Chapter Text
–Characters–
The Fates:
- 13 beings that have all been in charge of writing the destiny of the Multiverse during different eras of time, spanning across all 6 instances of its creation.
- Each “instance” is a new version of the Multiverse that is created after the previous version was entirely destroyed (1st instance created->1st instance destroyed->2nd instance created->2nd instance destroyed->etc.). If most entities from the current instance are erased, but not all of them, a new instance will not be started, and instead the Multiverse will go through another repetition.
- Repetitions are very similar to instances, but have many differences. Instances start on a completely blank slate, while repetitions have remnants of the previous Multiverse that survive. This is one of the few things that can cause two versions of the same outcode to be able to meet each other(e.g. Dream and Shattered!Dream). Repetitions within the same instance also share far more similarities lore-wise with each other than with other instances.
- The Fates often do not enjoy their duties, and the only reason there have been 13 of them is because most of them quit their job. During the present day, there are 3 Fates that are currently in power—the 5th, the 11th, and the 13th.
- They are all agender
- The Fates are created specifically for their job, and have no previous history prior to being in charge of the Multiverse. Most have no history after quitting as well, as they usually take their own lives afterwards.
Nova:
- The 4th Fate.
- They quit after the end of the 2nd instance, devastated by the loss of the history of an entire multiverse. After they quit, they created a realm below the Multiverse for the sole purpose of storing and preserving the history and culture of each following instance to come. This realm was dubbed the Grand Archive.
- They narrate everything that happens to them
Draft:
- _____tale Papyrus (aka the Papyrus from Ink’s original universe before he destroyed his own soul)
- Ink’s younger brother
- He saw Ink rip apart his soul, and still feels guilt over not being able to stop him.
- Centuries after Ink ‘died’, he managed to find a way out of his incomplete universe by himself, and he also gained access to his universe’s code. When he saw the rest of the multiverse and all of the completed AUs, he became determined to complete his universe’s story himself using the knowledge he gained from all he saw, doing so as a way to memorialize his brother.
- He acts quite naive and childish, due to the fact he wasn’t created fully before his universe was abandoned. He also doesn’t understand emotions very well.
- His appearance matches up with his look in the backstory comic for Ink (colorless body and scarf, scribbled out right eye (his right)), but aside from that he wears very colorful, eccentric clothing. He keeps his blank scarf because it’s the only memento of his universe that he can take with him.
- He carries around a messenger bag with a bunch of stuff in it, including a teleporter he ‘borrowed’ from another outcode. (He has little concept of the law)
- His bones have the same texture as paper, and can be written on just as easily. His scarf is the same.
- He writes down stuff on his hands and scarf, but he also has a hefty notebook that he writes down notes about other universes and stories in.
- He collects little trinkets from each AU he visits and keeps them in his bag for good luck. He also brings a lot of them back to his universe to share with the other characters there.
- He is actually succeeding in continuing his story, and many of the other characters in his universe have become fully sentient. There are also rough sketches of areas and buildings for them to live in. The universe is constantly building off of itself now that Draft effectively revived it. The only problem is that it’s a very slow process.
___________________________________
My feet tap gently against the polished wooden floor, aligning with the marked arrows printed along the center of each aisle, the veins spanning the great body of knowledge and data which I call my home. I carry a bound book in my hands, a journal of sorts, filled with the emotion and memory of a soul now unknown. Yet, when this little glimpse of a life now destroyed meets my careful hands, that soul speaks once more within the pages, if only for a moment. Gone, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.
With each one shelved, one more appears within my grasp, awaiting its place in the great tapestry of the Archive. With each one placed ever-so-lovingly in my hands, an emptiness to match it appears right where it must be. The halls extend outwards pixel by pixel like roots searching for water, making space where space is needed, self-organizing through simple randomness. A place free from the machinations of Fate, separated away from the bias, timing, and predetermination of all that exists Above. Oh, how wonderful it is, to be the keeper of such a realm…!
This serenity is not maintained for long, however, for I now begin to hear swifter, yet less precise footsteps trailing behind me. And as they draw ever closer, I notice the uneven rustling of a far-too-large scarf, the clinking of fasteners attached to straps of a well-loved messenger bag, and the fluttering of a dislodged sticky note to the ground.
And now, the scrambling sound of the one from which the note fell retrieving it, only after my observant commentary drew his attention, kehehe… An unexpected chaos of an appearance, but a quite welcome one.
Greetings, Draft.
“Nyehe, s-sorry, Mx. Nova… I just wanted to listen in, I didn’t mean to interrupt your cool monologue-”
Nonsense, you were no interruption, dear. Your company is appreciated more than you know. As I speak, I think away the journal I hold, and thus it returns to the rest of the unshelved until I decide to start placing them away once more. Also, simply Nova is just fine. There is no need for formalities, I have no care for such things when I am the subject.
“Oh, apologies!! I forget things like that a lot, hehe.”
He sheepishly grinned as he fidgeted with his scarf, attempting to find a blank space on the canvas-like surface to write that down, so that he would not forget again. Soon he found one, and took his small mechanical pencil from a compartment in his bag.
“Why do you do that?”
He started to scribble down notes as he spoke, a focused expression on his face.
Also, why do I do what, exactly?
“Wh- that! The, err… narration. Why do you do that?”
Well, every story needs a narrator, of course. How else would this conversation be properly recorded?
(sigh) A story with no description… I feel bored just contemplating it. I don’t believe I could ever bear to be complicit in the creation of such a thing.
“(gasp)”
Draft covered his mouth with his hands in an expression of amazement. Or… a realization possibly? He released his scarf, and grabbed his beloved notebook in its place, beginning to write with a new enthusiasm.
“Yes, yes, realization yes, that’s it! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!!!”
Hm? Kehe, well, I am glad that you are happy, dear. But I must ask, what are you thanking me for…?
“My story, of course!! My story, I came here to…”
He trailed off, discontinuing his explanation in favor of continuing his notes. He is permitted to take as long as he needs to, however, for I know this must be ever-so-important if it relates to his noble quest.
With a smile on his face, he finished his excited note-taking, now clutching the book to his chest. Be sure not to hold it too tight, love, you might damage those little papers that stick out of it here and there.
“Right, thank you! Er… Taking into account Nova’s advice, I readjusted my grip on my writing journal, tucking some of the loose papers back into place and smoothing out some others! …was that good?”
Aww, that was wonderful, Draft! You have learned quite a bit about storytelling since your last visit, hm?
“Yes, I have! I’ve been studying a whole bunch of people’s stories, taking notes, all that stuff, but, well…”
His face slowly fell as he hesitated. I nod, encouraging him to confide in me what seems to be troubling him so.
“...nothing’s been working. Sure, some things are coming together, but my story just won’t work. No matter what I’ve been trying. So, I came to you to get advice, because you’re the smartest person I know when it comes to stories—”
How very kind of you!
“—and it worked!! Without me even having to ask you in the first place too, you said ‘a story with no description’- that’s me, that’s my story! All I have to do—I open my notebook once more, showing Nova the notes I had just written—is write the description!”
(giggle) I was greatly amused by Draft’s mid-sentence description, and I give him a soft pat on the head and a warm smile. If you continue with that narration practice, I presume you will be well-qualified for the job, my little worldbuilder.
“Yeah, I will be for sure!!! I’ll get it right this time, you’ll see! No more retcons, no more rewrites, no more blank voids-!”
His enthusiasm is heartening, yet he must remember that he has much to learn.
“...huh?”
Stories take a very, very long time to become finished, my dear. The ones you witness out Above, in the multiverse, they appear to come into existence in a single moment, do they not?
“Well, yeah! That’s why I’m going to be able to write mine really fast, so that-”
You will be able to do no such thing, Draft. Yes, yes, universes appear into the multiverse in only a moment… through the lens of someone who lives inside of the multiverse. They are created on a time frame far removed from our own, entirely untranslatable to us, for it changes in comparison constantly. Every amount of time in that world can be equated to any amount of time in ours, and therefore no times can be equated to each other at all. In other words, Draft…
Creators make universes.
And you are no Creator.
“...”
…his face fell, failing to understand that just because he is not a Creator, that does not mean he cannot create.
“I… what…? But- but how am I supposed to… You said that—”
Creators make universes, yes. And it is true that you cannot. But that matters little when you aren’t making a universe at all, doesn’t it?
“I- I am making a universe-!”
You are writing a universe. If it had not been made before you started writing its story, then how would you exist to make it yourself?
As I said, not being a creator does not mean that you cannot create. I am not a creator, and yet…
I step back and make a wide gesture around me at the halls of the Grand Archive.
…I still created all of this.
“W-wait, you… you created the Archive?!”
He exclaimed, shocked at this sudden revelation, his eyes filling once again with wonder.
Yes, indeed, I did. Just like you, I did it to save the unsalvageable, to write the unwritten, to give memory to the forgotten. And just like it will for you…
I place my hand gently upon his shoulder.
It took time. Lots and lots of it—centuries of nothing but working on piecing together the code, mechanisms, and design of this wondrous place that I now call my home. I could not simply bring it into existence at whatever time I wanted as the Creators can, and you are the same.
…Kehehe, do not be alarmed by the sheer width of that expanse of time, Draft. It will take far less for you to create a proper world and story for your universe.
“(sigh) Oh, phew…”
The reason it took me so long is because I had no guidance, and no frame of reference either. This place is unique, at least within this multiverse. Of course, it would’ve had to be in order to serve any use—it is the kind of place that only one is ever needed of, after all.
You, on the other hand, have references everywhere you look, both up Above and right where you stand now! I cheerfully gesture towards the shelves of books stretching out in every direction, functionally endless in their knowledge of the world Above. And that’s in addition to your own mind’s inventions, as well.
And as for guidance, I am here, and I will continue to be for a very, very long time, just as I have been for a very, very long time. You need not be hesitant to ask my advice, nor my assistance, nor my knowledge, and especially not my company. I have all eternity to put books to shelves, but the same cannot be said for the opportunity to know someone as truly remarkable as you.
“...(sniff)… I…”
“...h-hehe, Nova’s kind encouragement brought me to tears, causing me to wipe my eyesocket with a sleeve of my sweater… I hope that they know how much their support means to me—”
…Draft cut off his own prodigious narration with another sniffle, but not before conveying his emotions with clarity. He is quite welcome, as I profoundly enjoy supporting him in his endeavors.
I open my arms in an offer of a hug, if he so wishes—
—and he accepts the offer nearly as soon as it is extended, one arm holding himself to me while the other holds onto his notebook just as tight.
After a minute of comfortable silence, he slowly pulls away, wiping his eyesocket yet again to clear away the remaining droplets of tears gathered there, yet doing so with a bright smile on his face.
“Nyehehe, well, if it’s going to take lots of time to finish my story, I need to get started as soon as possible, and I can’t be productive if I’m not feeling 100%, so 100% will be how I’m feeling!!”
Well, if that attitude isn’t contagious, I don’t know what is. I won’t keep you from that then, but I do believe I have one final thing for you. I think you might find it interesting.
“Hm?”
A new book—or, perhaps, an old one—appears into my hands with a single thought, and I extend it towards Draft for him to take. He does so, reads the cover for but a moment, and smiles up at me once more.
“Oh, thank you, Nova! I’ll start reading it just as soon as I get home.”
Of course. Speaking of, do not be shy to borrow books on your own! Just be sure to tell me first, kehe.
“Mhm! Thanks again for everything, I’ll be back soon, probably!!”
Goodbye, dear. Until we meet again, I ask you to be patient with yourself when it comes to your creative process, understood?
“Yeah! No matter how much time it takes, I’m going to make a universe my brother would have been proud of!!”
He nods and sticks out a thumbs up towards me, and before I know it, he’s gone, transported back to wherever he came in from with a snap.
Right before he left, I caught a final glimpse of the cover of the book I had let him borrow.
Embossed on the faded leather, still colored in the same bright gold it was when I had first printed it, the title read: “How to Cheat Fate”.
…Oh, how I hope he will be able to.