no, ink is not the forced god of destruction havdnsjebf
He's just in the same multiverse as Fgod!Error
whaaat, two updates in one day? :0
This can be seen as a sequel (prequel?) to the first one shot, or not. Just a bit of Inku origin but I tossed fate into the mix,, this'll get a part 2 (eventually, lol)
—-

Ink, however, didn't have one.

A soul.

It was ridiculous if you thought about it. The heartless destroyer of worlds having a soul, but the compassionate, beloved protector does not? Their leader is just an empty shell playing pretend?

Yes. Yes he was.

Fate influenced him before he was reborn. He knew there was nothing for him in his unfinished universe. Isolated forever, nobody else had emotion or care for him.

Fate whispered in his ear, giving him a promise as they began to wind the red string around his soul.

He didn't listen.

Instead of listening to what he could be if he just left everybody behind, he tore off the string and ripped his soul in two.

It hurt.

It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurts it HURTS

and then there was nothing, just the scream of static in his ears. He was falling apart.

Fate was disturbed. Nobody had the audacity to refuse becoming a god. They smirked at Ink's will, before her eyes settled back into a cold look, perfect teeth straightened into a sharp grin. She shot out her strings to catch her child.

Just because she was impressed didn't mean she was going to take 'no' for an answer.

Of course, his soul was destroyed, spirit lost to the void, so she salvaged his body

And used the red string.

The red string was made of code and raw magic. She lied the empty body down as she sewed the thread into his bones, leaving scorch marks of code that swirled in the shape of beautiful tattoos.

When she finished, she smiled down at her child. They were soulless, now, but she'd fix that problem. They would live, and they would help create and protect the universes that he and countless other 'creators' have made.

They were beautiful.

A name. What should their name be?

Fate leaned in closely, whispering softly once more into his acoustic meatus (earhole) and began to speak his fate, his purpose.

"My child. My name is Fate, and I am one of the deities of this world. You are my beautiful, prized creation. Your name is Ink. Create glorious worlds. Protect them and other creations. The multiverse is depending on you."

She could feel them beginning to stir in his arms, and she smiled softly as she began to speak again, letting go and letting him fall into the Inky (heh) blackness of the void.

"And remember........ universe.........destruction........ end of..."

Ink only hear the last few words as he began to awaken.

He fell out of the void. Somewhere else...

White. That was all there is when he opened his eyes. All around, in every direction. Up, down, sideways. His hands were white, and part of his bone, but majority of them has trails of black all over them.

What was it?

...he didn't care.

He was so empty. He couldn't understand anything. The only thing he could feel was the urge to feel something. He craved emotion. In the meanwhile he stared at the patterns on his bones.

Ribcage covered in intricate patterns. Same with the arms and legs. His pelvis was completely black, which was strange (he didn't think it was. He didn't care.)

He spent ages sitting like that, in the blank expanse of nothingness. How long had it been, since he heard those whispers? How long had it been from the time he forgot what was whispered? He was all alone.

*SPLASH*

A thing fell. What was it?

It wasn't white.

It wasn't hard, like his bones or the 'floor' of this place. It constantly changed forms, slipping through his fingers and sleeping into his skull through his teeth and squinted eyes.

The drenched skeleton coughed, sitting in the puddle of yellow liquid. He had clothes now. He liked them but... he had clothes?Since when??? He didn't remember ever having clothes. But to be fair, he couldn't remember anything, there was nothing t-

what

it felt nice. Not a physical feeling, one in his mind, and he felt a smile creep across his skull. What is this? Why was he smiling? He let out a little laugh, twirling around. He had a brown scarf with faded ends wrapped comfortably around his neck. The ends trailed behind him and that just made him laugh and smile more. It was a light feeling in his soul, one that made him giddy and pleased.

What was it?

He jumped, making a splash of color when he landed. He had no shoes, but he didn't mind. He kept laughing and twirling to the feeling, dancing to an inaudible beat.

He liked it! This was what he was craving!

He cheered for no reason at all, throwing his hands into the air and spinning on the tip of his foot before he fell backwards into the thick, yellow liquid. It was almost the consistency of paint, but thinner, like water or oil.

There was a brush besides him. It was huge, almost as tall as he was. He cuddled up to it, wrapping his arms around the wood and letting the bristles and let out a content sigh.

He didn't know what that was, but he loved the feeling. He never wanted to it to go away.

He grew terrified of going back to being emotionless, so he got up and began to mop up the yellow paint from the ground with his scarf to save for later.