most refined torture. If your soul, your very essence, craves war — no amount of time in all the worlds will be enough to make you love peace.
P.S. Perhaps someday, Seller will realize what’s written above. Perhaps someone will be found who can say it to his face—without fear. Sincerely.
Other tags: AU, In one body, Drabble, Parallel Worlds, Under the same roof, A collection of drabbles, Elements of psychology, Elements of humor / Elements of banter.
- Created by the desire to ✨ create✨
- Tags will be added as they are written.
- Predominantly bone-shake, though it's not a fact that this will always be the case.
- EML is: Acute Incident stories, (sick)everyday life of HWS, spending time with the AI inhabitants, living the dead and not quite alternatives, and just the creeping of bone-gnaw in the knowledge of their mortal existence.
An alternate timeline where Frink and Mirror had a ... during a particularly intense fight from the remnant of a collapsing world and a high concentration of Frink and Mirror's magic in one place... This little guy.
Frink hand twitches, and Radiant eyes flutter shut, watching with bated breath as his Base gently brings his hand down on his head, and instead of the expected kick or shove, he feels the cloth surface of the glove and the bones whose touch feels like thin cuts in dusty paper.
It had been a long time since Rad had twitched at such displays of sudden tactile generosity as he used to. He would have been proud of what he had accomplished when Mirror had taught him how to deal with such sensations, but learning to accept physical contact calmly like this all at once was proving to be a difficult endeavor. For both teacher and student.
Frink smile faltered, and the perennial red symbols in his eye sockets changed to a hypnotically calm blue, and the arrogant expression on the other's face softened. The guardian still reeks of menace, and subconsciously Radiant tries to force himself to calm down, to muster the courage to look into the stranger's eyes. It takes him a few seconds to do so and smile back, immediately casting a quick glance with a mute question over Frink's shoulder at the figure dressed in blue-colored clothing and a tattered cloak behind him. He gets a nod and Radiant feels a little calmer, but not as much as he would if he saw Mirror there, smiling at him.
- It won't be long before you've developed your abilities to an acceptable level. - Frink continues to smile, staring off into the distance. With a hum, the guardian removes his hand from the stranger's head and the kid lets out a barely audible sigh of relief, briefly looking down at the floor and fighting the urge to scratch himself where he can still feel the rough surface of the touch, sighing deeply a few times. - I hope you haven't abandoned your training.
The brief glance, carelessly thrown straight into Radiant's soul, made his bones and teeth clatter, but he forced his jaw tightly shut and swallowed, shaking his head in denial and clenching his fists tighter. He would have to calm down and pull himself together like Nightmere had taught him. He needed to be able to deal with what he was feeling and understand what he was feeling.
Still, he's weaned from Frink, and he realized that now more than ever.
- It's a good thing you didn't lose you mind while being with that idiot in the madhouse.
Frink waved him aside dismissively, squinting, but then breaking into the same arrogant smile that Radiant rarely saw on his face when he was pleased. There was a stabbing pain in his chest that he couldn't explain, as if someone had stuck a shoemaker's needle into his chest and threaded all the parts of his soul with a thick steel thread, pressing them tightly together.
A little anger came from the unpleasant sensation, the name of which he didn't know. Rad wasn't a fan of when one of his Base insulted the other, and by fateful coincidence, Frink was a master at it. But he also didn't like the conflicts and fights that the bases almost regularly had with each other.
And after that, Mirror still called him his friend?
- What's with the sour look? - Frink snorted, and his pupils flickered with purple and green squiggles, the meanings of which Rad often forgot, and found no point in memorizing. - We'll spend the whole week together. I can finally teach you something! Or aren't you excited?
Frink frowned, and the very thought of it seemed to hurt his ego. Rad didn't like what he was saying, but he nodded modestly, knowing full well that he had no choice in the matter and only a little annoyed at how quickly he'd agreed to this venture, when Mirror had told him that Frink's abilities were better developed by him and that this way he'd really understand what he needed in this life.
Not that any of that wasn't true, on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy throwing ink and watching his Base master the magic of its transformation, but he definitely thought Mirror was wrong about a lot of things, and strangely enough, he was wrong about Frink, even if sometimes his mouth was really prophetic.
And Rad liked fire, too - he was unconsciously drawn to it, having once seen his own ink burning with magic, after so many unsuccessful attempts to set it on fire. It seemed that he had burned two rooms that time, but Nightmare had surprisingly not scolded him, and had reassured him that those rooms had long ago spoiled his entire layout. Of course Radiant didn't believe him. But he didn't believe him NOW, and back then, scared and cornered, he was ready to believe anything, if only he could stop huddling guiltily against the wall and throwing weak magical attacks around uncontrollably.
Smiling as plausibly as possible, and as it seemed to himself - too dramatically changed in his face, Radiant covered his eyes, nodding to his thoughts, and after a moment's hesitation to answer the monster:
- I'm very glad you took the time.
Rad raised his voice, turning his head away to where his Basis had been looking earlier. Hard. Talking to Frink was hard after a while. - Just missed you.
Burying his nose deeper into his clothes, Rad breathed in the familiar smell of coffee and chocolate, smiling a little more confidently. The kid could tell that he was glad when Frink could talk to him quietly, like this.
The guardian was like an older brother to him, the same one who in silence experiences everything that is most terrible and unpleasant, and then exposes his prickles when you try to help him. Like a hedgehog snorting and curling up in a kind of prickly cocoon, sensing some kind of danger, albeit imaginary, he continues to snort and grumble stubbornly without saying anything useful. At least that's how Mirror compared him, and Rad saw no reason not to trust his experience in comparisons.
Except that Nightmare had once compared Frink to a Harpy, and smiled, saying that Dream couldn't stand the likes of them, and yet the two continued to play cat and mouse. Radiant didn't understand what cats had to do with mice, but he hoped the cat could win. He liked cats better than mice, if only because the stripes on his cheeks resembled a cat's whiskers.
Still, Radiant was curious about what lay beneath Frink's prickles, which he sometimes wanted to rip out with his own hands, despite the pain and a hundred percent step into the arms of death. Just to make sure that he really felt nothing for his named "Brother" and really, just as Frink had said, would be able to kill the indecision in him. At times like this, as he realized himself, he becomes uncontrollable and starts to break a lot, and then he forgets everything that has happened to him lately.
Time. What a useless phenomenon, Rad thought, tentatively tugging at the hem of the poncho on which his own hands had embroidered the stars. Three so far. He'd never kept time and considered it a complete pointless nonsense that made those around him feel inferior and forced himself into various ridiculous confines, like a sleep regimen or a daily routine.
Sighing heavily, the kid cast one last sad glance at the place where his nervous uncle was still waiting, stomping his foot in frustration and glancing around. Waving goodbye before taking Frink's hand, his last thought was one of regret.
He had forgotten his doll, after all, and she would surely be lonely without her friend, while he himself worried that Flatch might do anything to his dear Rose.
It had been an eventful day, though, and he couldn't think about his friend while he was with Frink.
The boy was once again plunged into the role of protector of worlds, swimming in its sources but refusing to dissolve into it, watching as his conscience, deaf to his questions, faded and life came to the fore. Not a man or a monster, no. Something more. Something that Frink so desperately protects from everyone at once, proudly sticking out his chest and striking the ground with the sharp end of his hand.
And Radiant had decided for himself at the time that he would never be the next guardian of this infinite space they call the Multiverse.
Meet Blessed. He is the mascot of this blog and the VK group.
His reference is sketchy, but I attach it here.
Originally, the mascot was supposed to be Virus(My British asshole), but... I do not like the current design, it needs to be changed, and time, effort and desire well... You could say that this child of mine I threw somewhere in the reeds to the frogs in the swamp. Let him hang out there for a while, heh
I like the role Bless, "Cleaner"...)))) It's the little devil that all my characters fear like hellfire and even more. So why not, will be the bitch girl that a good half of the characters fear.
And the last one for today will be the little guy I finally do a reference.
This is Radiant. Indirectly, a fusion of Ink-Error, but he was created from the magic of Frink and Mirror.
Below is a post with information about this character and his story.
(IMPORTANT: This is Acute Incident Multiverse, which is based on the DS Multiverse. Just keep in mind the basic differences between DS and the original and everything (or almost everything, since Mirror and Frink are the key figures here, and they are my brainchildren) will be clear to you.
(And so I'm looking forward to any questions, always happy to answer).
Radiant. (Luminous, source of heat, light)
History:
Appeared in one of Mirror and Frink's battles in which both fought desperately for their ideals, mercilessly pummeling each other's faces and piercing attacks. As they fought they didn't notice anything but each other anymore. (Ah, romance~). And at one point, Alternate was engulfed in fire - Frink had overdone the magic. But that's not the most interesting part. In the place of the burned and already destroyed AU, the enemies, in an attempt to catch their breath, noticed a small figure that literally came out of the fire. The completely naked skeleton looked very frightened, and when he saw the fighters, he started to push his slipper, only to fall down halfway, tangled in his own feet. Mirror and Frink were even distracted from the fight - they were in gloomy bewilderment, and Mirror was on the verge of crying out in horror, "This is the most wrong thing I've ever seen." And Frink agreed, but out of sheer stubbornness he did not let them destroy the strange creature, whose bones, mostly ribs, were decorated with small scars that glowed very brightly, and when touched, even if you just put your hand, you could feel the heat. Radiant was named Radiant, and, strangely but understandably, he was first taken under his wing by Frink, out of the same stubbornness and unwillingness to lose. He tried to bring up, but immediately gave up the case, and the kid himself learned, looking at Frink and watching others. Then Frink freaked out and threw Radiant off to Mirror, who was much more concerned about the child's upbringing, and probably sometimes showed excessive strictness, but even though he tried to show him as much as possible, he did not impose his ideology, and was happy to explain the reasons and motives for his actions.
Radiant lives in the Anti-Void, but spends more time in Outertale and Oceandale. These are the two Alternatives where running into him is a very real possibility.
Appearance:
Not tall, shorter than his basics.
The skeleton is white in color, with dark bones in the pelvis and below, excluding the ankles
There is an unusual innate pattern on his skull - it got that way from Frink's burning off Mirror's threads.
There are freckles on his face, but they are very hard to see.
He only has four phalanges on his hands and feet... And the phalanges on his hands are patterned, colored.
One eye socket is smaller than the other. Any explanation necessary?
Wears a long-sleeved jacket tied around his waist. It has patterns of fire on it.
T-shirt has a pattern of dripping ink.
Wears a poncho because a scarf doesn't suit him and it looks more like a plaid wrapped around his body than anything else.
Wears wide pleated pants.
Walks barefoot
Wears glasses because he can't see well.
Wears black gloves with open fingers.
He gets very hot when he feels a strong emotion.
Personality:
Slightly shy, though by the look on his face you'd think he's a very shy guy.
He loves Frink's abilities, but spends more time with Mirror, hence the stars on his clothes.
Always calls monsters and people by name, at least out loud.
He likes stars and shiny things that resemble them. Sometimes acts like a magpie.
Learned to play the flute from Frink.
Learned to sew dolls from Mirror.
Stole a t-shirt, sweater, and pants from his closet)
The character of the child is about 12 years old.
He neither "destroys" nor "creates" - he is not trivially interested in that.
He often adds stars to his clothes by himself.
His emotions represent a very meager range, coming from the basic available and their derivatives. He also hasn't been taught to distinguish between emotions, so he sometimes doesn't know what he's feeling at all.
He sleeps a lot because he stays awake a lot and doesn't understand the meaning of the time of day. What? They don't bother him in any way.
Partial memory problems are inherited from both bases.
He tries to avoid conflicts, but if it comes to them, he will try to solve everything by diplomacy or simply bind/hypnotize/paralyze his opponent and escape into the fog. If he is attacked, he will defend himself and then sullenly prove to everyone that "he started it first" even in situations where no one accuses him.
Melancholy and adolescent regression.
"I have, friends!!! For example... *demonstrates a doll he sewed himself* Her name is Rose! And she loves my music..... Hee-hee!"
Mirror is the one who laid down the basic rules of communication to Radiant, no matter how strange it may be.
Radiant has often witnessed his madness, which makes him a strange but interesting monster.
Frink.
Respects him, but fears him because of his temper.
Does not see him as a guardian, but as an older brother.
He is not very attached to him, though he is very happy when he has time for him.
Rose.
The first doll he made, whom he considers his best friend.
Has a nice calm "personality", and a wide smile.
Looks like Frisk, dressed in a burgundy red dress, and has a sort of wreath on her head.
Fletch.
The second doll given by Mirror. Looks like a dark anthropomorphic monster with white horns and the same eyes. Has no mouth or anything other than an outline, but Radinath finds him frightening every time because of his "Grin" and will accuse him of throwing "too much wool" around again. Possesses a fickle unpredictable "temper". Constantly calls Radiant "Fir".
Dream.
Feathered knows this child exists, but refuses to accept the fact of its existence and keeps as far away from it as possible.
They've seen each other a few times, never spoken, but one day Dream caught him reading a book in his library and was amazed that he could barely feel his emotions. He hadn't even noticed at the time that some of his books had been stolen.
Radiant treats him neutrally, not seeing him as a threat, but he is indifferent to his ideology and finds it wrong and flawed, preferring balance to everything and for everything.
Nightmare.
Gave Radiant most of the books he has read.
Sometimes Radiant helps him with infiltrating JR's castle, but not often.
Radiant and Night have a mutual understanding and even friendship despite their age difference.
Radiant is very interested in Knightmere and sometimes Knight gets stressed about it.
The one case where the kid can rant relentlessly, while others know him as a "quiet, silent guy".
Cross.
Treats Cross with wariness, even though Cross doesn't mind care at Radiant or even talking to him about anything. In this case, it's mostly Cross who's talking, and Radiant is silently listening to him, occasionally inserting a comment.
To Radiant, it's Mirror and Nightmere's Familiar, but it's also Nanny.
Cross would sometimes sit with Radiant, but still had trouble figuring out how to act, and so Radiant remembered him as "Insecure Monster." (Kids. Kids like that.)
Swap
Helped the child acquire critical thinking (acquire≠develop it, please allow for age), introduced him to the "business and life of mortal beings", and otherwise tried to interfere as little as possible and only occasionally observe.
Radiant sees him as an uncle, and calls him accordingly, bringing a sad chuckle to Swap's face.
Abilities:
His strings are liquid-like.
The sounds of his flute are a weapon. "Notes" of his flute are capable of twisting an opponent with paralysis/hypnosis or inking an object that Radiant is targeting when using magic. You could say that the flute is a conduit that is mistaken for a magical artifact and the source of all his power.
Out of Frink's abilities came the incendiary ink.
He could summon blasters, but doesn't like their bright flashes and loud noises. They remind him of the ever-fighting bases.
Other tags: AU, In one body, Drabble, Parallel Worlds, Under the same roof, A collection of drabbles, Elements of psychology, Elements of humor / Elements of banter.
- Created by the desire to ✨ create✨
- Tags will be added as they are written.
- Predominantly bone-shake, though it's not a fact that this will always be the case.
- EML is: Acute Incident stories, (sick)everyday life of HWS, spending time with the AI inhabitants, living the dead and not quite alternatives, and just the creeping of bone-gnaw in the knowledge of their mortal existence.
— Just admit you didn't do a good job. – The skeleton sought to calm, if not calm, then at least bring the rampaging guardian to his senses.
— Admit defeat, and move on. – And he still has the same guy in front of him. Only now he's facing him: the left pupil, burning blue, stares coldly, indifferently:
— Admit defeat and move on. – No… wait, what's that's boy doing here? What's he doing in HE memories? In HIS battle right here and now?
— You lose. – The words of the main enemy echo in his head. No, he can't lose. Concentrate, come on! His head splintered, as if it were about to crack, turning to dust. In his case, it was more like a puddle of ink that was as flammable as his blood. His trembling hands clutch his weapon with all their might. In front of his eyes, a frozen image of reality, an image from many years ago:
— You lose. – The words come alive. Not an enemy, no, someone painfully familiar. Too bad the unknown man has his back turned to him. Too bad he doesn't remember him anymore. It's not the first time he's been visited by memories and visions of this nice guy. And while in them the stranger plays not the most pleasant role. In this particular memory, the stranger does not hear his requests. His posture, his intonation, the tilt of his head: everything looks the same as it did a few seconds earlier. But unlike he recent rival, the stranger's bones are a milky white color. Someone had said a similar phrase to him before, with the same meaning, and that memory somehow gave meaning to the enemy's phrase. It annoyed the hell out. Gave him motivation to move on.
— Huh – With an effort, he raises his head and directs his gaze to the back of his enemy. Wiping the residual ink from his face, he gets to his feet, leaning on his tool:
— YOU'RE WRONG. – He speaks clearly, snatching a red-colored pill from the dispenser. Thoughts turn a vengeful, angry color. The same color as his T-shirt. The same color as his pupil sights.
The lunge forward was too abrupt and a bit ill-conceived. As soon as the wearer of the gray cloak raised his arm up, the violet strings twisted the white skeleton. His attempts to break free resulted in more pain and weakness, more irritation and hatred. Even more unfortunately.
— Stop it. Just admit you didn't do a good job. – The calm, ingratiating voice did not jump in pitch, only sounded irregular, mechanical notes. The skeleton sought to calm, if not calm, then at least bring the rampaging guardian to his senses. His heterochromatic pupils contrasted against the blood-red eye sockets and dark bones hidden beneath the fabric of his cloak and T-shirt.
— Admit defeat, and move on. – And he still has the same guy in front of him. Only now he's facing him. Close enough to see: camouflage sweatshirt, long dark pants, boots, brown turtleneck, and a turquoise cape behind him. His white skull is covered in a multitude of scars – deep and not so deep. In the right eye socket is a black void covered by familiar lags. The left pupil, burning blue, stares coldly, indifferently. Judgmental:
— Admit defeat and move on. – No… wait, what's that's boy doing here? What's he doing in HE memories? In HIS battle right here and now?
Unintelligible whispers from different directions make he look around in bewilderment. Darkness thickens around them, forming shadows. The whispers intensify until they become deafening.
YOU LOST US..
— No…
WE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!
— Shut up!
LIAR..
…REMEMBER!
— YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE!
He screams, grabbing his head with his hands. He doesn't want to hear their deafening rumble, he can't do anything stunned by that rumble. No, he can't remember, he has to keep fighting! But how, if he can't see anything in front of him – only feels incredible pain… It seems he fell, or is still falling, and what is happening is nothing more than a dream? The keeper rarely had dreams, so much so that he remembered them all by heart and by date. He desperately did not want to remember such a dream…
—̴͇̳͂F̸̢̀ŕ̸̨.̷̥͡.̴̹͂.̶̻́k̷̝̊?̴̗̈– Through the shroud of voices comes the irritating monotone of Mirror's voice… His eternal and main enemy, the destroyer. The dark-skinned man was always trying to ruin his life and the lives of those around him.
— …Ink! – Another voice sounds. His head clicks as the named one jumps up from the bed. A powerful arm stops him from falling, holding him in a sitting position with pressure. The dizziness gradually fades, as does the hitched breath.
With the ticking of the wall clock, Frink regains consciousness, squinting somewhat dazedly at his winged friend, who is frozen in worry. He is lying in a room, one of the many in RJ castle. The room is simple, even very simple – bare walls, a window with a carved grate, a sink and mirror in another corner of the room, a couple of doors, and a nightstand by the bed with a glass of water on it. Frink drains the cool contents immediately, without thinking about the safety of such an act.
What am I doin' here?
Being oblivious doesn't add up to peace of mind. He would have understood if he'd woken up on the ground or in the water, in a garbage can, an alternative Grillby's bar, in a sucking snowdrift, or, at the very least, in the company of the inhabitants of Underlust. But what was he doing here, next to a supposed ally, and was he an ally? He didn't understand.
— You awake? What the hell were you dreaming about? – Dream snorted, drawing attention to his angry self. Dream was the one responsible for the recent appearance of the dream to the guardian. To put it crudely, he was the only one he could come to just to sleep. But he did so only in extreme cases and as needed.l.
— I… I can't remember. – Dream only rolled his eyes at this response, twitching his wings behind his back in frustration. I should have smiled guiltily, but it was not easy to reach for the unknown where funked off lost dispenser, and the residual emotions for shame were not enough. The feathered man sighed, turning his gaze to the open window: judging by the bright sunlight, it was daytime outside, which meant that Dream had come to check on him for a reason:
— I have something for you. I'll meet you in my office in 30 minutes. Don't be late, please. – Another careful glance at the sleepy body of the guardian, and the feathered man hurried away from the stuffy room. It was only after he left that Frink realized how uncomfortable he felt being in a terribly empty room with white walls…
Checking under his pillow, the keeper exhaled with relief: he'd taken his diary with him, which was fortunate, because its current owner didn't remember a fucking thing about the last few hours of his life. Except for a bad dream, of course. The thought of that made he pause for a moment.
Dream's settings are off, so instead of a normal dream, I'm having a nightmare?
The role of Mirror in it was decisively unclear, though, what is to be said, judging by the entries in his diary, he had been fighting with him only lately. Boring and uninformative. The other boy, who looked like a Blue, but was also very different from him, was interesting.
The reason for the appearance of his person in the castle of the hyper-positive was not found at once: only on the fifth attempt Frink managed to read the assumption written in an inferior handwriting. He didn't seem to have been drinking, but it felt as if his hand was moving in all directions while writing. Judging by the notes, he came to the winged one for help – there was little strength left after the battle, he was exhausted to a critical minimum. He had taken back the world, but he didn't have enough strength for self-recovery.
And instead of just curing me, the idiot put me to sleep.
Frink clenched his teeth loudly, contemplating which feather to start plucking at the curious chicken's ass. As if the keeper didn't know what his feathered friend was doing while he slept! Sometimes he lost ink, and sometimes sheets with valuable notes, though Frink was 100% sure he'd never give them up voluntarily for anything in his life. His gaze caught on a scrawled but legible note on the Wingdings:
— And… what's that mean?
Indeed, the writing was legible, and to the keeper's delight he knew the Wingdings well. But that didn't change the unfortunate fact that the meaning of the writing was obscured by those mighty scribbles:
👎⚐
☠⚐❄
💧☹☜☜🏱
DO NOT SLEEP
A leaf that had fallen out from under the page added to the confusion. The text on it was written in the same messy handwriting:
— 👎⚐☠🕯❄ ❄☼🕆💧❄ ✌ 👌✋☼👎 🕈✋❄☟ ✌ ☝⚐☹👎☜☠ 👍✌☝☜📬 DON'T TRUST A BIRD WITH A GOLDEN CAGE. – He read it aloud, as if it could be a magic spell to get him out of trouble. The thought made me laugh a little – it was funny. — ⚐😐✌✡📪 ✋👎⚐☠🕯❄☞☼☜✌😐✋☠🕯 🕆☠👎☜☼💧❄✌☠👎📬 OKAY, I DON'T FREAKIN' UNDERSTAND.
But that wasn't all! The new scrawl made his eye socket twitch nervously, and the darkest shadow of bewilderment appeared on his face:
💣✋☼☼⚐☼ 😐☠⚐🕈☜✞☜☼✡❄☟✋☠☝ MIRROR KNOWS EVERYTHING
— Oh yeah, thanks boss, that makes a lot more sense now!
And what does HIS name have to do with it? For the second entry in a row, Frink stoically ignores the hints of his previous notes that it would be «worth talking» to the owner of the deadly purple strings. Somehow he'll get by without that glitchy splinter. Filled with despondency at the domestic confusion, the guardian of the universes washed his face with cold water, noticing with suspicion the dispenser he was looking for on the sink.
Creators, save Dream, if he's gotten the idea to put something in my pills. I swear to Brut, I'll kick his ass!
Speaking of Brut: there was no sign of her anywhere in the room. It wasn't a problem to summon her right now – Frink had recovered enough, but he was afraid he'd snap and ruffle a feather or two. And that, no less than that, would result in a loud scandal and a relationship that the keeper had neither the time nor the energy for.
There weren't enough pills in the dispenser. Too few to be in his usual frenzied state, and too many to trash his surroundings with his energetic carcass. There was an option to flood the misery in blue, but Frink had cut that thought down early on, settling on a few colors and combinations. The orange and blue pills, two in number, were popped into his mouth at the same time, but the green pill, he later realized, was unnecessary. Disgust was the only thing he wanted to feel from this rather sticky situation though. Looking at himself in the mirror, he adjusted the black bandana that had fallen off to the side and the flame-patterned T-shirt that was literally begging to be washed. If Frink's biological clock was correct, he'd been awake for about ten minutes, and the feathered man's office was still about five minutes away.
As you wish, Creators.
He sighed humbly and headed out of the room. There were more things in the corridors, so maybe he's paranoia would fade into the background. Before he'd gone a couple of meters, Frink slapped his forehead, and with a tickling sensation of shame went back to the room to retrieve the dispenser he'd forgotten on the sink. It was a miracle he hadn't left his diary in his room. It was good that there was no one in the corridors – they would have thrown slanted, perplexed glances. Speaking of birds…
