A collection of inane nonsense (ranging from Error being reincarnated as Palette to Dust finding a new love for the color pink) circling around the many AUs and Multiverses of the Undertale world. Some stories will be connected; Others will be rando...
Summary: Ink's new companion has some difficulties adjusting to the modern world.
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In a small, colorful room sat a skeleton monster adorned by a black ink splotch on his face; A desk littered by blank and crumpled pages laid before him. The artist fiddled with the normal-sized paintbrush resting between his phalanges. For some time now, Ink had been stuck in the same AU, and while it was entertaining, he began growing bored of the place days ago. Why not leave and journey elsewhere for fun, new adventures? Three days prior, a lost Sans came into his care. The poor soul - Dream, the monster called himself - somehow left his AU, got turned about in the vast Multiverse, and seemed to have no idea how to interact with modern society.
Being the Guardian of AUs, Ink couldn't just leave him to suffer- or attack cars because "What such beast roars like a bear that is not evil! It must be slain." It caused quite a stir. Though, he would be lying if he said he did not enjoy watching the spectacle. People frantically screamed as the yellow-clad Sans thwacked their vehicle with his staff, and the resident Sans desperately tried to de-escalate the situation.
"AH!" Speaking of his new friend, that horrified cry of anguish was Dream just now. The guardian sighed and began making his way downstairs.
I swear, he better not have been startled by the toaster again. It's not fun after the first- the first...
A gloved hand brought a portion of the signature tan scarf closer to his face. His eyelights moved left to right while he skimmed through the abundance of notes and reminders. Finally, the mismatched symbols landed on little score counter: Dream vs. Toaster - 0 to 10. Ten times. Smudges from constantly erasing the record to update it laid beneath the dark numerals. The shapes housed in his eye sockets transformed into a question mark and an hourglass. He grumbled under his breath, "I could have sworn it was more than ten times."
The art-loving skeleton then proceeded to throw the scarf's end over his shoulder, continuing his leisurely walk to the room the cry echoed from. Ink soon entered the living room, and the sight awaiting him was one to behold. Dream stood in front of the TV, some live-action cartoon playing on it, with a distraught expression etched onto his skull. Tears welled at the corners of his pinched eye sockets.
"Dream, what's wrong? Is everything okay?" The artist internally sighed, preparing for the answer.
Dream's eyes snapped open, and Ink found himself subject to an intense look of pleading. "There are people trapped the black box! We need to save them!"
"This," Ink strolled closer and knocked his knucks against the television's glass screen. "is a TV. It- uh, lets you watch the stories of the people displayed inside."
"Black magic?!"
A humored snort brushed past the guardian's nasal cavity. With a mirthful smirk and raised eyebrow, he breathlessly uttered, "What?"
"I suspected since the beginning, but I had no proof." The yellow-clad skeleton pointed an accusatory finger at Ink. "You are a demon! And you plan on sealing my soul into one of these moving picture boxes, too, right?"
"Pfft- Well, I can't lie. That does sound fun."
Dream, apparently, failed to grasp the concept of teasing, as he proceeded to back away and proclaim, "Ah-hah! I knew it." Next, the golden-eyed Sans threw open the front door and ran with all his might.
Ink chuckled, mismatched eyelights gazing in the direction his new friend fled in.
"Man, this is going to be so much fun!" He cheered, rushing out the door. His gait swift as he continued down the AU's streets. "I better catch up to him before he accuses the barista of witchcraft without me there to see it!"
