#chronic error

Cocoa -> my current/most recent series, The lonely and the one (only on ao3, although the og chapters are on tumblr) - Error is a lonely and near forgotten god, a terrifying myth that has been left behind even by his eternal enemy. But one hasn't forgotten, and has been waiting his whole life to meet Error.

Strings and Glitch -> Double Stitched (Rewrite) - Trust me rewrite is way better than the OG fanfic, Glitch accidentally ended up in a swapped universe, what will happen with this new chance he’s been given?

Survivor/Viver -> Putting Together Savorless Decisions (PTSD) - Short, but wholesome, nice hurt/comfort with a different take on the Ink and Error relationship

Ru -> I should - More Nightmare focused, still enjoyable and a different take on Nightmare with a more poetic one shot that evolved into a short story.

Star -> The Hidden Star - Ink cheats on Error, and overall chaos ensues. Started off with the idea of ink being a "wolf in sheep's clothing" but it evolved a lot.

Edwin and Neil -> The King and His Aid (Season 1) Nightmare is heir to the throne, and must find a queen, but he doesn’t want a queen, he just wants Edwin (Season 2) With a new start, what will happen? Who will they meet? Who’s Gene?

Balance -> From Memories to Trees - Also started as a one shot, much more extreme takes on opposite ends of the spectrum for Dream and Nightmare mixed with some internal problems and alternate beginnings.

Lapse & Chronic -> An Error’s Journey - Error’s been having these weird dreams… How does it affect his family and how will it change everything around him? Started as a headcanon story for Error’s past and now is a 12 page plot doc with the series at 100K+ words. If you want a very slow burn story full of world building that pulls out at all stops for everything with a focus for the small details, I strongly recommend reading it.

And the bonus screenshot because Neil and Edwin are too fuckin cute and need their own panel

The next step was a little harder since he wanted it to be a complete surprise to Sydney when he came back. So, he warned all his workers but her, giving them all a good scare. Of course, they still don’t know he’s Error, but they were surprised to hear from him at all. And while some were on the fence about keeping his return from Sydney, the surprise of it convinced them.

Then, he did the last preparation of visiting the Outsider and asked Chronic to follow him to the VIP loft. 

He wanted to spend some time there and reacquaint with the bustle and buzz of people at a safe distance, take the small steps and take his time to readjust. And, through his listing of the pros and cons, this gave the most bonuses. He got to spread out all the paperwork he had without fear of eavesdroppers, as well as being able to spend more one on one time with Chronic.

It was difficult to talk with them–at first and still days later, as they seemed to seclude themselves more and more, but Error managed.

The small talk was stale but better than nothing. He was starting to understand the trouble his lovers had when he was lost in his own mind. But, that makes sense, they are one and the same after all.

“‘Ey, Chronic?”

The other hummed softly, unfocused eyes staring out at the cafe, blindly watching people come in and out. It was painfully obvious the other was lost in their own mind, although they may just be talking amongst themself.

Their shadows were more chaotic than ever, almost like his glitches when he was crashing. The room was covered in darkness, even with the overhead lights turned on. The shadows stretch unnaturally, beckoning yet pushing away.

With a sigh, he closed the laptop, setting it down next to himself on the couch. Slowly, he stood up and moved to sit next to Chronic, but as he did, he saw the physical proof of what he already knew. The shadows of the room suddenly sharpened, and the darkness that was crawling its way into the light faded. Chronic’s form became the image of perfection, an identical match to when they first met. 

Green eyes glanced at him before staring blankly at the cafe again. Barely adjusting on the couch, leaning more of their torso over the back, and resting their head on top of their arms.

Error leaned into the spot next to them, looking out at the cafe with them. Customers coming in and out, trading seats, laughing and talking. It was a normal life that had long since passed him.

“...why are you pulling away?” He eventually spoke, just getting straight to the point. Chronic tensed, and for the first time, he watched as they stuttered through their thoughts.

“I- we… stars. Dear, we…” Chronic seemed to practically deflate. Their eye sockets fluttered, barely keeping open as that perfect image fell apart to something more normal. Someone who was just trying to keep it together. Someone like Error.

A shadowy wing stretched out, and there was a long moment of silence.

“We can’t.”

“Chronic, love ya but missed out on a lot of that. I doubt you're saying ‘I can’t pull away’.”

“Dear… you know we can not fuse back together… we can not let ourselves fall to that temptation. It is simply better to pull away.” Chronic moved, staring back at him. Green solid eyes slightly wavering, as were the shadows flickering, threatening. However, this threat was merely the sway of a cat's tail.

Chronic’s eyes were their weirdest trait, but he was finally beginning to understand them. The colors showed who was in control of the fusion and whom he was talking to, although context clues carried most of his theories. Despite centuries apart, they all hadn’t changed much between timelines. 

Purple was for Nightmare, often given away by the subtle change of how Chronic held themself. Posture tighter, and their grace more elegant and noticeable. Yellow was for Dream, although telling they were there was more based on speech than anything else. The little “Dears” and older way of speaking, no “can’t” or “it’s”.

Grim didn’t show himself by color, although it’d be fair to bet it would be blue. The God showed himself through form and speech, wings appearing or a soothing and even alluring talk drifting from the fusion. Then Ink was a little more obvious, form shifting shorter and a much more pronounced talk. Exclaiming and bouncing around with brown or black eyes. Their freckles seemed to be more clear when they were out and about as well.

The Error of Chronic? That was far more difficult. For the moment, he just assumed they had the same speech. Although, this left out the color combinations. For now, Magenta meant all of them, and green showed Dream and Nightmare together. A small tribute to Nim it seemed.

Truthfully, it was painfully obvious now that the two were talking to him. It didn’t help Chronic’s case that Error had borne witness to Nightmare’s masking before, and Dream seemed to not be much better. He really needs to work with Nightmare and Dream then, help them be more selfish. Stray thoughts of times when Nightmare has pushed down his needs for “what has to be done” drifted in and he could only imagine how bad Dream could be.

Keeping gentle eye contact with Chronic, he moved to have one arm hold onto the wing around him, and the other reach out to Chronic. Not touching, simply offering his hand, palm up, and sincere expression on his features.

It’s slow-moving, but trusting as Chronic eases a hand into Error’s. Green eyes continue to stare back at him.

“What do the others think? Since it’s just you two talking to me… and Reaps I guess.” Error cracks a smirk, jerking his head to the wing wrapped around him.

Chronic sighs and their eyes go fuzzy before splitting apart into pixels. All the colors merge in the red background to an odd shade of magenta.

“They’re idiots.” Was all he got for a moment, before a new voice came along, “I, shit- We don’t want to lose you again! We just got all of you back!” Chronic’s other hand moved, clutching tight to Error’s. “Agreed, it was agonizing torture without you all. I think we’d be just as uncoordinated and difficult as when we first fused if we left you again.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Chronic seems to fall more and more. Expression exasperated, but nothing more is said.

“...What about other me?” Chronic blinked a few times but eventually bowed their head before rising tall, sapphire eyes gazing back at him tiredly.

“What of it, glitch?” There goes the red theory he had. Maybe Hearts was onto something with that nickname.

“Don’t you have an opinion on all this? I… I don’t know how different we are.”

“...I know ya don’t.”

He would, wouldn’t he? Maybe he was the one saying that all this time? Stars was he oblivious, Chronic never spoke in I’s…

“Heh, you were the one saying that all this time?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I was.” Chronic’s tenseness seemed to slowly slip away, and they moved their gaze to the cafe, their head following, but hands still in his. “In the beginning, we were similar… down to the detail, but after ya n’ Hearts separated, we did too.” What little Error could see of their eyes were fuzzy, but there was a slightly sad smile on their face, barely made out underneath the shadows and freckles.

Chronic continued: “Ya met Core far before I did… Core answered your questions… ya met Grim faster than I had… spent time with him as Sans… Even dated ‘im quicker than me. Ya met Life, met Mercy, and met Magic when I only met ‘em all after I was sane again.” 

It was near mind-shattering to realize how little Chronic had in his past life, all the support and companionship that kept Error going just wasn't there at all for them.

Chronic tilted their head, eyeing Error from the corner of their socket. 

“...I dealt more with that asshole Gaster than you, but Ink made it worthwhile…” Their eyes glitched for a moment before maintaining their blue hue. “I spent my time remembering with Ccino… He n’ I were extremely close in my multiverse… he’s the one that convinced me to open The Outsider…” there’s a waver in their voice, but he moves on, “I didn’t hide away in a realm, my multiverse didn’t have them. I hid away in the antivoid–but got caught, so I moved to the save screen–to get caught again, and everyone found me in the ruins of my timeline…”

Chronic shrugged, breaking eye contact: “After that, to put it briefly, it was awkward… I didn’t have the connection to Dream and Ink like ya, or even Grim. We hung out at Life’s but that was pretty much it. Nightmare and I got close at some point though… What other differences will there be? I don’t know. None of us do. There are countless across all of you.”

The silence stretched once more, but it wasn’t one of tension, it was a sort of quiet relief. To think of the centuries that they had to keep that to themself, maybe even from the rest of the fusion.

“Oh? Error?” Chronic spoke up, barely turning to Error, calming eyes washing an embracing aura of tranquility over him. “Don’t think wrong about this and do not take in our mistakes. I told you of this so you would not be in the dark any longer. No. Other. Reason.” They glare, crowding him in before leaning back, moving their hands to rest in their lap, “I’ve come to terms with the differences over the centuries, and if anything, the only thing you should take from this is to be grateful for what you have…”

Chronic smirked, gentle and wise eyes peering down, “It can always be better, and it can always be worse. We gotta live with what we got and make the most out of it. Take that lesson to soul, alright?”

Chronic didn’t give him a moment to speak, getting up from the couch, the wing wrapped around Error’s shoulders moving to scoop him up and pull him to Chronic’s side. A portal sprung before them, and the ever playful fucker just continued to smirk.

“It’s about time we get heading back, ain’t it?”

“Pft, could’a given me more of a warnin’, you jerk.” He smiled in return before walking through.

The bustling warm cafe turned into the static castle. Dust drifting in the sunlight of the windows and floorboards creaking. The runner carpet scuffled as he made room for Chronic to step through, and he chuckled to himself at the distant noise of steps and voices. A welcomed signal that their return wasn’t unnoticed.

The change was always a little startling, but it had grown to be a comfort. It was nice to have people to return home to, so many that cared so much about him and he returned it likewise.

His lovers rounded the corner, and Ink bolted into his arms.

“You’re back!” They both take a moment to just hold tight as Ink nuzzles close into his neck, and he can feel his soul preening at the loving intent cascading from the shorter.

“Oh, ya missed me, Inky?”

“Obviously!” Ink pulled back, “Where were you two anyway?”

Dream and Nightmare finally caught up, Death likely out on a job and the gang who knew where. It seemed Nightmare was getting more comfortable as of late, happily uncorrupted with a sly smile and a blushing Dream’s arm around his waist.

“I’d bet you were out on those errands of yours again, never did find out what you did on those…” Nightmare’s smile grew wide and innocent.

“Eh, nothing much.” Error shrugged with an innocent smile of his own. “Just a lil’ secret I like to keep up to date on.”

“Oh? And Chronic is allowed to go with you?” Nightmare spoke playfully, turning his attention to Chronic.

“A secret is a secret our dear night.” Chronic playfully spoke, shrugging as they turned and walked away. “We’ll leave ya to deal with that.”

“Well then,” Nightmare pouted, before turning back to Error, “May I ask what it’ll take to learn of this little secret of yours?”

Little was an understatement. At times it took far too much work to keep things under wraps.

He tapped his chin, looking around and about as if thinking. Honestly, he had thought about telling them a couple of times, especially more so now than ever. He wants them to be able to meet Sydney and give Nightmare the chance to see the cafe, and to bring Ccino up there too–but not as Lapse, as Error.

There was still the lingering problem, while Lapse was largely loved, Error was equal parts hated if not entirely despised. He’s not a welcome face and outright telling Dream and Ink would likely hurt them as well as disrupt Omega. Having to choose between keeping Omega safe and him is never a decision he wants to have to make, and he never wants them to come anywhere close to it.

However… there was one way it could work.

“A peace treaty.” Nightmare blinked, and Dream seemed shocked, as did Ink. “An official one, not the truce that you set up while searchin’ for me.”

“Wait- wait. You need a peace treaty to tell us why you’re going out on… errands?” Ink explained, “Isn’t that a little much– I mean, yeah, peace treaties and all, but…” they gestured with their hands vaguely.

“Ta be honest, ’s a little more than errands.” 

Ink looked as if they wanted to speak more, however, Nightmare spoke first.

“That should be reasonably easy.” The God pulled himself from Dream’s side, “Before the truce I was thinking of going straight-” Ink chuckled, catching Nightmare off guard, who huffed a laugh before continuing, “-straight to making a peace treaty, and I may still have the draft.”

“Why didn’t we just do a peace treaty then?” Dream questioned

“It’s got a lot more legal hurdles than a truce, clearing names then working with telling the public and scheduling that and so forth…” Nightmare rolled his eyes, “But I’ve waited for ages to sate this curiosity. Another week or so won’t hurt.”

—--

When he agreed to the peace treaty, he didn’t expect to see this.

All things considered, the peace treaty went well. The Star council was completely on board with the idea, as were the main politicians of Omega. The issues came with planning the announcement ceremony.

The first issue came with the anxiety of it all. While the gang and council had been able to smooth things over, it doesn’t change the fact that for a good decade, the gang was hated and attacked on site–which multiplies into centuries for Nightmare. For Error, it wasn’t as difficult. 

He knows Omega like the back of his hand, and he knows of all the issues the place has. The folk of the city were backless and when push comes to shove, yes they are survivors but they also live off the drama of the council and what few celebrities and politicians there are.

If you make it to the edges of town, as long as you can hold your own, there can be nicer people. Ones that want to live their lives peacefully and truly build a community. He trusts that in the end, Sydney would trust him–Error or Lapse–and would happily help hide Error, Nightmare, and the gang until they could properly get out of Omega.

Who he worried over the most though--Nightmare aside--was Cross.

For all of the trips so far into Omega, xey would go rigid and guard-like. Still as a statue until talked to and always by either Killer’s or Error’s side. He knew they had been alone for a long time before ending up with Nightmare but had never seen how bad it affected them. He had a small hunch, judging by when he came back–since they didn’t seem to make any friends–but this just all-out confirmed things.

Even now, standing behind the curtains as the crowd gathered outside, xey stood still and vigilant.

For the announcement of the truce, they took up most of the park. A stage was built as well as a curtain made room behind with tents for people to gather. He knew Nightmare and Dream had taken one of them to reread through the treaty one more time before the ceremony and Core and Chronic had stolen another. The gang was scattered with the friends they had made in the council, and per Cross’ pushing, Killer had split off as well.

For the time, Error mostly stood off in a corner, an arm wrapped over Cross’ shoulders as they watched whatever people were hired for the event run around and others mingle.

“Hey, kiddo?” Cross stiffened, before relaxing a tad, looking up at Error but glancing at the small crowd every few seconds, “I can tell ya ain’t doing the best.”

Cross winced, hunching in on themself and looking away.

“It’s that obvious?” Error shrugged, he wasn’t going to worry him more.

“Ya worried about people?” Cross didn’t respond, still avoiding his eyes.

He looked back over the crowd, letting his eyes scan through everything and everyone. Most he recognized, few were unknown. He spotted Sydney at the food table laid out as well as some of his workers. Keeping treats and drinks warm or cold as well as making sure everyone was drinking water and not feeling too nervous for the event. A good spider donut always was a great distraction.

He crouched down to nearly Cross’ height, the other snapping xeir attention over and upon seeing each other eye to eye, turned away.

“The curtains are heavy, not easy to move.” He started, to which Cross straightened again, looking out at the impromptu setup they were in, “A sharp bone attack could easily break through it though, looks to only be cotton- but, if you look up…” He saw Cross move to look out of the corner of his socket, “...and to the corner is the connection point. A bone or a blaster could break any of these sections apart for an easy escape.” 

Cross relaxed more. “...I actually got someone here on my side,” Cross turned to look at him, confusion clear on their expression. Understandable since they’d both been standing in the corner since they all first arrived. “One of the workers has my back, and when push comes to shove, she’d hide us and cover our backs.”

With that backup plan in place, Cross finally rested xeir stiff pose, a hesitant smile appearing.

“Thanks, dad.”

“Any time, kid.”

 An employee ran into Core’s tent, before swiftly running back out. “...Think it’s gonna start soon.”

Cross inhaled shakily, before sighing.

“...fun.”

Core stepped out of their tent, Chronic following in toe, and everyone turned to look.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming out and making this possible.” Core began, a brighter smile than he’d ever seen on their face. “From employees and volunteers to the kind workers from The Outsider for coming out to cater,” Sydney nodded with a sly smirk, “to the Star Council and Nightmare and his gang, again, thank you.”

Core clapped their hands together, a hopeful expression overtaking.

“Now! It’s time for us all to get up on stage. They are seats for us all up there, staff will direct which side you are to be on- for the gang, do not fret about what the crowd thinks. They have already been made aware that this is a peaceful event, and just in case security measures have been made.”

One by one, the Stars made their way up the small staircase to the stage, Hearts following Blue with a wink to Error.

Then, with Nightmare in front and Error following, they made their way out from behind the curtain and onto the main stage.

The crowd was loud and bustling but went deadly quiet as they stepped out. Only the smallest of coughs or a few people clearing their throat was heard as they took their seats. Hearts looked oddly out of place, standing behind Blue’s chair, and then an empty chair on Nightmare’s side.

Death, Core, and Chronic all walked out, standing together before the podium.

“Everyone,” Chronic boomed, not even bothering to talk into the mic, their voice easily projecting over the crowd. “Take your seats.”

Somewhat jokingly, Reaper floated in the air, mimicking sitting in a chair. However, what drew everyone’s attention was Hearts.

Leaning down, Hearts gave blue a chaste kiss, before pulling out his ring necklace from under his shirt. Then, he stood back up and walked over to the empty seat on Nightmare’s side.

The crowd erupted in gasps, and Dream and Ink seemed to gawk at Blue who just stared dreamy-eyed after Hearts. The rest of the council looked equally as shocked, while the only reaction on Nightmare’s side was Killer giving Hearts a fist bump.

“Times are changing.” Core spoke clear into the mic, bringing back everyone’s attention. “After centuries of fighting between positivity and negativity; destruction and creation, we can finally have peace. This will bring in a new age, and it’s one I’m excited to see grow and change everything for the better.”

Core moved the mic over to Chronic, who takes it gingerly.

“We have long lived in the background.” Chronic began, speaking carefully into the mic, “It’s safe to say, and there is doubtfully any disagreement, that these sides have torn apart the multiverse.” There are quiet murmurs of agreement across the mass, “At the beginning of the multiverse, and for nearly half of the existence of the Omega Timeline, there were no sides. There were just the gods. Omega was a place for new starts and a hub for the AUs and what few lost their worlds.”

Chronic grew more confident, speaking with purpose.

“Those times were abandoned at some point, and it’s not better. It’s worse. We’ve forgotten that while negativity can be terrible-” Nightmare inhaled, sneakily grabbing Error’s hand, “-it is needed. The powers of the multiverse and its Gods should not be limited to sides, as they work on multiple spectrums. Please, heed this as the peace treaty goes into effect and the multiverse adjusts. It will take time, but it will also be for the better.”

Chronic moved the mic back over to Core, who signaled for Nightmare and Dream to come up.

Together, they started to read out the peace treaty, and he could see them hold their hands together behind the podium.

“I, Nightmare, promise to stop the spread of negativity and let things occur naturally. Negativity can be evil, but it is nature.” He could barely make out Nightmare gripping tighter, and Dream clenching his hand back, “It is the fight or flight I have had to live with for the entirety of my long life, and it’s a force that many of you have likely experienced. It’s the anxiety that manifests in us, it’s the anger we feel for right and wrong reasons. It cannot be defined as one simple thing as we have for so long. It is not the evil that it is presented as. It is the push that gives our lives the greatest highs after we have felt at our lowest.”

Dream nodded, a bright genuine smile stretching from cheek to cheek.

“I, Dream, promise to stop the spread of positivity and let things occur naturally.” There were distraught murmurs amongst the crowd, but Dream held fast. Raising a hand to signal for silence with a high chin, he continued, “Positivity makes us happy, but it can be evil. People can be happy doing cruel, unspeakable things. In addition, too much happiness prevents the process of life. It takes away grieving,” Dream turned to look at Nightmare, “and undermines the loss of loved ones. It takes away the guilt of doing something wrong, the anger at somebody wrong, and it can make us forget to be thankful for what we have, by forgetting what was lost.”

With that final note, together the two raised their joined hands, showing their unity to everyone. The crowd begins to boom as they clap, but the show was not over.

Nightmare slowly bows his head sighing softly, barely heard on the mic, and the negativity covering him drips away. When the negativity is fully gone, Nega reforms next to Nightmare, who raises his head.

Nightmare extends a hand, turning to look at Nega, and the crowd, as well as the star council, go silent in shock. The large gaping hole in the side of Nightmare’s skull settled in their minds. It spoke volumes of how Nightmare's trust for Dream had grown, his entire blind side facing the crowd that had caused him so much anxiety the past days.

Nega takes Nightmare's hand, and the two raise it together.

It’s quiet for a moment, but slowly, hesitant claps start, before it's thundering with applause. Workers start to cue them behind the stage, and they all gather by the snack bar.

Before any conversation can start, even before Hearts can make his way back to Blue, a council member barrels into Nightmare’s arms.

"My boy! Oh- I missed ya!" Nightmare laughs, hugging Sci back. Everyone’s mouths fell to the floor, except for Error.

"So this is what ya meant by saying Sci took ya in. Wow 'mare, can't believe ya hid ya dad from us."

"Well, there's the small problem of-"

"Oh? Night, have ya finally found yourself someone…” Sci looks over at Ink, Death, and Dream, “...Someones? Why didn't you tell me!"

"That problem."

“Wha- Sci??” Dream finally speaks up, “When? When?!” Tone exasperated and surprised.

“Oh, I took Nightmare in ages ago! I think you were in stone at the time…” Sci recounts with a laugh, “We haven’t been able to meet up since all of this craziness started, but I’m glad I can finally see you again!”

“Yes, yes, I’m glad to see you too… but there was an initial reason for this peace treaty.” Nightmare directs his attention to Error. “Can you finally tell us this big secret of yours? All the errands??”

Error huffs a laugh, crossing his arms.

“I’m getting put on the spot now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are. I spoke in front of that crowd, you blab your secret in front of a few dozen people.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Error shrugged, “In my defense, all of you are more likely to kill me over this than that crowd.”

The gang shifts from side to side, and the star council is even more so confused. All of them–Dream and Ink aside–trying to turn their back on the conversation in favor of the food table, but still looking back for the gossip. The confusion of Hearts and Blue gone for the moment in favor of Error.

“Okay, really. How bad can it be?” Ink speaks up, a little pout on his face.

With a sigh, Error takes off his glasses, pocketing them, and pulls out his second pair and those little cards for the VIP loft of the outsider.

Cross’ eyes go wide and he stares at Error, but no one else quite understands. He can see Sydney peering at him from behind the food table.

“...Cards for the outsider? You know Mode?” Dream began hesitantly.

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he pulls the Omega ID for Lapse from one of his pockets and sets it on the table with the glasses.

No one says anything still, but Ink and Dream seem to be piecing things together.

“I- …I don’t understand.” Dream eventually stutters.

“Oh stars, fine.” And he pulls up the panel for Lapse, letting all of them see it as he clicks the button.

His body glitches, and an unimpressed Lapse Divinity Mode in Error’s clothes stands before them. The room is shocked into silence, and one of his workers pouring a coffee even stops. If everyone keeps dropping their jaws like this they’ll need to tie it to their head. “Ya get it now?”

The room stays in silence, until Sydney walks up.

“Boss?”

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t tell ya… or came back sooner.”

“No, no. Again, don’t worry- don’t even think about it… but, damn.” She folds two of her arms as her third rests on her hip, “Honestly… Nah, this makes sense. Guessing that secret menu of yours has a backstory with these folks?”

The gang finally pulls themselves together, and Killer yells: “You’re Lapse D. Mode?!!”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him!” Dust follows

Error sighs, laughing as everyone recovers. Death just smiles slyly, off to the side, which Dream and Ink begin to notice.

“Ye—eah, it was pretty hard to cover up. I still don’t know how I managed it. I even made Dream’s outfit at the base.” Dream’s eyes go wider, and he just covers his face as some moments start to click in. “Problems over there, pretty boy?”

“...Shut. Up.” Is all Dream musters, but the bright yellow peeking out from behind his hands is enough reward.

-----

THEY FINALLY KNOW ERROR IS LAPSE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CHAPTER FOR AGES

Also: I wanted to share the notes I have for this chapter. Not exactly what happened, but still funny.

Changed orientation of the photo halfway through because it was super awkward and not at all the closeness I was looking for. Far too much like hugging my aunt and not a close mate. (Think it's pretty obvious I'm a huge simp for all of these guys by now--chronic not included, sorry bud, you're in the son-zone.)

Also, all the proportions were off so I had to zoom out and do proper sizing and make sure everyone lined up proper. General rule of thumb is to have waist line around the same area (Error and Dust were the exceptions because Dust was on shoulders and big boi Error supremacy.)

I also changed up posing for a lot of them:

Killer's pose didn't fit him in the slightest originally, arms behind his back and closed off yet open isn't how his character would position himself. However- holding the people close to him in open display of affection with the same signature smirk of "come close I dare you" is perfect. He makes openly makes it clear that him and those around him merely a sight to behold and closed off to anyone else.

Dust was far too open for the closed off person his character usually is, so I leaned him closer to Horror. Dust's character doesn't care to uphold some mask, he'd much rather kill the person in question than have to pretend. He doesn't want to spend his energy on others unless he sees it fit to do so, out of all of them--despite his insanities--he's the closest to a sans, even with all of this magical energy. He much prefers to be open to the people he cares about.

Horror I don't work with nearly as much as I would like, hence why his pose didn't change much. At first he was simply placed and confused at the camera. Later, he is as much a part of the photo as anyone else, he's open and protective flanking them and keeping Dust held up. He's the boulder on the outside that makes sure no one will dare try and sneak up on them. He has everyone in sight and the one person he can't see is safe on his shoulders, close enough the Horror can hold him and know he's there.

Error was kinda just there originally, but it didn't seem fitting to have him pulling everyone close, far too OCC. So while it's hard to tell, his pose is crossing his arms, closed off but far from shy. Daring but not open. Error does have a mystery behind him yes, but he's far from mysterious, he's bold without explanation--and there's a difference between the two.

Cross I usually draw with the gang as stoic and alone but leaning towards everyone else, yearning but holding back. Instead for this I changed my perspective. Protective and open while still being semi-private and shy. He hides behind Secret (my OC/persona) but holds them close and protective and let's Killer hold him as well, it's not the Cross you see at the beginning of his story, it's the one that's healing and learning.

Nightmare originally was much more open and suave, the King perception of hiding himself while showing only his best. However, I changed over to fit the general perception I've come to of him. Closed off but open to those around him. He bares himself to those around him, tendrils hidden and clearly clinging tight to Killer who loves the attention and is more than happy to return it. His neck--which I love the headcanon that both Dream and NM's neck's are sensitive bc they stem from swap sans who dies by that method--is open to Horror and Dust. His blind side is to the "camera" only able to see very few of the people around him, trusting them to keep him safe as he does for them everyday.

Ink was always so kind about it, talking still hurt to do so much, digging into his soul every time he opened his mouth. Ink had voice enough for the both of them, rambling on and on as they worked, the process was always so wonderful to see, and watch as Ink worked with anything and everything. Starting from many shapes and pulling them all together into unique abstract works or carefully shading and penciling in a realistic drawing.

Other days he let himself be wrapped up in Death’s wings, just simply existing together. After so long of being apart, it felt awfully fulfilling to be so close. They could go hours just contently cuddling. Sometimes, his mind didn’t want to stay blank–the paranoia far from gone. Some days he could swear he could hear them. Hear the voices words, hear their shrieking cries and insults but every time he would snap back to his skull in Reaper’s hands. Empty eye sockets gazing at him, one of the few forms of eye contact he was okay with handling now.

His cheeks burned whenever he snapped back. The voices just suddenly disappearing. Nothing but the sounds of life in the castle. The quiet sounds of the fridge working in the kitchen, maybe echoed creaking floorboards as someone walked around upstairs. Perhaps even a breeze coming in if the day was nice enough, the sounds of wildlife drifting in.

He hated when he drifted off from the others, but he loved the moments with them. Even if his body felt rubbed raw from the glitches after.

It started as a one-off kind of thing, but soon weekly after dinner Error sat posted at the island in the kitchen. He would carefully read out the recipe for Nightmare and Horror as they went about the kitchen baking. A small smile shyly crept on his skull and grew every time Nightmare passed by, always leaving a kiss in his wake. A little kiss on the top of his skull, one on his cheekbone, another on the rim of his glasses–his partners always assured he looked absolutely handsome with them on–and finally each time he spoke up he was treated to a soft chaste kiss. It was surprisingly domestic, and secretly he reveled in it whenever Horror rolled his eye.

It eased him back into eating too, and bonus points for distracting him so easily. The company was wonderful, the tranquil noise of the kitchen and banter between each other always made him forget about everything. From the size of the room to his dilemma to what he was planning. He’ll make sure they’re happy.

He went as far as training with Cross. His magic sparked and fizzled and refused to work, but that never stopped him. Each session with Cross he chose a new weapon to try out, picking up something–anything at all–from their little weapons closet and making it work for him. The voices prickled at the back of his mind, if only he had the much control and vigor with his magic.

If his footing was off for a moment, Cross didn’t comment. Only a bright smirk as their weapons clashed. Their swords advancing and guarding, empty fades blending with their lunges, a quick pivot as your opponent's sword narrowly misses.

At the forefront, he didn’t want to think at all. Knew not to. Despite the voices, the trauma of war was stronger. You need to focus on your opponent, not your paranoia. Hesitation means death.

In his off time, he wandered the castle, listening to the echoes of his footsteps when the voices wouldn’t shut up. Sometimes it led him to others.

Some days he would be running around with Killer helping him wrangle the new batch of kittens. Killer’s laughter and playful taunts barely enough to keep back the cries to just kill. Just hurt others. That was all he was good for. He could easily kill any of them with his bare useless claws. Killer’s soul was right there just waiting for him to crush it.

Other days he would stumble upon Dust’s little lab, although he’d have to purposefully head far up to do so. A tower sectioned off much like Nightmare’s little safe space. The windows were always open and airing out whatever smell the most recent experiment gave off. At times he wanted to question why Dust even used some of the ingredients he did, but he couldn’t deny the qualities they had. So he just sat at the windowsill, watching as the clouds drifted by and counting down the hours as he watched the sun rise and fall.

Although, even with Dust’s constant mutterings and talking through the science behind the madness the voices found him there too. How trivial it would be to mix the ingredients, to switch them around on Dust. How could he be blamed for an obvious freak accident? Even if he was to blame for the freak Cobalt.

Once that name crossed his mind again, he searched for a new place to be. Anywhere that wouldn’t make him think about that.

After many hours of wandering, he made his way outside in the sunset light. The buzz of a summer night approaching and a gentle breeze coming through. He watched as Dream nearby shivered, even as it felt warm to him. The perks of being a walking dead man.

Why was he even trying then? Couldn’t Death just take his soul and he just be done with everything?

He found himself by Dream’s side soon enough, laying in the grass as Dream worked on the garden he had begun. Luscious plants growing large with careful intent and care. He followed suit as Dream moved through the rows and planters, and when the guardian worked in the large greenhouse that Nightmare had happily supplied–much to Dream’s disdain, he didn’t need something this big–he found himself tucked away in the corner.

Despite everything, this stupid little corner in the abomination of metal and plastic felt near perfect. Yet he still couldn’t place what was wrong.

When nighttime fell, Dream would go inside, and eventually, one of his partners would pull him in as well. Nightmare would help him get ready for bed–even if he refused to sleep–a quick shower or a soothing bath after a long day then a comfortable change of clothes and they would all get in bed. Despite staying over so much and practically calling the place home, Dream and Ink had yet to claim one of the many open rooms. They switched between Nightmare’s room, the library with Error, and the room Death had come to call his.

Although, on the days when the voices were particularly awful, and no matter what he did he couldn’t get out of his own head, they all came to him. One by one each of them came in through the library doors, gave Error a kiss goodnight–or a shy nuzzle as Dream did–and settled in. As Error spent the night typing away to Sydney and working the best he could despite the voices screams, he could just barely make out the calm serene breathing of his partners.

Those Nights his soul felt full. Those nights it was much easier to ignore the voices. Those nights were one of the few he actually fell asleep.

Whenever by some mistake he did fall asleep, the voices and trauma continued to attack him, but Dream and Nightmare would always come to his rescue. Nightmare would assure him it was just a night terror–that it wasn’t real and that it was long in the past or completely fabricated–and then Dream would flank him with love and attention, easing him to a dreamless sleep.

But as the days continued on, his body hurt more and more, soon hardly being able to stand the texture of his own clothes. Hating every second they itched and scratched against him even as they were soft in his hands. His bones felt like they were always burning, and it wasn’t long until he couldn’t stand to have anyone touch him at all. Even the kisses he loved so much only hurt.

He felt so apart from his lovers, unable to hold them at all. Just them just being somewhat close was too much, even the sound of them existing nearby hurt too much while his soul started to hurt every moment he was alone. There was no pleasing a mistake like him was there?

The voices seemed to love jumping into this, assuring him they were there. They could help. They were always there, weren’t they? They came back in droves, and he hardly noticed when it had turned sour.

One moment things were fine, the next he snapped for things to be quiet. And all the talking stopped. Ink’s shocked face in front of him.

His lovers, despite everything, stayed with him that night. Sleeping in a distant part of the library when he started to hate the sounds of their souls.

The sounds of the castle began to hurt and he hated every moment it wasn’t dead silent. The only thing he came to stand was the sounds of outside. It wasn’t the anti-voids peacefulness. Not by a long shot, no, but it was better than having to stand another minute of footsteps or the constant buzz of the lights, the pain in his skull from even the darkest of rooms.

That fucking trashy terrible excuse of a spot in the corner of the greenhouse turned into his safe spot. Morning to night he was there. Each meal Horror would inch out and carefully set the food nearby and then return for the dish a little while later. Sometimes the plate would be empty, sometimes he couldn’t stand to touch it. The scratching of the fork or the little grains of seasoning getting on or between his bones was just not worth it. 

He was just leeching off of them anyway. Hurting them more and more. As long as he was in the AU it was fine, wasn’t it? If he was in the AU, if they knew he hadn’t left, that could keep them all happy?

For now, the sounds of nature soothed instead of irritated, the noise of the day tolerable and the calm of night preferred, even if he didn’t get to bask in it for long.

Dream worked some distance away, and it was quiet. Not silent, but quiet. Each moment was another moment of hate, wishing, and wanting, followed by more hate.

He hated the sound, wished he could go back to the antivoid, wanting to just leave, but he hated even the thought of leaving everyone. He hated what he’d become, a mess of a person just hurting everyone around him, if only he could go back, just go back to before, but then he wouldn’t have Dream and Ink with him. He wouldn’t have Reaper so close and Nightmare even closer. But all he’s done is hurt them. He’s lost his hearing, not his sight.

He doesn’t miss the anxious glances his lovers share when things get too much again. When he can’t stand any noise. Doesn’t miss the bubbling tears that appear when he has to stop Ink mid-sentence. Doesn’t miss the sad expression Dream tries to hide when Error has to walk away mid-conversation. Doesn’t miss the way Reaper falters when he has to avoid even the slightest graze from his wings. Doesn’t miss Nightmare’s emotions draining by the day, that old stoic expression returning–just like the first time they fell apart and the second.

It hurts so much, he wants to hear Ink’s rants, but any noise at all is grating his skull like cheese, and his soul hurts every time he dares open his mouth to explain. He doesn’t deserve the privilege of being able to explain himself. He wants to be close to Dream, to be able to follow through on their little deal, to make Dream happy and talk with him, but his soul is too strong, the intent too much and too overwhelming–and that’s without thinking about the noise and textures of everything else. He wants to cuddle with Reaper and just hide away in those wings while Death just whispers sweet nothings and promises of making things better, but he can’t. He can’t at all and it hurts. And He doesn’t even know where to start with Nightmare.

He barely registers the grass crunching outside as the voices quiet down, and faintly, he can feel his eye sockets hurting and skull burning again. How many times was that today?

You really can’t keep count?

That’s fucking pathetic.

You expect anything more?

I expect him to just die and get this all over with, just another waste of time.

“Error…?” Nightmare’ voice whispered, pleasantly quiet, “May I sit near you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, even as the friction of his hoodie moving itched and scratched against him. “Are you at your limit for the day?” Nightmare continued to whisper, voice even and emotionless. Error couldn’t tell if the other was hurt or not or if he was sad that he couldn’t sit near.

You’re good at that, aren’t you?

Oh, he’s the best at being a disappointment.

#1 Abomination as always Error.

The grass crunched annoyingly, and he could feel Nightmare’s souls settling nearby, just outside the greenhouse if he was right. The intent felt dizzying. Too much and too little. Far too much love, but at the same time, it never feels like enough. But if it’s too much love, then what isn’t enough?

Obviously, you’re not enough.

You really couldn’t put that together?

A disappointment as always.

“...Error?” He could barely manage a small hum of a questioning tone, the bare second-long vibration already skirting on too much, itching his skull. For the sake of less friction, he tensed and waited for the feeling to pass. 

Nightmare didn’t continue until his body relaxed. “...I’ve heard you’ve been avoiding Chronic?”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, a twisted smile forming on his skull, “What?”

“Didn’ even know they were ‘ere.” He choked out as his soul squeezed, a pain he was unfamiliar with shaking him to his core. His cheeks burned more.

“They’ve been here for some time, approached all of us during your last memory recovery and I allowed them to stay. It seems that the gang has grown fond of the odd creature.”

Why was Nightmare even bothering to tell him all this? Not like he cared what Chronic did. Bastard did whatever they wanted and had Core to help them get away with it. His sockets stung more, as a stray thought stuck out a sore thumb. He didn’t care, even after all Chronic had done to help. He wants to care, but he can’t muster the energy to. Not when all he does is hurt the people he cares about.

 “Error, I can feel your emotions churning, what’s on your mind?” How could he explain anything to Nightmare? He’d probably just break down before he got a single sound out. “... I won’t be mad if you can’t Error.”

Opening his eyes hurts and burns, the sunlight shining through and bouncing around the greenhouse, but he keeps them open. He turns his head from the corner where it was snug and safe, and he can barely see the black of Nightmare’s skull and legs where he sits outside the doorway.

“...how’d I make you happy?” The words come out slurred and meek, and it feels like a death grip on his soul as the air hangs with quiet. Not silence. Never silent. But the lack of any response when Nightmare is always so fast to reply leaves anxiety in its wake.

As his throat burns and his body aches, he forces out more, his cheeks burning and vision blurring. “I don’t know what you want me to be…” and he barely can hold back the hiccup of a sob, the voices simply background noise as he listens for Nightmare’s response.

“…I don’t want you to be anything.”

“Then how do I make you happy?” His voice strains at speaking but each word is more confident, the less he thinks about it and the less he can hear the voices–but it just makes the outside world so much more thundering. The sounds of Dream moving about in the distance too much, the wind too loud, the rustle of dirt below where he sits as he barely moves infuriating. 

“…You make me happy by being here.” No matter what, he was just going to hurt Nightmare.

“…There’s no other way to make you happy?” His eyes finally drifted up to Nightmare’s. The barest bit of his skull peeking into the greenhouse. There was a glint in Night’s eye that he couldn’t place, but whatever emotion that was betrayed was quickly snuffed, the stoic expression returning.

The quiet left in the question's aftermath is deafening. That lovely marbled eye is calculating, and it’s one of the few he can stand to look at. While it rakes over him, it feels comforting. It feels like the hold of the lover. It is the hold of his lover. The only hold he can bare right now.

Finally, after a long silence, Nightmare sighs.

“I’ll admit. I’m not sure what to say for once. You being here makes me happy, yes… of course.” Nightmare chuckles sadly, “But I also like you being happy. I’m happy when you’re happy... when everyone is happy… I hold the same conundrum you do. I want to help you–but you don’t need help. Never have, never will.”

Nightmare sighed once more, skull drifting down as he broke eye contact, barely looking over his shoulder, over in the direction of Dream. “I’m not sure what exactly is going on in the wonderful skull of yours,” the intent made his skull swim, “but, I think you’re… not seeing what’s actually happening. Drawing conclusions if you will. It makes us–and I mean all of us–happy to be near you…”

Nightmare turned back, barely meeting his eyes, “We understand that everything is a lot right now. That everything is a struggle. You don’t have to do anything at all. It hurts sometimes, yes. But that is a hurt of privilege. Picture it as you starving… and we are hurt that we don’t get a share of your food. Yes, it hurts. But only a little–and it is highly nonsensical and momentary hurt, we can live without a full conversation or being near you.”

“...’M sorry?” Nightmare huffs out a surprised laugh, near gallow in tone.

“Error, Ru, my love. There is nothing to be sorry for at all. We can wait or if you want, try and help it so you are not ‘starving’ anymore. We can go at whatever pace helps you.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell him why it hurts so much, and he can see the flash in Nightmare’s eye as the thoughts fly and crash in his skull. The thoughts of Cobalt, of all the pretending, of both lives, of past lives, of the deaths he’s caused. All of it weighs, and it crushes.

“Error.” For a moment, his vision barely clears, his cheeks stinging and burning once more. Nightmare’s eye is trained on him, it’s soft, and it’s perfectly purple. “No matter what has caused this, whatever memory has triggered this, no matter what you’ve done, we will all still be here for you.”

“...Even if I did something horrible?” Nightmare chuckles softly, a kind gentle, and genuine smile gracing his corrupted features, and he can see the slight waver in the smile avoiding the chip in his cheek.

“Love, you could destroy the entire multiverse… even a megaverse if it exists out there… and I would follow your every step.”

The sudden power and control he feels from that statement alone is intoxicating, but it's the exact same reason he needs to leave. He can’t pull them down this path with him. They don’t deserve that.

“...I’m always here.”

Error sucks in an unneeded breath before sighing, his voice choking and breath stuttering as more tears roll down.

“…I-I kn- know…”

---

The antivoid leaked and stretched into that of his realm, yet it wasn’t as it should’ve been. The large rock that held Error’s home was split into pieces, the tree torn in half, the lighthouse shattered, the lake frozen through and cracked like a glacier. The sky of space was black and the universe of stars was gone.

The shadow-their hands cold but souls thrumming a burning heat that grilled his back-leaned over his shoulder. He dared not look at their face.

“Wake up…” the ghostly voice called, dripping with the weight of multiverses and crushing him back into the waking world.

Nightmare’s concerned face greeted him, a calm aura drifting around them, stealing his negativity and calming the anxieties of being that close to such a criminally terrifying figure.

“...More memories?”

“No… no. I- just… bad dream. Very. bad dream.” He managed to choke out

“Error, you’re shaking.”

“I honestly didn’t notice.”

“Are you tired?”

“I’m awake, I’m fine.”

“I asked if you were tired.” Nightmare deadpanned, expression much more concerned.

“No- nope. Not tall- at all.” Error spoke, trying not to look Nightmare in his menacing eye. Nightmare grabbed his chin and looked Error in the eyes.

“Error. I’m worried about you. You need rest-and I’m more than willing to put a sleep spell on you and watch over your dreams myself. Even hop into them and protect you from whatever has shaken you this bad. I’ll go as far to grab Dream and bring him with me- …idiot still lets me in his realm.” Nightmare mumbled the last part, but nonetheless, Error caught onto it.

“Yer… you’re still uncorrupted.”

“And? I’m a master of all weapons, love. I will happily let him see me like this and kick his ass if he doesn’t want to help.”

Error didn’t have much more to say, too tired to fight. Nightmare sighed and pulled the two of them out of the realm. The world swirling before they landed on Nightmare’s bed. The curtains were drawn on the many windows but the day clearly peeking through. The room was vast and open, and everything he didn’t need right now. Nightmare was very quick to pick up on this, wrapping his body around Error and pulling the two of them to the closed-off haven under his weighted covers.

Nightmare whispered something, and his eyes fell closed, enchanted with sleep.

After that, it wasn’t Error refusing to leave, it was Nightmare not letting him leave.

Day after day, the figure he nicknamed “Bastard fucker” showed up in his dreams over and over again. It became not only the ripped remains of his realm but the undeniable lack thereof of his team’s realms. The dark night sky of Nightmare’s yet, but the castle was missing. Reaper’s blue countryside, but no country to be seen. The yellow of the doodle sphere, but no islands to be found. Also what he assumed to be Dream’s realm-the white expanse of nothing. Far too close to the antivoid for comfort. Was Core even orchestrating his dreams now?

Each dream he got closer to the bastard, although he still couldn’t tell who or even what he was. They were familiar yet distant. Cold hands equal to that of Death and Ink, yet warm like Dream and Nightmare. They stole away his negativity and left him with a foamy state of dull fake positivity, forcing him to witness the horrors of his dreams and not wake up until that fucker wanted him to. The shadow still wouldn’t let him see more than the scarf around their neck and their glitching eyes. He still held back from telling Nightmare anything.

After nearly a week, Nightmare decided to follow into his dreams, and unfortunately, the shadow was stronger. Error yanked away from the bliss of dreamless sleep and past any point Nightmare had control over. At least, when Nightmare was actively a part of Error’s dreams the shadow refused to show itself, pulling him away with a wisping weapon that Nightmare reported to be a heavily modified scythe.

Nightmare approached him after another restless night, Error had been making coffee in the kitchen again.

“Is there something you need to tell me?”

“...huh?”

“Dream’s, at least what I can tell your dreams-have a meaning. Typically it’s nonsense that our mind makes up from the day, but not you. Your dreams have always meant something… what have you been seeing?”

“Nim-” Who was Nim? Why did that name jump to his tongue? “Ni’mare, do we really have to do this?”

“Your dreams are telling you something Error, and I believe it’s something you need to get off your chest.”

“Didn’t you never tell anyone about your…” Error attempting to search for a good word, “...stuff?”

“Oh-Stars no. I went through years of therapy during and after my insanity to deal with that. Even now, after I’ve moved past that I visit my therapist every few months. Our work isn’t easy… you’re not only doing our work though. You’re also dealing with the errands you run off to do and the stress of these traumatic memories.”

Error looked away, “...Ru? …Please?”

It was rare to hear such an honest beg from Nightmare, and it clutched onto his soul and didn’t let go.

“I… I’ve been seeing a shadow… and they’ve been showing me my realm-but broken beyond repair… at least at first. Then they showed me your guys' realms. But- but… but they were empty. Just the sky and nothing else.”

“...They’ve been showing us dead.” Error’s skull snapped up, “When Gods do somehow die, our realm stays-but everything in it disappears… It's why some Gods use their realm as a safe. Keep precious and cursed forbidden objects alike.”

It was like a slap to the face, that shadow was trying to warn him. He knew it. “...are you sure there’s nothing else to tell me?”

He gently grabbed Nightmare’s hand and pulled him away, coffee ignored.

Away from the mansion and far away from the base, they sat down just before the forest began.

“Error…?” he let out a deep sigh, “I’ll wait for when you’re ready.”

It was a while of painful silence. Struggling to sort his thoughts and when to start.

“I… I nearly died… ages ago but…” He let in a shaky breath, and his soul blinked before him, covered in the glitches he put around it to protect it. Not even that though. To hide it. To never have to see the jagged scar of his splintered soul. He whisked away the glitches, and Nightmare’s eye widened. In fear or concern, Error didn’t know. “I was nearly free from the save screen… but my soul was still mortal then, I couldn’t visit Death’s realm at all. I died on the spot… guess you could say I owe a life debt to Life.”

Nightmare looked up at him, and he avoided eye contact. “I… I was depressed for a while… Mercy visiting helped, but I was still trapped. I learned to use DT like that fucking… that brat had done and attempted to leave. Life… Death… Mercy… even Magic saw me off. Core was there too… I opened a portal to an AU-and Core changed it to the antivoid. I passed out just as they gave me the name Error.”

“Ru… thank you for telling me.” Nightmare reached out to hug him, but decided against it, instead cupping Error’s soul and bringing it closer, nuzzling it softly and giving it a kiss before handing it back to Error. Nightmare laughed softly at the other’s blush. “So… you’re nearly full circle?”

“Ya- …yeah.”

“Alright… I’ll always be here for you, Error.”

“I know.” He smiled, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

—--

After a lot of Nightmare’s pestering, he eventually made his way to Reaper’s realm, knocking on the large front doors.

“Ah, Soul. Been wondering when you’d show.”

“Um… yeah about that.”

“I already know.”

“What-? But I- I didn’t even-”

“I. Know. Soul.” Reaper repeated, and Error didn’t know what to say, hesitant silence on his part while Death waited patiently. “Stars, I already told you I know you, soul. I didn’t think it would take this long for you to realize- Come on, come in.” Death grabbed his hand gently, pulling him into the manor and closing the door, leading him away to a living room.

“I… what do you mean you know?”

“I know why you’ve been avoiding me, Gen-Ru, my soul.”

“Oh-oh…” Error laughed awkwardly, “Um… yeah.”

“We’ve all always known. Even more so when you told us you don’t remember anything before the antivoid-or at least, used to not remember.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m having tea with life in a bit… care to join?”

“That… that sounds great.”

He was pulled away again, gently, carefully, not forcefully-over to Life’s realm. Life greeted them with a great hug, pulling the two of them close. Error was paraded about, seeing Mercy again. Seeing Magic again. Telling the other Gods he knew about who he was, explaining what he and Reaper had been.

“Had been?” Reaper interjected, “I still call ya ‘Soul’ for a reason, Ru.”

“Wait what-”

“Oh stars, I kissed you on the cheek not even a month ago- I love how oblivious ya are, but really?”

“I… Yeah, that’s on me. That one is on me…”

“That one?!”

“Oh- I thought I was the one with amnesia? You don’t remember our first kiss? How ya forgot the promise I made ya?” Reaper blushed, his feathers puffing up adorably.

“Hey- it’s been centuries since our first kiss!”