Little Bones was fast asleep when Ink returned.
The room was quiet, the only noise being produced by the child, who found a single couch cushion to be suitable for his sleeping domain.
Ink took a moment to watch Little Bones. His chest rose and fell steadily, his mouth opened just enough for a small amount of drool to dribble out, his sockets closed and face relaxed. The cushion he rested upon was built upon with several blankets, creating a nest that the child had buried himself in, using a sheet to cover the rest of his body. Pillows propped up his head, one gripped in his arms along with Mr. Pah. The rest of his toys were lying on the floor under him, neatly arranged to rest them on another pillow and tucked under hand towels. Even his plane was put to sleep. The creator chuckled fondly at the scene.
He scoured the area for the owners of said house.
Stretch stood at the doorway to the kitchen. He had a blank look about him, poised there stiffly like a doll. And he stared, and stared, and stared, and screamed, and D-
lIttLE bOnes WAs FASt aslEEp wHEn F-f̵̟̎-̴̩̰̙̠̪̖̭̒͑̈̎̆̈́̎͠F̶̛̘̼͉͎̹͛͗̓͆͆̂ Failure
when Ink returned.
tHE rOOm waS
L̵̫͉͕̞̩͔͎̤̰̯̮͍̗̊Ỏ̷̢̡̺̞͉̣̪̥̞͖̗͖̻͍̰͍͓̜̗̃͐̉́͊̆̿̀̃̂͊̅͊͑̍͂̾̐͊̂̿̈́̆͘͘̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͠U̷̻̖̪̽̿̿̍̒̄̾̌̌̽̊̓̒̀̑̌̎͌́͒͘Ḑ̸̧̞̬̮̜̘̞̜̭͕̮͓̩̯̱̼̖̳̟̬̹͈̼̠̮̭̳̲̼̟̂̈́͊̎̽̐̄͆̕͠ͅͅ
quiet, the only noise being produced by
SCrEaMS
w̷̡̤̒͆̑̕̚Ḧ̴̞̩͈́̅Y̷͉̜̙͈͎̝̼̺͠ ̵̢̧̮̪͙̘͎͑̓̎̌̈́̉̒̚͠D̵̨̛̠̭̠̥̈́̿̕Ḭ̵̤̈́͂̓́̃͗̽̅͘d̵̛̖͊̍͋̂̈́̅̈̈́̄͝n̷̳̟̥̼͈͑͐̔̾̋̈́́̚͘͠͠ͅ'̴̨͈̜̦̘̝̪̯̄͋T̸̡̡̢̙̠͓͔̼͎̪̭͝ͅ ̸͎̦͙͙͉̤͉͎̀̈̿̇̍̾͌̐͐̉͠͝Y̶͓͚͖̘̬̬̅͑̈́̎̏͐͜͠Ơ̴̢̺̙̹̱̖͉̞̹͎͔͒͂̂͜͠ṵ̵͔̩̜̩̻̰̙̰̺̠͑̅̊̅͆̌͌́̂̒͜͠ ̶͈̥̟̰͇̖͕̝̞̙̉̊̅̓͗͌̄̈́̓̕͘k̸͇̾̽̒̓͑̽̃̚͠͝͠i̸̢̢̨̨̪͉̲͓̞͔͚̒̐̅̀͠ͅL̶̢̨̰͙̰͇̖̗̞̥̆͆͜͜l̷̨̫͍̣̂̄͐̏̈́̓̏̒̌̓ ̶͓͓̱̺̓̉̈m̸̨̡̼̜̟̣̮̣̪̘̏͛̚e̷̖̼̲̲͓̯̻̻͊̉́͜?̷̲͓̣̚͜
Error. Error. Error.
PLEASE RESTART THE SYSTEM
Little Bones was dead when Ink returned. The room was quiet, the only sound produced by Error, heaving as his hands brought down a bone attack where his younger self had once stood. Sobs broke up breathing, drowned by the harsh impact of the magic, glitching and flickering miserably as their wielder killed memories too harsh to think about.
Blue and Stretch's dust played dress up with the mold, wearing skins that the particles didn't own.
Ink screamed.
Author's Note: Things under zalgo text:
don't you care? don't you love me so, so much?
let's play pretend; disguise your nightmares as lying dreams.
loud
why didn't you kill me?