A collection of inane nonsense (ranging from Error being reincarnated as Palette to Dust finding a new love for the color pink) circling around the many AUs and Multiverses of the Undertale world. Some stories will be connected; Others will be rando...
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Reaper rushed through the stark white, chemical-scented halls, dark cloak billowing behind him. All while carefully dodging the numerous visitors, patients, and hospital staff littering the far too confined space.
After narrowly avoiding brushing against and subsequently killing an outgoing patient (a young child crying tears of joy alongside their family), he found himself exactly where he needed to be: the maternity ward.
The God of Death paid the new mothers/fathers no mind as he quickly passed, screeching to a halt before the 10th room.
(Though, they did not extend him the same courtesy- given how some shrieked and cradled their loved ones fearfully when his dark, scythe-bearing form whooshed by.)
Busting open the door, he hurried into the small, sanitary space. Just barely remembering to close the door afterward.
Then the name stuck in the forefront of his mind ever since receiving the call at work burst forth, "Geno!"
"Reaper, dear, please calm down. We're in a hospital." The tired glitch murmured from his uncomfortable-looking hospital bed, adding in a hushed chide, "Plus, the baby is asleep. You don't need to go and wake him up."
At the word "baby," empty eye sockets redirected their gaze to the light purple bundle resting against Geno's chest.
A tiny white skull's top peeked out the soft blanket, and featherless, bony wings were exposed out the back.
Reaper gasped, his own raven-feathered appendages fluttering in joy while blue tears gathered in the corners of his eye sockets. He took a few steps forward before hesitantly moving a hand closer to the fragile being.
His son.
"My beautiful baby." He whispered in awe.
The sentence brought a pleasant smile to his lover's face then-
"I-I think you me-an 'our' bea-beautiful b-baby."
The dark-cloaked skeleton's head whipped in the familiarly ominous, glitchy voice's direction.
A dark-boned, "error" sign-flickering monster lounged in the bland waiting chair sat beside the end table in the corner; in his multi-colored phalanges laid a partially shredded magazine.
"Error," Reaper growled. "What do you think you are doing here?"
The destroyer huffed and crossed his arms, letting the ruined booklet flop on the tile floor. "Wit-witnessing the birth of-of our s-son. What the fu-nk do thi-think I'm doing-ng there?"
The jet black feathers on the death god's wings bristled. "Our son?"
"Of-of c-course. Did-d you thi-nk I wo-would come to a-a hellhole like-ike this for j-just any a-abomination?" Error stated as if common sense.
Vacant eye sockets narrowed, and flat teeth pulled into an angry snarl.
His son was no "abomination."
"Reaps..." Geno mumbled, catching the god's attention; his once happy face marred by a slight frown.
"One second, dove." Reaper shifted to face the lab coat-wearing Sans he had ignored upon entering the room. "Sci, can't you kick him out or get security to escort him away?"
The scientist (moonlighting as a doctor) raised a single brow. "He is as stubborn as Geno, if not even more. There's very little I can do about him, aside from giving him chocolate to keep him quiet."
"So he's not leaving any time soon?" The dark-cloaked skeleton noted with a hint of defeat, wings drooping.
Sci nodded. "Precisely."
"Alright." He sighed and turned back to his two favorite monsters (Geno and his newborn son, of course), struggling to ignore the unwelcome presence lurking in the background. "Have you chosen a name for our sweet little fledgling?"
His husband, though still frowning, gave confirmation via a nod.
However, instead of receiving one answer, two were spoken simultaneously.
"Goth."
"G-guillotine."
Both glitches blinked, promptly growling and glowering at each other.
Reaper watched from the sidelines. All the while, idly wondering how on earth the happiest day of his life became so complicated.
And strange.
Sci gently settled his clipboard on the nearby counter and coughed to gain everyone's attention. In a calm voice, he asked, "Is now a bad time to talk about my visitation rights for the weekends? He is our son too, you know."
