Chapter Text
A multiverse full of nothing. Is it even a multiverse at this point, if there isn't anything there?
And a void of white, a void of nothing… The only place they seem to be able to touch.
"Is this all we have?"
"It's empty."
"Empty…"
The voices of the gods unconnected mumble and chatter. It's true, they have nothing at all. Nothing to do, nothing to watch.
"What should we do?"
"Can we do anything?"
The gods question their state.
"What are we, anyways?"
"What is the point of us being here?"
"Why do we exist?"
The gods question their being.
"Should we do something?"
"What can we do?"
The gods-
"Well, I would like to do something."
One of the gods has an idea.
"What is it, then?"
"I…"
"Say it."
"Well, if we have all this 'nothing'…"
"Then…?"
"We should make a 'something'!"
The gods chatter loudly. How then, would they make something exist out of nothing? Despite being things that just came into being, they know that such an idea is laughable.
"That's impossible!"
"How are we supposed to do that?"
"We have no way of making something out of thin air!"
They berate that one god out of the collective, with on idea bigger than they could ever be.
But they still try.
"I…"
"I don't want to live like this."
"With nothing."
Focusing, they feel something. Something trying to make its way into this empty multiverse.
"I want a world to be made."
"I want something to call my own."
"I want to create something."
That something they felt, it begins to sketch its way into the world.
But just as this small god notices, it stops.
They made something, but it wasn't enough.
"That's…"
Another god bumps in.
"It's not enough, is it?"
Still, they speak.
"I can keep trying. No, I will keep trying."
"Good luck."
"I…"
"Because you're going to need it."
Still, they try and try. One sketch of a world turns into ten. Then one hundred. Then a thousand.
Despite this, their universes refuse to be successful. They are still left as sketches without life, and what is the point of a world like that?
"Will anyone help me?"
They ask.
"Surely, if we did this together we could make something that is alive!"
They plead.
"No."
"I don't want to have false hope in nothing."
"This is the way things are, and they suck, but that is how it is."
It seems hopeless, for this one god. They have nobody on their side, but surely if someone gave them assistance…
And then…
"I want to help."
"Me too!"
"You're right! Maybe if we did this together, we would get some results."
More voices speak up, offering their help.
"I can help!"
"Tell us how you're making these sketches, maybe it'd help?"
"Yeah, it'd be easier if we all did it together!"
As the voices focus, something sketches itself into existence, a lone drawn universe with one inhabitant with one soul.
It is still a mess, though. An improper universe, and all of them know it.
"That's…"
"We failed…"
"Oh no…"
Meanwhile, while these gods sulk over their failure, the one sketch with a soul ponders their being…
Much like the gods before them.
He thinks to himself. "Surely there can't be all this is."
He wonders to himself. "Surely there's more than this."
It's suffocating to him, to have to live in an incomplete, mess of a universe. With no purpose or nobody to talk to, what is the point really of living that way?
There isn't, is there?
Taking out his soul, he decides.
If there isn't a point, then he will just choose not to exist.
Before the gods notice, their beloved creation tears his soul into two.
Rip…
And their creation ends up in the white void of nothing, the only place they thought they could properly reach.
But what is the point if he can't feel a thing, do a thing?
"It's so frustrating!"
"When we finally get something to go our way, it ends up like this!"
"This isn't fair!"
Unknown to them, their frustration pours onto their creation in the form of paint.
Yelling out in anger, he gets up and storms around, thoughts floating in his head for the first time since he lost his soul.
"It's not fair! Why am I stuck this way!?" He shouts, getting the gods' attention. "I don't get it, why do I have to exist just for there to be nothing at all!?!?!"
"He's…"
"Oh my stars, how did we do that?"
"We got angry, that's what."
So, tons of the gods focus all their mixed emotion onto their creation, dumping the paint in a chaotic mix of rainbow onto their child.
His eyes swirl, mixed up by having all these emotions so intense at once. It's too much for him, so he vomits up ink and swiftly passes out after.
"Oh…"
"Well, we know not to do that."
"What should we do with him, though?"
The gods murmur over this question. They made something, but now what?
Then, it comes to them.
They do not have a good enough connection to their multiverse.
But he does.
So, they decide.
They will give him the power of creation, making him into a god of his own.
Surprisingly, nobody fights back against this idea, for all of them want a multiverse to exist, after all.
Their joy manifests into yellow paint, pouring directly onto their creation.
Upon hearing the voices of his creators, he shouts with happiness.
"Oh my stars! I'm not alone!" He exclaims. "I have someone to talk to!"
Shocked, the gods respond.
"You can hear us?"
He nods. "Yep! I was really lonely, but now I have people I can speak to!"
"Well, we have a question."
"Fire away!" He joyfully shouts.
"Would you like to become the god of creation?"
"Uh…" Their creation thinks… that's a lot to ask. But… "Sure! I don't know how you're going to do that, though."
"Well…"
"Let's try it."
The gods focus their energy into this one gift, focusing the similar power of making a universe, but into a person instead of a multiverse.
Suddenly, a burst of rainbow, a different kind of rainbow than the emotional paint, pours onto their creation. His eyes change into several shapes and colors, as his body processes his newfound power.
"I… woah…" He lies there, stunned. "That's a lot of stuff you just put in my little body, ahaha…"
"That's a sign it worked, isn't it?"
"Y- Yeah…" He sits up. "Anyways, what are you guys called? We didn't exactly exchange names and stuff before, huh?"
"Uh…"
"We don't have names."
"Or names in general."
"I mean, neither do you."
"Well…" He trails off. "How about we name each other! I will call you The Creators, since you made me and all."
"That's a stupid name. You're the god of creation, you know."
"But he's going to be making stuff for us, so…"
"Oh yeah, you do have a point."
"So it's settled?" He asks.
"Yep… Ink."
"That's really the name we're coming up with?"
"You know why we're choosing it."
"Why are you choosing it?" 'Ink' asks.
"Nevermind."
"Do you like your new name though?"
Ink nods excitedly. "Yep! But… I am kinda naked though, so I need to make some clothes."
"Oh right."
"Sorry about that."
Lifting up his hand and covering himself up in his namesake, he forms clothes around his body.
"Let's go, guys!"