Some Lazy Errorink Oneshot

(I slapped this together with no motivation whatsoever.)


Error had a very unique gift.


He would have visions whenever he fell asleep, of different futures and possibilities. Of course, no one had ever really believed him when he said he'd seen horrible fates they could meet. They always either played along and pretended to be interested or concerned, or they just brushed his warnings off entirely. He never understood how they could smile so ignorantly in the face of potential misfortune and death. So he'd eventually stopped sharing his visions aloud with the others, resorting to writing them down in journals he kept in his room.


The only people to have ever believed him were Nightmare and Dream, the twin brothers who made up the royal family. Nightmare was the king, while Dream was the one who would take his place, should he die before Crescent was of age to take the throne. Dream would sit and listen to him ramble on and on about his visions for hours. Nightmare used to call it nonsense, but had started to listen to Error more and more once one of those visions saved his life.


Error had come to accept his power and not view it as such a horrible thing, though he did still believe it be a curse of some kind. He wanted to use it to protect those who he cared for, which right now he only cared for Dream and Nightmare. He didn't care how the others misunderstood his power.


For the past few days, he'd been spending all of his time sleeping. He'd hardly spare a second to have a meal. He was desperately searching for answers. A way to work around what he'd been seeing in his visions. Horrible scenarios where Dream or Nightmare, or sometimes both of them, met gruesome ends. He needed to save them. They were the only two friends that he had.


He abruptly woke up again, his hands feelings clammy and his forehead covered with sweat. In that last vision, he'd seen a masked figure and a monster wearing brown and white. Spending so much time seeing visions had used up a lot of his energy. Even though it hurt like hell to move, and he wanted to have a nap without visions, he forced himself to move. He had to warn them.


Error somehow managed to get to the throne room without falling over or passing out. The others had given him odd, pitiful looks, but he ignored them all. He staggered into the throne room, lifting his head to call out to the two brothers. But a bone-chilling freeze went from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his head in an instant.


He was here.


"Oh, Error! Look, look! This is our new friend-- his name is Ink!" Dream said, happily waving to him. "He's a little odd like you!"


Dream and Nightmare were very different from each other. While Nightmare would leave someone on the streets without a second thought, Dream couldn't stand the idea of people suffering. He was always bringing in pitiful, homeless people to take care of them. It'd gotten to the point where Nightmare had to establish a rule that only children of ages 10 or younger could be brought in, and they had to move out once they turned 18. That's why there was a whole section of the castle that was deemed the Orphanage Wing. The only exception to that rule was if they were an out-coded character or could prove useful to Nightmare.


Error forced a smile as he stood up straight. He couldn't tell them now, at least not yet. That would put Ink on alert. He'd have to watch him from a distance for when he finally let that innocent facade down. He couldn't help but glance over at the skeleton who Dream had brought home. In his most recent vision, he'd seen the boy crying.


Just like Dream had said, Ink was a very strange person. Error, when compared to the other males in the castle, was rather strange himself, but he still enjoyed doing things that the others did. Ink preferred looser clothes and only ever wore brown and white. Unlike the others, he had good table manners-- though he was never at the table, let alone had Error ever seen him eating. He never asked Nightmare and Dream for the latest gaming console, videogame, or anything of that sort. He'd only ever ask for art supplies.


Whenever the others would seek him out to play with him, he would give them that signature smile that made everyone feel a bit off, his eyes narrowing oddly. The others would either quickly flee from discomfort or make a rude remark before leaving. Then Ink would go back to making his paintings, as he was a pursuer of the arts rather than someone who roughhoused. One time, Error had taken a peek at one of his finished paintings that he kept in his room, rather than letting Dream find somewhere in the castle to hang it up. He truly was a talented artist.


He was mostly alone. He'd sometimes stay nearby Cross, but those moments were brief and they never spoke a word to each other. It wasn't uncommon for him and the others to catch him on one of the highest balconies or even on the rooftops, staring up at the night sky. He would always be silent, as though he were in a trance, and his eyes would have a shimmer to them. No one ever knew what he was thinking or what he wanted.


Aside from making paintings and drawings, Ink's hobbies consisted of stargazing, reading about philosophy, and playing the flute. Whenever he would do one of these activities, his face would have smiles that didn't look strange. He would pure and innocent, like he couldn't harm a fly. Error sometimes found himself doubting his vision, as he'd seen this same person-- who had such patience and child-like curiosity-- do horrible things.


Dream had gotten deathly sick over the past few days, though no one could figure out what the cause was (okay seriously what is it with me and making Dream get hurt). He'd insist that he was fine, but they all knew better than that. Everyone was worried about him, and Error blamed himself heavily. He'd been paying too much attention to Ink, and he hadn't been focusing on keeping Dream and Nightmare safe from harm.


When he'd seen Ink's guilty expression, his hands had tightened into fists. He wanted to demand where he was going, but decided against it. Better to not make a scene. A few minutes later, Ink had come back with a bowl of odd-looking porridge. It was a light purplish-green color, with indescribable shapes mixed into it, and giving off a terrible stench. The sight of it, compared with the smell, made Error want to vomit.


Ink brought the bowl closer to Dream's horrified face, who looked like he wanted to scream right then and there. He brought the spoon up and held it against Dream's lips, which were tightly sealed shut. 


"I added something extra to it, but you must finish it all," Ink told him. "Only then can I let you touch my art."


Ink's expression had been too frightening and intimidating. Nightmare, who was masking his displeasure with the porridge the best out of all of them, quickly ushered them all out of the room. Not even Error tried to help the poor Guardian of Positive Feelings as he screamed miserably. For him to reveal such a guilty expression, Error was starting to doubt his vision even more. It definitely wasn't because Ink terrified him more than anything else, or because he could read people like open books.


Ink's mysterious porridge had turned up with good results regarding Dream's health. As if its looks and smell weren't bad awful, it must've tasted equally horrible, or worse, judging by Dream's face once he was done being forced to eat it. What started as an odd illness that no one could identify turned into a small cold, which was already fading away.


Error was confused by all of this. His visions had never been wrong before, so why were they not matching up now? He eagerly sought out more answers from his ability, but was only met with the same ending. Dream and Nightmare were dead at his feet, their SOULS long gone and there was no hope of saving them. This time, he saw that masked man more clearly, and realized that he wasn't masked at all. He was, if Error wasn't mistaken, a Gaster.


And there was Ink, all alone, walking up to that man. His eyes held no emotion or sparkle, dull gray and lifeless. The Gaster raised one of his hands, which seemed to have claws, and stroked Ink's head as though he were some kind of pet. The malicious look to his face didn't make Error feel any better about any of this, nor did that glowing, ominous purple button by his side.


"Ink, you've done exceptionally well. You've greatly contributed to my cause this time," the Gaster praised, scratching the underside of Ink's chin. "Were it not for the message you sent, we wouldn't have gotten such a perfect opportunity."


Ink didn't have much of a reaction as he said these words. But Error was absolutely pissed. Upon closer inspection, he saw something bundled up in Ink's arms. Something made of black fabric.


"Sir... didn't you say..." Ink started, but it seemed like he was struggling for words. "Won't... won't...."


"Hm? What was that, Ink?"


"No... it's nothing...."


Only then did Error realize that the bundle of fabric in Ink's arms was the very same jacket he was wearing right now.


Error's eyes snapped open and he hastily got to his feet. Before he had any idea what he was doing or what was around him, he was already darting to Ink's chambers. He wouldn't play this game any longer, and he demanded a direct answer from the artist himself. But when he threw the door open, he was met by an empty bedroom. He briefly recalled Ink staying up all night in a routine of making that icky porridge to help Dream recover. With this in mind he darted towards the kitchen, which was always empty at this hour.


He caught himself on the doorway to the kitchen, though made sure to keep quiet so he didn't alert Ink of his presence. When he looked up from the ground, he was met with a horrific sight. Ink had bitten into his own arm, his expression blank and numb as he snapped off a piece, dropping it into the serving of porridge that he'd been preparing. Error had noticed that Ink's sleeves were getting longer and longer, and now he understood why.


Error stepped back a bit, not quite sure how to handle this new discovery. The extra ingredient that he'd added was his own DNA. He must've forgotten where he was going, as he ended up bumping into something behind him. Ink let out a cry of alarm, whirling around with a look of suspicion on his face.


"Who's there!? Come out and show yourself!!"


Error bit the inside of his cheek. He walked around the side of the doorway, keeping his eyes fixed on Ink's figure. He watched as his daily disguise faded away, and a certain look of horror came onto his white face. In a voice that was so calm it disturbed even himself, he spoke.


"So, this is it? Your secret ingredient?" He asked.


This struck a cord somewhere in Ink. He immediately got defensive.


"This has nothing to do with you! Don't you dare interfere!"


"Then I'll tell Nightmare and Dream."


"No! You can't do that!"


"Then tell me who that version of Gaster really is."


"How do you know!?"


"Why are you helping hi!?"


"I did it in my own free will!"


Error grunted, storming up towards him. He grabbed onto Ink's arm, and even though his grip wasn't tight at all, Ink still bit his lip in clear pain. But despite his attempts to keep silent, a wince got out. Error tore his sleeve down, revealing a horrific sight. Chunks of Ink's ulna bone were missing, no doubt added to the porridge he'd been serving to the sick.


"It hurts, doesn't it!?" Error demanded, eyes still fixed on the injuries.


"What's it to you!?" Ink shot back, trying to get his arm free.


"If it hurts, then you have to tell me!" He argued. "How can I help you if you won't let me!?"


"I don't want your stupid help!"


"Then don't help them!"


The kitchen fell in a hushed whisper. Ink, who had been breathing heavily, was now completely silent. Small tears were building up in the corners of his eyes, spilling out and rolling down his cheeks.


".... Please, just let me go...." Ink whispered to him.


"Absolutely not!" Error refused, shaking his head. "You have to tell me, or else I'm telling everyone what you're planning!"


Ink looked around for a moment, cautiously searching for anything could stand out as suspicious. Then, a few seconds later, he looked Error in the eyes.


"He's the Gaster from X-Tale. He wants to make his AU perfect, and he's willing to do anything to get it," Ink told him. "He's Cross's father. He's going to kill me if I don't take Dream and Nightmare's SOULS for him."


"Well shit. Eat that damn porridge, get your arm back."


"I don't wanna."


"Why? Cause it smells so damn bad and tastes worse?"


"B-But... I spent so hard making the recipe...."


"Eat it!"


"Nooooo!"


(You can probably tell where my motivation went afk.)

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