err0r oneshots

Heaven

Original book idea/concept by @MeatballsAreYummy

Notes: blood, thoughts of su1cide, panic attack

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Blood covered the battlefield as bones and burns laid on the floor. The sounds of blasters went off in the background as sounds of a struggle went on in the distance. Nearing closer you could see bones sprouting from the ground alongside vines and crystals, ink and bullet shells. Piles of dust, all scattered around a battlefield. The one single Monster being attacked couldn't be seen as attacks aimed at it fired at random, the randomness of the attacks were planned with phases upon phases of attacks by the thousands involved.

The Monster being singled out had tears of cobalt falling from red sockets and bones the color of charcoal and roses. His phalanges were in different shades of black, red, and yellow in that order from his knuckles to the digits. His heterochromic eyelights and black skull were continuously on a swivel as he checked for incoming attacks, dodging just before they hit. His torn scarf would fly after him with every move. He never threw out an attack, only summoning bones to defend his own. His ribs were broken and cracks covered his body while burns and shards went through his legs. His clothes were tattered with his red turtleneck sporting holes and the sleeves of what used to be a trench coat were what's left. His knee-length pants were left as torn shorts and he was bare footed, his feet with blisters and unbeknownst to his enemies, one of them was sprained. He still persisted through.

He's had worse.

As his thoughts got away from him for a second, he missed a dodge and was thrown to the ground. He took a single breath before being immediately buried with attacks. Every bone in his body was torn and stabbed, grabbed and twisted, cracked and strained. His breath was stolen and his cries for help, for someone anyone, were ignored. His breaths ragged and he had nothing left to give. His entire life has been devoted to keeping this Multiverse safe and they have thrown him in the dirt again and again. He's cried and killed many for the survival of the Multiverse and what does he get in return?

Pain.

Pain and Sorrow.

He's never asked for anything in return.

But at this point...

He's begging

He'd beg to the Gods above. To the one who put him in this position. To anyone of his torturers. To anyone.

Just
Leave
Him
Alone...

A pain in his chest blossomed as he stopped breathing. His bones were impaled by chains and his scarf and clothes were torn. His vison blurred as blood pooled from his body. Deep, fleeting breaths only drove the foreign object deeper into his SOUL. The pale, slowly beating, torn, burned and bruised organ lost whatever glow it had left as the crack through the middle expanded. It broke like glass, further cracking and tearing at itself. A wayward attack killed this fallen God. Not one that was blatantly heading for him.

His life left his body as Ink stood above him. The last person he saw was the one who had put up with his destruction. The one who made his existence intolerable. He was shunned and beaten, his bones never healing and further killing off his SOUL. He once saw Hope in the Creator, Hope of a better future. But that was stumped out over the years, the attacks and broken unanswered cries were the only thing that Error knew for years. And now. Death.

It was too sudden. Everything he's survived. All the pain he's been through. The tears he's shed and thrown around, killing off AUs one by one. His SOUL cracked and took its final breath as it dusted. It dusted too quickly, no one had any time to process it. His body slowly descended into particles. Clumps of dust attempted to stick together in some physical form only to separate moments after.