Chapter Text
Something was happening.
Ink was excited. It had been a while since a creator had worked with his character like this. He found himself delicately pinned to a mostly blank space of wall, like a butterfly pinned to a board. He could have moved away had he wanted to, but he didn't. A few abstract doodles decorated the wall immediately around him, but in this particular spot it was nearly all the soft yellow he'd chosen for the walls of his room here at the Star Sans' base. He wished he'd had time to drink some more of his paints first, to really make the most of the experience, but he hadn't had any advance warning. He never did, really. Ah, well.
Glancing over, Ink saw his sketchbook where it lay haphazardly tossed on his bed, still open to the sketch he had been working on before the artist had abruptly become the artwork. He could get back to it later. This was far more interesting anyway. He had been nudged gently to the wall and posed there by this creator's intent, to a space free enough from other distractions to concentrate on Ink and let their creativity flow.
He'd often sensed a creator's influence in smaller ways, a soft breeze brushing his cheek here, a little tug at his sleeve there. An item conveniently on his person that he couldn't remember bringing with him that day. It wasn't often that it interrupted his normal activities, though. So this meant a significant redesign, probably. That, or a new artist wanting to try out their skills. He could feel their practiced confidence as they worked on him, though, so that must not be it.
He let his mind drift with a placid curiosity about the process. Many creators seemed to prefer to stick to his established canon as closely as they understood it, which meant he could carry on as usual in the meantime. So what did this creator have in mind that required so much concentration? An entirely new look could be fun, maybe an outfit with some sort of neat theme? No, his regular outfit was being sketched out as usual, so not that.
Ooh! Perhaps they'd give him an angst-filled, romance-driven storyline rife with drama and betrayal? That was fun, too. He just hoped Dream and Blue wouldn't get too annoyed at him depending on who he was shipped with this time.
It wasn't like ships were ever forced or anything like that. The creators simply set the conditions for love, romance, sexual tension or any combination of those to blossom and the characters took it wherever they wanted from there. However, Ink never saw any reason to go against a creator's ideas and he simply didn't understand what all the fuss from his friends was about whenever he went off to have fun with one (or more!) of their "enemies" for a while.
Or why said enemies always seemed so put out about it when the story ended, for that matter. Stars, everyone took things so seriously. Error was the only one besides Ink who really seemed to get it, since he could hear what the creators had to say about it all. He often complained about the "cheering squad" and how they "always insisted on making everything awkward." Ink privately thought it was cute how the embarrassment only made Error even more delightfully flustered.
Even so, Ink had found it... tactful not to mention to any of the others just how much influence creators still had out in the multiverse at large outside of the individual AUs. After all, even that was all part of a story too. So, so many stories...!
Wait. Something was missing. Back to the outfit. Oh, the creator hadn't drawn his sash and vials yet. Did they just forget? Maybe they'd add it later. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened. Or... A small twinge of concern crossed Ink's mind, and he suppressed a groan. No, please not one of those stories where he was without them again. He hated that, hated the seemingly endless stretches of time when he was unable to feel or do anything. It was so awful! But if it was what the creator wanted... He resisted the urge to slip the creator's mind and slip away from the wall.
He almost didn't notice the warm sensation in his ribs as the creator sketched a simple shape over his chest. An inverted heart.
Wait.
Huh?
There was a thoughtful pause, and Ink held very still as the creator's art tool gently traced back and forth along the outer edge of his left eye socket, before the sash and vials were decisively added after all.
Ink wasn't sure how to feel. Excited? Confused? Yes, both of those were probably the right response here. What was going on? A creator so familiar with his design wouldn't make such an obvious mistake. Especially not so intentionally. So it was on purpose, then. The creator moved on, inking, coloring, rendering. Pausing occasionally, no doubt to make story notes. Ink itched to read them, to know what they said. But alas, the creators were mute to Ink, unlike with Error. He would just have to be patient, see how everything unfolded when the creator was done. All he could do for now was wait.
There was a gentle tugging at his scarf as the creator doodled something intricate one one of it's ends. Then all at once, the creator was finished, and Ink was free to move again without breaking their concentration. He looked down at the brand new soul just before him, slowly reaching up both hands to hesitantly cup the air around it. The soul hovered there for a moment longer as he admired it, its soft white glow reflecting off of Ink's gloves, and then it gently sank through his shirt and into his chest, settling into place inside his ribcage.
Ink was overwhelmed.
His legs buckled beneath him, and Ink dropped to his knees, hands pressed to the spot on his chest where the soul had entered. His eyelights became question marks that rapidly flashed in different colors. He... had a soul now? He could truly feel, without his paint? Which emotion should he try out first? There were so many options he had never had the chance to explore! Ink didn't know how to possibly choose what to start with.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the end of his scarf and the emotion chose itself as curiosity flashed through him like lightning. He lifted the scarf and held it up for a closer look. Words? That looked like his handwriting, or his font at least... but he didn't remember writing this particular note. Although his memory wasn't the best at times, there was also the fact that he did clearly remember the creator doodling on that spot just moments earlier.
Ink laughed. Had... had this creator found a workaround by drawing the words they wanted him to read, baking them into his own visual design?! Never one to disappoint a creator, Ink eagerly read the note.
A gift. Take some time to adjust. This is all new for you. Good luck.
"Thank you," Ink murmured, still looking at the end of his scarf in awe. Gratitude welled up from Ink's new soul and wrapped around him like a warm blanket. "Thank you so much!"
The excitement became too much, bubbling up in his throat. Ink abruptly lurched forward and retched, spewing his namesake onto the floor in front of him and thankfully missing his clothes.
Ink decided to take the advice written on his scarf, and stayed in his room for the better part of an hour. He played his flute, he looked over old art pieces and sketched new ones, he laid on his back on the floor and stared up at the ceiling while thinking about any number of things. Bright, joyful excitement seemed to be the only emotion he could pull up, flashing through his body and new soul like a lightning storm.
After a while, he grew impatient, frustrated at only getting to really experience one emotion so far... but just as quickly the frustration was replaced with excitement again at having successfully felt frustration in the first place. Ink couldn't help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of that, and decided to give up on trying to brute-force his way through a catalogue of emotions. A soul apparently wasn't as convenient as his paint vials in that sense. It seemed he'd just have to be patient and wait for the feelings to come up on their own.
Then again, the creator had left him his vials as well. Ink wondered what would happen if he used them alongside his soul. Would they still work the same way they always had?
Best to start with a contrasting one. Sitting up, Ink pulled out his purple vial and uncorked it. He knocked back a hearty sip without hesitation, then eagerly awaited the results. As always, they were near instantaneous. Ink immediately regretted his choice, but it was too late now. What if something went wrong? What if he got sick or something from using his paint now that he had a soul? Maybe he should've at least waited until he was around Dream and Blue first, just in case something went wrong.
The sense of danger was exhilarating.
Huh. So his paint did still work for him! The emotion was fleeting, though, and now that he had something else to really compare it to, it felt sort of flat as well. Colorful... but not truly rendered. Somehow less genuine than the emotion from his soul. Not as strong, either. Still, even as the externally induced fear melted away, Ink could feel the boost to his magical control remain. He got to his feet and summoned an ink blaster to test that theory, quickly confirming that the paint did still seem to be an effective power source for him if nothing else. Well, well, well!
Ink concluded that he wouldn't learn much of anything else by staying in his room all day. It was time to share the news with his friends. He jumped up from his seat on the floor, pulled the heavy wooden door to his room open, and skipped out into the hall.