Kréme / Driller Oneshots

First Encounter

This was supposed to be part of a Kreme filled week I was co-creating, but we both ran out of motivation, so you get a oneshot instead 🥰

(I'm working on Seven Nights Only I swear)

Merry Christmas 🎄

Dream hadn't known what to expect when he first met him.

Ink had warned him of a new member to Nightmare's group, yet it seemed he hadn't adequately prepared himself. It wasn't uncommon for the Negative Lord to pick up strangers from alternate universes. Many times he'd come the wreck of a timeline to find the Lord had sourced a deranged, broken skeleton with the desire to tear homes apart so others could feel the same anguish they themselves felt.

He recalled when he first met Dust, a tall freak with magical capabilities above his expected stature. It had taken him no more than seven seconds to disarm and incapacitate Blue, and only an additional thirteen seconds nearly snap his staff in half. The skeleton never spoke, never rushed, never missed. He always kept his guard up when placed against him.

And then he had met Horror, an ungodly brute of a man who's jagged axe had chopped one of Ink's fingers off and splintered his brush in their first fight. The man had been ruthless, without an edge of awareness for his own safety. It was as if he didn't care if he were hit or not, and that had made him dangerous. Yet he had tired fast, and it was always five-to-ten minutes into the fight that he'd slow, and from there (if you still had all your limbs) you could strike him down to ensure immobility.

Many other fighters had been and gone in the time he'd been apart of the Star Sanses, some had moved on from the group, some had come to their senses and left, and some had died. There hadn't been a new member in almost a month. He'd become complacent, as if expecting there'd be no more additions to the group, ever.

But now, stood in the snow with his blood decorating the white ground, he realised to never make that mistake again. Because in front of him, knives in hand, stood a stranger.

It had been so long since a new opponent, and because of that he found he had become lax in his training. He knew Nightmare's fighting tactics, he knew how to tame Dust and how to tire Horror. But this new skeleton? He'd never fought anyone like him before.

Crimson tinted blades twisted in his fingers, dusty blue sleeves bunched up to his elbows to expose slender wrists. His body was thin and small, perhaps only a whisper taller than Blue, much more so than Ink. Yet his bones looked so slight, and the subtle rise of his sweater to expose ribs was enough to waken the idea that they'd be so easily snapped beneath his fingers. The skeleton bore a wide, wickedly charming grin, the corner of his mouth upturned in a cocky manner. He knew Dream was struggling. His eyes were black, soulless. No matter how hard he studied his sharp facial features, he couldn't catch sight of any pupils. Black tar bubbled from his sockets, dropping down them in dragging lines. Some seeped down to his neck where they became lost in the fabric of his grey sweater, others became smeared when his sleeve brushed them away.

So far he hadn't managed to land a single hit on him. Not one. Unlike Horror, this man would not stop moving. He never stood still for even a second, body twisting in fluid and darting movements to avoid each of the arrows shot. Dream quickly realised the trouble he was in when he noticed the other was actively trying to get closer. He was a short distance fighter, and Dream excelled in long distance. By the time he'd realised, his bow was already rendered useless with the proximity, and he'd been forced to use his staff.

His fighting style seemed to be based entirely off of opportunity, his blank eyes searching for any stumble, step or foot Dream placed wrong. It made him hard to predict. And to add to the perplexity of his character, the man didn't use magic. He hadn't seen him teleport or blip. Not a single magic bone formed in his palm, no burning daggers, no gaster blasters. While Dust relied heavily on magic, Horror on brute strength, Nightmare on a mix of both, this skeleton seemed to use his wits and bare blades alone. It made him dangerous.