Chapter Text
Error sat there, staring with desperate eyes at the contract bearing his own signature.
He shouldn’t have played cards with the Lord of Negativity himself. He got carried away, lost track of time, and bet on a wish. Yes, a wish that harmed no one and remained within the bounds of reason, written down in advance, and—though invisible to his opponent until the end of the game—requiring little effort on the part of the loser and taking up very little of his time. There were plenty of clauses restricting wishes, but none of them anticipated that Nightmare would wish for him to attend the party celebrating the Multiverse’s general truce in a dress. And with all the female ecto summoned. Hmm.
His own tantrum was not long in coming.
‘Octopus, I’m not fucking doing this! How the hell do you imagine this, you bitch — the Destroyer and the Guardian in such… Such! Obscenity!’
Nightmare just laughed, pleased with his unbeatable joke.
“And what, if you weren’t the Destroyer, would a dress be normal for you? The wish has been made, the contract signed! You shouldn’t have agreed!”
“This doesn’t comply with the terms of the contract! This…”
“It won’t require any effort on your part, won’t take much time, won’t harm anyone.” ‘Everything has been checked; the conditions of the wish have been met!’ Nightmare declared solemnly.
‘My fucking pride will suffer. Come on, Nightmare, what the hell is this? This… It’s not funny at all. Are you really serious? My first proper public appearance, and this?!’
‘Even if I wanted to call it off, it’s too late. It’s all been signed off in advance,’ Nightmare shrugged, staring at the floor and rubbing his temples with his fingers, feeling that he might have gone a bit too far in his quest for revenge. ‘Life’s cruel. We’ll have to go through with it.’
‘I’m done dealing with you, you bastard! How could you even think of… You bitch! You bitch! I’ll never wash away this shame, this is it, fuck, we’re done for,’ the Destroyer began to whisper, leaning against the sofa, holding his hand to his forehead and staring blankly at the prospects of his future. The Destroyer paid no further attention to his surroundings. “Surely there’s a way to get round this shit, there must be…”
“No way! A magical signature isn’t some code you can just rewrite!” chimed in Dast, who’d only just arrived at the scene.
“Fucking bitch. Cunning creature,” Error cursed under his breath, glaring at Nightmare with hatred.
“It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t have—” he was interrupted indignantly.
“Is this how you’re getting back at me—ha—? For God’s sake, just say straight out that you’re still holding a grudge, but no—we’ve forgiven everything, but we’ll give you a taste of your own medicine!” Thanks! Just, fuck, thanks! It’s already been decided, can’t be undone… — the Destroyer whispered the last sentence to himself again. Horror, who had been listening to the whole row and hadn’t noticed anything around him, didn’t notice and dropped a huge pile of crockery. A crash echoed through the castle’s rooms, which had already sent the already frazzled Nerve Breaker into a reboot.
After rebooting, Error cursed everyone once more, letting loose a three-storey-high torrent of swear words, then slumped onto the sofa, burying his aching head in the crook of his elbow, and muttered gloomily:
— Repeat the full list of conditions for the wish.
“What?” Nightmare hadn’t heard him.
“Repeat the bloody list of the bloody wish, you deaf bitch!”
Being indulgent towards the Destroyer, who was clearly not in the best of moods, Nightmare repeated the entire list of conditions, which had been written down on paper beforehand:
‘You’ll turn up at the party in a dress — any dress, but something feminine and not too modest.’ — Nightmare sighed irritably, listening to the angry clicking. — With a summoned female ectothel. You must spend at least two hours at the party — which, by the way, ties in with another contract of yours, ha. Right then. You must also not tell anyone that you’re wearing a dress because of a card debt. “Make up whatever excuse you like, but you mustn’t mention our agreement,” Nightmare waved his hand dismissively. Error muttered to himself: “You want to pretend to be a delicate little thing, do you? I’ll remember this, mark my words, for fuck’s sake…” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I can even find you a suitable one if you’re that embarrassed.”
‘Oh my god, what has got into you!’ Killer, who’d just returned from a mission, was flabbergasted. The Destroyer roared, and, having no other outlet for his rage, lashed out at the first thing that came to hand. The skeleton that appeared in the doorway was nearly pinned to the wall by his bones.
Error exhaled and continued to protest:
“ No way, if I have to turn up in a dress, I’m the one who gets to choose it!” He stood up and, humiliated, hobbled towards the glitchy portal that had opened.
‘Just not a nun’s habit, I beg you!’ Killer continued to laugh.
‘Yeah, nothing too covered up, remember!’ Nightmare chimed in.
Error sat in the anti-void and thought. The needles creaked, as if after some disaster, in his trembling hands.
There were three days left until the festivities.
The truce, which had previously seemed like a blessing to him, a chance to relax, now appeared in a dreadful light. Embarrassing, crude. Unpleasant. Exposing. Error really didn’t know where to turn.
His first public appearance! Now that the truce had been signed, reputation really did matter! Probably. But Error certainly didn’t want to appear among all those monsters who didn’t trust him, looking like this!
In Lust’s studio, which he had recently set up in the United Universe, it was dark, quiet and peaceful — scented candles and other such nonsense were meant to help him relax, and yet, despite this, Error’s nerves were still on edge.
They weren’t exactly friends, but Lust was the first to take him in during the truce, understanding what it was like to be hated and despised by everyone. Plus, surprisingly, the skeleton, infected with lust, He was the best at keeping his distance, hardly ever touching or bothering him—and in return, the Destroyer granted him access to certain things and made no comment whatsoever on the efforts of both Lust's and his entire universe, under the influence of the human, to rid themselves of the serum and become free. Their mutual indifference to each other’s fates gave them a reason to get together or help one another from time to time, which, though often not for free, was carried out conscientiously by both.
The portal opened; the Destroyer sighed. A wave of fragrant humidity washed over him — it was warm inside Lust’s cabin.
The aforementioned skeleton emerged from behind the screen, stirring tea in his hands and sorting through leaflets — paperwork.
“ Oh. What’s happened?”
“I lost.”
Error, not wishing to explain any further, walked over to a chair and sat down. Lust looked at him in surprise and continued to probe:
“How badly?”
A sheet of paper was thrust into Last’s hands. He scanned the contract, his eyes widening comically after a couple of minutes.
“Ooh-hoo, that’s tough… It’s happening very soon, isn’t it… Lots of monsters… And what do you want from me?..“
“ I want you to find me the dress that looks least like a dress, but meets the conditions!“
“Well, that won’t be easy, darling.“
“ I’ll pay whatever you say.“
“Come on, come on, I won’t rip you off too badly; it’s hard enough for you as it is. Phew, why don’t you make yourself some hot chocolate, and I’ll sort out the conditions.“
Now he was standing by the screen, and Last was looking at his dejected face and frowning thoughtfully. The situation was looking grim. Although…
“ Summon the ecto, please.“
“For fuck’s sake! Lust! Is that really necessary?!“
“You’re supposed to appear with it in front of a crowd of people in three days’ time, so of course it is! Besides, I can only pick out a dress for you if I know what your female ecto body looks like.“
“Mm-hmm…“
Go behind the screen, get undressed and wrap yourself in a towel. I can’t take measurements with all that clothing on.
Standing behind the screen, Error exhaled.
The fabric gave way to warm memories, leaving behind a sense of unfamiliarity and a shy chill. Error ran his hand over his shoulders and exhaled.
The magic gathered reluctantly, slowly. Releasing an intimate part of himself, he stared at the floor, tensed up, and thought. The towel swelled considerably with shapes; the ecto pulsed.
Emerging, wrapped in a small towel—which, thankfully, concealed his private parts—and with his gaze fixed on the floor, he wrapped his arms around himself. Lust, who had entered the room carrying a tray with a cup of cocoa and a cup of tea, whistled.
‘Wow, I didn’t expect that!’
‘What didn’t you expect?!’
Error braced himself, preparing for some unpleasant mockery.
“But you’re a real looker! No, really!”
“Ermm…”
“Well, it’s just a normal, shapely body…” mumbled Error, hugging his shoulders uncertainly.
“Darling, you’ve got a bloody amazing ecto! It’s amazing how well it’s stayed that way,” if you hadn’t supported him at all. It’s tricky with skeletons, of course…
‘Divine essence, after all,’ the Destroyer grinned proudly, relaxing for the first time all week.
But his relaxation quickly gave way to embarrassment. A burning, crippling kind.
"I’ve got a couple of samples left from Muffet in your size; I reckon we’ll find something."
Wearing a dress felt strange. Looking at himself in it — even more so. The mirror revealed a strange double, a fake. But — but — a good fake. A beautiful one.
Several different dresses were laid out one after the other, oddly, wrongly. Error frowned, trying to make out the truth. Ordinary, Modest, Simple, normal. Which one would make it clear that this was merely a deal, a bribe? Without looking unattractive, without making a laughing stock of himself. Error thought. Lust, however, simply went through the dresses without hesitation.
Suddenly, his narrowed eyes, after countless fittings, saw something… Strange.
Elegant, sparkling, unusual, flamboyant.
A neckline, pleats, swirls, accentuating the figure.
He didn’t know much about fashion, but something about this one struck a chord with him.
The new dress was different.
‘Lust? What is this?’ The words caught in his throat as he exhaled the question.
“I decided… to let you try it. What do you think?” Lust smiled, blushing.
The Destroyer remained silent, unsure. The more he looked, the more embarrassed he felt, as if he’d been given a different skin.
It’s embarrassing, but… It… It suited him.
But…
“No. Lust, I can’t do this.”
“Why?”
“It’ll be… Flashy. Tacky. As if that’s what I wanted. I’m a Destroyer, after all, not a fashionista.”
Lust fell silent. Then he continued.
“So what? Blow them all away. Go to that bloody party as if that’s exactly what you’d planned all along.”
Error thought for a moment.
“This. I’ll take this.” He pointed his finger at the fanciful folds of fabric, not yet imbued with magic.
*****
The party was lively yet dignified. Tables laden with snacks were arranged to ensure the guests’ comfort, whilst magic transformed the venue—the Omega Timeline—into a cosy, subdued little world. Artificial stars, as per certain conventions, hung high, creating a certain illusion of vast space. Inhabitants of universes and travellers chatted amongst themselves, celebrating the truce.
There were many monsters there.
.
Guardians of the Balance. Geno. Inhabitants. Travellers. All of them were welcome guests at the celebration
But no one expected the next one — the last Guardian, who was late but arrived in the most interesting, intriguing form.
Error stepped out of the portal, and the party froze for a second; the chatter ceased, and silence reigned everywhere. The loud click of heels cut through the silence. The Destroyer gave no sign that the fire of embarrassment was raging and burning him all over. He tried to carry himself as if nothing had changed.
And he was wearing… a new outfit.
The fabric of the dress was dark; its soft folds formed a dark upper section and a lower section sparkling with constellations.
The bodice of the dress enclosed the breasts, transformed into a feminine form, within a soft framework. The fabric draped in a whimsical manner, as if it had never been sewn.
Towards the bottom of the skirt, reflections of stars descended in a shimmering glow — sometimes diamonds imbued with magic that glowed softly and flickered, sparkling and shimmering; sometimes simply condensed magic, forming a phantom of a cosmic nebula in the very places where constellations were scattered.
There were stars at the top too, but few of them—they were scattered like accents, like tiny beacons in the slippery darkness of the fabric.
It seemed as though the cold cosmos had spread across his shoulders and flowed downwards; it was deep, textured. The magic woven into the dress and the skill of its creator created an illusion of depth. The ecto-skin felt like an extension of the landscape, a nebula in the deep darkness.
Taking a glass, he snorted:
‘What are you staring at?’ — his voice faltered on the last note, like an out-of-tune violin. Error grimaced and swallowed the bitterness. The monsters, awkwardly averting their gaze, scattered their attention and returned to their previous activities.
But the atmosphere had clearly shifted.
Nightmare smirked in the distance, but the smirk was a bit lopsided — he hadn’t even expected the Destroyer to break the rules; the sight was too…
Refined.
‘I see you’ve found what you needed,’ Nightmare’s smirk was slimy, like a snake’s coil.
‘Not by your own doing, Octopus.’
‘Is that so? What led you to this, then?’
‘To what? I don’t know what you’re on about.’
‘Oh, what am I on about? Perhaps you should have apologised in the end, Destroyer?’
‘For past grievances?’ Better that than apologising to you, Nightmare. Sorry about that.
Putting on a mask of indifference, Nightmare clicked his tongue.
“ As you wish, glitch. ”
Nightmare gave him a mocking look, expecting a negative reaction from the other. Error responded to the look with an air of arrogance by turning away and heading for the table.
Error’s mind was already on other things.
Unaware of the rules of etiquette, he was clearly trying to adhere to them. It didn’t go down well; for the Destroyer, however, it was perfect.
When their eyes met, he scurried quickly in his uncomfortable heels to the right side of the table.
Crumpling the tablecloth, he exhaled, letting his emotions out. He pulled up the fabric of his dress, cursing and hissing at the uncomfortable, tight-fitting material. He glanced around.
Yes, the look had certainly caused a stir.
The whispers were not long in coming.
The surprised Geno was the first to rush over.
‘Why? What on earth are you wearing?’
Error smiled. Brightly, confidently.
‘I felt like it. I’m wearing what I need to.’
‘What for?’
‘I have to.’ Error insisted. ‘I’ll explain the details, but later.’
‘Fine.’
The conversations continued, and Error even took part in some of them. His awkward appearance only greatly disturbed a few tactless, rude monsters, with whom he now had no desire to deal. The two allotted hours dragged on, long and hard. With ten minutes to go, Error was already thinking of ways to make his escape.
Unexpectedly, someone approached him. And it was not a curious stranger, nor a mocking or fearful rival, nor an indifferent stranger, nor even a surprised acquaintance, but an uncertain, timid enemy. A former enemy.
“— E-Error… Could I… Erm… Draw you?” — Ink, usually self-assured, now looked very flustered. Like a schoolboy asking for an autograph.
It was quite a good way to slip away from view, to leave, without looking humiliated or frightened. Questions and small talk were starting to weigh on him; his fear of crowds was closing in like a beehive. The atmosphere was suffocating. Error followed the artist, rolling his eyes for effect.
*********
Error thought it was a bad idea.
But, sitting next to the easel with a sheepish, downcast gaze, he saw no way back. Ink had brought him here, to the gazebo far from Omega.
‘I’ll just get my tools, hang on!’
Error grimaced. He should have just asked properly why Ink had actually called him over. Unlike Nightmare, who often stuck his nose into other people’s bloody business, the artist was, for a change, more tactful.
Ink, sitting right in front of the easel, was surprisingly quiet, especially for an idiot who was often far too hyperactive. He sat there, painting on his canvas with oil (oil, surely?) paints, occasionally glancing at Error with pupils of different colours, their shades indistinguishable in the subdued twilight. Yellow, pink, green, red? Only the palette of real colours could be distinguished by his half-blind gaze. Error shuddered, hunching his shoulders against the cold.
Apparently, he would simply have to sit here for a couple of hours, since the artist didn’t want to talk. Error shuddered.
The cold, which seemed designed from the outset to make one feel the reality of the world, pierced his trembling bones, already frayed by nerves.
Ink stepped away from the easel, his eyes widening.
“Cold? ”
“What’s it to you, you old fool?”
“You don’t like the cold. Here, take this blanket. ”
A warm, heavy blanket was draped over Error’s shoulders. Error exhaled, unsure how to react—stunned by the unexpected gesture. The artist’s hands gripped his shoulders through the fabric — firmly, yet unobtrusively.
Ink stepped back, getting back to work.
“Y-you idiot! Give me a warning next time!
Error snapped, wrapping himself up.
Why did you even decide to do this? ”
“What? Drawing? ”
“Mocking. ”
The brush traced the frame; Ink clasped his hands in surprise.
“Why do I need do it to you? ”— the question gathered in his eyes.
“ Enemy obligations? ”— Error smiled.
Ink chuckled; Error snorted in reply.
“ Everything’s changed since the truce began. You, me. It’s as if things have heated up, don’t you think? I’d sooner let you mock me than take your mockery seriously. ”
“Why are you drawing then, when I look… like this? ”
“ Like what? ”
“How the hell do you think?!”
“ You look like a god“” Ink simply blurted out.
Error didn’t know what to say. The words stuck in his throat, embarrassment flooding his face.
“A real god” Ink continued. “And gods need to be worshipped. Don’t you think so, Error?” the heart and diamond symbol shot at him, and Error swallowed hard.
“ Is this some kind of fetish of yours? Skeletons in dresses? No? Maybe you’ll find yourself another victim, or did this just happen to come along and you went for it? ”
Ink flushed.
“No… Not at all? I’ve already… Drawn. You. ” the artist replied, choosing his words carefully.
““Why? ”
“ You… Ufff. Very. Handsome. It’s as if you’ve stepped out of yourself right now ”— in Outertal, only the other way round. And… It’s magnificent. Even if you never wear anything like that again.
Ink continued.
“ I’ve always been fascinated by the otherworldly. I suppose it’s woven into my very bones.”
The painting stood as a silent reproach.
“Fancy a look?”
Error froze. Then he approached, stretching his shoulders, which had stiffened from sitting.
Error saw himself. But…. A different one.
Ink moved a little closer. Error pressed his hands to his chest.
Their gazes met — met?
The artist touched the stripes.
Fingers traced his cheekbone, brushed against the stripes, stirred the prickly glitches, coloured his cheeks ultramarine.
Error exhaled. And his cheekbones were clenched.
That didn’t stop the kiss from blossoming.