Waking up as Ink sans (v1)

He doesn't like Skittles

I tried to do some changes, might as well get some longer chapters.

3rd POV

The soft whispers of a freezing autumn breeze scraped the pale smashed windows, weak puffs of air resting on his unstretched shoulders would come out from the insignificant cracks as the mere feeling of warmth from the old blanket was simply lingering the upper part of his body.

Delicate murmures from three others were heard from the cold salon, one voice, whose the owner seemed tensed and particularly angry at the other, was raised in tone, the soft murmures easy to sleep through gradually turning into a variation between low yelling and controlled grumbles where tiresome insults and vexing remarks could be comprehended. One of the two who were mainly paying attention to the complainant begins raising their voice in hopes of being heard better, feeling the martyrs coming to be insufferable and painful to hear from their own friend.

It was very well known around the multiverse that if these three inseparable friends, who had lived almost everything together, would have one day, raised their voices at each other, with that kind of aggressive attitude and a disgruntled sentiment dominating their minds and spreading all over through their souls and bodies, that would mean that the two crucial members of the Sanses Council who serve around at some irregular but essential missions and the member of the Star's organization that is one of the particular, will separate, and a massive gap between the organization and the council will develop into some sort of war already lived, long ago.

This means that Nightmare wouldn't hesitate to exacerbate the already shabby condition that his brother had tried for so many years to maintain in order, which would lead to another separation between every single member of the Star's organization, but this time, with no luck that Ink and Dream would fight, like Nightmare would love, due to some evident reason; reincarnation.

A sudden blow from the same room where the three skeletons were fighting echoed into the one where Ink was sleeping comfortably, with the old blanket that belonged to Sci's father, on that old-fashioned couch, near that broken window. The poor skeleton was already asleep when the massive noise rang in his mind like a painful explosion, he frustratingly cover his skull with the thin fabric, his hands squeezing it as strongly as possible as he tried to not faint from the hyper burst.

Some greyish steam appeared inside of the room from the little gap between the door and the ground, a short loud sound of crumbling ceiling entering his mind as he tried to process the kind of alarm clock he was facing at the moment.

He missed that old mere alarm clock that would painfully annoy him each morning with its loud ringing, waking him up at five in the morning so he could begin taking care of his house and his sibling before going back to work.

It sure was a nostalgic time, back then, when he had his real family to take care of. His memory only recalled his old 'ma, a good old lady that he had to tolerate all his life, she was genuinely sweet but incredulously clingy and garrulous, and there were his little siblings too, two annoying spoiled rats that he absolutely loves and misses a lot. He doesn't know if it was a gift from Destiny or not but Palette and Paperjam remind of those two so much when they were little, it's almost getting scary at how much he gets some memories thanks to everything going around in his new life.

In all of his glory, Ink finally open his eyes sockets with his brow furrowed, raising his head and shoulders from the mess he had accidentally made with Sci's equipment. An aftertaste of bitterness comes after the accumulated hours of works and the countless problems he had to solve in such a short period of time. He hardly arched his back up like a stretching training and wave his arms behind his head, extending his bone perfectly until he would hear a satisfying cracking.