Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Antivoid was a place of warped and corrupted creatures. The bizarre realm was opposite of the yawning Void, which shifted and hungered with every second. The Antivoid was still and uncaring. It opened at random times, dragging in poor Souls to be devoured and twisted into its own horrible image. 

Only the most freakish and vicious could survive in the endless white nothing between universes. And when one of those beings stirred, it was best to be wary.

In the deepest corners of the Antivoid, something shifted, angry and seeking. The strange white faded to shadows, a blackness so ominous most would flee from the very sight. Blue strings of varying thickness draped down haphazardly from the nonexistent ceiling. Dangling from most were miniature figures of beings from across the multiverse. The rest twisted and knotted around faintly pulsing Souls, both of monsters and humans.

The only other light amongst the darkness were tears hovering in the air. What seemed to be rent pieces of reality. Man-made windows to different universes, each showing a different Au.

Standing in the middle this unsettling sight was a strange monster. 

He was thinner and more wiry than most like him, adding a sharpness to his features that they often lacked. His bones were colored in odd, unnatural shades. His thick, heavy clothes were patched and repaired so much that one couldn’t tell what part was meant to be the original piece. If one looked close enough, he almost seemed to flicker and warp at odd intervals. 

The only thing not uncanny about the… being were the softly glowing blue and yellow freckles that seemed dotted everywhere on his body. They twinkled like little stars against his dark bones. Every now and then the eldritch-like monster would reach up and brush the ones scattered across his cheekbones absentmindedly. His jagged claws raked the sides of his eye-sockets with each pass, causing a spine-chilling scraping sound every time.

Anyone who saw the distorted skeleton would label him the picture of death. 

They’d be… close. 

The figure watched intensely as each window shifted between scenes, pacing from one to another like a caged lion. His voice echoed through the still space as he grumbled to himself. “Come on… where…”

Whatever he seemed to be looking for, he didn’t find, because the next moment he screeched in rage and lashed out at one of the windows. Long blue cords wrapped around it and squeezed it brutally. The tear glitched and quaked before vanishing from existence with a sizzle of white. 

The monster turned, breathing angrily and seemingly about to continue his tantrum when a bright laugh rang out from behind him. 

It was as if time itself had frozen. One of the many windows zoomed in on a single human, giggling over something unseen. Your voice jumped and glitched like a radio as you doubled over, tears of joy streaming down your face.

Every other window flickered slowly out of existence, till only that one was left. He stared, letting his fingers brush against the thin barrier hiding him from view. His eyes glowed in awe as his grin widened to impossible lengths. “Found you…”

Chapter Text

          Error despised Ink with every fiber of his being. And not for the reasons so many thought. It wasn’t because they were on opposite sides of the balance. It wasn’t because of their fierce battles in the past, before Nightmare went soft and struck up a truce with the so called ‘Star Sans’s’, dragging Error along with him. It wasn’t even the annoying way he flitted around the multiverse, fixing Error’s destruction (or at least, fixing what he could).

          No. Error hated Ink for one reason and one reason only. 

          The tiny bastard was. just. so. obnoxious.

          Case in point, the deplorable blot on Error’s life had decided that he needed to spew on and on for hours about the beauty of Soulmates. Specifically, his ‘muse’, who he had searched for feverishly across the multiverse since the time of their bonding. And for reasons unknown to the deities above, the fool had decided to make the destroyer his unfortunate audience. 

          “Will you shut up about it already?!” Error’s needles clacked together loudly in his agitation. He glared over the rim of his glasses at the half-souled bane of his existence.

          Ink grinned teasingly at him, like he wasn’t close to being tossed headfirst through a portal. “Awww, come on. You’ve got to admit it’s incredible!”

          “The only thing that’s ‘incredible’ about it,” Error growled. “is that someone would willingly give half of their Soul to an irritating wretch like you.” 

          “Suuuurre.” Ink snickered. “Like you’ve never once searched for your Moitié.”

          Error snorted. “Of course I haven't. Unlike the rest of you idiots, I don't get brain-addled at the mere idea of having a Mate.”

          Ink huffed, pouting. “Stick in the mud.”

          “Go whine about your ‘love’ to someone who cares, you useless squid.” Error sneered, finishing off the end of the hoodie-dress he’d been knitting.

          Ink sighed dramatically, slumping his shoulders and trotting back to the black portal he’d come through. “You’ll get it one day…”

          Error grimace at the disgusting wet sound Ink’s portal made as it popped out of existence. After a few moments to clear the buzzing agitation in his head, he leaned back into his bean bag. The odd crunching sound his spine made when he fully sagged back into it was white noise to him after so long.

         The stupid inkstain was wrong. Error did get it. He got it more than he ever dared to admit to anyone but himself.

         His eyes flicked to the glowing dots on his hands. The little spots twinkled and shimmered brightly against his dark colored bones, small, delicate, and beautiful. The destroyer could feel himself softening just by looking at them. They flickered lightly, each one shifting between gold, silver and blue at separate intervals. It was strangely hypnotic to watch them shift and dance over his body. Error had found himself staring at them for hours more than once.

         Error had… tried. He’d tried, alright!? He’d done his absolute best to hate the colorful dots on his bones. To despise the errant pull of his Soul towards a person he’d never even met. He just… couldn’t. Every angry rant spiraled back to the astounding idea that there was a being out there that could love him. Every hateful thought was replied to by the fact that there was someone who was connected to his warped existence and felt as drawn to him as he was to them. Every attempt to craft a twisted scenario where he freed himself from them somehow changed to taking them for himself.

         He couldn’t deny it, no matter how much he wanted to. The idea of a person adoring him, loving him. It sounded so sweet.

         When he’d first come out of the Anti-Void, mad with isolation and raging across the multiverse, he’d been ‘Barren’ as people said. Unmatched and alone, and that was how he had wanted it. 

         Sure, some little part of him twitched with indignant jealousy. That others could go through Marks like shifting sands. That Red had the ability to reject his match and wake up the next day with a different Mark. That G finally met his Soulmate and would never have his Mark shift again, because they willingly bound themselves to each other. That his previously Soulless opposite proudly shared a Soul with some stranger who would spend the rest of their days adored once the bastard found them. Even Nightmare, the corrupted, bitter Soul that he was, had a Mark, still on his bones for nearly a decade by that point.

         Then Error had woken up one day with a starscape imprinted on his skin. With his scent shifted, just a hint of someone else clinging to him wherever he went. He woke with a tug on his Soul and a whisper of that dreaded hope.

        He’d wrestled with the idea of you for months before relenting, locking himself in the Anti-Void and searching the Multiverse for his supposed match. It had taken weeks, combing through Au after Au looking for that little spark of his magic that would cling to you. He’d almost given up. Then he’d seen you, heard you.

        It was like the multiverse had shifted on its axis. As if time had stopped and reality had shattered beneath his feet. The only thing that had existed in that moment had been you. You and your smile. Your laugh. Your face. 

        From that moment on he’d become obsessed. He’d taken to peering out at you whenever he had the chance. Watching you, learning about your likes and dislikes, your habits, your life. He wanted to know everything. He needed to know everything.

        He’d considered approaching you casually, only to toss that idea out the window before it could fully form. You’d be terrified of him.

        Of course you would be afraid of him. Soulmate or not, he was the god of destruction, and you were a Soul so bright your Mark took the form of heavenly bodies. He struck fear into gods, he could only imagine what his presence would be like for a sweet little mortal like you. He could be patient, though, no matter what anyone else said. 

         For his Star, he could wait as long as he needed.

         So he used his observations. Destroyer he may be, Error did know a thing or two about creation. He built you everything you’d need to live in the Anti-Void, shielding it from outside forces and hiding it away. He didn’t want you suffering the fate he had, becoming some creature driven only by violence and insanity. Or, worse, have those annoying Stars trying to ‘rescue’ you from him.

         Error let out a glitchy sigh, staring up at the blank ‘sky’ of the Anti-Void. “Soon. Almost ready.”

Chapter Text

Life had an… odd way of getting you where it wanted you to go.

From a young age, you had stuck out like a sore thumb. If it wasn’t one reason, it was another. 

Your appearance.

Your hobbies.

Your mannerisms.

It was always something. Something that made you go one direction when you'd honestly rather go the opposite way. For the last few years, it had been you Mark.

Vocal Marks were rare, and held similar superstitions to black cats and ladders. Which was great for your position in general social existence. You did your best to ignore the cringes from people nearby whenever they heard you speak. You’d cut off the so-called ‘friends’ who insisted you do your best to change enough to switch Marks. You sucked up your inner shame and turned it into spiteful confidence, firmly crushing the urge to never speak in public again under your heel with extreme prejudice. 

So what if your voice crackled and jumped like a radio? You sounded cool. And the quite static that surrounded you was excellent white noise. And you smelled like chocolate. Clearly, your Soulmate couldn’t be bad. No one could smell like candy and be evil at the same time. That would just be ridiculous. Could you imagine? McEvil, the terrible villain feared by everyone, doesn't he smell like a successful Halloween night?

But back to life and it’s oh so strange steering mechanisms. 

When you were six, and refused to remove your trick or treating costume’s witch cloak for the rest of the year, you had learned how to tell real friends from fake ones. This had led you to your interest in the ‘weird kid’ at the back of your class. A friend you hadn’t kept long, but had received much random knowledge from. And, more importantly, the driving confidence, and determination, to be yourself.

When you were thirteen, your obsessive love of paper stars kept you from dwelling on the loneliness of your middle school isolation. Being the new kid in an entirely different state, where you could be mocked for everything from your accent, to your style choices, to the fact that you hadn't immediately been absorbed into one of the schools incredibly cliche social circles. It also helped you ignore your parents slow and messy divorce.

When you were twenty, your blunt manners and general avoidance of people saved your life. The blind date you went on that left you mid-way through the meal and left you with the check had been arrested two days later. For stalking. And murder.

So, when life threw you a curveball, you tried your best to roll with the punches. You liked lemonade and all that. 

This particular curve ball, you weren’t quite sure how to handle.

You’d been kicked out of your apartment, the locks changed while you were at work. For ‘noise complaints’. You didn’t even play music outside of your headphones (you knew exactly what kind of noise they were 'protesting').

You were certain that couldn’t be legal. But, there wasn’t much you could do about it at the moment. Instead, you needed to find a place to sleep. You'd sue them later.

You didn’t want to bother any of your friends, they were almost all married, or in cramped apartments of their own. Or both. You also didn’t have a car. The city subway took you everywhere you needed to go, so you never saw the point.

You were regretting that.

Shouldering your bag, you glanced around at the fading light and decided that heading away from the dingy backstreets that surrounded your old apartment would probably be a good start. Your shoes crunched against autumn leaves as you trudged in the direction of the nearest subway access. At least you still had your wallet. You didn’t want to think about what kid of debt your greedy landlord would have put your barren bank accounts in if he’d gotten his grubby mits on that.

Chapter Text

The solution to your ‘need a place to crash’ was so easy you were almost suspicious. After sending out the obligatory ‘guess who’s homeless?’ text to your closer friends, you received a response in near Olympic level time from one of your more spastic friends. She was a ‘strange’ coworker to say the least, considering she barely spoke a lick of English but could fry Empanadas like only your grandmother could and refused to wear anything that wasn’t some version of pastel or neon. The two of you got along like a house on fire. 

She was, apparently, headed upstate to visit her husband's family for some birthday party or another. She had also been looking for a pet sitter for her two massive fur babies, who unfortunately could not join her due to cramped car space. You just happened to be the perfect candidate.

You loved dogs. You especially loved her dogs (the sweetest hounds to ever grace this rock of a planet), Max and Milo. You needed a place to stay. Your friend even told you that you could raid her kitchen all you liked as long as she got a friends and family discount on your sitting job. 

You would have been an idiot to say no.

So there you were, nothing but your bag and rising spirits, ready for a solid week of apartment hunting and doggy sitting. Nothing wiped away anxiety and stress like lovable puppies and free food.

The minute you opened the door, Max and Milo were both attempting to do their best impression of bowling balls, with you as their singular pin.

You laughed as you went down, covered in fur and slobber. Your voice hitched and fizzed in and out every time you burst into a new round of giggles. “Hi! Hi! How are the babies? Hmmm? How are you?”

Once the pair finally calmed down enough for you to stand, you made your way into the kitchen to hopefully cook up some grub. You hadn’t eaten lunch due to an extra busy day, so you were absolutely famished. 

To your surprise and joy, there was a full plate of dinner sitting on the counter waiting for you. Your friend must’ve made you something before she left. You smiled, trying not to tear up at the thoughtfulness and put it in the microwave. It was just chicken and potatoes. You didn't need to get sappy.

You shot your friend a thank you text anyways.

After you pulled the now steaming food out of the microwave, you plopped down on the couch with all the grace of a grizzly in a kiddy pool and began to feast. Max made himself comfortable as a furry foot warmer while you flipped through tv channels like you were doomscrolling. True crime… Nah. Realty tv… Never again. Cooking shows… Not today. Cartoons… No…

Eventually you found a nice drama series with the worst dialogue you’d ever heard and an even more garbage plot. Naturally, you settled on watching that. Because, after the day you had, you deserved to rot your brain on something so stupidly cheesy that it warped all the way back around to fascinating. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a bump somewhere in the house. That is, until Milo came trotting back with his favorite stuffed toy (an odd plush of a skeleton) and plopped half way on top of his brother with a grunt of satisfaction. You pressed a hand over your chest and took a deep breath. Chuckling, you leaned forward as best you could with two fuzzy behemoth’s crushing your legs and scratched him behind his ears. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day, bud…”

Once it grew too late for you to reasonably justify continuing to stay awake, you raided the cabinets for dessert. You knew your friend just so happened to have some candy in one of her drawers, playfully hidden from her husband. Digging around you gave a quiet cheer of victory at finding your favorite within the mix.

You munched on your prize, digging through your bag for your emergency change of clothes that you brought with you every time you went to work. Oh, it looks like you’d remembered to pack your spare charger this time. Sweet. 

Once you had finished your delightful snack, you quickly showered the smell of the day off of you. You tossed your dirty clothes in the washer and set a reminder on your phone to do them the next day.

Odd, your friend must’ve been in an area with no signal. Your thank you text never went through. Oh well, you’d resend it in the morning.

Milo and Max were more than happy to pile on top of you as you collapsed on the couch, clean, full, and ready to sleep for a thousand years. You hummed quietly as one of them (whichever one was squarely on your back) brushed against your hair.

Chapter Text

You woke up refreshed and way later than you should have. Like, lunch-time level later. You checked your phone only to realize that you must’ve forgotten to set a wake up alarm. You frowned, it seemed like you’d been more out of it than you had thought last night.

 Oh, well, you supposed it wouldn’t kill you. The dogs had an automatic feeder, so it wasn’t like you needed to get up early.

You sat up, yawned, and stretched. Your blanket, of course, slipped all the way to the floor from the movement, letting a burst of morning chill jolt you into awareness. You peered down resentfully at the traitorous blue thing before your stomach decided it needed to demonstrate a whale call. 

Right. Getting peeved at inanimate objects could wait till after breakfast.

You made pancakes. Because your friend had pancake mix and you loved nothing more than chocolate chip pancakes in the morning. As the batter sizzled against the pan, you hummed to yourself, scrolling through your reminders and feeling like you were forgetting something. Unfortunately, nothing stuck out besides laundry. You did get an email about a nice coupon for clothes at your local Walmart, though, so you called that a score.

Flipping pancakes and warding off begging dogs that made it up to your waist should be an Olympic sport, if only because you would get a gold medal in it. You danced around the kitchen, avoiding both paws and pleading eyes with less grace and more amusement and desperation. Nevertheless, you managed to make yourself brunch without losing a single pancake, or stepping on any toes. You’d declare that a glorious and chocolaty victory.

As you munched, you started a list of things you needed to do. Top of the list? Secure basic necessities. You’d head to Walmart and put that coupon to use. 

Secondly, secure a place to stay. Your friend managed to buy you a week of time, but there was no way all three of you were going to manage to stay in her cramped apartment. Thankfully, there were always people coming and going from your city, so it wouldn't be hard to find at least a small selection of places. It helped that your standards were abysmally low, as long as you bed fit, there was no black mold, and there was running, non-poisoned water, it was fine.

Thirdly, you needed to find a lawyer to help you sue your landlord. You wanted your stuff back. Or at least whatever money he got from selling it, the greedy rat-face.

You smiled as Max snuffled at your hand, “How about a little trip, huh, bud?”

Chapter Text

Error stumbled back into the Anti-Void with nothing but himself, his burning irritation, and a migraine. His glasses were yet again shattered, and the patching on his coat was torn in several places. He growled and grumbled to himself as he collapsed on top of his beanbag with an unholy crunch of joints and static.

Joint balance meetings were complete and utter hell.

Error had no idea who’s half cooked idea it was to gather every major ‘balance’ god in one place. Even worse, who thought every Sans type that knew of the greater multiverse could gather around one table come to conclusions instead of dissolving into a riot. Whoever it was, they were insane.

Probably Ink. Seemed like something he’d do. Just for entertainment. Error was going to find a way to kill that little cockroach some day.

The Destroyer sighed into the soft fabric of his beanbag. He needed to see you. Watching you always calmed him down when he was stressed, or angry, or a little more homicidal than he probably should be.

He clawed at the air, tearing away a piece of reality absentmindedly. Almost immediately, he could see your concentrated face as you tried to decide between two different shirts. 

He smiled, all his irritation fading away at your adorably focused expression. It looked like you’d noticed the little email he’d coded and sent to you. That was good. 

The dogs you loved were both sitting patently at the end of their harnesses. He grinned. They were sweet. Reminded him of Blueberry a bit, just didn’t chat his metaphorical ears off. One of those little brats had stolen a puppet from him and started cuddling it like a toy at some point in the early days of him checking in on you.

Error’s eyes glazed over slightly as he watched you, remembering how peaceful you’d looked curled up on your friend's couch. He hadn’t meant for you to notice his light touch, but you’d stirred slightly and smiled. 

He’d almost grabbed you right then and there.

That useless grub of a landlord was going to pay for betraying you like that, but Error was content to let you sue him first. He’d nudge the process along and make sure you got every last penny that slug had before he erased him from existence. 

He sighed and watched you as you flitted about the store, grabbing the cheapest of necessitates. You calculated and compared like you couldn't have everything you needed with a simple request. He hated that. 

Error gritted his teeth and reminded himself that he had to be patient. He could have you all to himself soon. He just needed a little more time.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, it was startlingly easy to find an attorney to take up your case. In fact, she was the one who approached you. 

Undyne, one of the first monster lawyers after their reemergence, based her entire practice on defending victims of discrimination (typically monsters, but more than her fair share of humans as well) and ruthlessly cutting down perpetrators of said discrimination. Even someone as under-a-rock as you had heard of her, and her famous speech about how she would be ‘the hero everyone needed, not just a hero for a few’. It was very moving.

Which was why you nearly face planted in surprise when you answered your phone to her legendary voice booming through your speakers. In half an hour, you had set up a payment plan to have her as your lawyer and she was vowing metaphorical bloody vengeance on your behalf. The court date was pending, but you would almost certainly be getting way more out of your landlord than you had been hoping for. 

You had never felt more happy about life drop kicking you into a new and unexpected direction in your life. 

Milo startled as you hugged him around the neck and squealed, but quickly joined in on your excitement. You laughed as you were covered in wagging tails and puppy kisses, Max absolutely refusing to be left out of whatever it was that you were celebrating. 

Whoever dropped the Undyne an email about your situation was going to get kissed. Or smacked for not giving you a heads up. Or both. 

You made frozen pizza dinner to celebrate, your spirits high and your anticipation even higher. Max and Milo happily gnawed on their peanut butter bones as you munched and hummed cheerfully.

None of your friends were telling who had sent the email, but you knew it had to be one of them. You hadn’t exactly told anyone else, and none of your neighbors were the type to even care that you’d been booted out, let alone go out of their way to help you like that. 

If anything, you wouldn’t have been surprised if some of them had been in on it. Particularly that elderly couple down the hall. They always eyed you like you were devils spawn or something equally evil.

What was even better, some rather nice apartments had recently opened up for ridiculously low prices. You had three viewings booked already and a real good feeling about all of them.

You smiled down at your meal and hoped that whatever streak of luck you had managed to stumble upon recently stayed with you. You could get used to things going your way so easily.