A Miscalculation In Space

Disclaimer: Undertale belongs to TobyFox and any AU's, characters and otherwise mentioned movies, shows and games in this fic belong to their respective owners unless stated otherwise.

Warnings:
-OOC
-Not cannon to NaJ
-Ink being Ink
-Mention of neglectful parent(s)
-Spider
-Why are there feels???
-Mention of past arson
-Mention of injuries
-Hinted past abuse
-Good ending, I promise. Sorta?
-For the chapter I mean, still a long way before the fic ends

A/N: I'm honestly not completely satisfied since this was a bit of a rush job due to trying to have it out before the end of the month, but I think it ended up okay?

It sort of ran away from me and did whatever it wanted, but oh well.

Hope you enjoy regardless!
_______________________________________
Ink pauses in his sketching, turning around and staring at Miscal. The image is a bit comical, really, with the way he's gaping at him. If Miscal didn't know this one has a soul, albeit a small one, he would have thought he forgot to take his paint by that blank stare alone. As it is, he's just confused over the pause, papers wrinkling in his hands. Just as he's about to backtrack, feeling a strong urge to avoid his gaze, Ink starts to shake. He slaps a hand over his mouth soon after, jaw clicking shut, snickering.

"I-!" He has to pause here and calm himself to try and get a sentence out without bursting out into laughter. "I think that's a great idea!"

Miscal relaxes at that, tensed posture gone. He glances down at the papers on his lap, smoothing them down on the sketchpad he borrowed from Ink. Least he could do after turning half of Miscal's room into his art studio. Miscal doesn't really mind, though it did cut into his time laying on his string hammock when Ink came by and immediately barreled into his room to start the takeover.

(He's still a bit confused why Ink doesn't just use his own room. Dream has a permanent one in place for him, after all.)

Don't get him wrong. The bed is comfortable, but it's not what he's used to. Constants are a good thing for his sanity in his (previous?) job. Though, he has been experiencing a lot of different things since he got into this multiverse somehow.

"Wh-whICh Do yOu thiNk is bEtTer?"

He rips the two papers he used off of the sketchpad, holding up two concept designs for an owl plushie. One is a more cutesy version, while the other is a fairly realistic one. Ink looks ready to shit himself with laughter for some reason despite having exactly zero physical organs.

"Dream will like the second one! Scratch that- he'll love it!" Why is he grinning? Miscal shakes his head. He feels like something is off, but he'll take Ink's advice. He knows Dream better after all, right?

... Maybe he should ask Swap or Nightmare first. Actually, maybe he'll just ask Swap. He hasn't really interacted with this Nightmare much, so it'd be a bit awkward to ask him about a gift to his brother when he's interacted with him all of two times, their first meeting and later on when he came by to drop off his ID printout. Granted, the gift is just a thank you for letting him stay here and leech off of him, but still. Yeah, Swap is the better option.

(Miscal forgot, for a moment, that Swap can be a bigger troll than even Ink at times.)

He hums and sets the sketchpad down on his bed, carefully putting the designs on his nightstand. Honestly, his room is pretty bare furniture wise. A bed, dresser, and a nightstand with an additional desk Ink dragged in sometime last week to store his art supplies. Miscal had to be more careful over where he stored his clothes since then. He isn't sure if Ink forgot his scolding when he noticed one of his shirts was ruined, so he'd rather lower the chances of a repeat incident.