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somepsychopomp · 5 months ago

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A Fair Contest

So a little bit ago I drafted an idea for an AU where, instead of the golden apple saying 'to the fairest' it says 'to the most amorous king'

And instead of the ladies fighting over the apple, it's Zeus & Poseidon. In order to determine who exactly is the superior lover (and king + who gets bragging rights), the two brothers select one (un)fortunate mortal that both of them shall take to bed...

and the judge they select for their little contest is none other than Odysseus.

(Takes place pre-Trojan War. In fact there's basically no Trojan War to begin with. Also Odysseus is betrothed but not yet married to Penelope)

Consider this chapter 1 of this fic. I really hope I can finish it because I stayed up to almost 4 am writing this, which is amazing because I've been dealing with a major cold and writers block for a while now

Word Count: approx. 4400

There's no smut yet but I do confess to giving Ody a bubble butt. Also in a world where Ruthlessness never happened/is yet to happen... Poseidon has a thing for strong thighs & is absolutely smitten with Odysseus

Also in my head, I'm imagining Neal's character designs but I think I've kept it vague enough for now that you can imagine whatever designs you like

+++

The wedding had been a most splendid sight, with revelry among both men and gods. The small mortal king, Peleus, was of course honored to host such a wide variety of the gods and have them witness his union with the divine Thetis. Zeus gave the couple his own blessing and permitted Dionysus to pour out his strongest wine for the occasion.

Well into the night, the attendees danced to a tireless band and feasted upon the finest foods available. Gods mingled with mortals, some sneaking off with a young maiden or cupbearer for some more illicit fun.

All was going well until the first beam of daylight shone upon a pedestal that no guest noticed before, where a golden apple awaited.

Curious onlookers clustered around it, wondering where it could have come from. The mortals believed the apple to be made of real gold, thinking it was a lavish wedding gift. The gods were equally mystified, knowing that something so perfect and beautiful could only be given by one of their own. Hera pursed her lips at the sight of it.

The king of the gods made his way to the center of the crowd, the other guests parting for him with their eyes averted in deference. He regarded the apple with mild curiosity, having a treasury greater than all of Greece’s wealth upon Olympus. A ribbon was tied neatly to the apple’s stem with a message embroidered upon it.

“To the most amorous king.”

Zeus chuckled at the oddity of this little present and moved to take the apple.

Only for another hand to grab it at the very same moment.

The two gods stared at each other.

“What do you think you’re doing, dear brother?” Zeus asked, the smile falling from his face.

Poseidon rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Taking my prize.”

“You?” Zeus said, his voice dripping with outrage, “You dare defy your king like this?”

Poseidon’s voice turned sharp and cold. “I am lord of the seas! The gift doesn’t say ‘to the king of the skies’, now does it? No, you read it yourself.”

The mortal guests, including King Peleus, began to make their quick exit from the venue. Some of the lesser gods were also making their sneaky escape, fearing the worst was about to come.

Hera approached her husband and wrapped her arms around his own, “Darling, it’s just an apple. If you want one, I’ve got a whole orchard full.”

It was true that Gaea, the very earth itself, gave Hera a grove of enchanted apple trees as her wedding gift. The trees were immune to all illnesses and sprouted fruit of pure gold all year round. In all likelihood, this very apple was stolen from the Queen’s orchard.

The god-king’s most favorite child appeared at his other side in an attempt to soothe his growing rage, “Father, listen to Queen Hera. This is a trick meant to sew discord, nothing more.”

Zeus ignored his daughter Athena as if she weren’t there.

“Let it go, my love.” Hera said, “After all, why have one apple when you could have hundreds?”

Zeus gave her a sharp look, his golden eyes burning with a harsh, radiant glow. The queen of the gods was so taken aback that she shrunk away under the weight of his glare. Zeus said, “I am the god of judgement! No matter how trivial of a token it is, I will not let my brother take what does not rightfully belong to him!”

Poseidon threw his head back and laughed, not one to be daunted, “Oh, is that so? And how will you prove that it doesn’t belong to me, hm?”

He tossed the golden apple into the air, catching it in his other hand. Zeus bared his teeth and snatched Poseidon’s wrist, unwilling to let elder brother even hold the thing.

It was now apparent to all the remaining gods what this was really about.

Neither king would secede when their pride and egos were in jeopardy. For either of them, letting the other take the apple now, after they’ve already started bickering, would mean admitting they were the more feeble lord, a less competent lover. And such a slight against their reputations would never stand.

“Ahem,” a voice said.

A lovely woman with flawless bare skin for all the world to admire, a translucent shawl draped around her arms and roses in her pale tresses, stepped forward.

Zeus barely spared her a glance. “What is it, Aphrodite?”

She smiled, though not without a hint of mischief in her eyes, “I think I have the solution to this little conflict of ours, one that will minimize any substantial damage to our family… or the known world.”

Zeus inclined his head in interest. Poseidon gave the goddess his ear, as well. Zeus let go of his brother and the sea god set the apple down.

Athena bit her lower lip, knowing that Aphrodite’s schemes were almost never more than just that: schemes. Games to amuse herself with. She had something else in mind.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A large, circular mirror gilded in silver and gold appeared in the air behind her. The surface rippled the same way a pond did when met with rainfall.

A beautiful young maiden with a long braid of black hair tended to her garden. The image rippled and was replaced with what was clearly a princess being dressed for the day by her servants. Again, the image shifted and showed a handsome young man in a short chiton as he shepherded his flock of sheep.

Aphrodite said, “Now, I’m sure you two could spend eternity bickering back and forth, boasting of your skills and past conquests, but as the goddess of love myself… why not have more of a practical examination?”

The two brothers exchanged a look, coming to the same conclusion.

“You want us to share a lover?” Poseidon asked.

Zeus added, “And have them decide?”

Aphrodite winked and gave them a cheerful smile. “Well, what do you say? There’s no shortage of pretty boys or girls across the land. Come, take your pick!”

Zeus stroked his beard, a few sparks crackling across his fingertips. Poseidon crossed his arms in contemplation.

“Father, Uncle!” Athena said, trying to catch their attention, “This is madness, can you not see?”

But neither god answered her. Athena was in disbelief.

All this over a golden apple that neither needed or really wanted. This was all about their reputations as accomplished lovers, which they shouldn’t even have considering they were both married men.

And Aphrodite, it was clear she was only doing this to make a story out of it, the way she and her son Eros loved to couple mortals together, only to break them apart. No doubt some terrible fate will befall the chosen victim, no matter who they named the superior lover.

In Athena’s mind, she could only imagine the loser of this game casting some bitter curse upon the poor mortal as revenge. But that was the fun of it for some gods, to see the doomed fate of some poor soul after getting mixed up with the divine.

Behind Zeus’ back, Hera threw her hands into the air before storming off, summoning her chariot pulled by winged horses to return her to Olympus.

Athena threw a disappointed look at Aphrodite before leaving as well, deciding to go where her counsel would be appreciated.

+++

By mid-morning, Odysseus’ back and brow were already covered in sweat as he endeavored to finish the roof over his wedding bed before an unfortunate rain could sully his hard work below.

The house he was raised in was perfectly fine, but with all the servants and guards on top of his family, it was not the largest of castles. It was also an old thing in constant need of repairs. Odysseus always envisioned a proper palace atop Ithaca’s mountains, one where his own family could grow large and have plenty of space to themselves.

So, before the eve of his wedding, he endeavored to complete the house of his dreams for his new wife to enjoy. He started with their olive tree, a living symbol of his devotion to his betrothed. Odysseus labored day and night to carve part of it into one of the four posts for his wedding bed, taking extreme caution to not cut away so much that the tree would die.

The largest bough of the olive tree would overlook one of their windows, with a perfect view of the vast ocean beyond it. Odysseus already carved the other three bed posts and constructed the frame, but there was always more work to do. As the common larborers constructed the foundation and walls for the other rooms in the palace, Odysseus went to work constructing the roof for his bedroom.

With a sizable living tree in such close proximity to his quarters, he trusted no one but himself to complete the project without damaging it.

Taking up hammer and nails, hauling wood and stone, and fitting everything into place almost entirely on his own was unusual for a king. Odysseus knew this, but the labor brought him joy like no other. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, imagining opening the door for the very first time as a married man. He would carry Penelope to their wedding bed, built entirely by his hand, and spend the rest of his life with her.

Focus, he told himself.

For now, Penelope still dwelled in her natal homeland of Sparta. As soon as her new home was completed, she would set sail for Ithaca.

Odysseus wiped the sweat from his brow as the sun beat its rays upon his back. Maybe it was foolish to fear the coming rainfall, but he could see the grayish clouds on the horizon.

By midday, he was hopeful he could have the roof finished by nightfall. As Odysseus dropped from one of the wooden rafters into his nearly-complete bedroom, his tunic must have caught on a nail or perhaps a large splinter. He heard the sharp tearing of fabric and grumbled at the gash across his front. One of the room’s alcoves had some of his clothes, since he didn’t have time yet to build the chests or wardrobe.

Thinking better of a tunic, Odysseus merely replaced it with a rectangular length of cloth fastened at the waist. It was something his mother wove, a lovely shade of blue to match the sea, embroidered with red and white thread.

From somewhere nearby, he heard the familiar clicking of an owl’s beak coming to greet him. He smiled and turned around, draping his tunic over his arm as his mentor approached him in the form of a brown and white speckled owl. She sank her talons into his arm and flapped her wings as if in outrage.

He let her perch on the alcove’s lip as he fasted a leather pauldron to his left shoulder. She hopped back on and Odysseus could feel her talons clench and unclench even through the tough leather.

“What troubles you, Athena?” Odysseus asked.

He set out through the bedroom’s heavy oak doors, finding himself in a long hallway that was finished, but not yet furnished or cleaned.

She spoke into his mind, Sometimes, I wish I could belong to any other family but my own.

Odysseus chuckled. “I’m sorry to hear.”

While he loved his parents and sister dearly, he knew that Athena often butted heads with her siblings and uncle.

Odysseus counted the windows that still needed shutters and curtains, along with the patches in the roof that had yet to be filled in. Farther along, the great hall where they would entertain guests was still only a skeleton. Only half of the supporting beams and columns were installed and the whole place reeked of sweating men.

Athena paid the laborers no mind as the citizens of Ithaca bowed for their king as he walked by.

You know I’m not one for gossip, but I fear something terrible is about to strike the land.

“Is that so?” Odysseus asked, his smile dropping.

Yes, a terrible tragedy yet to come in the form of my Uncle Poseidon and my father.

A servant approached Odysseus with a serving platter. He took a cup of water and drank deeply, and snatched a small bowl of olives before going on his way.

“They’re angry with us?” Odysseus asked, fearing what this might mean for his people.

No, Athena said, accepting an olive and biting into the tender flesh with her sharp beak, Not quite, but their egos are yet again showing themselves. If you find unusual weather patterns in the next few days, pay them no mind.

“Ah, I see.”

In truth, he didn’t understand Athena at all. But she seemed in the mood to vent about her personal feelings and seeing as she didn’t do so often, Odysseus was careful to listen.

Athena clacked her beak in irritation. Odysseus bit into his own olive as he felt a sharp nibble on his ear before she started combing through his damp hair. She must’ve found something in his hair, a bit of dust or a wood chip, because he could feel her tugging at him.

How goes construction on the new palace?

“Every day, I can see the way it’s growing.”

Odysseus passed by a group of men sitting in a loose circle, taking swigs from a water skin as they fanned themselves. One caught sight of Odysseus and they all scrambled to their feet.

Odysseus held out a hand to put them at ease, “Catch your breath if you must. A tired man is more prone to making mistakes, and I will not have any in my new house.”

The men all sighed in relief and went back to their break, waving goodbye as he continued onward. Athena cooed to show her approval in his decision. He thought her mood was improving, but not a moment later, she said, I just can’t believe them sometimes.

“Oh?”

Odysseus thought Athena said her piece already. She clicked his beak right in his ear.

You would think that the god of law and order would have some sense in his head. But no! Apparently my mother Metis still possesses it. If only Father would listen to her, if not me.

Odysseus said nothing, having never heard Athena speak like this before, especially about her father. He thought it best to remain silent; perhaps Athena could complain about Zeus without punishment, but he knew far better.

Athena clicked her beak with a different sense of urgency and Odysseus gave her another olive. She held it in one foot while balancing on the other, dropping the pit when she was finished devouring the flesh.

“You seem awfully worked up,” Odysseus said, “Anything I can do to lift your burdens?”

Athena shook her head. No, I’m afraid this is something that no one man can solve, as frustrating as it might sound.

He crossed the central courtyard and approached the war room, one of the few nearly-complete parts of the palace, where his chief architects and advisors were waiting to update him on their progress.

Though Odysseus was primarily trained in the art of war, he was also well-versed in song and poetry, history, oratory, and arithmetic, all courtesy of Athena. He wasn’t an expert in architecture yet, but he had his own hand in designing the layout of the palace.

“Good day, my friends.” Odysseus said, parting the curtains that served as a makeshift door until the palace was fitted with proper ones.

One of his elder advisors squinted at Athena upon his shoulder. “My liege?”

Before they could go over any potential issues in the construction or their budgetary concerns, Odysseus wandered over to the window and let Athena take off. She disappeared through the trees, though he knew he’d see her again soon.

+++

Despite the fact the sun was about to set and the two godly kings had been bickering all day long, Aphrodite hadn’t lost her patience yet. In fact, she was even reveling in her task at hand.

They moved their business to her abode on Olympus, where her many mirrors were put to good use. Zeus and Poseidon scoured the lands for a suitable judge to measure their sexual prowess, each of them interested in different aspects of what made up a potential lover.

Zeus was pleased with just about any pretty face that breathed, but Poseidon was a bit pickier with appearances. He didn’t want his maidens or young men to be too skinny, and he seemed to have a preference for those with strong legs. Aphrodite could certainly work within those bounds.

At the same time, Poseidon was more open to sharing a lover with some previous sexual experience, thinking it’d make the whole process easier. Zeus wrinkled his nose at the idea and insisted he wanted someone “new”, not wanting to muck about after some vastly lesser mortal man had his way with their chosen judge.

Aphrodite agreed that was a good point, so instead of letting the two kings squabble, she put her talents as a matchmaker to good use. After a brief consultation, she put together a list of minimum requirements that satisfied both gods.

One, their shared lover had to be attractive, preferably with appealing legs.

Two, they had to be virginal.

Three, they all agreed that the mortal should come from high standards, so some form of royalty. They could be a princess or a prince, or even someone lesser than that, but anyone of a noble bloodline would be preferable to a random maiden. Of course, both kings had their fair share of peasant-girl chasing, but for such an important competition, Aphrodite understood their concerns well.

And lastly, the judge should be someone intelligent. Someone who wouldn’t buckle under the pressure of their assigned task and would be able to use not just their body, but logic to determine the true and indisputable winner.

No doubt each god had their plans to bribe the judge, but who wouldn’t?

If it was Aphrodite competing for the apple, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a few tricks of her own. An idiot might be easy to bribe, but that also meant they’d be easy for the competition to bribe as well. To each of the male gods, an intelligent lover would certainly be able to recognize a superior bribe.

“Sadly, your stipulations exclude Helen of Sparta,” Aphrodite said, waving away the image of Helen in her largest mirror, “She’s had children by now, though she’s still quite lovely.”

Poseidon made a noncommittal sound, as if he might reconsider, but Zeus urged Aphrodite to move onto the next candidate with a flick of his wrist. The two of them sat before her best mirror, looking almost comical in her rose-colored, dove-ingrained armchairs.

They went through a few more potential candidates, including Penelope of Sparta and Ctimene of Ithaca. Neither god was very impressed by her choices, but just as Aphrodite was about to move onto the next candidate, Poseidon held out a hand.

“Wait a moment,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “Who is that in the back?”

“Oh?” Aphrodite asked. She returned to the image of Ctimene. She was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, her veil fluttering in her wake as her handmaidens walked with her. They seemed to be exiting some great ruin, but on closer inspection, the gods could see men at work. They were building a great palace, it seemed.

Well, great by the standards of mortals.

Behind Ctimene, a bare-chested young man held out a hand and seemed to be directing a group of others. Aphrodite’s mirror rippled and showed them the young man in greater detail, leaving young Ctimene out entirely.

“Oh,” Zeus said.

Aphrodite concealed her eager smile, more thrilled than ever at this sudden twist. She examined the young man’s features, including the sharp angles of his nose, his dense locks of dark brown hair, and his high cheekbones. He bore a striking resemblance to Ctimene. As the goddess of love, there were a few other details Aphrodite could parse out just by looking at him, but she would conceal her thoughts for now.

She said, “Why, that would be none other than King Odysseus of Ithaca!”

Though the young ruler was about the same height as his sister, he was no slight-of-frame weakling. His broad shoulders complimented his strong chest and arms, certainly the build of a warrior. His stomach was a flat plain and below his garments, well muscled thighs teased them almost playfully.

A pale scar ran along the inside of one of his thighs, but it only added to his character. Though Poseidon maintained his interest, Zeus scoffed.

“King, you say?” Zeus nudged his brother, “You know what that means.”

Poseidon was still appraising Odysseus’ thighs, “Plenty of whores in and out of his bed?”

“Actually!” Aphrodite said, clapping her hands, “You’ll be beyond pleased to know that young Odysseus here… is virginal.”

Now that had both gods’ attention. The King of the Gods seemed incredulous.

“How old is he?” Zeus asked.

“Twenty years, my dearest king.”

“And he’s still a virgin?” Poseidon asked, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. “Why? Is he stupid?”

Aphrodite giggled behind her hand, “He’s determined to save himself for marriage, like a maiden! But it can’t be helped. I do believe he’s Athena’s pupil, after all. And I’m sure she holds him to what she perceives as a high standard.”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, “Whatever the case may be, he’s remained celibate thus far. Perfectly ripe and ready to be plucked, if you would.”

The gods of the sea and sky shared a look.

Zeus said, “Show us more.”

Aphrodite was more than happy to do exactly that. She waved her hand and the stationary image of Odysseus began to move. There was no sound to accompany the vision, but all three of them remained silent as they watched Odysseus work.

He carried multiple rucksacks full of supplies up the spiral staircases of his house while other laborers stopped to eat their dinner. He seemed more than intent to get somewhere, not stopping until he came across a large bedroom with the roof still letting in sunlight in a few patches. Interestingly, while the bed was large and well made, it lacked a mattress or rug thrown over the rungs. Perhaps that would come later.

Odysseus hopped out the window, seemingly ignorant to the fact there was a steep drop right below him, as he grabbed hold of a tree bough and climbed into the roof. It looked like he was intent on using every last bit of sunlight to his advantage as he finished laying out the clay shingles.

The sweat across his body glistened like stardust as the sky above him glowed with the most beautiful shades of red and gold. He put his strong body to use by covering the few bare patches of his rooftop, stopping only to retrieve a shallow clay bowl from his pack, filling it with oil and floating a wick on top before igniting his lamp to give him a bit more light.

Zeus snapped his fingers. In an instant, Hermes was fluttering at his side.

“Yes, Father?”

Without taking his eyes off of Odysseus, Zeus said, “Contact Helios. Tell him to wait a while longer before dusk arrives.”

Hermes spared Odysseus a brief glance before nodding and flying off. Though the mortal didn’t seem to notice, the sun did indeed stop setting.

Odysseus set down his hammer to dab his sweat-soaked face with a rag. He was tiring now, but intent on finishing his job if the determined look in his eyes was any indication.

Poseidon held up one hand and curled a finger toward himself.

The hammer that Odysseus just set down began sliding toward the edge of the roof.

“Brother…” Zeus warned.

Poseidon said, “Trust me.”

Odysseus snatched the hammer before it could fall, but found himself quite close to the edge now.

Poseidon cupped his hands around his mouth and blew softly. A wind coming off Ithaca’s coast kicked up, carrying the salty scent of the ocean with it. As Odysseus stood with his hammer, he raised his other hand to shield his eyes from the sudden gust of wind that ruffled his hair and clothing.

Aphrodite’s eyes widened, instantly recognizing the game Poseidon was playing. She added her own flare as well, using just the slightest twirl of her finger to undo the belt holding young Odysseus’ garments in place.

The poor young king seemed baffled by his sudden misfortune, moving swiftly to capture his garment before the wind could steal it away. Aphrodite froze the image without being told to do so, but she was quite proud of her timing.

Odysseus stood in all his mortal splendor, revealing his tan skin scarred by past adventures. He was healthy, with the body of an athlete and his arm outstretched to better display the toned muscles under his skin.

“What a surprise!” Aphrodite said with mirth, tracing her finger along the surface of the mirror, “Look at his little dimples!”

Indeed, a twin set of dimples rested over his lower back, no longer concealed by his clothing. But that was not all. Some men were cursed to be rather flat in their rear, leaving them looking awkward or incomplete at times, but Aphrodite was equally pleased that Odysseus had something worth looking at below his dimples. In addition to the well-defined muscles in his shoulders and back, he sported the most grabbable bottom.

If Odysseus was not doomed to be the plaything between kings, Aphrodite might have been tempted to take him for herself.

She held out her hands as if Odysseus was nothing more than an exotic animal on display. Poseidon was leaning forward in his chair, his head tilted with interest. Zeus, too, seemed sold at last. His golden eyes sparkled more brightly than usual as he traced over the little king’s backside. He ran his tongue over his teeth.

Aphrodite smiled, “So, my dears… what do you say? Is Odysseus of Ithaca to be your judge?”

...

Read an excerpt of Chapter 2 here!

#epic the musical #epic odysseus #odysseus of ithaca #zeus epic #epic poseidon #poseidon x odysseus #zeus x odysseus #Odysseus: haha I'm in danger #also instead of Penelope unraveling the shroud...#it's Ody tearing apart his palace to delay his wedding until he can trick the gods into leaving him alone #For the Fairest AU

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dodger432101 · 10 days ago

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The Doctor calls - Lux Imperator/Mr Ring-A-Ding x Reader Part 10

[THIS PART CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DO NOT READ. The finale is here! I hope you're ready >:)]

It's been 3 months since Lux first revealed himself to you. Thankfully for your sanity, and Mr Pye's, nothing much has happened since his film reel was held hostage. Your God isn't as worried whenever you leave Palazzo, with you taking more short trips outside. He always greets you at the door like a happy little dog, most of the time to see if you've gotten anything for him (you usually do, just to see his face light up).

Reginald has gone through phases in his grief. For a while after that day, he wouldn't even put the reel down. Lux was banned from his projector room for a good few weeks. No amount of apologies, guilt tripping, begging, or tricks worked until he finally sat down against the door and actually talked to your boss. Only then was he allowed near the man and his film, which he used to bring the separated couple together to make up for the scare he gave him. Up until last week, Mr Pye had been better with distancing himself from the reel, leaving it unattended on his desk, some days going home without it. Though now, he seems to be missing her greatly. He hasn't left the picture house for a few days, having set up another mattress in his booth. While it worried you (less so Lux, he just wanted the guy out), the both of you let it be. You know you'd be just like him if anything happened to your lover.

Today, you wake up to said lover asleep on top of you. He's only in his white shirt -with half the buttons undone- and a pair of red heart boxers. His head is resting on your chest, one hand holding yours while the other has flopped down your side. The scruff along his chin had started to grow more over the months, so there's now a razor on your desk to keep it short. Turns out the God of Light wasn't fond of the idea of having a beard. To make things difficult, he also didn't like having to shave, so it's become a routine for you to sit him on the sink in the toilets and help him out every other week. If you leave it any longer he starts whining and poking at his face until you do it.

You brush your free hand along the right side of his face, a tired smile on your lips as you admire him. He looked so peaceful in sleep, his mouth slightly open, antennae rising and falling with his breaths, left cheek squished between your cleavage through the t-shirt you'd worn to bed. After a few minutes he lets out a cute little squeak as his head leans into your touch, eyes fluttering open and immediately finding your face. With a sleepy growl he tilts his head further, his chin now on your chest. “Mmm.. Good morning, gorgeous.” Oh, he sounds so good in the mornings. That gravelly, deeper tone to his voice is divine music to your ears. Your hand moves from his cheek to the back of his head, petting through his hair, getting you a pleased rumble from his chest.

“Good morning, my adorable sleepy God.” Lux has his eyes closed again, soaking in your warmth and affection as he fully wakes up. Eventually he pushes himself up, straddling your stomach as he gazes lovingly down at you. He brings your hand that's joined to his up so he can press a kiss to each finger. “Feeling affectionate today, Mr Imperator?”

He chuckles at the use of his surname. “I always will be for you, my pretty lady. How could I not, with such a radiant work of art in front of me? I'd be a fool not to worship your beauty.” The hand not holding yours is running down your side, feeling your rib cage and waist before it slips under your shirt, travelling back up, only to stop right before it reaches your breasts. That cheeky lopsided smirk on his face tells you it's intentional, to tease you. He wants to play.

With a light sigh you raise your arms above your head, batting your eyelashes at the God on top of you. His smirk widens to a grin at the invitation, scooting onto your lap so you can sit up before he helps you out of your t-shirt. You're immediately pushed back down, layed out so Lux can crawl up to your chest. Though once he gets there you wrap your arms around him and flip over, grinning down at the shocked God. “You worship me plenty, my love. Let me take the reins this time, hm?” He's got a dark blue blush covering his cheeks now, even the tips of his ears are a few shades darker. Where there were once black pie pupils, vibrant gold hearts now stare up at you.

“Go ahead, angel, I'm all yours.”

“I'll make sure of that. Ladies,” At the snap of your fingers, two strips of film fly out towards you. Lux flicks his eyes between them and you, a truly lustful expression on his face. Tilting your head gets a response of enthusiastic nodding. “Keep his arms above his head for me, please.” The film does as you command, one on each of his wrists as they pin him down. While Lux tests the grip they have on him, you undo the rest of the buttons left on his shirt so you can get at his body. The hair on his chest hasn't expanded much, staying at a scruffy length that feels divine against your nipples when you ride him chest to chest. You leave a trail of kisses from his collarbone, down his chest and stomach -following the trail of hair-, to the waistband of his boxers. It's then that you decide you really want to tease him.

His head is layed back on the pillows, breaths already getting heavy just from the kisses you've given him. He flexes his fingers as there's a pause, waiting for you to move onto his lower half. When nothing happens, he glances down with an impatient little pout.

Just as his eyes meet yours, you run your tongue over the outline of his cock through his boxers. You watch him sharply inhale before he groans at the sight and feeling, hips lifting in an attempt to grind further into your mouth. That's quickly shut down as you grab his hips and press them back onto the mattress. A wanton moan flies from his mouth as you suck on his tip, adding to the wet patch that had been forming. “Fuck sunshine, take them off, please.” He's trying desperately to buck his hips, huffing his frustration out as your grip on them remains firm. Instead of doing what he asks, you move to sit right on his cock, grinding slowly as you give him a mischevious smile. His antennae catch your attention as they twitch each time you rub against the tip. How have you not played with them before?

Lux’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you lick his right antenna, whimpering pathetically at the strong burst of arousal that hits him in the stomach. “Ohhh, you like that, handsome?” You get a shaky ‘uh huh’, so you take the left stalk into your mouth and circle the top of it with your tongue. The borderline yelp he lets out echoes in the small room, his whole body shuddering. He wriggles against the grip his harbinger has on his wrists, to get away or closer you can't tell, so you pull your lips off his antenna and plant a kiss on his forehead. “Doing ok, hun?” You're answered by him grinding up into you, panting heavily with an adorable desperate look on his face.

“Please, angel, please…” His arms flex against the film restraining them, whining in frustration and need as he stares up at you with a lidded gaze. You can feel him throbbing through his boxers and your shorts. Oh, you've really got him riled up.

As the merciful human you are, you shuffle down and release his cock from the fabric restraint, pulling his boxers completely off his legs before you lift them onto your shoulders. Now he's well and truly trapped; between the film on his arms and you holding onto his legs, he can't even move his hips in this position. Oh, but he loves the helpless feeling, especially knowing he's under your control.

You make sure he's watching as you kiss your way up his length, base to tip, your eyes staring right into his. He's sweating at this point, eyebrows furrowed as he pants out guttural moans. The head of his cock is smeared with clear pre-cum, even more beading at the slit as he twitches each time your lips touch him. Taking him into your mouth, you manage to get about half of it down before your gag reflex is agitated. Lux doesn't seem to mind, his head is back on the pillow, mouth open in a silent moan, but you hear his breath stuttering as he gets used to the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock. God, you'd forgotten how thick he was. The weight feels heavenly on your tongue as you sit still, eyes falling shut, relaxing your jaw as you feel more pre-cum leak down your throat. When he begins to shift you move, slowly drawing back until his tip is right at your lips before you swallow it down. Your God's legs lock behind your head, keeping you on his length. Well, that's alright. You weren't planning on letting him go for a while.

Lux feels about ready to pass out as you bob your head up and down, going lower and lower as your gag reflex gets used to the new intrusion slipping into your throat. Soon enough your nose is getting buried in the tuft of hair at the base of his cock every time you swallow him down. He can barely moan anymore, the overwhelming sensation is taking all the air from his lungs (the lungs he totally has). As his climax draws near, his legs flop back down onto your shoulders, his panting getting heavier and heavier. It feels like you're draining him of power, he's never felt so weak before but he loves it. He loves the fact he's trapped against you, loves the way you seem to be doing this more for your enjoyment than his. He'd happily lie here forever as you sucked him dry, over and over again, all you had to do was ask. If you asked for the universe he'd give it to you just to see you smile at him. He truly was infatuated with you.

“Angel, fuck, gonna cum.. can I, please? Pretty please dolly, let me cum down your throat.” The desperate, breathless way he begs has your pussy clenching around nothing. You pull off of his cock, ignoring his pathetic whine as you press your lips against his tip.

“Go on, Lux, cum for me.” Then you take him down to the base again, smiling as you feel him arch his back from the sudden burst of pleasure. The twitching of his length finds a rhythm as it pumps a multitude of thick ropes of cum straight down your throat, you don't even get a taste of it with how far his cock is in your mouth. When his back falls onto the mattress and he stops throbbing, you carefully manoeuvre off of his cock, trying not to overstimulate him. You wave away the film strips as you crawl on top of him, wanting to make sure he's alright.

Oh, wow, he really looks spent. His head is turned to the side, left cheek on the pillow, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He doesn't move his arms even after he's released. There's beads of sweat covering his face. Even though he looks completely worn out, his expression is lax, calm, and definitely satisfied. You lean down to kiss along the side of his face you have access to, mumbling sweet nothings to him as he comes back down to Earth. After a short while he stretches his arms and legs, turning his head to meet your lips in a soft kiss. You lift a hand to run your fingers through the tuft of hair behind his ear, getting a pleased growl out of him at the gentle petting. Lux brings his left hand to cup your chin as he leans back, giving you a warm smile. His eyes are back to gold pie cuts.

You both lie together for a minute, your head next to his on the pillow while your hand traces patterns on his chest. The God of Light then runs his hand down your front, dipping into your shorts to trace around your pussy. “Well gee, sunshine, if you get any wetter we'll be needing a boat in here!” That gets a full chest laugh from you, the distraction allowing Lux to turn you on your back and slip your shorts off. He positions himself between your legs, pulling his shirt off his shoulders while he waits for your giggles to calm down before he winks at you -comical *ding!* Included- and takes his thumb into his mouth, blowing down on it. His, once softened, cock rises back up, throbbing when it reaches full mast. “Neat party trick, eh toots?” The super proud look on his face makes you chuckle.

“Yeah, we can't do that.. though maybe don't do it at any parties we ever attend, you'll likely traumatise people.”

That gets his signature giggle out of him. “Fiiine, I'll save it just for you, then.” Your God leans down to kiss up your stomach, his lips skimming between your breasts as his hands cup them so he can squish them against his cheeks. “I'll never get over how soft you are, angel.” He rubs his scruff across your skin, humming in delight at the feeling before he moves back down to grind against your soaked cunt. “And this..” Lux groans at the gasp you let out as his tip catches on your clit, making sure his whole length is covered in your juices. “My own little taste of heaven, right between your legs.” He takes himself in one hand, slowly pushing into you as he watches your expression. Your bottom lip is between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as your God fills you. With more than half of him inside of you, you can't fight the moans that push up your throat. “Oh, there you go, sunshine. Sing for me, pretty lady. Let me hear just how good I make you feel.” As he bottoms out, he grinds his pelvis down, both your heads tilting back at the pleasure. Then, he puts both hands on your hips as he pulls out halfway, his tongue running over his lips when he sees just how much you've drenched his cock. The sight drives him wild. His grip on your hips tightens ever so slightly before he slams back into you, grinning at the moans he gets from you as he sets a slow but rough rhythm.

You're too focused on the way his cock rubs into your walls to hear the strips of film get closer again, only noticing their presence as they wrap around your arms and drag you so your back is against the wall. This separates you from your lover, making you whine at the loss of his cock inside of you. Though you don't have to wait long for him to pounce back onto you and drive himself into your pussy again. With you against the wall he can lean right into your face, locking your lips while he gets his rhythm back. The film strips let your arms go and retreat again. Your unrestrained hands fly straight to his shoulders, holding on as his thrusts rock you, your back quickly starting to complain as the surface of the wall digs in. You tap his shoulders, smiling as he instantly pulls back from the kiss and stops moving.

“Angel? You ok?”

“Mhm, just my back. It's not happy with the wall.” Lux hums, frowning at the notion you're uncomfortable. He reaches behind him for one of the pillows on the mattress, slotting it between your back and the wall.

“That any better?” You wriggle around, testing it. The pillow does a good job of cushioning you from the rough surface behind it.

“Much better, hun. Thank you.” As an extra show of your gratitude, you squeeze your walls down around his cock. That gets a growling moan from your God as he picks up from where he left off, his forehead leaning onto yours so he can stare right into your eyes. Your arms wrap behind his head, your gaze becoming unfocused while his thrusts pick up in tempo.

Lux chuckles at your cock-drunk expression, moving one of his hands from your hips to cup your cheek. “Still with me, sunshine? Am I fucking you that good? Can't even concentrate? Oh, dolly, I won't last long, my love. Never can when I'm inside of you. It's like you were meant for me, built for my pleasure.” Another kiss has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head as your orgasm steadily approaches. “Just as you're mine, angel, I'm yours. All yours. I'll do anything in my power to satisfy you.” He groans against your lips when you tighten around him again. “Fuck, easy on the grip sweetie pie. I've already had one, I'm making damn sure cum around me.”

With your climax building and building, you manage to gather enough concentration to lift your hand. It runs over his head, down to his antennae. He's too lost in pleasure to notice until you begin rubbing at them. His arms instantly wrap around your thighs to push you nearly into a press, his head collapsing onto your shoulder as he starts rutting into you. He's growling again, the sound close to animalistic, blending with his desperate thrusts to make you feel like you're being ravaged by a beast. An under 3ft beast at that, but feral all the same. You rest your head on his, still playing with an antenna. “Gonna cum for me again, Lux? Two in a row and not one for me..” His angle shifts, the tip of his cock bullying your sweet spot. You're right on the edge, and by the panting against your shoulder so is he. “Pathetic little God, go on. Fill me up, honey. At least give me that.”

The degradation has him whimpering into your shoulder. His thrusts stutter, slamming into you once, twice, before he buries himself to the hilt with a high pitched moan. One arm releases your thighs so he can rub furiously at your clit, grinding his hips into you as you're filled to the brim with ropes of cum. Only when he feels you clamp down on him with your orgasm do his hips cease their movement and his hands begin massaging your thighs. He's found that it helps reduce your limping after rigorous fucks like this. As you catch your breath and come down, he pulls you back onto the bed, calling his harbinger to assist him. Your top half is supported by them, gently laying you down with the pillow that had been behind your back being moved under your head. Lux gently moves your hand off his antenna, interlocking your fingers as his free hand rubs into the plush flesh of your sides. “Still a pathetic little God to you, sunshine?”

With a breathless chuckle you run a hand through your hair, eyes closed in bliss. “Mmm, that whimpering was quite ungodly of you dear.” A quick thrust has you gasping. “Ok, ok! You're just a little God, my little God.” That gets a smile from him. He pulls out so he can clean you up, gently pushing you down whenever you try to sit up and help, giggles echoing around the room as cleaning you turns into wrestling you. Eventually he has his harbinger pin you to the bed, smiling triumphantly at your fake grumpy frown. A lightbulb pops over his head as he's wiping you down with tissues, eyes going to your pussy. Oh, right, he only got one orgasm out of you. “Lux, hun, it's ok. My legs already feel pretty weak, I don't think I'd be walking if you gave me another.” He looks unimpressed at that, wanting to give you what you gave him, but he sighs lightly with a nod before he snaps his boxers back onto his body and moves to the bag of clothes on the floor that you two share.

“Very well, darling. What are you feeling today? Simple or pattern-y?” He takes out two dresses; one light blue, the other white with orange and yellow flowers. You point at the flowery one, your God nodding his approval. He puts it aside with matching underwear (for a God of Light he had quite an eye for fashion) before pulling a black pair of slacks from the bag and putting them on. It's a good thing he fits in kid’s clothes, you could tell he likes having a break from the Ring-A-Ding outfit now and again. He'll even wear alternate outfits in front of Mr Pye now. With his lower half redressed he brings you your clothes, helping you into them. Yes, of course you get plenty of kisses before the majority of your skin is hidden behind fabric.

While you get to your feet and fix your wild hair, Lux slips his white shirt back on. He only gets 3 buttons done before he glances up at you, immediately distracted by your beauty. You look ethereal to him, prettier than anything he's ever seen; alien lifeforms, celestial bodies, any flora or fauna, they all were nothing compared to you. His stillness catches your eye so you look down, giggling when you're met with his lovestruck gaze. “Oh, honey, would you like a hand?” He blinks out of his stupor as you kneel down, fingers brushing his aside so you can do up his shirt for him. His eyes flick from your hands to you, pupils back to gold hearts as he's captivated by you again. Once all the buttons are done up you cup his scruffy cheeks, smiling as hearts float up from his head.

“You look lovely, my angel. I dare say you'd put any flower on this planet to shame.” He gets a kiss on the forehead for his sweet talk, his antennae perking up at the feeling.

You gently squish his cheeks before letting him go and standing up again. “And you look very handsome, Lux. Why don't we get some breakfast? Hopefully we didn't wake up Mr Pye..” Your cheeks turn pink at the thought of your boss hearing you having sex with your God. It was bad enough when he caught you two kissing, something he's repeated multiple times over the past few months.

Lux smirks and rolls his eyes, obviously not as bothered by the idea of being caught. He holds his hand out to you, pressing a kiss to the back of yours when you take his. “Breakfast sounds good, sunshine. You'll need the energy after that wake-up call!” You're led out of your projector room by your giggling lover, shushing him as you walk past Mr Pye’s theatre.

The rest of the day goes by quickly. You stay in, doing any odd jobs your boss gives you while wrangling a mischievous prankster God so he doesn't mess with the older man. Lux plays his film reel, letting both you and Reginald see Helen again. Just like last time, she said she'd wait for him as she stepped back up on the stage and returned to film. Even seeing her doesn't cheer Mr Pye up completely, but he at least had a smile on his face when you and Lux left him alone. After a few rounds of chess in the evening (most won by your God, he's getting better each time) you settle into bed. The God of Light snuggles up next to you on the mattress, just in his boxers now. Cuddling with you kept him warm enough in the small room. Your lips meet in a slow kiss, his hand on your hip and yours on his cheek. It's just what you need to wind down, your limbs getting heavier as you make out with him. His hand moves up to your back as he breaks the kiss, nuzzling his pig nose into yours. “Come on, you can barely keep your eyes open.” He chuckles quietly as you tiredly grumble, shifting your hand so it's now around his waist. “Angel.. one more thing before you go to sleep..”

“Yea, sweetheart?” God you really do sound tired. How are you this worn out? You didn't even leave Palazzo today! Lux isn't looking at you now, the crease in his eyebrows telling you he's worried about something. “What is it, hun? I know that look now.” The edges of his mouth twitch up at that. Of course you knew something was up.

He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. “You know how Reginald and Helen were married? Do you think.. we could do something like that?” Did you say you were tired? You're wide awake now! You blink rapidly, leaning your head up to look at him better. “Well, I mean, I've asked Mr Pye about it and he showed me the ring he got. It's just a plain gold band, I don't see what's so special about it. He said all married couples get them! That's so boring!” As you giggle, your hand goes back to cup his cheek, getting him to look at you. “Maybe.. we could have rings, or something. Something I could keep with me to remind me of you.” Ah, that's why he mentioned it.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. I can look for something tomorrow, can't promise anything fancy with the money I have but-” You're cut off by him kissing you, his arms wrapping around your neck. He's smiling, you can feel him fighting it down to lock your lips together.

That smile becomes a grin as he leans back. “Thank you. I'll be happy with whatever you get.” His cheek rests on the pillow again, watching you also settle down, your sleepiness coming back after that surprise runs its course. “I love you so much. Goodnight, my angel.” His voice is just a whisper, to not break the warm silence that's filled the room. You cuddle your lover up to you, mumbling out a ‘goodnight, I love you too’ as you quickly fall asleep, looking forward to tomorrow.

You're woken up by Lux's movement. He's sitting up in bed, antennae alert, facing a random wall. “Love? What's going on?” You groggily sit up as well, concerned by the odd behaviour. He quickly turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders to keep you from moving.

“Someone's gotten in. I think it's only 2 people, I'll go scare ‘em off. It's late, sunshine, you stay here.” He gives you a quick peck on the lips before leaving the mattress, snapping his fingers as the Mr Ring-A-Ding clothes pop onto his body before he runs out of the projector room. Of course, you're now on edge. Even with a God in the building, the thought of multiple potential strangers roaming around has your nerves alight. You have to get up, there's no way you'll be able to go back to sleep until Lux returns. The lights are just bright enough for you to read the clock. He was right, it is late, not even dawn yet. While you stretch the fatigue from your limbs you hear the Ring-A-Ding theme begin to play. Of course, he was going to use his disguise to fool them into a false sense of security before spooking them. You'll allow it, as long as no one is trapped or killed he can play his little pranks.

When the theme plays a second time, you can hear two voices singing. One sounds much grumpier than the other. Mr Pye must be helping the strangers out. With a sigh, you head down to his theatre. He might need assistance dealing with your God. You're still in the dress you'd worn today, you were too tired to get changed and it was warm enough tonight that you didn't mind the lack of fabric right on your legs. Once you get to your boss’ theatre you peek your head in. There's voices coming from the projector room, you recognise Lux but not the other male voice, nor the female one. You cautiously walk up the steps, only halfway up when there's panicked shouts and a flash of light. Quickly stepping up to the top, you only see your God and a frightened Mr Pye in the room.

“Lux Imperator, what the fuck did you do?!”

He jumps at the sound of your voice, running over to the gap in the wall to jump up so he's face to face with you. “Angel, go back to our projector room. Don't come out until I'm there.” The serious tone and expression don't help the nerves that have been steadily growing since you woke up.

“Why? Who were those people? And what the hell did you do to them?”

His hands grasp your shoulders. “The Doctor. He's here, because of me.” An ice cold dread grips your heart. For 3 months, the thought of that Time Lord, God killer, had left your mind. Now he was here for Lux. He's going to kill your God. “I've trapped him in film, for now at least. I'm sorry sunshine but I don't think it'll hold him. I don't quite know what to do.”

“Well, how did he know you were here? Surely there's not some God radar he has.” Lux snorts out a laugh, letting go of your shoulders to lean on the wall.

“Those missing people. The lady he was with mentioned them.”

“Let them go then! Maybe he'll leave once they're out!”

“I really doubt that, dolly, he doesn't exactly have a track record of letting stuff go just like that!”

You let out a shaky sigh, hands on your hips. Surely there was some way to get him out, make him go away. Of course, you have no idea what you're up against, what a Time Lord really was. You hadn't asked Lux about it after the first time he brought up the Doctor, thinking you'd never have to worry about him. Just as you go to suggest something else, something lands on the stage. Lux instantly jumps down and motions for you to crouch, hiding with you behind the top seats. It seems he was right, even the power of a God was no match for this Time Lord. You and Lux listen to the Doctor and the lady he was with talk. His hand is burned. Time Lord medicine? Bi-generation? You really were over your head here. You glance over at your God, his eyes are wide as he peeks over the seat.

The Doctor is made of light! Light that made a body! This was his chance out of Palazzo, he wouldn't be trapped here waiting for you to come back. He could leave with you! Explore the world! He quickly sneaks down the steps towards them, too excited by this opportunity to hear you hiss his name. Your God is walking right up to the man that could herald his demise.

“I like it!”

You peek over the side of the chair you're behind, watching what happens. This Doctor.. well he looked like any other human. What was so special about him?

“Whatever you have planned, Lux, I've matched you. Now, let Reginald and Belinda go.” So he wasn't aware of you. And why did he think Mr Pye was being kept here?

“But you're the most amazing creation, my Doctor, sir. You have light within you that builds a body. No wonder the other Gods of the pantheon fell. They were saving you, for me!” Ohh you didn't like the sound of that. As you slowly stand up, Lux whips around. “Get ‘im, girls!” Two strips of film fly out from the projector room towards the Doctor. As he's dragged up the stairs you step back, Belinda racing up the side stairs to you. The Time Lord is hoisted up against the wall, light illuminating Lux on the stage. “What's the one thing I never do? Let the light of a Time Lord build me a body!” What the actual fuck was happening? You keep Belinda behind you, hoping that with you close nothing will happen to her. “‘Cos that's what I never do, my lovely friends, I never go outside!” There's a gold light coming from the Doctor, making you take a step back.

“Lux, what the hell are you doing to him? Let him go!” That gets his attention away from the restrained man. He grins at you, that same sickly joy on his face from when he killed your co-worker.

“Angel, I'll be able to leave the picture house with a real body! I won't have to wait for you to return each time! I'll go with you, this whole world will be ours!”

As much as you liked the idea of showing Lux the world, you didn't like what was happening. That feeling increases as the Doctor screams, the light from his body flowing down to Lux. You turn to him, glaring at the film around his arms. “Hey, I'm your God's angel, listen to me! Let him go!” They shift at your command but ultimately don't obey. It seems Lux's influence over them is stronger than yours. Go figure. The Doctor gives you a weak but grateful smile nonetheless.

“Bel, remember? Lizzie, Hassan, they told us what to do.. told us the plot.” The.. plot? Who was he talking about? You silently watch the two speak before Belinda runs off. ‘What time it is’. What did that mean?

“Behold!” You're snapped from your thinking as you turn back to Lux. Holy shit he's growing. Yeah, he'd changed his size before but this.. his entire form was morphing. He was becoming 3D. “Oohh, oh the detail!” Right, no point staring at your lover. What time was it? You look through the gap in the wall at the clock. It didn't seem like a special time. Then you hear banging on the door.

“Mr Pye! I need matches, this whole thing has got to burn!” Time seems to slow as you look at the clock again. It was dawn. The sun would be up by now. They're going to blow up the films, blow a hole in the wall. The Doctor might not be able to kill Lux -how would you kill light?-, but you know what the sun will do.

You're still going to lose him.

You sprint through the building to the room the reels are stored in, every door in your way flinging open before you reach it, like your God's harbinger was desperately trying to aid you however it could. Belinda runs to you, trying to get you to go back the way you came. But if she's here.. You get past her, adrenaline pushing you forward. Just as you feared, Mr Pye comes out from the storage room before shutting the door. He doesn't move away from it. Grabbing his hand, you frantically drag him from the door, the both of you being pushed back as an explosion blasts through that room. You pull him to his feet once you're able to get up, checking him over quickly. He's alive, he's ok. Finally, you take a deep breath. If you'd been any slower, he would've.. your boss would be-

A sob forces its way out of your throat as you hug him tightly. “Why..” You can only get that one word out, clinging to Reginald as your crying snaps him out of his head, his arms immediately around you in a protective embrace.

“I'm sorry, my dear, I'm so sorry. I saw Helen.. she told me to find her.”

“But she didn't!” You hold onto his shoulders as you pull away from the hug. He wipes at your cheeks gently, frowning at your distress. “She's said every time that she'll wait for you! Why would she ever want you to.. to do that to yourself?”

The older man tears up with a shaky sigh. “I.. I miss her so much, even though I've seen her so many times. I think.. I think that was what I wanted, I suppose. I'm sorry, you're right, she wouldn't have wanted that to happen. She must've sent you to save me from myself.” You manage a smile at that. Past his head, you can still see the light from the Time Lord.. no. No no no, that's sunlight!

Breaking away from Mr Pye you dash back to the theatre, fighting back your tears so you can see where you're going. You burst into the room, barely glancing at the Doctor on the floor. “LUX!”

He's grown to be about halfway to the ceiling by now, face turned to the sun, eyes gold and smile wide as he soaks in the light. At the sound of your cry, however, that smile drops as he watches you run down the stairs Belinda had gone up mere minutes ago. He looks down at his see through hands, breathing getting lighter as he's hit with the realisation of what's happening. He's fading, he's going to leave you here. He tries to move his legs, move out of the sun, but as they're still 3D they don't obey his rubber hose top half. His hands clench into fists, eyes squeezing shut as he tries in vain to fight the energy he was absorbing. All he can do is slow the process. He looks down at you, now on the stage with him, unclenching his left hand to reach out to you. “Angel, I'm sorry, I can't stop it.”

Your hand goes through his as you reach up. Tears are flowing down your cheeks as you try again, over and over, using both hands now, desperate for the reassuring touch of your God. After 7 attempts your arms flop to your sides, hanging your head as you begin to really sob. You were going to lose your lover. There was nothing you could do. Lux watches you silently, coming to terms with the hopelessness you both are feeling right now. With his hand still stretched out to you, he takes a deep breath. “Sunshine. Look at me, my love.” Hesitantly you do, wiping your eyes so you can actually see him, sniffling through stuttery breaths. “I'll come back. I promise you, no matter what it takes, I will always find my way back to you. Please don't cry, sweetheart, I won't be gone forever.” Your fears subside at the calm expression on his face. He's right. This isn't goodbye.

With an unsteady smile, you reach back up to his hand. Like every other time, you phase through him, but you keep your hand there. He's so warm, with a tingly sensation running over the skin that's making contact. “Then I'll wait for you.”

With that, he beams at you before he straightens his back and spreads his arms out, eyes closed as he soaks in the sunlight. As he starts growing again, you follow him towards the hole in the building, giggling to each other as your tears dry. “I'll be back before you know it, angel! Look for me in every light!” With a kiss blown to you and a wave, he starts flying out of Palazzo. You quickly get outside to watch him float away, standing next to the Doctor and Belinda.

“You know, babes -no judgement-, but you can do better than him.” That gets a snort out of you.

Turning to the Time Lord, you cross your arms with a smug grin. “He's the God of Light. I daresay my standards are quite high.” He can only shrug in response. No arguing with that.

“In that form though?” Belinda’s comment has you all laughing. They say their goodbyes to you before hopping into a.. police box? When did that get there? You're distracted from it by a rush of people exiting Palazzo. It's everyone that was trapped in film! Lux’s hold on the building must have faded. You smile as you watch the families reunite, eyes scanning the crowd for one particular man. There he is, apologising to each family before he makes his way to you.

Mr Pye pulls you into another hug. “He's gone, then..?” You nod, the motion met with a relieved but sad sigh. “I'm sorry, my dear. You really were close to him, weren't you?”

You turn your head on his shoulder to look up at the sky, smiling at the bright sun. “It's ok. He'll come back.”

You've been telling yourself that for 5 years.

The first year was easy to get through. With Palazzo (quite obviously) being shut down for repairs, you had to look elsewhere for a job. Being away from the picture house helped, you kept your mind off what had happened. Mr Pye started working at the local grocer’s, so you saw him on most of your shopping trips. He looks brighter, happier. He'd lost the film of his wife in the explosion, but it seems like it's set him free from his mourning. He's checking your items when he speaks up. “You know, my boss at Palazzo is offering to rehire me as the caretaker once it reopens. I'd happily hire you again, if you want. I wouldn't mind having my favourite cleaner to keep me company.”

“Yeah. I really miss sweeping up piles of popcorn and being yelled at by the general public.” You both chuckle at your sarcasm. “No but really, I'd be happy to go back. Maybe less time, I'm enjoying what I'm doing right now, but I'd take the extra money. And it'd be nice to see you more, I kinda miss watching old classics on empty nights.”

Memories of watching films with Lux flash behind your eyes, fragments of your life with the lover you’d lost crawling out from the corners of your mind you had suppressed them to. You quickly pack your items into your bag and thank Mr Pye before you rush out of the shop.

After that small incident, you manage to keep down the heartache and longing you felt. Sure, you thought of Lux plenty of times, every light reminded you of him. It doesn’t hurt to think of him like that. He’ll come back, he promised. There was no reason to mourn someone who you would see again. Still, you look at every light you pass, your heart still hoping that he’ll pop out at you from every one of them. It never happens.

It takes until the following year for Palazzo to start taking visitors again. You think it's partly because of the missing people, wanting the public to have moved on from it before reopening. At first you just work the weekends, getting used to seeing Mr Pye more often and dealing with the public. At first everything’s fine. A few months pass as the picture house builds back up the collection of films it lost, and the past makes a cruel return to haunt you.

Mr Ring-A-Ding was still popular. Over time, those cartoons played more and more, theatres filling to see the silly looking bug-pig-man. Every weekend, you’re forced to face the mirror image of your God. That voice, the dance, the song. His little quips. The familiarity of Ring draws you in, slowly but surely, making you quit your other job just to see him more. It wasn't him, but it was close enough that it healed your wounded heart. At first.

By the third year, the blessing Ring had been to you turned into a curse. He's so, so close to being Lux, but he's just a cartoon on the screen. You can't talk to him or touch him. He doesn't have Lux’s eyes, his loving gaze, his unique giggle, his short stubble. It wasn't him. You drag yourself back home on those lonely nights, gazing at the moon from your window with a longing look in your eyes. Lux was starting to invade your mind. He’ll come back, he’ll come back. You keep your curtains open, silently praying you’ll wake up to him next to you in bed. It never happens.

It gets harder and harder to fake smiles around your boss. Watching him move on from his grief only made you feel worse about yours, realising that you were becoming what he used to be. What hurt you the most is the fact that you didn’t have anything to remember your God by, only the cartoons of a man that looks so like him but isn’t him. The worst thing is, you can’t even be angry at him. It wasn’t his fault that he was doing better while you fell deeper and deeper into your mourning.

By the fourth year, you're desperately clinging to the last shred of your lover that you have left. Your mind is on him every waking moment, dreaming of him every night. Every light around you taunts you with the idea of him returning. You start watching the Ring-A-Ding episodes on empty nights, staring at the screen for a flicker in the frames, a blur in the image, any sign that Lux had come back to you. It never happens.

That's where you are now, 5 long years later. It's a clear night, yet you can't find the beauty in the moon anymore. Your head is in your hands, muffling the cries that you couldn't keep down any longer. There's a Ring-A-Ding episode playing on the screen in front of you but you don't pay attention to it, you can't. You can't look at him anymore, it wasn't Lux.

Mr Pye watches you from the projector booth. It really was like looking at his past self. It broke his heart to see you like this, especially knowing there was nothing he could really do. With a sigh, he turns to a mug on his desk. Maybe some tea would help you. Of course, he knows it won't, yet he couldn't grant the wish you made every night before you went to sleep. Your boss sighs again, moving a spoon that was sitting in the mug to the table below the moon’s light. A trail of light reflects off the metal, bouncing onto the wall before making its way to the light of the projector. Mr Pye watches as something swims down that beam towards the screen, unbeknownst to you. Could it be..? “I miss you, Lux. I miss you so much..” Your crying is finally beginning to die down, letting you speak the words you've been hiding in your heart for all these years.

It takes you a minute to realise the episode had stopped. There was no sound; no voices, no music, no sound effects. Only the background noise of the film rolling. Why wasn’t it playing? Just as you wipe your eyes, getting ready to look up and discern why nothing was happening, a voice speaks up. For a split second you think it's Ring, the cartoon just resuming. But that voice.. it's so similar but so different, and oh so familiar to you.

“I've missed you too, my angel.”

[That's all for this series! Maybe.. I'm still obsessed with this little bug, so I might do more one-shot like things in the future. These have been a joy to write, I'm so glad it's gotten so much love! These alone have gotten over 1k likes, that crazy!! I'll see about opening up asks so you guys can send in ideas of what you want to see. They'll likely be shorter than what I've been writing so far but hopefully you'll like them too :)]

#lux imperator #mr ring a ding #doctor who #lux imperator x reader #mr ring a ding x reader #lux imperator smut #mr ring a ding smut

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iloveacaibowls111 · 8 months ago

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Adoption???

SYNOPYSIS: Satoru adopts Megumi and Tsumiki without telling you (uh oh).

A/N: Cute little fluff, very short. Obviously Satoru is a bit aged up because I can't really imagine two 17 year olds living in a penthouse by themselves unless they're in Gossip Girl.

“SATORU GOJO?!” Your voice screeched down the penthouse hallway. “Tell me, you did not adopt a kid?”

Satoru visibly winced, glancing over at where he stood with Tsumiki and Megumi. They were trying to sneak into the apartment after Satoru had finished settling them down. The three had been out buying flowers so that, when he told you, you *hopefully* wouldn’t get so mad.

“Um, sweetie, it’s a long story and everything happened so fast. I would’ve told you,” he said with a hopeful grin, holding out a lovely bouquet of blue hydrangeas – your favourite. To his side, Tsumiki smiled sweetly while Megumi struggled to suppress a laugh at Gojo being scolded.

“Oh my god, you did. And you adopted two.” You smacked Satoru lightly on the chest but then happily accepted the flowers, placing them on the kitchen table. Your gaze softened as you turned toward the two siblings. “So, who might you two little ones be?”

“I’m Tsumiki Fushiguro, and this is my younger brother, Megumi,” Tsumiki answered with a hopeful smile, while Megumi just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“Tsumiki? That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” You said with a wink, making Tsumiki blush slightly. You then turned to the younger boy, your eyes twinkling with warmth. “Hmmm, Megumi. I like it.” You ruffled his spiky hair which reminded you of a sea urchin, though he remained stoic.

“Can I bring my two dogs with me? If not, I don’t want to be here,” Megumi said, deadpan.

You chuckled, amused by the boy’s seriousness. “Of course! I already live with an animal, so why not two more?” She gave Satoru a teasing glare, and he tried to shuffle away, pretending not to hear the comment.

“Divine Dogs!” Megumi called out excitedly, and two shadowy forms materialised, taking the shape of large, ethereal canines.

You blinked in surprise but then smiled as the dogs approached, wagging their tails. “Well, aren’t you two handsome,” you said, kneeling to pet the creatures. They happily licked your hand, their tails wagging even harder.

“So you guys want to help me cook dinner?” You asked, standing up and brushing off her hands. “I was thinking spaghetti.”

“What’s spaghetti?” Megumi asked, looking up from where he was patting the dogs.

“You’ve never had spaghetti? Well you’re in for a treat.” You chuckled, pinching Megumi’s cheeks. “Tsumiki, do you want to help me make it?”

Tsumiki’s face lit up. “Yes! Yay!”

“And you, Megumi, Any culinary talents?” You smiled warmly.

Megumi shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I can stir,” he offered.

“Well, stirring is very important,” You replied, your voice light and playful. “And maybe you can teach me some tricks with those dogs of yours later.”

Megumi’s lips twitched into a small smile – enough to make Satoru’s and your heart swell.

Once the kids were out of sight, you turned to Satoru, your playful smile slipping into something more knowing. You placed your hands on your hips and raised a brow at him.

“Satoru,” you started, your voice light but firm, “you and I need to have a little chat.”

Satoru grinned nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, chat about what?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, stepping closer to him. “You adopted two kids without asking me first.” Your tone wasn’t angry, but there was a clear warning in your words. “You know you can’t just make decisions like this, right?”

Satoru chuckled awkwardly, trying to brush it off. “Well, I figured you’d be cool with it! I mean, look at them—they’re adorable!”

Your expression softened into a smile, but she kept her hands on her hips. “Oh, they’re adorable, alright. But that’s not the point, mister. You still should’ve talked to me first.”

Satoru put his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to stress you out with the details.”

You sighed, stepping even closer and poking his chest playfully. “I get it, Satoru. But next time?” You poked him again, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You better run something like this by me. Or else.”

Satoru grinned, catching your hand gently before you could poke him again. “Or else what?”

You leaned in, your eyes narrowing teasingly. “Or else you’ll be sleeping on the couch. With the Divine Dogs.”

Satoru’s grin widened as he laughed. “Oh no, not the couch! That’s cruel and unusual punishment!” He held his hand dramatically to his chest.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You better believe it,” you teased. “Now go help me with dinner before I actually make good on that threat.”

Satoru leaned down and kissed your forehead, the warmth in his heart growing as the tension between them melted into playful banter. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

As they headed toward the kitchen, Satoru couldn’t help but smile to himself. Sure, he probably should’ve talked to you first—but with you by his side, he knew they’d be able to handle whatever came next.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #fushiguro tsumiki #dad!gojo #gojo and megumi #jjk fluff #jjk x reader

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superscrub323 · 3 months ago

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My Warrior Penelope AU! God Games.

Special thanks to @sarnai4 for beta reading and grammar checking. Also in this Warrior Penelope AU! She follows the same bits and beats as Ody did and has a daughter. [Ares]

Father, King of Kings, never have I asked for favors

Now, I’m begging on your floor

With hopes to save a friendship

With one who’s been banished far from her home

Penelope

[Zeus]

Divine intervention? Of all things you seek?

To undo apprehensions that I placed on that freak?

You are dancing with lightning, for a woman of shame

But if you want to go down hard and fighting

[Zeus, Spoken]

Why not make it a game?

Convince each of them that she should be released

And I’ll release her

[Ares, Spoken]

Who?

[Zeus, Spoken]

Eris, Persephone, Little Eros~, Enyo, Nike AND me…

What do you say?

[Eris, excited]

Sure

[Persephone, Calm]

Very well

[Eros II, nonplused]

Hmm

[Enyo]

*Battle Shout*

[Nike, Spoken]

Right on!

[Ares, cracks knuckles]

Bring it

[Ensemble]

Eris!

[Eris]

I love the terror and chaos sirens bring

But with so many dead at sea

Why should I care about Penelope?

[Ares]

But they chose their targets poor

And they died in blood and gore

Now their corpses will serve to warn

All the rest so that their numbers can restore

[Eris, sighs]

Fine, release her

[Ensemble]

Persephone!

[Persephone]

Life is more precious than gold

Why should I let this woman go

She left her friends dry and cold

[Ares]

Did you forget? They were dumb and bold

They had her betrayed and indisposed

But if you let her return to home

She can still see her husband and save her household

[Persephone, nods]

Fine, release her

[Ensemble]

Little Eros!

[Eros II]

Your little darling ‘hero’ Penelope

Claims to love her daughter, but left her alone without her mom

[Ares]

She was busy fighting!

[Eros II]

More like busy spiting the cyclops

Let her feel the pain that her child feels and rot

[Ares, Spoken]

Wait!

[Ares]

Son, reconsider this…

[Enyo]

Really ‘Enyalius’? Athena’s trick?

[Ares]

Enyo!

[Ensemble]

Enyo, Enyo

[Enyo]

What kind of weak coward, doesn’t show power

While her crew gets devoured?

She didn’t even fight Scylla, or even try to kill her

Hides inside a wooden horse to win her ‘war’

Sacrificed everything that we fought for

Spawned and raised a worthless whore!

[Ares, furious]

Watch your tongue bitch! Her ‘spawn’s’ my friend

And son you know that their relationship can mend

She’ll show you violence! Just set her free

To get back to her palace and make all those wretches bleed

[Eros II and Enyo]

…Fiiine, release her

[Nike, spoken]

Hi Ares!

[Ensemble]

Nike!

[Nike]

So many victories! Triumphs and tales!

If I help release her! Why will she prevail!?

[Ares]

She’s got a warrior’s spirit

[Nike]

Not enough

[Ares]

She’s skilled with words

[Nike]

I know you have better

[Ares]

She’s happily married?

[Nike]

Not my domain~

[Ares, sighs]

She won a 10 year war in a day…

[Nike]

Release her~

[Ares, Spoken]

I played your game and won dad…now release her.

[Zeus, pissed]

Y-you dare to defy me, you spawn of my shame…

You don’t beat me…YOU DON’T BEAT MY GAMES!

LIGHTING WIELD THIS, USELESS, WORTHLESS

WRETCH UNDERNEATH MY HEEL

AND SPEAR HIM ‘TIL HIS DEATH IS NEAR!

[Zeus then strikes Ares with lightning until he falls to the ground]

[Enyo and Eris]

I-is he dead?

[Instrumental Interlude where Ares struggles to get up as Zeus readies for a second dosage to finish the job only for Athena and Hera to show up and stop Zeus long enough for him to calm down]

[Ares]

Let her go, please

Let her…go…

[Ares collapses once more with thoughts only on Penelope and Telemachus]

#warrior penelope au #ares #greek mythology #epic the musical #epic song rewrite #eris #eros ii #persephone #nike #enyo #epic zeus #zeus #don't get excited #this is probably a one time thing

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riicky-ye · 8 months ago

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I was writing another post and suddenly got reminded about how terrifyingly unhinged Focalors — the original Focalors — was. This twink is so damn smug, but her plan is literally falling apart. One variable change and everything is ruined. She’s either a genius, a gambler, or just fucking dumb. Most likely she’s all of it at once.

She cut herself apart, leaving behind two incomplete shards meant to suffer and eventually be sacrificed. She deprived one of her halves of body, the other - of power and memory. She was dreaming of judging Celestia. She cursed herself and was so freaking proud of it. She knew defying fate is impossible, so she tricked it. She killed herself 500 years ago to give way to Furina and Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale. She was the god of Justice, and her statue is holding the sword, not the scales. It’s not the most obvious thing, but she was representing the vengeful, unforgiving face of Justice, especially compared to Neuvillette’s scales symbolism in his design and his soft, compassionate approach. Her plan was to lure Neuvillette into loving humanity so he will give them a verdict of innocence. And she succeeded. Her body left behind is named Furina, and some of you may say this is a reference to the goddess of springs, but the most obvious association are Furies, the entities of vengeance. She’s paranoid. She trust no one, even herself. She killed herself twice — once her memory, and secondly her divinity manifested personality. She’s awful, a complete psycho. I hold her very dear.

Her plan is equally stupid and absolutely genius. Teyvat is so very lucky she’s good because she WOULD find a way to tear the world in shreds if she had the motivation to do so.

It also makes me mad how people can say Furina’s story is ended when we have all of this. Like, I will not find peace until I learn what the fuck was wrong with pre-split Focalors. I hope I’m not the only one thinking this way.

#riicky writing #genshin impact #gi #focalors #furina #furina de fontaine #genshin impact furina #neuvillette #mentioned

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thewertsearch · 5 months ago

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Ask Comp 9/1

Anonymous asked: has sally been introduced to cursed tavros yet?

[ cursed tavros jumpscare :D ]

Cursed indeed - but mind you, I don't think I could do much better. My handcraft skills are nonexistent!

Anonymous asked: ol tavvy is down with the clown ;o) Anonymous asked: Please, if you will, imagine if when Vriska kissed Tavros, he told her that he was already dating Gamzee.

Heh. I really do think Gamzee x Tavros could have worked out, at least until Gamzee lost his shit. Hell, even if Gamzee did lose his shit, he'd probably still be less of a threat to Tavros than Vriska was.

Anonymous asked: Did you notice Gamzee referenced Earth in his rap? ("6 trillion hemos all up on one rock bleeding as equals") How do you think he learned about it? Some weird pre-game precognition or just his stoned mind being accidentally right?

This isn't necessarily a reference to Earth - but it wouldn't surprise me if it was, because Gamzee's cult seems fully aware of the existence of Earth.

The 'paradise planet' referenced in Gamzee's intro is stated to not exist yet, which is exactly how the narration refereed to Earth in Hivebent's intro. I believe that the 'rowdy minstrels' he's talking about are literally ICP, although he clearly isn't aware of that fact.

@wizardlyghost asked:

A sentiment shared by Eggman, every Space Player, and the villain of Muppets Most Wanted.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've passed where fedorafreak's gray, serviceable hand-held computing device's battery has died, you might appreciate the following short piece of fan art: www tumblr com/vastderp-placeholder/7741061457/savior-of-the-texting-world-rise-up

The fucking implication that the phone is the Player in this scenario is obliterating me.

Also, its God Tier form has wings. Was it a troll all along, or are wings a symbol of divine apotheosis in phone culture, too?

@clueless-rarito asked: Heeey paranatural reference! Hell yeah!

Is anyone else totally stoked to see Eightfold again? I know I am!

Anonymous asked: bilious sick 😭

English's trick made our Bilious sick. :(

Anonymous asked: One of, if not my absolute favorite, quotes/moments in Homestuck is Karkat’s speech to Jade about his failed frog breeding here. Just such a wonderfully tragic moment that stuck with me since the first time I read it.

In a comic chock-full of great lines, that last one might just be the best so far. This was one of the last scenes before Act 5's true finale, and it was an excellent pick.

@drakethedeep asked: One theory I've heard about the Denizen's Choice that tend to headcanon, Is that the choice is to be happy/free or to matter. That much as how God-tiers only grants survival by never having an impact, the denizens have thier playes coose between seeking their happiness and survival, or to struggle to achieve things that while objevtivly monumental, might not be worth the sacrifices needed to achieve it. I like this theory because of how it themes to fit the themes of Sburb.

I really like the space you're playing in, but I'm not so sure if all the Choices we've seen would necessarily fit this interpretation. After all, Davesprite implicitly chose the 'survival' option when he first met Hephaestus, and he's not exactly a happy camper. He didn't end up particularly free, either, since he was almost immediately bound to a Sprite, and later to the Battlefield.

I guess you could say he 'mattered', because he is he reason the Alpha Timeline exists the way it does - but, technically, everyone's actions contribute to the Alpha Timeline being the way it is. I definitely think there's something to this theory.

Anonymous asked: Without the Door to actually enter the universe, all you've done is make a really big frog.

I guess, when you think about it, there's not really anything they can do with their universe without that door. I suppose they could just fly towards their frog and hope for the best, but somehow, I don't think that'll achieve much.

@morganwick asked: Of course, even though he wasn't fooled by Gamzee using Terezi's "voice", Karkat still showed up on the roof anyway. Perhaps he decided he couldn't take the risk that Terezi was actually there and Gamzee might catch her unawares.

Gamzee's been having a lot of fun 'impersonating' Terezi lately. Just like before, I don't think he ever intended to fool Karkat with his transparent ruse - he just wanted to unsettle the guy. It worked.

@morganwick asked: If Typheus is the mailman, does that make him PM's favorite Denizen?

Maybe it makes him the head of her mail service!

We never saw any other mail Carapacians, and I kind of love the idea that they were operating out of a Denizen's Palace the whole time.

@bladekindeyewear asked: You said: "Mind you, I don’t know if it’s necessarily always a good or heroic thing to allow a Sburb Player full agency over their actions, nor is it necessarily a bad thing to restrict them, in certain cases." Oh I'm completely with you there. In fact, you might DEFINE Heroism as denying agency to those who would do ill, in part. This would make both "Heroic" and "Just" deaths result from trying to stamp your own intentions upon reality, halted by others. Neutrality would be ineffectual.

That's certainly part of heroism - but to me, it's not even close to all of it. A firefighter, for example, is heroic in ways which don't involve another person, as their only real 'opponent' is nature itself.

I personally define heroism as the will to do good, in situations where doing good requires bravery. 'Good', of course, is a fairly slippery concept, though, so that definition is just as ambiguous as any other.

Anonymous asked: Doctor Who anon here. Doctor Who has no canon for purely practical reasons. It's so massive - there's the show, but there's also the Big Finish audio dramas, the DW magazine comics, the Radio Times comics, the IDW comics, the Titan comics, the Virgin novels and short stories, the BBC novels and short stories. And no one owns all of it. The BBC don't even own the daleks or K9. And each piece of media will freely contradict others. No one has the right to decide what's canon, so they just don't. It's also because the people running Doctor Who the show have a deep respect for the extended media. In the 90s, it was the non-BBC licensed, fan-led projects which kept DW alive. Russell T. Davies, first showrunner of the modern era, wrote Virgin novels, so did Mark Gatiss. Nick Briggs, modern voice of the daleks, is the head of Big Finish. So they didn't want to decanonise that stuff, but they also don't want to be beholden to it when writing their own stories. So the fanbase tends to operate on tiers of canon. Basically something can be assumed to still be part of the show's continiuity until the show contradicts it. Big Finish would generally be considered the next highest "tier" of canon. The Doctor Who magazine comics probably wouldn't contradict the show, but the show could contradict them any time. The old books and comics are dubious. But that's all just fan categorisation. Officially, nothing has been deemed canon or not. In fact, rather amusingly, the only thing that has been explicitly deemed "canon" by the BBC is the Doctor Who: Battles in Time card game. That's officially canon. Nothing else. Not even the show.

I think I've heard of 'canon tiers' before, in the context of the Star Wars fandom. I think it's a good way to delineate how 'true' a given event is considered to be, especially in a large, complex shared universe - but at the same time, being consciously aware of these tiers might hurt your investment a little.

You'll never be able to escape the fact that your favourite stories or characters are effectively fanfiction, at least from the perspective of higher tiers. They have no influence whatsoever over the more ''real'' part of the story, unless they're promoted its tier some day.

I do like the idea that all the other Doctor Who stories are fanfiction of the card game, though. That's definitely going to be my canon, from now on.

@morganwick asked: Well, back in Act 4 you said that John and Dave would make S-Tier if and when "John [threw] aside his passivity to do something heroic, and…Dave [would] finally drop that poker face and do something sincere", which is why I pegged the suicide mission conversation as when Dave might make the jump.

I think, on reflection, it's almost always a heartwarming event that catapults a character into S-Tier.

In my opinion, that's one of the most impressive feelings that a work of fiction can inspire in you, mostly because it's really hard to get you invested enough for it to hit properly. Homestuck's pulled it off an extremely impressive number of times already, and we're only halfway finished!

Anonymous asked: It is so fucking awesome to see a new reader in the year of our lord 2024 2025 who's actually like. Engaging with the themes of the story. Lotta people just see it for the memes or the "totally random" plot but some of the shit you're reading into what's happening is like. Eerily similar to actual Hussie commentary. Gold star for reading comprehension, you do not piss on the poor Anonymous asked: Your homestuck liveblogs are lovely and insightful and make me remember a lot of details of the comic that have been lost to time. You will comment on something and I'll go "oh huh homestuck was better than I remember it being." Thank you <3 @honestlyvan asked: Truly your liveblog is the best kind of re-experiencing the experience. I'm surprised at how much your thoughts and reads parallel mine, it's kind of fun to see someone else's deductions go along the same routes. I can't wait for you to get to the Truly Horseshit portions of the plot (and I say this lovingly, I think you're in a great position to give us a real raw read on them without having to deal with the various Mega and Gigapauses) Also -- you keep pointing out a shitton of foreshadowing I didn't catch until my second readthrough. I can't wait for you to get to the bits where it applies and be like "son of a bitch", I think where I'm in the reading of your backlog and where you're in the reading of the comic you've passed at least one of those bits already :D @worldweary-walker asked: The liveblog is so cool. It's a lot of fun seeing you put things together, and the posts where you come up with three completely right conclusions and two wrong ones always amaze me. Impressive work!

Thank you so much! I know I say this a lot, but a lot of these sentiments are exactly why I like reading liveblogs myself. I'm just really glad I can do that for others.

I can totally understand why someone would just read Homestuck for the memes. I wouldn't have been nearly as analytical if I'd read it as a schoolgirl, and a lot of the 2010s fandom were even younger than that!

@divineerdrick asked: Now we have multiple explanations for what is wrong with the kid's session. Vriska has made herself responsible for Jack's rise to power, Karkat believes he gave Bilious Slick cancer, and Gamzee created the harlequin doll that would torment John and prompt Jack's rage-fueled act of rebellion. You've already suspected that Doc Scratch probably has multiple plans in play at once, and we can see that here. It seems he insured, through multiple causes, the kid's universe has always been doomed. Gamzee, as usual, seems to be the wild card. But he's acting out during a crisis of faith, a faith tied to Alternia's twisted social structure, which Scratch seems to have had a hand in. So despite how random Gamzee's actions appear to be, it's possible Scratch managed to seed even this seemingly unpredictable action.

I think Scratch probably did 90% of the work in making Gamzee go ballistic, from multiple directions at once. Looking back, it's shocking just how much of the comic was Scratch's doing.

'Caused' is a loaded phrase in Paradox Space, but what's happening is definitely what he planned.

Anonymous asked: It kind of seems like Rage as an aspect is evil, no? Do you think an aspect can carry an inherent moral weight? If not, what are the neutral meanings of aspects that seem to, and if so, how do you feel about it?

Personally, I doubt that any of the Aspects have a moral alignment - not even the scary-sounding ones. After all, you can Rage against tyranny, or bring Doom to a corrupt institution. Yeah, Gamzee is using Rage for evil, but his perception-shielding could just as easily be used to hide an innocent bystander from an aggressive Underling.

I think that more or less any ability can be used for both good or evil. The only real exception would be a power that's deliberately designed to be irreparably, comically evil. 'The ability to torture everyone for all eternity' would be one of those powers, but Homestuck's Aspect abilities would not.

@worldweary-walker asked: have you read Kill Six Billion Demons?

I have not! It's on my long and constantly growing list, which means I'll get to it between now and, uh, 2096.

Anonymous asked: re: the ancestors' story. WHAT IF WE ALL JUST CRIED like. the sheer transition from inane antics to the. that @corporalotherbear asked: There's a very popular fanmade version of the sufferer's final sermon and following vast expletive, voiced by a man that would go on to be the english voice actor of Izuku Midoriya. I can't add links to asks but if it's spoiler-friendly then your vetter can probably send you "The sufferer's last sermon"

Oh, I kind of love this interpretation. It really sells just how unwinnable the Sufferer's rebellion truly was.

@wolygan asked: I forgot how she is so happy when she is running away. This Girl is still able to believe that good is coming. Except Lord English won't let that happen, no matter what. @wickedsick asked:

That was possibly the fastest you have ever been proven wrong about something

That poor girl. She suffered just as much as the Signless did, but she'll only be known to Alternia as a monster - and unlike Troll Jesus, no one will ever mourn the Handmaid.

Anonymous asked: the sufferer cult is definitely independent of the juggalos! the use of the word sectarian to describe the war waged against the signless's beliefs is not a coincidence, imo. (we also see that highblood is most often used to specifically describe purplebloods). they're just two different religious organizations. given that the grand highblood was a juggalo man/subjuggulator and occupied significant power it seems to suggest that clown religion was a Big Thing among the purplebloods, which would not truck with the signless' cult being so small and secretive. there's one theory that part of the reason the neophyte was sent on mindfang's case was bc the GHB (given that mindfang mentions the neophyte was sent by subjuggulators specifically) knew she was a secret sufferite and wanted to get rid of her. mindfang does talk about how it seemed like they were giving up on her case entirely by sending just one neophyte (granted this is partially bc she underestimated her). it would track that while they definitely wanted to get rid of mindfang, they also were fine with the neophyte dying. this also follows with the fact that after mindfang gets out of that trial, she manages to persist without being caught right up until her death at the hands of the summoner. were they happy that the neophyte got killed, enough to stop putting much effort into mindfang's capture?

I think the Highbloods probably did set Redglare up. I speculated that it was possible when we first heard about her death, and that was before we knew she was a Signless cultist.

Also: lmao, do you remember when Hussie told us that the Juggalo Cult was 'obscure'? That's starting to feel like something that was quietly retconned offscreen.

@clueless-rarito asked: In case you like to know, "Dolorosa" is meant to evoke the spanish word "Doloroso" meaning painful but changing the O for an A turn it feminine.

Dolorosa; in other words, the woman in pain.

Fucking hell, she deserved so much better. It's amazing how much bleaker the Ancestors' lives were, compared to their descendants. Modern Alternia is bad enough as it is!

@lon-kasi asked: Fanwork recommendation: The same guy who did the EoA5 reanimation just did Intermission 2 as well. Like, less than six hours before I sent this ask. It's incredible.

Yessss! These are amazing.

My favorite parts are all the extra touches that weren't in the original animation, such as Rose beginning to realizing how badly she was tricked - or Jade, unused to her own powers, almost knocking John on his ass while she teleports him.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've seen what a Reckoning on Skaia looks like, you can see why Karkat was rushing Kanaya to get their frog done. Despite jumping the gun, skipping the lore elements and just killing their way to the end, the troll kids never had enough time. Especially since, now that I'm thinking about it, if it wasn't the Reckoning then it probably would have been Jack as the "time's up, now turn in your work" event. @marinerofthestars asked: With the revelation that Alternia was built to and ended up speedrunning an Sgrub/Sburb session to catastrophic effect (great job reading this far, btw), how long would you expect a “standard” session to take?

We've got two different asks here - one saying that normal sessions are meant to be shorter than Hivebent's, and the other saying they're meant to be longer.

I honestly don't know which I believe. It feels unrealistic for a Sburb session to take months, but Scratch really did seem to be saying that the trolls were extremely effective Players, implying most sessions take longer to beat. Maybe the reboot session will clue us in a little?

Anonymous asked: “How do you expect to out run me, When I Am Already Here.” Is such a hard line, and it’s completely missable in the alt text for the site banner. I know a lot of people missed it when these panels dropped. I remember HS being considered super unique because of how much the comic messes with formatting things like that.

I was super close to missing some of that scene, even though I'd already been warned about the alt text. There was just so much going on at the time, I almost didn't think to look at the banners.

@royalvorpal asked: "I thought words would be exchanged" How do you expect them to talk when they are in person?

pffffffffffffffffffft

Alright, that one fucking got me.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "But no, apparently not, because it took Karkat zero words and sixty seconds to completely shut Gamzee down. Now, don’t get me wrong, that’s incredibly impressive - but what did he actually do?" If you look back IN RETROSPECT at some of what Gamzee has been telling Karkat, it almost looks like pale flirting, like he was actually WANTING him to do this behind his threats. p3361: "FTC: i wonder if you can all be at with me in time and make me get my reconsider on?" Anonymous asked: You may not like it, but this is what peak moirallegience looks like.

Yeah, this really does make that exchange read as a little flirtatious.

Still, is this really how a moirallegiance is meant to work? Are moirails really expected to risk their lives to halt their prospective partner's rampage? This is starting to sound more dangerous than a kismesissitude!

@bladekindeyewear asked: I'm not sure how well it applies to the revised Homestuck website and it's probably impossible in the collection, but you could view any past/future page in any CSS format the site gave you with a keyword, like the black-on-green Doc Scratch format. So when Andrew did the "SNOP" to SBAHJ-mode, he was intentionally giving us a tool to view the ENTIRE SITE in SBAHJ mode.

There's a 'theme override' button, but I need to finish Homestuck to unlock it. I guess the comic's theme will change in more spoilery ways, later on.

Anonymous asked: Dolorosa/Mindfang is the true kicker of the “vriska keeps ending up in mirror relationships to her ancestor” belief, bc its the one where there is NO way vriska could know that shes in a mirror relationship. Eridan- orphaner dualscar and mindfangs romance was in the journal. Tavros- she knew about the summoner. But while there are hints to the dolorosas identity- sharp teeth, lower blood color, and a very vague if you stretch it hint about horn shape- no way vriska could have put those pieces together!!!

Man, it's still so fucked up that the Dolorosa went out like that. I still think it's at least remotely possible that she revived as a vampire, but I'm not gonna kid myself - her story is over. We're not gonna see her.

Anonymous asked: You've mentioned "ratfic" and something called "the Methods" before, is that something you've read?

If I could write an essay about Steven Moffat, I could write an entire thesis about Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality - but it'd be radioactively critical, and it feels mean-spirited to just post a rant about something unprompted.

If people want my thoughts in detail, I might stick them on the sideblog later - but for now, I'll just tell you that if it wasn't for that fic, XAE A-12 Musk would never have been born. Not a joke.

Anonymous asked: i love the complete about face on gamzee lol. "clearly the fact that he's gone nuts is something wrong with the timeline" gamzee is revealed to be responsible for lil cal "actually fuck this guy"

If we do ever recover the original Gamzee, it's going to really suck for him to face his friends. After everything he's done, will anyone ever really trust him again?

@elkian asked: Love the Exiles. So glad nothing bad happens to them, ever, (I assume the pause before the third s175 post is bc you, like me, took a break to cry over AR hesitating to kill his friend :,(

I was so bummed, guys. Carapacians don't have ghosts, I assume - so the Exiles, sans PM and maybe WV, are gone forever.

The Red Miles will probably have obliterated their corpses, so we can't even prototype most of them - but I'm holding out hope for Waywardsprite.

Anonymous asked: heh, you aren't alone in preferring god tier dave without his hood. i was around for when cascade dropped and wasnt able to watch it straight away due to the various troubles, but one of the first things i heard about it was people talking about how stupid they thought dave's hood looked.

I know, right? Like, yeah, it definitely says 'knight', but Dave's got great hair, and it feels like a shame to cover it.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "PCG: SHE WAS CONSTANTLY FIXING MY FUCKUPS. PCG: ROBOTS FROM THE FUTURE ALWAYS COMING BACK TO TELL ME HOW SOME HASTY SHIT I DID WITH FROG BREEDING OR WHATEVER WOULD MAKE IT BE IMPOSSIBLE TO WIN. PCG: MY OWN PERSONAL MISTAKES PROBABLY ACCOUNTED FOR MORE DOOMED ARADIABOTS THAN ANYTHING ELSE." Now that the Tumor's revealed for the precision device it was, it's also clear that Aradia, likely following the Horrorterrors' instructions, FORCED them to breed the frog JUST RIGHT to create the Sun.

Yeah, the existence of that precision device really fucking threw me. Whatever it did, the frog cancer probably was deliberately engineered to cause it - and I think it was engineered by Scratch, rather than the Horrorterrors. He was also talking to Aradia during the session, and this event was key to his plan.

Anonymous asked: (And one more ask from the person without a tumblr. -DJ) The thing is, Scratch could have just said "you must create the Green Sun, it is essential for the existence of the multiverse, not doing so will create a paradox". But either he chose to trick them, by only but saying "true words", just for fun…or there is some reason telling them about their true mission wouldn't work - RM

Either is possible, and it's pretty much impossible to say. That said, the Vast Glub is proof that he does just like messing with people, so I'm going with the former answer.

Anonymous asked: (forwarding another ask from the person without a Tumblr account -DJ) Do you think there are interesting parallels between Scratch and Tarquin from OOTS? - RM

Well, they are both meta-aware villains with extremely wide-reaching plans, and they're both pretty weird about women. Hopefully this means that Scratch's much cooler son will kick his ass in a later Act.

@bladekindeyewear asked: One tiny cute detail in Cascade I love is how when the Green Sun lights up in the distance for the trolls, Terezi tries to point at it, and Karkat gently takes her arm and re-points it in the right direction. XD

Shoulda brought the Smelloscope, Terezi!

Anonymous asked: The first time i read homestuck my shit bugged out and I literally just missed the entire scrapbook section and cascade. The SECOND time I read homestuck cascade gave me such a neuron firing high that only harrow the ninth has ever gotten close to

That's exactly how to describe it. Cascade blasted my neurons, in exactly the same way that part of Harrow the Ninth did.

@rwbypro asked: Ngl one of my favorite parts about homestuck is the fact that Doc Scratch Won, like he got Exactly what he wanted, and he played everyone like fiddles, one of my all time favorite villains in anything!

He did, the bastard! Scratch managed to pull it off without a hitch.

These are the exact kind of convoluted masterstrokes you want to see in a time-travel story, and I think English's machinations will only grow more intricate, going forward.

@sanctferum asked: The juggalo cult believes in a pair of mirthful messiahs rather than just the one, so if English is one of the messiahs, that's only half the equation. Presumably, the other messiah would be Scratch.

That works! I originally thought that the Messiahs were the two members of ICP, but let's be honest, they still could be. I absolutely would not put it past this comic to reveal that Lord English was Shaggy 2 Dope the whole time.

@sanctferum asked: So now that you've seen Lord English's true appearance: he's got a peg leg, and that peg leg is a golden cuestick, filling in the last missing piece of the Felt analogy - the one that moves the billiards around in the first place. For good measure, English's peg leg, single golden tooth and his garish coat give him a stereotypical pimp appearance, which is fitting given his treatment of his female servants so far (not to mention Scratch's own treatment of both the Handmaid and whichever female player he is manipulating at any given moment. He even explicitly uses the word grooming to describe raising Handmaid!). If there was ever a pimp for Dave to lock in his own crib while dropping it like it was hot, this would be him.

Ayy, you're right! I've been waiting for the Felt's cuestick since the Intermission days!

You're also right about the comic's villains. Scratch and English aren't just screwing over female Players - they've also been fucking with Mindfang, the Handmaid, the Condesce, and even Snowman. It's absolutely a pattern.

These guys aren't just cosmic villains, they're misogynist cosmic villains. Mundane evil and supernatural evil, all together in one convenient package of shit.

Anonymous asked: Now that we've gotten past this point in the comic- I just wanted to say I forgot Expatri8 was ever a name used to refer to Darkleer- mainly because all I ever see people refering to him as is Darkleer. And at first it kinda threw me for a loop when you called him that even though it's the only name you knew for him- Anyhows- You probably noted this at some point but only upper middle class to high blood colors seem to have name names, with some exceptions. Like, they're weird, but Mindfang, Redglare, and Dualscar are all fesable names. Meanwhile the lower bloods just have titles.

It is absolutely in character of Alternia not to allow lowbloods to have names.

Anonymous asked: Just read your liveblog over the last two days. I adore your analysis! I second that one person’s reccomendation of In Stars And Time. Also I reccomend the Blue Lips homestuck video, it’s lived in my head for ages. I’m 99% sure it’s safe to watch now? It’s about the events of murderstuck and I don’t THINK it references anything you don’t know. Anyhoot! I know you mentioned vriska being like Azula when you first started getting to know her. Now that you’re as far as you are, I’d like to argue… Vriska is more like Zuko, in a way? Like. The way she wants to wipe things clean, the way he wants to restore his honor. The way they both have a “parent” that leads them to how things are, and for a while they cling to that as “right” and how things should be… One time I saw a post that Vriska is girl Zuko and Eridan is boy Azula and all the comments were arguing that no, vriska is Azula, but lowkey that post changed my brain chemistry and idk why people were SO vehemently against changing the genders of the characters in the comparison

I think Vriska works well as girl Zuko. You're right - they both started off under the thumb of an abusive parent, and they both try to 'fix' their past mistakes without understanding the wider context behind why they made them. Now, does this mean Vriska will also be getting a kickass redemption arc, which turns her into one of the comic's most straightforwardly heroic characters? Possibly, but I ain't holding my breath.

It's a little harder for me to see the second comparison, though. Like her brother, Azula was made into what she is by her horrible father, whereas Eridan became what he is on his own, with some assistance from Alternian culture.

Perhaps there are layers here that I'm just not seeing. I haven't read the Avatar sequel comics yet, so they might do more with Azula's character that I don't know about.

@mrjocrafter asked: I was trying to think about what the characters' moon alignment means in terms of their characterization, thought "Prospit dreamers are relatively passive while Derse dreamers are relatively active", then realized that's only true for the humans, the Post-Scratch Trolls' 6 Prospit dreamers (excluding Sollux, as his 'official' alignment, according to the Extended Zodiac, is Derse) are the more active characters. Then I realized that on Earth darkness and dark-associated characters are edgy and countercultural, while on Alternia light and light-associated characters are countercultural instead! Goddamn this comic just keeps coming back for more themes Also, I know you've compared Taylor to Vriska in the past, but she really strikes me as more of a Terezi. Beyond the surface level stuff (like going blind and then relying on a supernatural sense), Taylor, like Terezi has a strong moral compass but will twist it into pretzels to do the most horrific shit and there's a 50/50 chance she even regrets it afterwards. Meanwhile, Amy, who I think makes a much better Vriska, does her atrocities either under manipulation (like Vriska) or just does it without thinking about it and feels bad about it later (hey, also like Vriska). Also, Taylor Hebert and Amelia Dallon are coincidentally both valid troll names.

Yup! Which means Kanaya is a troll goth, which is still amazing.

And... hmm, I'm not sure whether I'd call Dave active or passive. He certainly acts more on his own initiative than John, but he also spends a lot of time getting bossed around by Terezi. He's kind of in the middle, really.

I do think Terezi's reframing of her violence as 'justice' is very Taylor-coded - and Amy is absolutely a Vriska, if we're working off the 'female, controversial, and morally ambiguous' definition given by a previous asker. Plus, well...

...yeah. And let's not even talk about Ward. (Because I haven't read it.)

Really, all these characters are multifaceted, and you can draw many different parallels in many different directions. If I had the time, I could probably draw lines from each of the trolls to a different cape in the Wormverse - but for now, we must continue!

@morganwick asked: Bec's influence on Jack is so strong that not only is he reduced to following Jade around like a puppy, he kills CD for completing the mission he gave him and leaves Jade, one of the players he's supposed to be killing, on her quest bed, the nature of which he didn't seem to know about when it came to John. Bec = absolute king.

Bec is a king.

It really does seem like his influence over Jack is increasing as time passes. Is Davesprite going to get more birdlike, as well? Or is Bec just a special case because he's a First Guardian?

Anonymous asked: oh my god you really just cleaned the board with the last minute Dave+Rose quest slab guess??? Like. You were going on about other things and then you just casually mention "oh I guess this could happen too" like okay!!! Seer!!!!

Yeah, I'm pretty proud of that one. I was just thinking about how Aradia might help the Derse kids, once she'd met them at the Sun, and then it hit me: she's been in exactly the same situation, in exactly the same place, because of exactly the same sun!

Anonymous asked: dogtier IS in fact what the entire fandom calls her, if you came up with that yourself congrats on the authentic 2011 homestuck experience, move over carcinisation this is the new big thing in convergent evolution

I did, but come on. That pun makes itself.

Anonymous asked: Fun fact: the music used in [S] Begin Intermission 2, "English", is the same when reversed. It is an EXTREMELY excellent detail. And another example of Toby Fox being a brilliant composer. @sanctferum asked: English by Toby Fox is a really cool song in that its a musical palindrome, playing the same both forwards and backwards, as befits the titular entity. The whole Felt album it's from is based around creating songs with time gimmicks in them, so it serves as a very good semifinal track to almost close the album out. @emotionallyglued asked: You finally got to the part where our big bad man appears! Simple question to ask but I'm looking forward towards the answer: what do you think of Lord English's theme? Grandiose enough to fit a villain of his caliber or did you expect something more/else?

Oh, shit, that's cool!

I liked the song a lot. Sure, it's not as bombastic as the boss theme I went with myself, but it is much, much scarier. It was the perfect way to remind us that this wasn't really a victory - that English's plan went off without a hitch. Our heroes are still in terrible, terrible danger.

@morganwick asked: post/756751870755733504 Still think of Doc Scratch as "Big Cal"? @sanctferum asked: You've heard of Lil' Cal and Big Cal, now get ready for the deadliest and dastardliest villain of all: Biggest Cal. Anonymous asked: you've seen lil cal, now get ready for BIG CAL @lon-kasi asked: finally, Big Ca- well. actually. Scratch was Big Cal, wasn't he? so finally, Bigger Cal

This is the real reason Scratch wouldn't tell Rose his boss's name - because if she'd known her manipulator worked for Bigger Cal, she'd have been too god damn scared to go grimdark.

Anonymous asked: T1ck T0ck goes the God Tier Clock. Its chime signals the Br8k of Scratch's H34D. And with the arrival of Lord English, he lets loose two great, Vast honk HONKS. Anonymous asked: Did you notice something about the English sequence? First, we see Scratch's clock. t1ck, t0ck. Then, his head breaks. 8r8k H34DS. He releases the Vast Honk. honk HONK.

This motherfucker died to the very words that birthed him.

I guarantee you that this was deliberate on Scratch's part. He didn't need to foreshadow his plan so blatantly - but this horrible little troll knew that nobody would get the joke until it was too late.

bladekindeyewear asked: "S u c k e r s ." The bioorganic-looking Tumor opening up to reveal a precision device. Twice the mass of a universe. Doc Scratch fucking played EVERYONE SO HARD. We couldn't believe THEY CREATED THE GREEN SUN, so hard many of us watched without REALIZING IT. If you reread the talk Doc and Rose had from p3627 onward, the amount of TRANSPARENT DODGES AND WEASELING he did in that conversation to mislead Rose and the entire readership is so blatant and shameless, oh my fucking god!!! Anonymous asked: Not only did Scratch never said the tumor would destroy the green sun, he also specifically said they would travel to the green sun LOCATION, not to the green sun itself.

God damn it!

Scratch may have been stoic on the outside, but you mark my words: he was absolutely roaring with laughter on the inside.

@sunbluethinking asked: Regarding 'a dozen or two sweeps,' you do have to remember that it seems like one sweep is roughly equivalent to two human years? (See Terezi's and Dave's 'I'm six' conversation, or whatever it was.) So my impression is that a dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 24 years and two dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 48 years. Still really short, but not quite as absurdly short. (Which actually reminds me of the question of the problem of rate of maturation in fictional races with different lifespans. (Dungeon Meshi touches on this, but) in the case of Homestuck, I think it seems like the trolls mature to adulthood at about the same rate. It's just their adult lifespans that are different.) @bellcarved asked: If my math is correct, "a dozen or two sweeps" is a range of 26 to 52 years. Still not great, but 26 would be the low end of the life expectancy, while they tend to live around half as long as a human.

So either Aradia was about to die, or she wasn't - but either way, she was always going to die young.

We still don't know whether God Tier stops you aging, do we? I have to assume so, because death by old age isn't really Heroic or Just, but I'd feel a lot better if it was 100% confirmed.

Anonymous asked: And here we learn the story of Jesus and the second coming- @bellcarved asked: Now you know the truth: Karkat Vantas is the second coming of Troll Jegus Christ. Anonymous asked: I doubt I'm the first to say this but, the story of the Signless is undeniably based off the story of Jesus Christ. @skelekingfeddy asked: you do realise that the sufferer is Troll Jegus right. the irons/cancer symbol is the crucifix. his method of execution turned into the main symbol of a religion. the dolorosa is mary. karkat is the second coming. hes literally just Troll Jegus lmao @sanctferum asked: turns out, Terezi was right all along. troll jegus was real after all, and he was indeed the best jegus. shame on you for not believing, Dave

God damn it, Karkat. You hate yourself so much, even though you're literally the second coming of Christ.

And really does add weight to Terezi's claim that Alternia had the 'best' Jesus. Sure, says she's joking here, but... well, her Ancestor was a follower of the Signless, wasn't she? Could Terezi have inherited more of Redglare's legacy than we thought?

Anonymous asked: now that you know about the signless i recommend you take another read of karkat's long password on page 3972

...huh.

It almost makes it seem like Karkat's vaguely cognizant of the Sufferer's life, the same way the Sufferer was cognizant of his pre-Scratch incarnation. Funny, that.

@morganwick asked: "For a bisexual alien, his shipping is awfully straight, isn't it?" Well, consider that when he drew that he was trying to adhere to the human model of reproduction with its explicit requirement of one person of each sex, as best he could from his alien perspective. Note that in the same conversation he's struggling to understand the "human taboo of incest". @manorinthewoods asked: Karkat's humanshipping is straight because John told him he wasn't gay, and presumably, he extrapolated. ~LOSS (28/12/24) Anonymous asked: Karkat's very straight shipping chart is the way it is because John's Not A Homosexual:tm:

I totally forgot I came to the same conclusion, back in that legendary group chat.

Man, Rose x Kanaya is really going to throw Karkat for a loop. He'll probably think that John was just bullshitting him.

@skelekingfeddy asked: steven moffat is a valid troll name Anonymous asked: You've brought it up too much not to ask, what did Moffat do that pissed you off so badly?

Once more, I am very tempted to make this a full essay, but I'll save time by just pointing to Hbomberguy's famous Sherlock video, which I agree with, like, 80% of - particularly the Doctor Who segment that I've timestamped.

In a nutshell, Moffat was always really good at generating intrigue, and building hype for future events - but as a showrunner, he never really delivered on his promises, and was very fond of handwaving established canon to the side. Pet peeve of mine, as you can imagine.

@rwbypro asked: We warned you bro, we warned you about the most important character @skelekingfeddy asked: carcinoGeneticist may have engineered the cancer…but terminallyCapricious was the one who made it terminal. ;o) @capribornio asked: Honk, honk :0) Heyyyy you reached the part where Gamzee became my favorite enemy. Forget Vriska, Jack and Doc Scratch - Gamzee may have his buttons pushed by the good ol' Doc, but he managed to make things worse than even Vriska got to (and killed more main characters, too!). Anonymous asked:Congratulations on reaching this point. So, Gamzee chucklefucked the universe. Crazy, right? @bellcarved asked: Gamzee's "Bard of Rage" title is looking more accurate than ever, now. His own rage lead him to put the clowns in John's dreams, which ended up inspiring the rage that made Jack Noir go to the lengths he did. Bardic inspiration, if you will. …also, this makes Perfect Jack a collaborative effort between Vriska and Gamzee. @capribornio asked: I feel like you get Gamzee much better than most livebloggers (and a part of the fandom, too). Gamzee is an orchestrator, on a much bigger level than any could have predicted. The silly little troll dissappeared once he got off the slime, got his religion destroyed, and got Lil Cal.

I told you, guys! I told you Bards were overpowered!

Yeah, he's already getting pretty crafty, isn't he? Maybe, instead of manipulating Gamzee like he did the girls, Scratch has actually been coaching him. After all, his own manipulating days are over, so maybe he saw fit to train a successor...

Anonymous asked: if vriska was presented with a choice about the creation of bec noir, it would have had to be before the veil because the trolls only flee into the veil AFTER bec shows up and wrecks their reward- and that's their first introduction to him. any choice she could have made about bec/jack after that would result in a doomed timeline, because it would break the loop. that's why it has to be before the veil. @manorinthewoods asked: What I mean is that the Choice that would have prevented Bec Noir is something that would have made Vriska change who she was, in such a way that she wouldn't later make Bec. Vriska's Choice that made Bec can't have occurred in the Veil, because there wasn't a Denizen to give it, so whatever it was, it must have been something to do with character growth that she failed to do. ~LOSS (28/12/24)

Oh, right, that makes sense!

Yeah, poor Vriska simply wasn't self-aware enough to make such a Choice before the Veil. It's interesting what-if, though.

@flambeaufelid asked: ICP albums liveblog maybe??? (Do people liveblog music reactions? They should.) Anonymous asked: Since you mentioned the possibility of having to listen to ICP albums to understand Gamzee better, I figured I’d better let you know that while reading a bit about juggalos, ICP, and ICP’s music does help with understanding Gamzee better if you’re unfamiliar with them (though I wouldn’t say it’s crucial), I don’t recommend listening to their music unless you’re comfortable with graphic depictions of gore, murder, and other forms of violence. (Speaking from personal experience here; I tried listening to them because Gamzee’s my favorite character and quickly realized I didn’t enjoy that.) Anonymous asked: I would say listening to icp is not necessary… I tried myself and failed not even half way through one album so I admittedly could be wrong but… I think it was never intended to be THAT serious

I checked out Miracles, back when ICP was first brought up, but I haven't seen any of their other music. It's probably not actually necessary to listen to the band to understand Gamzee, but I might still do it for fun, since the graphic content wouldn't bother me much.

@skelekingfeddy asked: according to hussie the fifth wall is what divides two narrators/authors @sanctferum asked: According to Hussie's comments, if the fourth wall is the wall between the character and the author/their audience, then the fifth wall is specifically the wall dividing omniscient narrators from each other. or something like that

I, uh, guess that makes sense. Presumably Scratch would be our second 'author' in this scenario, even though he's not literally another author of Homestuck.

#asks #full liveblog #act 5.2

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jellyfitzjelly · 10 months ago

Note

Zevlor in a fresh relationship, his partner is not yet aware of ruts. One day, Zevlors rut begins suddenly (I imagine he usually has a good idea on when they come on) and his partner comes home to him being completely wrecked trying to fuck his fist, saying her name over and over. When he sees her enter the room he is first ashamed but she practically drools and drops to her knees to take care of him. He is in for a long session of worship and care. Never has someone taken care of him like this during his rut. Zevlor is so filled with horny thoughts and love he cries a lil

After three thousand years it is here.... I apologize for the delay anon, IRL is crazy right now. I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless!

While the cat is away... | NSFW | AO3

Zevlor was reading when he felt a rush of heat inside him. He frowned as his nipples pebbled and his heartrate picked up. He cursed loudly in Infernal, panicked. His rut was coming right now! How come he didn’t expect it? Zevlor could always pick up the signs, but this time it came completely unexpected! Why?

He huffed with annoyance when he realized that it was probably because of Tav’s presence that his rut got triggered unexpectedly. They had gotten together a few months ago, but Zevlor hadn’t told her about his biology. He just felt too embarrassed and had foolishly thought he wouldn’t get a rut until next year.

Sighing as his skin started itching, a sign his rut was minutes away from beginning, the ex-Commander undressed hurriedly and went to the bedroom to grab the puss-box he kept hidden under the floorboard. He was thankful Tav was absent for a few days. She was visiting her friend Shadowheart. That would leave him time to get through the worst of his rut.

He chose a table with an ideal height. He murmured the gluing spell that would allow the puss-box to stay in place on the table. Gods who in the nine Hells came up with “puss-box” as an actual product name? It was stupid and ridiculous, but even the tiefling couldn’t deny that this toy did him well when he was alone. Just in time: Zevlor’s cock was hardening, his knot swelling as he felt an overwhelming rush of arousal. Zevlor bit his lip as he felt the need for Tav’s scent. He hurried to their bedroom, rummaging through his lover’s clothes but none did the trick. The scent wasn’t strong enough… His gaze turned to the dirty laundry basket. Reddening, he looked through it and found panties Tav wore during her training yesterday. He brought them to his nose and breathed in the divine smell. Arousal shot down his spine, making his mind hazy and his cock twitch. He needed to fuck something now. He came back to the living room, eagerly oiling himself before lining his cock with the entrance of the toy. He brought the panties to his nose, closing his eyes as he imagined himself diving into Tav’s cunt. He snapped his hips into the tight walls of the puss-box, groaning. He fucked the hole urgently. Sweat started to pearl his brow as he took his pleasure, imagining stretching Tav with his knot, having her bear his children from all the seed he fucked into her. He threw his head back to moan as he breathed into his lover’s scent, his knot pulsing and aching. His release was building fast in the pit of his belly, he was going to come–

A gasp made him snap his eyes open. Tav was standing there, watching with shocked, wide eyes. Zevlor pulled out, panicked, dropping the panties in horror. His cock twitched despite the situation.

“I’m sorry–” Zevlor began, but his lover strode over.

He flinched, expecting blows, but she dropped to her knees in front of him and took his cock in hand. He moaned, frozen in place. He didn’t know what to expect. Disgust? Anger? Fear?

“You’re so big,” she murmured, practically drooling at the sight of his cock.

“Tav, I can explain…” he trailed off, scrambling for an explanation that did not involve the fact he hid the peculiarities of his biology.

She didn’t seem to have listened to him. She mouthed his knot, sucking on it and making Zevlor howl. His knot was sensitive, especially since he was so close to release. Tav sucked eagerly on his knot, trying to fit it entirely in her mouth. The Hellrider groaned, carding a hand in her hair. She finally let his cock slide into her mouth, letting him thrust. He could not control himself anymore and snapped his hips forward into the heavenly wet heat, being careful not to choke her. He keened when he felt a hand rolling his heavy balls. He tried hard to keep his wits about, to warn Tav about his rut but the pleasure was draining all thoughts from his mind. All he could think about was that mouth sucking on his knot and then on his balls. His thighs started quivering as his partner brought closer and closer to the edge.

“Please! Please! I– I can’t–” he stammered, trying to pull her off his dick but Tav was clearly decided to have him come in her mouth.

He was going to come, but it felt wrong, all wrong. Zevlor snarled, teeth baring as he roughly yanked Tav off his cock. He grabbed her arm and lifted her up to her feet before dragging her to the bedroom where he threw her on the bed. Tav looked so beautiful like this, ready to be filled with his seed. But he wanted to taste her first. He shoved her pants down and ripped her panties apart to dive into that cunt he had been hungering for. He lapped at her vulva like a thirsty man finding an oasis in a desert. He grabbed her by the hips, digging his claws in her skin as he kept her in place, pleasuring her and making her moan and whimper. She grabbed him by the hair, trying to shove his face into his cunt. Zevlor brought her to release, sucking on her clit even when the overstimulation settled in. He enjoyed her moans and her writhing, making his cock pulse. He brought her to another release, never getting enough of her taste and smell. Zevlor could not wait a second longer. He must have her. He stood up and showed off his cock, rubbing it against her sopping cunt. Tav moaned brokenly, snapping up her hips for more friction against her clit. The Hellrider pushed inside her with ease, groaning. This was so much better than his miserable toy. Her wet heat was simply heaven. Zevlor could not help a guttural, animalistic moan as he fucked her hard and fast. His release built up and up in his gut, his knot pulsing faster and faster.

“Mine,” he growled, wrapping a hand around her throat as his knot caught on her entrance.

“Yours,” Tav cried out and the Hellrider could put off his release no longer.

He pushed and pushed until his knot popped in, coming with a long moan and his head thrown back as he filled her up with his seed, feeling her walls constrict around him. He fell down on her, out of breath and blissed out. Tav wrapped him in her arms, petting his sweaty hair and purring into his neck.

“Didn’t know you were into choking,” she chuckled.

Zevlor blushed, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his face.

“Don’t be, I enjoyed it,” she grinned. “I like it when you get bossy.”

His cock twitched at the praise. They stayed in each other’s embrace until his knot deflated. Tav switched their positions and let him slip out of her.

“Stay in bed,” the Hellrider murmured, but the young woman had other plans.

She got up and came back with a basin of water and a cloth. She gently wiped him down, refusing any help as she tenderly wiped his sweat away. Her gentle touch seemed to break something in his heart. There was reverence in her eyes. Reverence for him. It brought tears to Zevlor’s eyes to see her kissing each of his infernal ridges, looking upon his features with adoration. Nobody had ever done so. All his past lovers had been accepting at best, nothing more.

“Don’t cry, my love,” Tav told him with a smile, wiping his tears away.

He took her hand into his, kissing her knuckles. She kissed and fondled every inch of his body from horns to toes. By the time she was done, Zevlor was hard and aching again.

“I love you,” he choked up. “By the gods, I love you more than I love myself.”

She straddled him, caressing his face. She took his hand and put it over her heart.

“And I love you too, Zevlor. My heart is yours and only yours.”

She grinded against his cock, her folds wet and inviting. Zevlor groaned like a wounded man. She let him slip inside, moaning as she felt the ridges rub all the right spot.

“I want your knot so bad,” she panted, looking him right in the eye. “I want you to knot me, Zevlor. I want to bear your child.”

“Tav,” the Hellrider whimpered. “Please…"

“I mean it,” she told him seriously, and that more than anything else drove him wild.

He grabbed her hips, digging his claws into the soft skin as he drove up into her cunt, slapping his knot against her entrance in a concert of slick and obscene sounds. His release was swelling inside of him, merciless and unstoppable. He could see how Tav’s thighs were quivering, her clit erect and swollen. She was close too. He snapped his hips up one last time and pushed forward, unrelenting, making her cunt yield to his knot. He shouted when it popped inside the tight wet heat. Zevlor spilled deep inside of her, a primal urge satisfied to see his mate filled with his own seed. The hope she would conceive a child crossed his mind, bringing another spark of arousal to his core as Tav slumped forward. He wrapped her in his arms, mirroring the tenderness she had shown him earlier.

“You are the greatest blessing the gods have ever given me,” he murmured, eyes moist.

Tav lifted her head, still flushed from their round. She smiled wide.

“I love you, but I really hope this thing of yours don’t last a full month. People would be concerned over my disappearance.”

Zevlor laughed.

“It lasts only a few days. A week at most. But my love for you will last all my life.”

“Good thing I will be yours forever, then,” she whispered before kissing him.

#zevlor #zevlor x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #mine bg3 #my fanfictions

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tiddygame · 1 year ago

Text

Ghoap god type au part 4! Now on Ao3!

Ao3 /// part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7 /// part 8 /// part 9 /// part 10 /// part 11 /// epilogue

I have not slept in A While because meds are meds so I don't know if this makes sense! Let's Go!!!

And shout out to these people for making me happy stim by requesting to be tagged! I hope this chapter is worthy of such an honor lmao:

@imjustheretofightforlove / @pieckyghost / @life-as-a-gamergirl

Ghost doesn’t know why he continued to give offerings to the god. He should have stopped when he had the chance, but he didn’t. Flowers, jewelry, rocks he thought looked cool, even an entire wallet he stole from a soldier who got on his nerves; It all went on the offering table.

Something had changed. He doesn’t know what, but there was a difference. And not knowing was terrifying. Ghost liked to compartmentalize, to think things through and sort them into organized boxes. Decluttering the unknown was how he stayed sane.

If there is a problem, do not panic, just figure out what you can do. And if you can do nothing, then you have no reason to panic. The rigid line of thought was the only way he could trick himself into thinking he had any control over his life, that fate hadn’t already woven her strings.

So how do you think through something beyond your comprehension?

Try as he might, he could not and would never be able to truly understand divinity. There was no rationale he could apply to Soap that didn’t make his ears ring. It was all well within arms reach but firmly out of his grasp.

He shouldn’t continue to show patronage to something so unpredictable, so volatile.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

And yet, every night he would take his dinner to whatever lousy altar he’d created and sit down to eat with an entity that could kill him without raising a finger, would eat and talk to him like they were friends. He’s not sure of when he lost his fucking mind, but it was certainly long gone.

Everything about the god terrified him. It was ancient, domineering over one of the most prevalent parts of humanity. Everything had to die someday, and at the end of it all, Soap would still be there, even as it died too.

So when he appeared behind Ghost at a bookstore of all places, he damn near shit himself.

He just wanted a book to occupy his time between battles, a distraction from the boredom of downtime. It was the same town as before, barely a few weeks since their impromptu meeting in the temple. He had been perusing the shelves and grabbed a book that caught his eye, some book about the history of the town, and was reading the back of it when someone was very suddenly right next to him.

“Anything interesting?”

Ghost flinched, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there as he turned to face the person who somehow got the jump on him. And just like everything else with the god, he doesn’t know how he knew that the person was Soap in disguise.

He looked nothing like the renditions he’d seen of the god; The man before him was short and had pale skin, light brown hair, and brown eyes. He looked about as non-descript as a human could get. Yet, he still knew that the man was no man at all, but a god that came from the heavens just to make his life miserable.

“Why are you here?” Ghost was too on edge and confused to put the fearful respect in his tone that he normally used when speaking to the god.

“I just came here to look for books, the same as you,” he replied, trying to keep a straight face and play it earnestly but smiling far too much.

Ghost didn’t dignify that with a response, continuing to stare down at him, book still in hand.

Soap sighed, “Alright, alright Mr. Grumpy, maybe I wanted to talk to you again.”

Ghost asked, “Why?” But he realized that probably wouldn’t get him the answer he wanted, “What do you need to talk about?” He was hoping to cut through the small talk and jump right to the essentials.

“I said want. Not need.” Soap corrected. When Ghost looked even more exasperated, he whisper-shouted, “I’ve been stuck in limbo for who the fuck knows how long! I need stimulation! Interaction! Conversation! Anything!”

Oh, gods above, this is the worst torture the god could have devised. He’d rather take eternal pain and misery over becoming a chatty god’s only conversation partner. Fuck, he’s done a lot of bad shit, but nothing to deserve this!

The god grabbed the book out of his hand from where he was still standing petrified and dumbfounded. Soap looked at the book, hummed, and then began browsing the aisle himself.

Soap mused aloud, “I’m not surprised you’re a history nerd… Is there anything else here that’s more interesting?”

A few weeks ago, the god had been so weak he could barely conjure a physical form, now he was in a bookstore to make fun of him?

“The god of death is calling me a nerd with shit taste.” Ghost hadn’t meant to vocalize that thought, but he was still trying to mentally catch up.

It seemed to catch the god off guard as well, with him snorting as he tried to cover his mouth to stop from laughing, “I didn’t mean ye’ have shit taste, I meant history isn’t an interesting read when you lived through it.”

And at Ghost’s core, he was nothing if not a pain, so even as he was scrambling to figure out what was happening, he pointed out, “But you weren’t alive. You said you were in limbo.”

“Okay, smart-ass. Alive, limbo, whatever. I need a story — one I haven’t heard before.”

“Do you even know how to read?”

His accent became thicker with indignation, “‘Course I do!”

“This language?” Ghost asked, gesturing to the shelves.

Soap immediately responded, “Ye—,” he cut himself off, looking at the book he grabbed from Ghost. It was upside-down and he twisted his hand awkwardly to have it back upright, squinting at it as he answered, now positive, “Yeah!”

Ghost mumbled, “Hmm, I figured you’d only be able to read dead languages.”

That one got a full laugh out of the god, he desperately tried to quiet his chuckles before they were told off for being too loud. Ghost isn’t sure why, but he felt oddly proud.

Soap was still smiling in an effort to stop laughing as he said, “That would make sense I suppose.” It seemed that not being able to laugh only made the situation funnier, huffing air out of his nose in a quiet giggle. “Well! What book would you suggest?”

Ghost pointed to the other side of the bookstore, “I’d suggest you stop looking in the non-fiction section.”

Soap looked around, muttering a curse under his breath. Seeing where Ghost had pointed, Soap grabbed his hand and dragged him along. Ghost was too surprised by the sudden contact to fight it, which was probably for the best. He may love his personal space, but he loved not getting smote even more.

“Okay, well, now what book would you suggest?” Soap repeated himself, this time not bothering to browse the shelves as he looked at Ghost for a recommendation.

Sighing in resignation, “What genres do you like?” If he could get this done with quickly enough, he might still have some time to himself before he had to return to camp.

“I don’t know. All of them I guess.”

He is not going to get this done with quickly enough to have some time to himself before he has to return to camp.

Ghost let out an even longer sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before coming to a solution. The store had their books sorted by genre, so it would be easy enough to grab one or two from each and then get Soap to pick one.

The god of death’s personal shopper. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Luckily for both of them, Ghost has had an exorbitant amount of downtime and knew of a few popular ones that weren’t complete garbage. Death seemed content to trail behind him as he picked out the books, admiring the simple building.

The store had large windows facing west, golden light stretching over the shelves and reaching across the floor to tell Ghost how much time he was wasting. The smart thing would have been to just grab a random book, sing its praises, and hope he didn’t get called out on his bullshit. Of course, that would require being smart, so instead Ghost went through almost the entire fiction section, ending with a total of seven books.

The stack of books was ridiculously tall as he set them down on a table at the back, intending to explain them to Soap and let him pick a couple.

“This is everything, one book each from most of the genres.” Ghost backed away when Soap stepped closer, looking like an owl as he turned his head sideways to read the spines. Ghost gave up trying to understand the god.

He pointed to the one on top, “This one is—“

“Fantastic! I’ll take them all,” Soap said, completely ignoring what Ghost was about to say.

“What?”

“I’ll take them all!” Soap repeated, as if he hadn’t been clear enough the first time. He grabbed the stack of books, adding the one he’d snatched from Ghost to the pile as he walked to the counter.

“But… You don't have any money…” Ghost’s quiet protest went unheard as Soap walked away. He had a small existential crisis as he wondered what mistake he made that led him to this exact moment. He decided the mistake was being born as he followed after the god of death, knowing he probably wouldn’t have enough to cover the books.

Soap set down the books next to the cash register and gleefully asked, “How much for all of these?”

The shopkeeper looked a little surprised at the size of the stack but began checking them and adding up the cost. Even without seeing the number, Ghost was already bemoaning having to explain to a divine being how the economy and poverty work.

But apparently, Soap wasn’t done confusing him as he grabbed a wallet out of his pocket and began pulling out credits as the shopkeeper gave the total.

At first, Ghost checked his own pocket thinking Soap had managed to steal his wallet and was in for a rude awakening when he found out Ghost was broke, but his wallet was still there. He wasn’t going to ask in front of the shopkeeper where he got it, but curiosity was eating at him.

Ghost stared at the wallet. He recognized it vaguely but didn’t know from where. It was only when Soap was putting it away that he realized it was the one he’d stolen from that annoying soldier and offered to the god.

And who said your misdeeds come back to haunt you?

Once the books were all bagged, Soap gestured towards it and Ghost sighed as he grabbed the paper bag, supporting the bottom as it was lifted off the counter. Mirroring the same motion, Ghost gestured towards the door. Part of him was curious if the god would pop back out of existence when he walked into the light like he did last time.

Ghost whispered once they were far enough away, “You know I stole that wallet, right?”

Soap snorted, “That’s what made it one of my favorites.”

Ghost let go of the handles of the bag, only holding it from the bottom, and opened the door for Soap. Soap nodded in thanks like everything that had transpired over the last two or so hours was a normal interaction.

Fortunately, the god did not vanish upon stepping outside, disproving his theory.

No, it was unfortunate. He wanted this to be done with. He didn’t want to keep talking to Soap.

His mouth didn’t seem to get the memo as he started to ask, “Why did you actu—”

“Ghost!”

The shout from someone behind him immediately sucked out any positive feelings he had. His usual glare was back as he turned to face the voice. There were two soldiers, a miserable little search party that looked disgusted at even having to go near Ghost.

“The General needs you for something.”

Of fucking course he does. He risked a glance to where Soap had been standing, unsurprised to see that he’d vanished. Ghost didn’t give them a verbal answer, just glared at them until they both began shifting where they were standing.

He felt a little relieved at being able to put the threatening tone back in his voice as he informed them, “I’ll be back before dinner.”

The one that spoke before looked to his partner and tried to forcefully say, “He needs you now.”

Ghost stepped closer, looming over them as he repeated, “I said I will be back before dinner.” He waited a moment, making sure they were properly threatened before he turned around and walked in the opposite direction of camp.

“Why were you at a bookstore?” One of them called out, almost accusatory as if it would stop him from leaving. He had forgotten about the rumor that he couldn’t read; He doesn’t know how it started, but it was a favorite amongst his fellow soldiers.

“What bookstore?” Ghost yelled back, not bothering to turn around.

The forest looked beautiful in the orange light of the setting sun. He was heading back to the temple, not because he missed Soap, but because it was the only place they wouldn’t be able to find him. If he really was needed, there would be soldiers crawling all over town searching for him.

He didn’t like going somewhere so secluded without his sword, but it was back at camp and he was not going back yet, wanting to piss off the general as much as he could. He hadn’t wanted to walk into the village with such an obvious weapon on his hip out of respect for the residents, but now it meant he only had a hunting knife to defend himself with. Nothing to sneeze at, obviously, but he would have felt a lot more comfortable making the hike through the forest with a heavier weapon.

A chill began to take hold as the sun dipped below the horizon. A cold front came through a few days prior that made sure the days were a lovely charming example of the upcoming fall weather and that the nights were frigid enough to make anyone regret not being on a tropical island.

He made the trek much quicker this time, now knowing the path. Which was a very good thing as the shadows grew stronger as he made his way through the trees, trying to make him trip on roots that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

When he got to the temple, he set the bag down and made quick work of gathering a small amount of firewood and kindling with the last of the waning sunlight, the chill turning into a freezing wind. His fingers shook slightly as he made a small campfire near the empty doorway to the right of the statue, paranoid about proper ventilation even with all of the cracks in the roof.

Using the light to see, he pulled down some of the vines, setting both them and the greener wood near the fire. Hopefully, they would dry quickly enough to be used later in the night. He quickly sorted through the books, taking them out and setting Soap’s collection to the side.

He was trying to read the first page of his book when Soap appeared again. He didn’t look up as he greeted, “Good evening.”

“I do not like the way they treat you.” The god was blunt and Ghost couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at the amount of simmering anger the god held over what was a standard interaction for him.

“No?” Ghost asked, wondering why being told to return to camp was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

But he may have underestimated Soap’s anger as the god answered, “No. They don’t get to speak to you like that.” The sentence was punctuated by the campfire flaring slightly, the flames suddenly rising higher, illuminating more of the temple before they rescinded.

Ghost looked up at that, moving the book away to stop it from getting singed. He was not ashamed to admit that he was nervous, he just would never tell Soap that. To have him suddenly swap from someone friendly and charming to an undeniably pissed-off god was alarming.

“Uh—”

“They treat you like a fucking dog and can’t even speak to you with a shred of respect?”

The god’s form was flickering. This is what Ghost wanted, to know the tipping point for the god, but he wasn’t sure if this was the scenario in which he wanted to find out. He’d prefer for it to have been on the battlefield, the god having lost its patience with protecting him, not next to a campfire in his own temple.

“Soap—”

“Why do you fucking stay? They have no fucking right!”

The flames flared again and Ghost grabbed the handle of his knife. Just like the last time he was at the temple, he knew it would do nothing, but he could at least find comfort in the lie.

Soap noticed the movement, making eye contact. Soap was still breathing heavily and Ghost was doing the same, albeit for very different reasons. The god heaved a sigh, slouching over as he covered his face with his hands.

Once more, despite all rationale screaming otherwise, Ghost stayed. There was a long silence, the only noise being the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the wind.

The god was sitting with his legs crossed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands propped up his head. He was still staring at the ground when he asked, “Why? Why do you stay?”

“It’s complicated.”

Soap looked unimpressed, “No, it isn’t.”

“No,” Ghost agreed. “But it’s a story I don’t like to tell.”

The god let out a long breath like he was trying to calm himself down as he rubbed at his eyes, “Didn’t you say you’d be back for dinner?”

“I lied. Late morning at the earliest.” Soap chuckled, much more tinged with defeat than it had been a few hours ago. The silence was back and Ghost hesitated before grabbing his book again.

“Thank you.”

Ghost wasn’t expecting that and felt a bolt of panic strike through him, not knowing what the god was thanking him for.

Soap gestured towards the stack of books, “For humoring me today. I haven’t laughed in a long time. Thank you.”

The somber tone settled over him, the emotional whiplash from the past ten minutes alone was enough to make his head spin. Unsure of what else to say, he stuttered, “You’re welcome.” It sounded a lot more like a question than he intended.

Soap nodded and let his head fall again.

And, just like that, he was gone, fading away with the wind. He stared at where the god sat, ruminating over his words. When he came back to the present, he saw that the books were gone as well.

He would have laughed, Death having grabbed his haul of books and scurried off in the breeze, but the honesty behind the god’s not-quite confession weighed on him. He tried to read, but was only flipping pages as his eyes ran over the words, not taking anything in.

He’s been in this situation before, waiting out time to piss off the general and he knew how it went. Sleep wasn’t an option; He always found something to occupy himself with to stave off the inevitable boredom. He was lucky to have a book this time, but try as he might, he couldn’t focus on it.

He gave up on reading and instead turned his focus to the campfire in front of him. He added another log carefully, taking care to not smother any of the other sticks. He didn’t have much fuel and he’d need to make it last until sunrise.

Ghost woke up to light streaming in through the open doorway and birds chirping obnoxiously loud. He grumbled and tried to go back to sleep before remembering that he was never supposed to be asleep in the first place.

He tried to get up quickly, to stand to attention and scan for any threats or changes that indicated someone had come in during his nap. Instead, he sat up slowly, having to prop himself up on his arm to not lie back down.

His fire was miraculously still burning. The temple looked the same, there weren’t any assassins hiding in the corners, and his stuff hadn’t moved. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to remember that he never went to sleep with a blanket or pillow, yet now had both.

Instead of thinking about that, he stood slowly, his joints popping along the way. He yawned as he gathered his stuff, smothering the fire and folding up his bedding. Still not even half awake, he dropped the pillow and blanket at the base of the statue.

He grumbled out what was meant to be an expression of gratitude, but he’s not sure he got any of the syllables out. Taking as deep of a breath as he could to try to wake himself up, he began the walk to the river.

It’s a miracle he didn’t get lost as he stumbled through the woods, listening for the sound of rushing water. When he finally got to it, he was sure to avoid getting too close to the slippery bank, not feeling like drowning so early in the morning.

He walked over the ramshackle bridge that crossed the river and led into camp in the early afternoon. Just like last time, most of the soldiers quieted upon seeing him. And, just like last time, the general came stomping out of his tent, though this time significantly angrier

“I need you to listen to me carefully,” he began, seething with so much anger over Ghost’s disobedience that he was twitching. “I am going to give you ten seconds to explain yourself. If you do not have a good reason for why you went AWOL, you are going to wish you had never been born, am I understood?”

Ghost had mastered the voice of false innocence and remorse, “I’m sorry General, I wasn’t paying attention and got delayed by an hour.”

“An hour?” The general had a deceptively calm tone, one that spoke of being on the edge of doing something drastic. But the general was no god and Ghost had no qualms about giving him a shove.

“Yes sir, I know I said noon. I’m sorry for being late.” Ghost hung his head like he was ashamed. He was already mapping out a lie to explain why he arrived almost a full 24 hours after the search party said he would.

“Noon?” The general asked. Both of them were playing a very dangerous game, weaponizing an unstable but calm facade and putting on a little show for the rest of camp to sit back and watch.

“Yes sir.”

“I was told that you said you’d be back before dinner.”

Ghost lifted his head and glanced around, furrowing his brow in faux confusion, “Before dinner? No sir, I was trying to hunt for something to bring back to camp. They caught me right before I went into the forest; I might have said I was trying to find something for dinner, but I knew it would take me much longer than that.” Oh, how Ghost loved gaslighting.

The general’s lip curled, thinking he found a thread to pull, “Do you normally go hunting at night, son?” The words were full of poison, but Ghost already had an excuse.

“No sir, I looked for tracks yesterday afternoon, set up camp, and woke up early this morning to hunt. Unfortunately, I was no—”

“He’s lying!” One of the soldiers shouted, walking closer and shaking off his friend trying to pull him back. “He was walking out of a store! He wasn’t hunting!” Ah, that must be one-half of the search party.

Now emboldened, the other half approached from the stables, and joined in, “Yeah, he was leaving a bookstore with some guy.”

Uh-oh, that’s not good. He didn’t realize that they saw Soap.

He was trying to figure out if he should outright deny it or try to claim that he, the notorious loner, had made a friend in town. A friend that just so happened to leave that day so they couldn’t ask for him to verify Ghost’s story. Hmm…

“What? No, he was alone.”

Never mind, that’s perfect; Only one of them saw Soap.

The two began arguing over whether or not Ghost had been alone and Ghost “timidly” chimed in, “Bookstore?”

The first one that had spoken paused his argument and turned back to the general, “He even had a shopping bag!”

Adding fuel to the flames of their anger, Ghost made a point of looking at his hands to show they were empty. He gently corrected like he was just trying to help the two remember, “I was walking out of a general store. Alone. I needed berries for bait.”

The rest of the camp gave odd looks to the search party, the rumor of his inability to read not helping their legitimacy. Now he just had to hope they didn’t ask why he didn’t have any camping or hunting supplies aside from a small bag.

The general looked more irritated than irate, “That’s enough. All three of you are being punished for insubordination. For now just get the hell out of my sight until tomorrow morning.”

Ghost tried not to smile too wide as he nodded and walked away, very happy that the general reached his limit before more glaring holes could be poked in his story. The other two looked offended at getting punished with him, one standing slack-jawed as the other even tried to argue before getting dragged away by his friend before he could dig himself a deeper grave.

Ghost was going to be punished regardless of what he did or when he returned, but dragging the other two down with him was well worth it. Plus, the rest of the camp would now think they were liars as well who tried and failed to get him punished.

All in all, it was a rather successful trip to the bookstore.

…

Had he been paying more attention, thinking more clearly, he might’ve thought to hide his tracks, to not leave an obvious trail to where’d been, to hide the evidence of his time spent at the temple of the god of death.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #soap x ghost #forgotten death au #my writing #my meds have given me hypersomnia and yet i still have not slept in >24 hours #:'(#cant wait to wake up and find several critical errors

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