Chapter Text
Soulmates. The other half of your SOUL, literally designed by Fate to complete you upon your birth and promises you eternal happiness or life fulfillment when you unite with your designated other half.
A lot of bullshit if you asked Error. Actually, he would happily decree it as downright garbage. A mistake in existence that deserved to be obliterated into nothingness just for being so… So dumb!
Yet there were ignorant peons who clearly didn’t share this absolute truth. Said peons being the Creators and their dogshit tastes in their ‘art’ and especially that dumb, moronic squid Ink who declared himself the motherfucking Protector of the Multiverse. Jazz hands included.
Ugh.
Honestly there’s a lot of things that Error could be doing instead that was a much better use of his time, like watching Undernovela, crotchets, watch even more Undernovela, maybe finally get that unfinished Outertale doll done. And yet, here he was. In this cesspool of romance.
Words could not express the disgust he felt at seeing a monster and human hold hands, pinkies intertwined and hearts in their eyes. Scandalously barf worthy. Absolutely disgusting.
At this point, he was practically doing everyone a favor getting rid of this eyesore of a universe. It had nothing of interest: monsters lived on the surface along with humans and everyone’s life goal was to find their soulmates and get laid.
The Creator of this ‘verse didn’t even bother deviating from a classic timeline - not that it would make this universe any better since all anomalies were garbage anyway - and clearly Ink’s standard had fallen past rock bottom if this was the kind of shit he deemed worthy of protection. Heck, Error barely had to do anything except pull on a liiiiittle string of code and voila, everything was going to shit.
All according to plan, the skeleton hums to himself above the sound of screaming and sobbing.
“lil rude to call my universe - my home, by the way - a waste of space, isn’t it?” The Sans of this misbegotten ‘verse - of course it’s a fucking Lust verse - grunts at Error, form gradually reducing to dust, and SOUL wrapped up in Error’s strings.
His boa scarf is nowhere to be seen, mostly because Error took it for himself. He deserves a treat after seeing one too many hand holding in the short span he spent in this universe.
“it is a wa-waste of space.” Error sniffs at the Sans derisively, eyeing the bright red string that leaks out of the white SOUL. The cliche is almost enough to make his eyelights roll out of his sockets. “of-of course it’s a fucking red string of fate.”
Hm. What would happen if he pulled on the string?
The results - pain apparently.
“s-stop…!” The other Sans wheezes out, sweats dripping down his evaporating skull.
Apparently pretty painful if that reaction said anything.
“pa-the-tic.” Error snorts, releasing the red string in favor of spinning the SOUL by his own strings like a yoyo.
That right there was even more of a reason why soulmate universes sucks ass. Such an easy vulnerability to exploit, just yoink out their soul and pull on that stupid love string.
“y-you’re just jealous that i’m… not alone on a friday night.” The other Sans gasped out after taking a long moment to recover from Error’s tugging, and has the audacity to smile when the Destroyer whirls back at him with an offended look.
Excuse, what? The fuck? Noooooo.
Error laughs derisively, a sneer across his face as he jeers at the other Sans, “w-who?! me, je-jealous?! you’re joking. shit joke by the way. zero out of ten. get a better fucking se-sense of humor next time. oh wait. you won’t have one. because this abomin-mination of a universe will be long g-g-gone.”
It’s hard to tell how the other Sans reacted because half of his face was already gone, evaporated into dust but his smile is still curled in a mocking smile. “normally i’d say i’d wish you find your one… but i don’t. heh, yours will probably reject you in a beat.”
“yo-you…!” Error blips and warbles into a rage at the act of being belittled by this pansy ass Sans. “i-i don’t have to ta-take this crap fr-from-m you!”
“bitchless.”
“A-AAAGH!”
One savage yank and the Sans’ SOUL cracks and shatters under the pressure of Error’s strings, leaving behind a pile of dust before Error. Without anything to attach itself to, the Red String of Fate disappears without a trace.
Sucker.
“l-loser. as if-if i need one anyway.” Error grumbles, kicking the dust pile out of spite before teleporting out of the crumbling universe.
Nothing beats home sweet home.
The glitch addled skeleton flops majestically upon his bean bag with a satisfied grin. An obliterated anomaly makes a happy Error, and you know what? He deserves a treat, especially after putting up with that universe’s Sans’ nonsense. And of course, all of his hard work.
The acoustic theme of Undernovela begins to fill Error’s pocket of the Anti-Void, and Error uses the opening time to retrieve the unfinished doll from his hanging collection along with his knitting needles, red glasses on face to restore his vision. The Voices are thankfully silent at the moment, sated by the recent destruction of a boring universe and leaving Error alone in peace with Undernovela.
Unfortunately, there was a teensy problem, one that became more prominent over time.
No matter how much Error tried to focus on Undernovela, the taunts of the alternate Sans continued to replay in his mind. Sure, the current episode was just a rerun of a previous episode where Sins took Toriel out on a date in the city, but Error would really fucking appreciate it if his head would stop repeating the recently deceased Sans’ words so he could hear Sin on the screen.
Bitchless, he was declared.
As if Error needed a soulmate anyway!
He’s an Outcode. His reputation was being the freaking Destroyer of Universes and he did not need a soulmate, nor did he want one. Ever. The thought alone of being tied down to some nobody without his say so was revolting, and Error had to wave off some of the glitches forming in his sight as his temper threatened to bubble over again.
Besides, he ain’t gonna put his (nonexistent) love life in the hands of that bitch called Fate. Why, if he really wanted to, he could totally get someone to fall in love with him. He was a prime specimen of a skeleton! Who WOULDN’T want him?
(who would?)
Not that Error was going to accept just anyone of course, he has high standards unlike everyone else in the multiverse.
First off, Error mused as he idly worked on the small plushie, his soulmate - hypothetical, of course - would have to be strong like him.
Not literally speaking since nobody could top Error in terms of power, except maybe Ink on the account of being his rival, and of course the two Guardians of Positivity and Negativity on the account of being literal demi-gods. Cheating fucks.
Point is, his partner would have to be emotionally strong. No being a sensitive flower or super clingy - especially that one. Error still shuddered at the memory of seeing all of those couples in the earlier universe.
So much… Touching. And kissing. And hand holding. And longing gazes at each other while Error was tearing up the world.
The urge to barf returns with a vengeance and Error distracts himself by knitting some clothes for the doll before he actually does barf.
A-ny-way, secondly, they’d have to stand out. Error had a reputation after all and like hell he was going to be attached to some nobody. If Error was going to have a (hypothetical) soulmate then they’d have to be dazzling like a gem. His (hypothetical) soulmate needed to be amazing after all to match a skeleton of his standing after all. It would be very embarrassing if the Destroyer of Universes was tied to some cashier in a market who looks like a hobo.
Ink would definitely make fun of him.
Error scowled at the idea of being mocked by the emotionless husk, angrily clacking his knitting needles together as he stewed in self induced anger, glitches building up into his vision with every inch of rage.
What the fuck would the squid know about romance anyway?
He was an emotionless husk but deep down, Ink was forever a stain of shit who could always somehow fit even more shit in him. He always talked about crap that he knew nothing about like what universe deserved to live (only the Original, only that) and Error could not remember a time when Ink contributed to anything significantly because he was a lying, cheating piece of shit stain-
It’s not until Error finally calms down enough that the glitches die down that he realizes that he never stopped knitting and… And what the fuck was he holding?
“th-the fuck is this?” Error repeats out loud with scrutinizing eyes, setting the knitting needles down as he pulls the doll closer. His mouth curls downwards in a displeased sneer as he takes in the mistake, because he sure as shit didn’t plan to make this… This mistake.
He didn’t bring out his actual sewing needles. How did he even make this?
Ugh, it looks nothing like his other dolls either; if he squinted hard enough and rotated its dumb little head in just the right angle, it almost looked human. Which automatically made it trash. Damn, he even used some of his nicer fabrics too, as his phalanges rubbed along the clothes that now adorned the doll. The skeleton furrowed his brow bones as he tried to recall when he bothered retrieving the cloth scraps, and scowled when he genuinely couldn’t remember doing so. Eh, he could always find more, no biggie.
“t-time for you to hang out with the others.” Error mutters, pulling out a strand of blue from his sockets to wrap around the mistake and jettisons it up to join its hanging brethrens.
Ugh, Error can’t relax like this, not with that stupid anomaly laughing at him beyond his dust. Let’s see, what were his top favorite things to do to unwind?
Undernovela was a no go because he couldn’t focus on even a recap episode. Error is also not in the mood for sewing more dolls after that last fuck up. He’s already fulfilled his weekly quota of ‘Fuck with Ink’... Oh. Oh, there’s an idea. Since destroying that stupid Lust ‘verse ruined his day, then surely destroying another one would cancel it out.
Besides, that means one less mistake in the Multiverse and that always makes a happy Error.
Perfect.
The Anti-Void is pinched and pulled on before a portal is torn open into a section of the empty space before Error, and in steps the skeleton to some stale old universe-
Error’s first act of violence is slamming his tibia into a coffee table in some dark room.
“□ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ □ !” He screeches, reeling away from the table and immediately kneels down to clutch at the aching bone.
Holy shit, it hurts so bad. If anyone asks, Error denies any signs of tearing up from the burning pain as he promptly summons several bright red bones that spears straight through the table, the wood splintering apart from the attack with many loud cracks.
Sated with his first (inanimate) kill in this shitty ‘verse, Error finally turns his attention to more important things. Like figuring out where he was in this dumb ‘verse because he definitely wasn’t outside if he hit a table.
Alas, for all of the rage and power contained within Error’s SOUL, unfortunately none of them assisted the Destroyer in seeing in the dark, so Error spent an embarrassing length of time blindly fumbling around the room to search for the light switch.
“s-stupid… wh-where is i-it?” He grumbled to his self and barely holds back the triumphant “aha!” when his phalanges finally flicks the light switch on, enveloping the room in light.
A boring regular living room greets Error’s eyes, plus the shattered remains of the coffee table that’s currently impaled with several red bones. Finally, he can start seeing what he’s working with. Sure, he could peek at the universe’s code but what’s the point?
It was going to get wrecked by him anyway, so no point looking up what’s about to be rightfully deleted. Starting with whoever’s house he ended up with-
Wait.
Error recognised that couch. Sort of. It’s hardly anything of note, except that after seeing countless universes of the classic and alternates, Error is pretty well versed in identifying the couch that typically belonged to a Classic-adjacent Sans, in all of its boring green color with some fuzzy blanket tossed over the seat. Error notes to grab that before he deletes this universe.
It takes Error a bit more looking around before recognition finally hits. Of all the places he could’ve ended up in, he ended up in this universe’s Sans’ house? Well far be it from Error to snoop around in that Sans’ life. This universe owes it to him anyway for making him suffer a painful entry.
The living room is the first site of investigation considering he was already in it. Aside from the couch and the fuzzy blanket, there really wasn’t much to note about it. There’s a photo of Papyrus on the wall, dressed in one of those black robes Error recalls seeing in some alternate universes based on schools. It looks kind of stupid on the tall skeleton and yet Papyrus continues to smile like Gyftmas had come early. Beside him is… Yep, that’s a Classic Sans.
Ugh, this was a post surface timeline.
Error leaves the photo alone.
The next stop is a small kitchen. The sink is empty but Error spies with mild disgust that the trash bin is full. The skeleton inspected the pantry and to his disappointment, there was a distinct lack of chocolate. Zero out of ten timeline, what kind of sensible monster doesn’t store chocolate in the house?
Although weirdly enough, there was also no pasta in the fridge. A classic Sans’ Papyrus usually stuffed the fridge with frozen shitty pasta. Eh, it was probably one of those tiny divergences in the timeline.
There’s a few post-it notes slapped together on the fridge that Error has to lean in to read. Some are in different writings but a good majority are Papyrus’ writings, considering that they were all capitalised.
REHEAT SEPARATELY FOR FIVE MINUTES!!
REMEMBER TO EAT THREE MEALS PER DAY
Call me if you need company
Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 3 The Movie - WATCH IT NERDS
Everything will be okay IT REALLY WILL BE
“... hm.”
Error’s brow bones furrow, and squints long and hard at the notes. Well, it was none of his business. Moving on.
Error doesn’t bother walking up the stairs, instead taking a shortcut into the local Sans’ room. Surprisingly, it’s not as messy as Error thought it would be, not even a trash tornado in sight. It’s a lot more crowded too with an actual desk, though that was probably some creative liberties done by whoever made this universe. Look, the desk was even filled with boring stuff like astronomy books, scientific laws and all that jazz, a photo of Sans canoodling with some human-
Hold up.
Error snatches up the picture frame and just quickly leans away with a noise of disgust. Really? A human?
Stars, it was one of those universes. As if this universe couldn’t get any worse. And here Error thought Abomination #13 was gross enough with his fake ass brooklyn accent that makes anomalies swoon like idiots. Even inside a universe, he still has to clean up the trash. The audacity of some cosmic forces, honestly.
Good thing trash bins were invented.
“h-hone-honestly. you c0uldn’t ev-ven pick a pre-etty one.” Error grouches to himself as he briefly looks around the room for the trash bin- Oh, there it is.
Stars, Error is the only reason why the multiverse has any sense of standards nowadays. He is the sole outlier that’s keeping the standard high with his good tastes for a partner choice.
Yet he was declared bitchless.
Ugh. Looking at this picture wasn’t helping him either because now he was remembering that stupid Lust alternate Sans and his soulmate bullshit, and stars damn it, Error was back in a foul mood again.
What was so fascinating about this human anyway?
They didn’t even look cute or pretty in the slightest. Why the heck did this Sans let this human dress like a walking trash bag? To match his own lazy looks? Bah. If it was up to Error, he would’ve made them look good because only the best was allowed for Error. Especially because clearly, someone needs to uphold the standards around here, and it sure as shit wasn’t going to be this universe’s Sans, or any other disgusting anomalies for that matter.
… Hm. There’s probably some more photos around here, knowing Sans.
It’s a rare time for Error to put in the effort for the search, and even then, he doesn’t actually put that much effort in. Classic Sans were called classic for a reason, and predictably, Error finds a bunch of pictures in the local Sans’ drawers.
Some were of Papyrus, preserved since the Underground days. Many were new, with some featuring… Yep. That human again.
A lot of the pictures weren’t even taken right. Error can’t help but bristle at that, because why bother with the pictures if they weren’t even going to show the human properly? Error would’ve at least captured the moment properly, clean lines and all.
Sometimes it was literally just the human doing nothing. Like laying on the couch, bundled in that fuzzy blanket like a worm. Error pointedly ignores the boney hand thats onto the much fleshier hand at the bottom of the picture. Another was of the human covered in white powdy from head to toe, trying to hide their face with some success. Another, the human simply watching television. At least, Error thinks so based on the fact they’re sitting on the couch.
Wasn’t the whole point of taking pictures was to capture specific memories?
Error snorts, this is literally just an icky human doing… human stuff. Which was doing nothing. Nothing connected to work or anything, that is. Just simply existing and doing things that didn’t contribute to the universe or the multiverse in the slightest.
Domestic stuff that this universe’s Sans joined in on.
Things that Error never got to do. Not once. Not ever.
Not for the first time, Error considers blowing the place up into smithereens. This abomination of a universe too, while he’s at it. Clearly fate is laughing at him and picking on him for today to remind him of just how unfair everything was, because only Error is capable of cleaning up the multiverse of filthy abominations and mistakes.
It’s not fair that Error is stuck with the thankless job of cleaning up the multiverse after Ink and his bullshit team of Creators. It’s not fair that Error is haunted by disembodied Voices that never leave him alone for more than a day and that he has to destroy shit to get even an iota of peace. It’s not fair that Error gets left behind by everyone who looks at him because they either only want his power or him to go away.
It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s NOT FAIR-
“Sans?”
The Destroyer whirls around with furious red eyes, the mismatching pinpricks glaring at the unfortunate entity that called out to the wrong Sans.
Error doesn’t recognise them at first, a combination of bad eyesight and little recognition in the first place. It starts to click though after a few long seconds of awkward staring.
A human stands before Error, disheveled and rumpled from sleep and a broom in hand. Error has to squint long and hard before the identity clicks.
This was the local Sans’ human. Their canoodling target. Although they do look a little rougher than the pictures.
“Is… Is that you?” They whisper, voice rough and scratchy but nowhere as deep as Error’s voice. Strangely enough, Error gets the impression they’re not supposed to sound like that.
Hm, Error senses a fun opportunity.
“o-0f co-Ourse.” Error grinned at the human, tucking his hands into his pockets and slouching his shoulders even more. “w-WhY? d-di!dija mi-miss me?”
Just a little closer and then Error could wipe this human from the face of this universe. Just so this verse’s Sans would come back to a dead pet, and then Error could gloat to the abomination about his flaw being shit standards. Then he could go onto wrecking this universe like he should’ve done since he stepped inside it.
Except there’s a choked sniffle that interrupts Error’s little plan of spite - ew human noise, gross - and the human steps a little closer.
“W-Where have you been? Wha- Are you okay???” The question in the human’s voice is audible and Error just barely backs up against the dresser in time before the human tries to swipe in for a hug right where he had been standing before. “S-Sans?”
“d-d0n’T TOUCH M#3…!” Error all but snarled, and thankfully the human has enough braincells in them to back away with raised hands in surrender.
“S-Sans? It’s me!” The human gestured at themselves like that was supposed to solve the mystery of life. For Error, it explained nothing.
“y-You k-KEEP you-your grubby m-mitts to you-yourself.” Error growled, inwardly shuddering how close he had been to being hugged. To being touched. Ugh, no thank you.
“Okay. Okay, no touching. I won’t touch- Can… Can I come closer?” The human asked and while it’s not the kind of pleading Error wanted, it was at least a form of begging.
Error waits for the human to break their word on making no contact because all humans were filthy lying murderers, fingers already itching to string up the disgusting fleshling, but nothing happens. Huh. Maybe their survival instincts were finally kicking in.
He’ll probably regret it later, but Error grunts out an affirmative noise to the human.
They take two steps before Error gives them a warning growl not to come any closer. It’s enough for the two though, because Error can make out their details a little better with his shitty eyesight, and probably vice versa for the human.
Error’s right on one thing at least. The human looks a lot worse than they did in the pictures. Pretty gross, if you asked him.
The human on the other hand simply stares at Error in silence, taking in his glitchy, blackened form and the angry blue tear marks scarring his face. Error braces himself for the terror and the insults. They were going to know immediately that he isn’t the Sans they are looking for, that they’re looking at a real monster and then Error was going to turn this stupid universe into nothingness like it deserves-
“Oh Sans. What happened to you?” The human’s face fell with a strange tone. Error hears that tone with the occasional stragglers he comes across; survivors of his actions speak with the same emotion the human was exuding.
Grief.
At least he thinks it is. Either that or it’s pity, which promptly irritates Error because who the hell did this human think it was, pitying him - Error, the destroyer of the multiverse? Why he ought to string up its sorry SOUL and get on with this -
“I’m so s-sorry.” The human sniffled out and Error’s rage died down into gradual confusion, before dawning disgust as the human started crying in front of them.
At least they’re not trying to hug Error but the skeleton can tell based on their raised arms that they were a smidge away from doing exactly that, and Error has plenty of experience in human eradication - plus some front seat views to Nightmare and his boy toys - to know how gross their fleshy body could get even before dying. He wanted none of that shit on his clothes or him, no thank you.
The human started to babble some nonsense that Error couldn’t be assed listening to, not while their mouth was making some weird gasping noise annnnnnd it’s starting to get on his nerves now.
“sh-shut up a-already.” Error grunted out with zero patience, and to his pleasure and surprise, the human listened. Kind of. They’re still making that disturbing sniffling noise - ugh, humans - and he hurriedly looks around for something to hide the human’s gross face from him. A box of tissue is his saving grace and Error very hastily picks up the box, and holds it out to the human as far as he can without dropping it. “c-clean you-yourself up a-lr3ady.”
As the human starts to wipe their face with tissues, Error thinks back on how to extract himself from this painfully gross situation. When in doubt, refer to Undernovela for examples of emotional escape. Hm, when Toriel was crying in the previous episode of Undernovela, how did Sins handle it?
“g-go back to b-bed. ev-everything will be f-fine.” Error spits out nearly robotically, wincing when the human looks up at him with teary, wet eyes.
Oh stars, they weren’t going to start crying again, were they?
To Error’s relief, the human doesn’t start crying again. They look up at him with a disgusting amount of hope that makes something inside Error shiver. “... I-Is this a dream?”
Error stared at the snivelling human before heaving out a sigh, waving out a hand dismissively. “u-ugh. yeah. wha-whatever.” When the human makes no movement to leave, Error hissed out, “we-well?! g-go away alreadY!”
“... But what if I don’t see you again?” The human whispers out almost pathetically and Error cannot help the exasperated groan.
“if-if you don-don’t go back to be-bed, then yo-you won’t see an-anything an-anymore.” Error all but snarled out, and that finally clicks in the stupid human’s head to back away for self preservation.
Their eyes start to water up again and Error is so sick of this shit already that he’s really regretting not blowing them up already, when they speak. “... Okay. Good night, Sans.”
Error blinks in surprise and watches silently as the human shuffles their way back. Footsteps, silence, the creak of a door opening then shutting. Then all was silent in the household once more.
(someone told him good night?)
It gave Error plenty of time to connect the dots. Maybe not the whole picture but he can go check out the source code later. He can’t believe he’s saying this but destruction… Can be put on hold for now.
(someone actually said good night to him and it wasn’t insulting or anything?)
At least until Error figures out what happened to this universe’s Sans or if it was some kind of scripted event, or something along that line. Investigation first, just to make sure nothing shady was going on here.
He’s not an idiot, he can smell the cliches coming from miles away. A familiar home with a bunch of pictures of a single human doing nothing but exist? In a post surface timeline?
It’s a trashy romance and Error is having none of it. Space twists and rips before him, and Error ejects himself out of that universe, and back into the familiar embrace of the Anti-Void.
The skeleton makes sure to pat and dust off any gross germs that might’ve gotten on his clothes from that minute long interaction. Ugh, that was one too many crying humans from him to deal with for at least a hundred years. No thank you.
Error plops himself on his favorite bean bag with a groan. What a shitty day. First, he gets declared bitchless by a lusty abomination. Then he accidentally uses up some of his nicer fabrics to make a shitty doll. The final nail in the coffin, he had to put up with a crying human and didn’t even get to delete their universe.
Actually, what’s stopping him?
It’s not like he has to go into that house to do the destruction. All he has to do is look into the source code and unravel it from there. He didn’t need to talk to that human ever again. Yeah, he’s gonna do exactly that and-
(how long has it been since he was given a goodnight?)
Error hardly notices the new change in his routine. It sort of helps that Undernovela’s new season hasn’t come out yet so the new activity simply takes up the slots that used to be the re-runned episodes without interrupting his usual flow.
A window to the universe sits before him, no acoustic guitars or dramatic Spanish playing from the pseudo television. It’s some lame show that’s being played in that living room he had visited what felt like long ago. It might’ve actually a long time for all he knows, considering how weird time is even in a single universe, never mind how much of a clusterfuck the multiverse is.
The coffee table is gone. Good riddance. The rug too, but to be fair that also sported several holes after Error was done with it.
On the ugly green couch sits the human. There’s a pile of laundry on the other side of the couch from where they sit, and the dull drone of their own television fills the air. That clothes pile had been there for at least four episodes of Idiot Human At Home (a great name in his humble opinion) and Error’s pretty sure that means for the entire time he’s peeked in that universe, the human is so terribly slow at the basics of folding clothes.
Stars, they weren’t even bothering to try to fold those clothes anymore. They were just watching the television with a dumb look on their face that reminded Error of his dolls. Stars, and he thought Sans-coded entities were the biggest slobs. This human was gunning for top contender at this rate.
Sometimes Error even wonders why he bothers tuning in. The human hardly does anything that even impacts or contributes to their shrivelling universe. They barely even react when Error decides to try mess with them himself by mucking up the house, leaving items misplaced all over. He did once try to give them a scare by turning the stove on while they had their backs turned in their quest for food, but Error immediately turned the thing off when the human started going to bed. Without turning the stove off.
Stars, how the hell was this human alive?
Otherwise in the grand scheme of things, all they do is barely progress on the chores around the house, watch television and leave the house for hours until it gets dark.
“o-oh good. the-they’re finally mo-moving. ca-can you believe it?” Error snorted at his fellow audience members, the dolls of Classic, Fell and Swap all shoved onto a single chair because their plush butts were just that small.
The task of folding clothes is abandoned as the human starts to shuffle their way to the kitchen. Error figures it’s probably feeding time. Humans were so annoying, needing to be fed at least three times a day just to function, and that was barely scraping the bottom of the barrel of bullshits required by humans to exist.
How monsters got sealed under Ebott by these idiots, Error will never know. Nor will he ever understand why Ink wants to devote his SOUL-less ass to protecting this numbskulls.
“wha-what the he-heck are they doing n-now?” The outcode squinted and leaned in closer to the screen to see what the human was doing.
They were just opening the cabinets above and below, looking for something that frankly Error did not give a shit about. At least, not until he spots them starting to rise up at just the right spot to slam their head up into the sharp edge of the cabinet door they did not close.
Error knows how fragile humans are. Hell, he’s exploited that fact a lot. The number of human SOULs he left dangling in the space above him was a literal trophy wall of that universal truth alone.
And if he was being honest, Error had no clue what made him do this.
A portal is torn open, just a small one enough to fit a hand through. Beyond it, the accursed cabinet door that the stupid human was about to hit with their head.
With way more force than what should’ve been applied, Error slams the door shut with a loud ‘BANG!’ that makes the human scream in surprise.
“Huh?!”
It’s not until he gets the vague sensation of a nearby presence that Error realises what he’s done. Or that his hand was still sticking through the portal.
That was still open.
He spots a fleshy hand reaching out towards his phalanges and immediately Error yanks his hand back and zips the portal shut. Then stared at the hand that saved with disbelief.
Error just… Saved the human from their own stupidity. The outcode wonders if he’s really lost his marbles this time, because since when did he care enough to do that?
For a measly human of all things?
H-He didn’t even like watching them!
He just does it to pass the time. It’s not like they would know anyway, because they’re just a dumb little human who’s still on the screen, looking around the house like it’s haunted now and speaks out loud-
“T-Thank you, Sans.”
There’s so much sincerity in that little voice of theirs that Error nearly short circuits there from surprise. None but the dolls around him would ever be able to confess to the truth that the Destroyer’s face had lit up like a beacon when the words finally clicked in his head.
Error was acknowledged for his deed? He was thanked? He was liked?
… They called him Sans again.
Even though the Anti-Void mangled his form into this blackened, glitch ridden mess and he wasn’t shiny new like a Classic Sans, they still identified him as Sans. Their Sans. Error hasn’t seen their verse’s Sans around, not even after Error had abandoned his initial goal of destroying that 'verse. The only occupant of the house was the human, and yet, that Sans’ belongings were still in the house.
So… There was no Sans present, at least for the moment. That means that for this universe, the slot for Sans was open for anyone. For Error. He could- He could be Sans again. Error could do the stuff he only ever sees in Undernovela a-and then all those other sappy abominations. He could do stuff to this human and they wouldn’t complain, because to them, he was their Sans.
And who wouldn’t want a prime specimen like Error?
Error grinned to himself.
Oh, he is so keeping them.