Create And Destroy (Error X Ink)

Creator

In the endless, echoing expanse of the Anti-Void, where a sky should have been, Ink, the vibrant artist of creation, found his purpose. With each stroke of his brush, the empty white canvas before him erupted into a symphony of colors, shaping fantastical creatures and breathtaking landscapes. These weren't mere images; they were living, breathing artworks, imbued with a spark that made them shimmer and move, sometimes even whispering forgotten melodies into the silence.

Yet, a subtle disquiet often pricked at his awareness. He would occasionally notice the faint afterimage of a recently completed piece, a lingering scent of fresh paint, but the artwork itself was gone, swallowed by the vast, hungry emptiness that surrounded him. He dismissed these disappearances, attributing them to the Anti-Void's indifferent consumption, a small price for the joy of creation.

With each new conception, a fresh current of inspiration flowed through him, sparking a myriad of 'what if' scenarios. And with each new 'what if,' more life bloomed under his artistic mastery. The act of creation was a potent antidote to the profound loneliness that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him in the desolate white space. Yet, even amidst his prolific artistry, a deeper, undeniable yearning stirred within him – a persistent feeling that he was capable of something far grander, something more profound than individual pieces of art.

Then, a truly monumental idea, a concept so vast it made the Anti-Void itself feel small, took root in his mind. This time, he hesitated, his brush hovering, his non-existent soul thrumming with a mix of awe and trepidation. He knew, intimately, how to bring life to canvas. But was he truly ready to weave entire realities into being? To sculpt not just characters, but their very environments, their laws, their destinies? Was he ready to create worlds? To birth... Alternate Universes?

He gazed upward, past the shimmering motes of nascent ideas, into the infinite, featureless white above, where a sky should have been, but was not. It was a blank slate, daunting in its sheer scale. He then looked down at his collection of small, well-worn paintbrushes, their tips still splattered with the remnants of countless creations. He shook his head slowly. For crafting a world, these delicate tools, while cherished, simply wouldn't suffice.

A solution, born of pure creative necessity, ignited within him. He would forge a new instrument, one capable of matching the colossal scope of his ambition. Pouring his vibrant power, his very essence as a creator, into this next art form, he watched as colors swirled and solidified, coalescing into a magnificent tool. It grew, taller than himself, sturdy and imposing, yet radiating the same fluid magic as his smaller brushes. This was 'Broomie,' his grand, world-shaping instrument.

Once completed, he grasped the immense paintbrush, its weight feeling both substantial and perfectly balanced in his hands. He cast a determined look at a particularly empty section of the Anti-Void, then, with a deep, resolute breath, he began to paint. Not a picture, but a path. A swirling vortex of color and light erupted from his brush, tearing a shimmering portal in the fabric of the void itself – a way out.

Stepping through the newly formed gateway, he left the desolate, monochromatic expanse behind, entering a space of pure, raw potential. He moved on, a new fire in his eyes, and began to paint again, this time with a purpose far grander. His first grand project, a sprawling narrative woven from countless threads of imagination, he decided to name it: 'The Undertale Project.'

It demanded immeasurable time, meticulous care, and a patience born of his boundless drive. But he persisted, shaping landscapes, crafting histories, and fine-tuning every detail until a cohesive timeline, a living story, began to unfurl before him. Yet, even as it took form, he wasn't truly done. The wellspring of his inspiration was endless; there was always more he could create, more layers to add.

He knew, deep within the core of his being, that with each world he birthed, his skills would sharpen, his mastery deepen. The worlds he crafted would become increasingly vivid, increasingly real. This was his inherent purpose, etched into his very being: to create. He would not stop until absolute perfection was achieved, until every detail resonated with the truth of existence.

He iterated tirelessly, restarting his designs whenever a new insight struck, or a nuanced personality for a character materialized in his thoughts. He meticulously designed pasts and memories for each monster, each human, giving them rich, intricate inner lives.

Even a monster, a skeletal being, bore a subtle resemblance to Ink's own form – a small, knowing nod to his identity within his creation. But he couldn't bear the thought of this skeleton being alone. So, with an act of profound empathy, he designed a brother for him, a beacon of unwavering goodness and optimism. He named the smaller, more introverted skeleton, Sans.

The souls he brought into being were not the stark white hues of his own lacking essence, but a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors, each representing a different facet of the sentient experience. Yet, it was the crimson souls that held the ultimate sway, the power of 'DETERMINATION.' And so, when his creation was almost complete, he crafted the red soul, placing it within a crucial individual, granting them the ultimate agency: the fateful choice to befriend or to destroy.

Standing back, his heart swelling with immense pride, Ink finally bestowed a name upon his masterpiece: 'Undertale.' It was finished, a vibrant, complex reality ready to unfold.

But the silence of completion was fleeting. Another idea, a mischievous spark of inspiration, immediately ignited within him. What if he could twist this masterpiece, turn it on its head? Create an entirely opposite timeline, a mirror image reflecting new facets? He grinned, a splash of yellow paint appearing on his cheek in excitement. He would call it... 'Underswap'!

He dove into the task with renewed vigor. This felt easier, almost like a playful experiment, requiring only a meticulous swapping of characters' roles and dynamics. He allowed himself further creative liberties, even altering the taller skeleton's past, bestowing upon him a perpetually lit cigarette and a new, laid-back persona.

Ink, despite his monumental power, was still a relatively small figure. A whimsical thought struck him: he certainly didn't want his Sans to be the smallest. So, with a flick of his wrist, he ensured that the 'Underswap' Sans would be even more compact than his original counterpart.

It took him twelve painstaking iterations, twelve attempts to fine-tune the swapped personalities and ensure the new timeline resonated perfectly. Finally, satisfied, he named it, sealed it, and immediately moved on, the creative floodgates now permanently open.

The dam had broken. A torrent of ideas, unbidden and overwhelming, flooded his mind. Each new AU was a brushstroke on the boundless canvas of existence, a testament to his burgeoning power. Aftertale, Underfell, Flowerfell, Swapfell, Reborn tale, Outertale, Reapertale, Underkeep, Overtale – the names tumbled from his thoughts as quickly as he could paint them into being. And there were so many more, countless shimmering threads weaving into the fabric of the multiverse, each a unique story, a distinct emotion, a vibrant world born from the boundless imagination of Ink, the Guardian of AUs.

*remastered*