#sorryikeepgivingyouangstkiller

[theartsynebulawhodoodles]

“Just a Cigarette” Killer Sans and Dream Sans Art and Writing!

Tw: Smoking(not sure if this should be a trigger warning but just in case!)

inspired by this song!

Writing underneath ‘continue reading!’

‘Just a Cigarette’ A Dream Sans and Killer Sans Platonic One Shot and Art.

[Killer Sans Smoker, Dream Sans worried, Affectionate, Friendship, Dream Sans calls Killer ‘Honey’, Depression]

{Tw: Smoking as a unhealthy coping mechanism, Bad Thoughts}

Killer was suffering. Even after Dream had rescued him from Nightmare and allowed him to live with him. The effects of Nightmare’s treatment still lasted beyond just being there with Nightmare. It was like it was a curse. Killer always felt a sense of dread, began to worry about things he never worried about before, felt absolutely nothing at times, and felt like he deserved nothing.

Killer, not knowing what else to do, had stolen one of Dream’s old packs of cigarettes. He had stolen a lighter from the kitchen trinket drawer, and lit one. As soon as it touched his lips, he breathed it all in, allowing the nicotine to fill his skeleton. He knew it wasn’t unhealthy to smoke, even more unhealthy for a skeleton, yet he decided to do it, and he didn’t know why he indulged into the urge. It was like he had given up everything else.

Killer crossed his legs in the chair he sat on, taking puff after puff, allowing the feeling of relaxation wash over him. It was temporary, not forever, but at least it was temporary. He needed at least a few hours off without feeling like how he usually does. But while he was smoking, Dream arrived home. Dream was carrying home a new collection of sunflowers he had bought from the nearby florist in the AU to decorate their empty flower vases.

“Killer, Honey, I’m home! Where-“

Dream froze once he entered the kitchen, his golden pupils widening seeing Killer smoke. He froze in shock, horrified that Killer was doing exactly what he used to do when being the Guardian of Positivity weighed down on him too much. Killer didn’t seem to be shocked he was caught, taking another puff, letting the smoke caress through his teeth and into the air. His hand held the cigarette firmly in one, the other holding the lighter. Dream quickly approached, trying his best to remain calm as he spoke in a gentle tone.

“Honey, w-what are you doing with that cigarette? Put it down, please..”

Dream pleaded in a soft tone. Killer looked up at Dream, exhaling some smoke to the side while lowering his cigarette, before speaking.

“it’s just a cigarette, it cannot be that bad.”

Killer stated calmly, before leaning his arms onto the kitchen table. He looks to the distance, the mirror that Dream put up on the door he stared into. Dream had put up a mirror so the two could smile at themselves before they left as a confidence boost. But instead of himself, he envisioned Nightmare, staring at him, like he was proud of what he made Killer do. Dream looked at Killer with more worry, placing the sunflowers wrapped in a bow on the table and placing his hands over Killer’s, Dream’s warmth combatting the coldness of Killer’s hand.

“Honey, don’t you love me? And you know it makes me sad..”

Dream pleaded once again, his golden pupils staring into Killer, his soul clenched in worry. Dream didn’t want Killer to fall into his habits that he himself once held. He knew how it felt to be trapped in this cycle to where you make bad decisions. Killer looked up at Dream, sighing as he forced himself to look away from the mirror. He knew he had done something that Nightmare would have wanted him to do; harm himself more. Killer, however, focused on denial, responding with a cold and laid back tone, protesting against Dream’s pleading.

“It’s just a cigarette, like you always used to do.”

Killer responded, not realizing the cruelty of his words. He took another drag of the cigarette while looking at Dream. Dream froze in shock at Killer’s words, hurt by it immensely. He looked away for a second, collecting himself. He didn’t want to believe that Killer would say that.

Dream knew that Killer needed his help more than ever now. He knew that his brother, Nightmare, had wanted his to happen. And Dream wanted nothing more to help Killer. Although Killer’s words struck, he pushed through. Placing his hand over his soul, he took a few steps back, before looking at the ground sadly. He silently whispered a protest against Killer’s words, his eyes looking up at the skeleton.

“I was different then, I don’t need them to be cool.”

Dream whispered.

[Sorry hadn’t posted art in a while, art block got me on a tight hold, but I hope you all enjoy this! Dream Sans belongs to Joku, Killer belongs to Rahafwabas]