err0r oneshots

Sacrifies ll

"I'll dO anytHing For a Truce"

"Even kill yourself?"

"..." his body swayed to a near nonexistent breeze, struggling to stand tall when all was beat out of him. "ThaT's Not poSSible"

"Why not?" Ink grew more frustrated. He didn't care for a truce, the rush of fighting and being constantly bombarded with AUs who needed him just filled him with the joy and fulfillment his vials could never give him. Beating Error to a pulp was just an added bonus. The empowerment of seeing such a powerful monster grieve and fear under him filled his chest with something of a soul. Satisfaction is what he would call it but it might be something else.

"I've tRIed...maNY tiMeS bEFore" a pause for the crowd. Error was beyond tired of this year's long war. It hurts to stand, to move, to breathe. It's gotten to the point he's let himself go, lacking in destruction and letting his bones rest. He's tried sleeping but that has never ended well.

A gun was tossed to his feet.

A small revolver that was packed with bullets that could end a monster as soon as the trigger was pulled.

"Prove it"

He was slow to move, his energy was sapped from the 10 minutes battle they had. It felt like hours, years, to him and his brittle and tired bones. He picked up the revolver and brought it to his chin. Not a moment later he pulled the trigger and put a bullet through his skull. Dust fled from the open wound and the sound from the weapon sounded about the empty trap AU. Error's body fell to the ground but his open socket, the other had been cracked open to the point there was no healing it, continued to remain open. His faded eyelight surrounded in blue with a yellow center looked to be duller than it was seconds before, but you'd have to care about him or have a sharp eye to even notice the difference.

Ink looked down at the pitiful corpse, so it was true the destroyer was immortal. He had thought so considering any normal monster, no matter their HP, would have been dust by now. They would've died centuries ago. But Error, that fucking bastard, continued to stand.

"Alright, I'll take up your offer"

"..." A glance.

"But you have to listen to me"

"..."

"That or I could just beat you so badly your memory becomes worse than mine" Error remained silent yet continued to stare at the Creator. "Great. Now stand up, you look pitiful for a god"

Error stayed on the ground processing the information he was given. Was that an option? A statement? Did he really agree to a truce after all that has happened? A kick to his ribs had him blinking himself awake. He couldn't've fallen asleep right then and there. Picking himself up (not so gracefully for a god) he stood next to Ink who opened a code box and tapped at it. He looked frustrated and continuously tapped at the screen. Error saw no real reason to stand any longer, he thought it was just another thing Ink did to mess with him. So because he still seems to think he has free will, he collapsed back onto the ground. A blob of red paint was thrown directly on top of him that caught him off guard earning a pained scream that echoed the empty universe.

"Did I say you could rest?" Ink held his brush above Error's curled up body, His lone socket widening before the impact. "No. I didn't."

Months passed and the only difference in Error's not so busy schedule was destroying. At the start of their truce he was to destroy until the multiverse was at a complete balance. It took months of constant destruction and a multiverse wide witch hunt before he was even able to rest. Anytime he attempted to, Ink was quick to attack him until he continued destroying. Usually one of their battles would destroy a universe to the point Error could destroy it right then and there. Now, all Ink's focus wasn't on stopping him, it was about getting him to continue.
He would always scream at Error that "this is what you wanted!" "work for your happy ending!" and all that while beating him into the ground and throwing him into universes that were barely habitable. Ink had stopped creating and instead devoted his time to hunting down Error should he ever stop. Error's magic was desperate for a break; at one point his bones collapsed due to the lack of magic in them. He became as useless as, well, a pile of bones and Ink would just take to beating and cracking his bones even more. He couldn't defend himself because his voice magic had also left him. It took days before Ink realized he was completely out of magic and instead of helping him, he laughed and taunted until Error was able to summon faint eyelights and Ink immediately hit his sockets, cracking them further, like whack-a-mole.

At the end of the grueling months, Error was slouching over himself as his bones shook with overstimulation and pain as he forced himself to walk. Ink came behind him and he attempted to stumble away from him, fearing that he'd have to destroy further. His soul was hurting, not from the amount of universes but from the horrors it was subject to and the complete lack of Magic. It was beating rapidly so as to accommodate for the lack of magic he did not have. It felt as if it was in his throat and at any point he would puke it up and out of his mouth, letting him finally die.

Ink pulled him by his tattered scarf and into another universe. Error's strings hung from his cheeks and were stained with his blood just as his torn clothes were. He had long since desummoned his eyelights so as to not use up "useless magic" as Ink called it. He was pushed into a lake and left to float under the water until Ink eventually pulled him out. He was pulled onto the side of the lake and dressed in new clothes like his own, he could be dressed in pink and neon colors and he could care less. He didn't have the mental capacity to have an opinion at the moment. "Hey, wake up."

His socket moved before he attempted to move his body. It felt heavier than usual but he picked himself up, 30 minutes later. His breaths were slow and heavy and telling that he was somewhat conscious. Ink said no words and simply pulled the tired glitch through another portal and into his own space; The Doodlesphere.