Sans AU One-Shots

Error || puppet loosely strung.

Pairing: Error Sans x Reader
Prompt: With the weight of the world on your shoulders and no sign of escape, you turn to Error for a chance to become free of all your responsibilities. You want to become a puppet loosely strung just like him - but he was never a puppet in the first place.
Type: puppet vs. puppet master, cold reality of having no responsibilities, the grass is never greener on the other side, raw emotion cold open
Length: 8.8k words
Background:
Notes: Requested by the lovely Zeneroa and based on the song Puppet Loosely Strung ^. You only have so much time in your life to spend on the things you want to do and the people in your life, but sometimes it becomes too much. And sometimes all you have to give will never be good enough. | This is a more nihilistic look at Error, where I don't shy away from how evil he is or how horrible what he does is. He's insane and I play into that more here than the other one-shots I write, making him more canon but less sympathetic. All of his views on creators and their hard work on AUs aren't my own - just because I can write the perspective doesn't mean I share it. 

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I did my best to ignore the light of my phone in the corner of my vision, but it was impossible when it was the dead of night and the words on the screen kept replaying in my head in an endless loop. My fingers tapped the steering wheel as I zoomed down windy roads and narrowly avoided a fox darting across the double yellow line, heart in my throat for a beat before my mind returned to the texts sitting unanswered on my phone. It was from my mom, asking where I was and why I wasn't at the vacation home they rented out for the weekend. I had work today so I left home late in the evening anyway, but before I headed out to join my family, I spent all the time I could afford on my friends. They'd been looking forward to hanging out with me for a week now, but whether it was family gatherings, impromptu invitations out, work, school, or just general inability to find time around the things I needed to do - like eat and sleep - I'd been neglecting them. Just like the text laying unanswered on my phone.

It took me a couple miles to realize my phone had long since turned off and the bright light at the edge of my vision was just in my head, like a beacon of all the ways I failed the people in my life. I was trying – genuinely, I was – but I couldn't seem to juggle everybody, and even if I found the time to hang out with friends or family, it was never enough.

My phone buzzed and I glanced down, reading the words with misty eyes. My stomach was turning like I had food poisoning, but this time, I knew it wasn't because of something I ate. Last weekend I was supposed to join my extended family for a gathering - summer was rife with them, as my family always found time for each other, but that easy skill just didn't seem to extend to me - but I couldn't fall asleep and I threw up the night before. Of course, I got sympathy from my mother when I told her, but I remembered my stomach churning uncomfortably when she asked me to at least join my family for the potluck in the evening. I didn't end up going, so this weekend I couldn't back out even if I wanted to.

Mom: This is the only time you're going to see your cousin until Christmas.

Another text fired off.

Mom: Everyone is here and we're waiting for you.

Sometimes I wondered if my body was trying to give me an easy out by feeling conveniently sick when I didn't want to hang out with people. Or maybe it was the stress of social interaction on my introverted heart, wrapping it up with strings and pulling it tight until I felt sick to my stomach and on the verge of throwing up. Or maybe that was the guilt clawing at my insides, making me feel like shit for failing them by not giving them every second of my time that I realistically could. I should be doing that - like Mom said, I wasn't going to get a ton of time to spend with my cousins, aunt and uncle, and grandparents. I could always see my friends later - they were all online anyway, and I texted them when I could, even if that was once a day - and the subtext in my mom's texts were as bright as the phone screen: I wasn't doing good enough.