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Chapter Text

Kristin: Goddess of the Afterlife

BadboyHalo: God of Death

Philza: Deity of Death

Missa: God of Immortality

Foolish: God of the Undying

Tina: Goddess of the Self

Tūbhos: God of Time

Bagi: Goddess of Longing

Mouse: Goddess of Bonds

Jaiden: Goddess of Amiability

Molly: Goddess of Good Intentions

Niki: Goddess of Anarchy

Baghera: Goddess of Madness

Antoine: God of Caution

Luzu: God of Dichotomy

Elmariana: God of Incidents

Charlie: God of Slime

Quackity: God of Duality

Tommy: God of Trickery

Cellbit: God of the Unraveling

Aypierre: God of Loopholes

Roier: God of Plurality

Fit: God of Information

Banama: Goddess of Mothers and Grandmothers

Étoiles: God of Stars

Gelouré: Deity of Frost

Mine: Goddess of Creation

Mike: Deity of Destruction 

Pac: God of Invention

The territories are more of a formality, then anything else. Gods build their temples in or closer to a territory depending on convenience, alliances, aspects.

The Death Territory is mostly controlled and managed by Kristin and BBH and has a variety of gods and deities of great power.

The Eternity Territory is handled by Foolish and Missa, with a small part, over the mountains, technically under Tubbo's control. The little island is Foolish's in its entirety as a home, more then a territory.

The War Territory doesn't have an official leader and it's quite chaotic, especially since the sea divides it in three parts always at war with eachother.

The Mistery Territory has Cellbit and Roier as kings and while they are respected, nobody gives a shit.

The Creation Territory has Mine as the official leader, with Étoiles unofficially managing the part closer to the Death Territory. 

Chapter Text

Tūbhos had by now resigned himself to the tufts of hair that kept getting in the way of his eyesight: as any other young god he had realised that anything associated with his name was there to stay. 'Tūbhos' meant silly, soft, mad, contemptuous, to strike, to kill, to sway and, finally, tuft. None of it made any sense. Like, why didn't it mean shit like...dunno...to CREATE, which was what he mostly did? He would have expected, of all things, to have his machines be a fixed part of his existence, but apparently working half blind was a much more important core trait. The universe was mad, Tubbo had plenty of evidence and the name fuckery was a good 30% of it.

All of this is to say that, even if the door was right in front of him, since he was looking at his working table, a pelican could have been standing there in a skirt doing ballet and he wouldn't have noticed shit. The goggles could help only that much in keeping his eyes free and he was (conventionally) using them anyway, so no hope there.
"Good morning, Dhubhos"
Like I said...pelican.
Well, not technically one, but the god that was welcoming himself in his temple/laboratory/home drew attention just as easily. Not because he was flashy, of course, but- "Hello Pit".
The smile on Tūbhos' face was at best petty. He moved his goggles to rest on his brows and waited for the obvious answer. "It's Fit, not Pit".
"Well, it's not Dhubhos either, boss man". "Look, it can be said that way!". "Same goes for Pit, Pit!"
Pitus, Piteus, Pito, Pit, or whatever, walked inside the room with measured steps. His balance looked so unbreakable that Tubbo was almost jealous. When he rested his hands on the table, looking almost entertained by their exchange, the younger decided to make a show of taking his hands off the part of the contraption he was working on. It wasn't politeness, he just didn't want to be bereted for his very permanent character flaws after barely thirty seconds of conversation.

"I'd appreciate it if you called me Fit. Phit if you have to". From a god like him, it was pretty much the same as if he had demanded it, so Tūbhos rolled his eyes and got up from his seat: if he had to chose between looking up at the god or basically look at his very in front of him arms for another instant, he was gonna lose a screw. "Just call me Tubbo, man, Dhubhos is straight up cringe". Fit looked pleased.
"You're so weird" he shared absolutely unprompted while going around the table to find out what his guest wanted. He eyed the guy's prosthetic, since he had basically slapped it in his face and repairs was his best guess.
The muscles on the god's other arm flexed on instinct. Maybe he was uncomfortable with where he was looking at or it was a warning for his comment. No business of his.
"I must say, you seem very weird yourself". Yeah, ok, this guy looked too confident, he wanted him out. Were his words fair? Yes. Does anybody have the right to come in his temple and say what they want in his face just because it's fair? Absolutely not. The name problems were super common between gods, but calling him weird was out of line.
"You don't get to call me that: this is my temple and you need a favor, you have to be super nice to me".
"I'm polite".
"Not the same thing, boss man".
"I agree with you Tubbo, I agree with you".
Tūbhos felt mocked and the rage built behind his eyes in such a familiar way that he was half tempted to fall to it, his surroundings already buzzing.
But he was a businessman and surely Fit had come with an offer or he wouldn't have bothered. Surely.
So he nodded and smiled, looking almost constipated.

"Why you here? I have things to do".
"Yes, I can see that. I won't take much of your time". Did this god expect to be invited to sit somewhere? It occurred to Tubbo that he probably did. Oh, well, too late.
"Yeah?" He leaned on the table edge and crossed his arms.
Fit cleared his voice and looked suddenly resolute. "My baby boy wants to learn under you".
Tūbhos didn't have the grace to not look bewildered. "That makes absolutely no sense".
"His name is Ramónos".
"Ah, no, okay, sorry, it does make sense".
It did. While no son of Fit should technically take any interest in machines, his name meanings were a weird mix between Tūbhos' own and the ones of Pàk, a god associated with inventions. So, well, it seems the universe has spoken.
"Will you take him?" The god looked as though, if the other said no, he would just brute force a yes out of him; so Tūbhos, who was a firm believer that he was better left alone, tried to redirect him. "Why not ask Pàk? Our names only share the soft part and that has little to do with the work. But he shares the bending and twisting part with Pàk and that's were they get the mindset. So, like, it makes zero sense to have him under me, if you want your baby boy to put his talents at work you totally came at the wrong door. Do you follow me? Am I making sense? I think I'm totally making sense. Complete sense. Glad I could help you? You know where you gotta go, boss man, you know where you gotta go. Places to be and mentorships to get". He had started bouncing his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get the god out of the door but not moving from his position to not break the spell of his net of words. "With a name like that, your baby boy is surely gonna get places, I bet! It's gonna be awesome to see what he learns from Pàk. You have the coordinates for his temple, right? Here, I'm writing them for you". He bent to grab a piece of parcel and wrote them down by giving a tug at the string that connected him to any future travel to the place in question. Being immortal had its perks: you were sure you'd go anywhere sooner or later.

Problem is...Fit didn't take the coords. Instead he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Ramón said he wanted to study under you ".
"Oh". Well, shit.
"Do you have a problem with teaching my beautiful baby boy made in heaven by the Cosmos itself?"
"I never said that. I have no idea where you got that from".

Maybe he couldn't get out of this one as easily as he had thought. Moreover, he was still feeling irked: that weird glint had never left Fit's eyes and he was starting to feel as if he was being toyed with. With a name like that, shouldn't he be as smart as a drunk fat pig? Or, like, a pine? What even was the deal with that anyway? At times names were weird, but...never completely wrong.

"Just a feeling, just a feeling". Yep, the guy was totally toying with him. "Can you please not laugh at my face?"
Tubbo couldn't even feel remorseful for snapping like that (he never did), since Fit's smile was still there. Talk about gods with an ego.
"Hey, I'm not laughing at your face". "Oh, you so were. Don't even pretend".

At that the god stopped, not quite frozen, but more like he was contemplating, his eyes never leaving Tūbhos and almost searing into him.

The rage left him like it had come, leaving only a slight pressure behind his eyes. Fuck, he hated that. He automatically brought an hand to his face, thumb and pointing finger pressing on his temples, the palm shielding the light. Post rage headache, great.

"You're so weird", this time it was a murmur.
"You ok there?"
"Just because my name means weak and soft doesn't mean..." It had so little bite that the sentence died on its own.
"Of course, just checking. I mean, I would know!"
Tūbhos' hand dragged on his face while he put it down to look at the other god. "They did you so dirty, boss man. Why the fuck does your name mean drunk?"
"It technically doesn't. It's supposed to mean nectar, then that became liquor, you know how it goes".
"Yeah, I think I was meant to mean soft and precious, then that became soft and fragile, so, you know, weak".
"Well, you don't look weak to me, Tubbo. You look pretty strong, just...maybe a bit tired. But, you know, you're a busy man, I respect that, i respect that".
"Thank you, boss man".

The guy was totally toying with him. He was 35% sure, which is a pretty high percentage. Nevertheless, he looked at his table, swarmed with his projects and spare parts, than back at Fit. The god brightened up, seemingly catching were this was going. "Look, man, I can't promise you anything, but Ramónos can come and help me out...tomorrow? And if he thinks he's learning something and he doesn't set me back too much, he can keep coming. Otherwise you better be prepared to butter up TazerCraft".
"Of course, of course. Just let me know what I can do in exchange". 

At Fit's words, it was like new life had been breathed into Tubbo. "Yeah, yeah, but like, how can we put a price to your beautiful baby boy's education, you know".
Instead of getting angry, a light chuckle was out of the other god's lips, laughter in his voice as he answered: "You're right, you're righ, it's priceless, I hear you, Tubbo, don't you worry". Their smiles mirrored one other as Tūbhos lifted his hand for a shake on it. They were both powerful gods and pride was an important thing for them. It was gonna be worth it, it would be an insult to think otherwise and, with the way the other had navigated the meeting, Tubbo had a feeling some research was done about him: Fit surely knew what he might like. It was gonna be awesome. But! 

He didn't release Fit after the shake, instead bringing their hands closer to him. He was almost gonna ask who had been sharing info about him, just to check if there was anything special to it. Was it better to wait after the trade basing on what was brought on the tabe by Fit? Damn, it was. 
Wolfish smile still on his face, Tubbo let go. His palm felt cold at the loss and he was barely able to catch something in Fit's eyes, before it had looked like a simple shift in the light. He was so, so weird.

"It was nice talking to you, Tubbo. I'm gonna come tomorrow morning with Ramón, if that's ok". 
Finally! Finally he was getting out! That had taken so much tiiime! And, sure, he could give himself back those twenty minutes, but that was just gonna mess up with his nonexistent sleeping habits.
"Yeah, that's cool, it's fine". 

How bad is it if he, like, totally forgot?

By that afternoon he was 50% sure that conversation had been a trick of a piio* deprived mind, he still hadn't had his morning cup of pibo* when Fit had barged in, so...

By the evening he had forgotten and, when he fell asleep on one of his machines, favourite blanket stained red and black, the comforting heat and rumbling under him lulling him to sleep, he only had the vague feeling tomorrow was supposed to be a pain in the ass. It didn't disturb his dreams, they flew as usual, his limbs covered in strings that stretched in the vast darkness around him, looping and getting tangled. He sat by a window that had just appeared - it always did - and started checking his strings one by one. He'd make them slide on the underside of his knuckles until he found the mess that was often waiting at a certain length, took care of it and passed on. A bystander would think he was making a bigger mess of and around him, but at the end of the process everything was tidy, vibrant and neat.

Waking up was like falling asleep on the net formed by the strings, waiting by the window like a princess in a tower.  

Sometimes he wanted to never leave his dreams, but when he was awake he realized, every time, that he was doing quite the same even awake, just finding ways to make things run as they did in his mind. The difference was that he was never tired or cold when in his dream world: outside the window waited an infinite blue sky and green plains bathed in golden light. Foolish had once commented metter-of-factly: "Isn't that just your eyes?" So that was that. After all, dreams are in our heads.

When Tūbhos woke up, he simply rolled until he found the edge of whatever surface he was on and let himself fall. A bent of the knees and he had softly landed.
He basically went head first to the nearest bathroom and by the way he went from relieving himself to the tub, it could be said that he was not quite walking and more rolling, laws of physics not regarded with an ounce of respect.
The tub was basically a pool coated in copper, filled to the brim with warm water. Tūbhos had half a mind to call for someone to do the work for him, but he liked the quiet more, so he grabbed a cloth and rubbed himself clean, the dust and grease disappearing fast from the honey-colored water. He then put his head under and when he raised to pour some random soapy liquid on it (ashes or alkaline salt with some sort of fat or oil), he was beated to it by fast, expert hands. His entourage had found him. Dammit.
In less than ten minus his head was clean, his hair untangled and oiled, his entire body moisturized and perfumed and he was being covered in warm towels to dry himself. "I hate every single one of you".
Someone hummed to that and he was finally handed clothes.

When he was back at his table, he found easy to eat food and plenty of pibo, dark and warm. So maybe he didn't hate his entourage, just maybe. The jury was still out.
He made fast work of the coffee - ups, sorry, I mean the pibo. Then, food in hand, he started his runs around the laboratory. It wasn't all him, of course, he let the minor deities that followed him do some mundane tasks, mostly replenishing and upkeeping, but he liked to keep an eye on things and the runs helped to jump start his brain into motion: he would notice a malfunction here, a possible upgrade there, then from there he would have a new idea and when he started proper his mind was vibrating.

At the table, a couple of hours later, Tūbhos was pouring his second cup of pibo from the jug and a wave of light suddenly invaded the room from the windows and the always open door. The sun seemed to have just appeared over the mountains and its rays greeted Tubbo's skin with the gentleness of a child. "Hello to you too" he said with his eyes closed.
"Yes, good morning. Look at who I have here".
Tūbhos opened his eyes with such a rush that he almost spilled his pibo and that would have been miserable. Fit was there in front of the door, a nice looking siluette bathed in light. Right, the mentorship, the visit, the weirdness. He started cursing in his head so strongly, that if a minor deity was not born in that moment, the sun was gonna start raising from the back.
"Why?" he asked the Cosmos. "What?" Tubbo looked at Fit with contempt. "Not a question for you, boss man. Where's the kiddo?"
The god smiled almost blindingly and moved out of the way. Behind him was the most resolute child in existence, chin raised and goggles on his head. "C'mon Ramón, introduce yourself".
It was almost cute. Ok, no, who was he kidding? It was straight up adorable.
"I'm Ramónos, son of Fit. I'm here to ask for your mentorship". Wow, that sounded formal. "And you shall have it, for now".
He wasn't trying to be a dick, he just wanted to spare his feelings: nobody wants you around for long, if you don't make yourself useful, it was better if he learned fast.
Tūbhos sipped from his cup and turned around, walking towards the back of the room to search for a working table for the child.
Fit bent a knee to be eye to eye with his son, encouraging smile on his face. "I'm so proud of you my boy! I'm sure you're going to do great". Was he leaving, then? Good, he didn't need more strangers in his temple. He could barely stand his own entourage and they were literally born from him.

He ignored them and went straight to one of the good tables: not as big as his, but still very large and sturdy. With a hop, he rested the edge on his shoulder and pressed the palm of his hand under the surface. Not the most stable, but manageable. It wasn't that heavy for a god and he was used to lifting things. He curled the fingers of the other hand on the edge a bit further up than his shoulder and started walking towards the parent-child duo, who was now in front of his table, Ramón busy analyzing his contraption with a familiar glint in his eyes and Fit apparently there to supervise.
"Alright, where should we put your table? Is next to mine fine by you, little boss man?" Their eyes were immediately on him and while the kid looked excited, Fit seemed to have at first wanted to help him with the weight, but then changed his mind, doing a once over of his body instead with, yet again, that reflexive face on. Oh, well, that was weird...and embarassing. Better to lose the table.
And that he did as soon as Ramón gave the ok.

Weirdness averted, Tūbhos went to his own table to see what he had going for the day and made a decision. "For today you're gonna follow me around and write down what I show you. It's better you learn how to move around here and where to keep clear from. We don't want you to die or something, but I also want you to know where things are". He handed the kid some spare notebook and looked to see if Fit was ready to bring his ass out of his turf. Apparently he wasn't, because he started explaining to his son that they were to listen to Tubbo carefully and do what he said.
Well, it wasn't strange that he wanted to stick around for his son's first day. As far as he knew, Tūbhos was irresponsible or straight up ate children. So whatever, he wasn't gonna get annoyed. He wasn't. It's just that he had nothing to say to Fit, so it could have looked like he was deliberately ignoring him while they walked around.

Fortunately, the other god didn't seem to mind. He was more focused on encouraging his kid to ask questions, make sure Ramón wrote down the safety precautions Tubbo yapped about and keeping a watchful eye in them. Half an hour later the kid had a scheme of what various tools looked like and what they were used for, and Tūbhos was upside down working expertly on a machine that was supposed to clean a river, sort its trash, sent it to the laboratory with water samples and automatically add to the river the necessary chemicals to correct any deficiencies or alterations to the water in relation to the ecosystem of that part of the river. He was having a bit of a problem because he had to consider the changes in the animals migration, or, to word it better, he had to make it so the machine could do it without human intervention. Sure, he could put a program that recognized and tracked fish, but all the rest of the fauna was harder. Unless it all became far more massive and conspicuous than he intended. Would have been a pain to have to invent a new type of cameras or something.
Out of habit, he had started thinking aloud, forgetting he had an audience; he was fine with Ramón, he knew he was there because he was passing him what tools he needed and asked the stray question here and there. Fit was an entirely different matter.
"Which river are you doing this for?" His voice was no different than usual, but it had been so unexpected that it had sounded even deeper, almost rumbling.
"For now just the ones in my territory, but I plan to make it smaller and more hard to notice, so that I can plant them literally everywhere. Then it will be the lakes and the sea, then the ocean and soon the world will be mine, boss man". He swung to the side and grabbed a metal plate to keep in position so that he could look at Fit's face. He spied awe, curiosity and a certain dose of mischief. "Tubbo, do they have to be small because you think the other gods wouldn't grant you permission to put them in their territories?" The God of Time just smiled, red cheeked and stained of oil, optic fibers in his hair like magic strings. "And is the reason they wouldn't... that since they can spy on fish they could also be used to gather leilgago*?"
We're fishing, boys, we're fishing. The God if Information took the bait. He wanted to let news travel to the right costumers only when they were ready, but Fit was the father of his new pupil, he could get a preview. "Nah, boss man, gods are stupid, they wouldn't connect the dots. Mostly I don't want to cause changes because it scares the animals or something, but it's also to reassure my special costumers".
Fit laughed and he had never looked so dangerous. "So you plant these cleaning devices without people knowing, sure that if discovered nobody would care anyway, and sell the information they gather to gods like me?" The idea of a mechanical janitor-spy seamed to strongly appeal to him and Tubbo was almost certain there was some leilgago there, some inner joke he was missing. "Now you're making me sound like I'm scheming, Fit. There's no scheming going here, not in my temples. I'm outraged you'd suggest that". Fit put an hand on Ramónos' head and shook his head. "You're right, I'm sorry, that was impolite of me. Let me make it up to you by investing in this amazing project, since it's such a good cause".
"Well...if you're offering. I mean, I don't wanna take advantage of you, but since you insist". Tūbhos didn't know, but in that moment he was the image of divine beauty. It was as though he was emitting his own light, his eyes shining and infinitely deep. If Fit had been surprised when he had seen him that morning, skin still clear and shimmering in the morning light, hair golden and face raised to the sun with the most peaceful expression; now, seeing him so close and full of life, he asked himself if they truly shared the same godhood. "Yeah, I insist, I insist. What can I do for you and your project?"
"Well, you travel a lot, right? I'll give you a list of resources so that if you stumble into them you tell me, or like get them. Because there are some material I'd love to work with and I think I exhausted them two centuries ago or something, but I don't move a lot and I trust basically nobody. So who knows, you might find a source".
"That doesn't sound too hard. I can do it and, if you need anything else, just let me know".
Tubbo let go and swung back in his original position, out of sight and elbows deep in his creation. "You know, Fit, I think we're gonna get along wonderfully".

Chapter Text

Ramónos and Tūbhos had glued an enormous amount of paper together, officially making the biggest schematic known to man. The blueprints laid under it, still visible trough the thin paper.
"Ramón, this is brilliant, it's gonna be glorious,. You're basically my hero right now" Tubbo praised, underlining the little sketch the boy had added. The youngest had learned at a speed that left the god flabbergasted, but he had fully embraced it, more happy about the fun they could now have, butting heads and collaborating, then jealous. There were still plenty of things he could teach him, but they were the interesting ones, that kept him prattling on for hours, mustache boy on his heels with arms full of notes and hands stained of ink and oil.
Fit often caught them still engrossed in their work, jumping around like the rams their names suggested they were. More rarely they were asleep on their own machines, Tūbhos' blanket now shared and limbs tangled. Honestly, the God of Information was thankful for Tubbo's entourage, who at least kept them well fed and forced the other god to a bath or two every ten days. Otherwise he would have gotten very worried: he could take care of Ramón at home, but he didn't want him to find a bad example in his mentor. Also, Tubbo cleaned up very nicely. Gods didn't get dirty in the same way mortals did, it was more of a matter of what they went in contact with, which if you traveled or worked with machines was a lot. And, yes, the God of Time looked the most like himself with messy hair and black lines on his face; all clean he seemed almost naked, but also more weightless, more like the god he was, ethereal and distant. It was hard to warp his head around the differences, how both appearances brought forth different sides of him. So he didn't think about that at all. He could think about his son's mentor only so much before it became weird, after all.

Tūbhos and Ramónos were so busy fussing on their papers that they didn't see Fit coming in, so he decided to sit down and observe like he often did. He was very proud of his baby boy, almost insanely so. Seeing him so happy and at ease, having fun like he hadn't been able to for a long time, warmed his heart and almost brought tears to his eyes. Almost. He would have sobbed if he was a different man.
Tubbo had started explaining why one of the boy's ideas was impossible in his usual, messy way of speaking. Still, what he said was always clear and easy to understand. Fit never quite understood how. It was in that moment that, while gesticulating, he moved his hair up from his eyes and saw him. "Oh, hi Fit. Oi, your father's here". His smile seemed genuine, not the calculated ones he had gotten familiar with at the start and that made him feel quite proud of himself for no specific reason. Ramón turned and run to him, suddenly looking quite tired. He must have started to crush, now that the excitement had faded. Fit stood to scoop him up and walked up to Tubbo. "Good evening, how was your day, did you two have fun?"
"I'll be honest with you: if you keep coming here to take away my best engineer, we're gonna have a problem". Fit laughed and readjusted his grip on Ramónos, who looked close to sleep. "Your best engineer looks very sleepy to me. You shouldn't overwork him, if you want to keep him" he teased. Tūbhos' mock outrage was a work of art, his pitch two nooks higher: "Are you threatening me? You think Pàk would be a better boss then me? The gall of this guy!"
Fit shook in silent laughter, but stopped when Ramónos warbled in protest. "I better go put him to bed, but I wanted to ask you to come with me: I'd like to show you something".
Instead of eyeing him warily like he expected, Tūbhos scrolled his shoulders. "At your temple? Sure, king, I'm not too busy". Fit nodded, watching as the other put his goggles on the working table and put his hands under it, feeling around. He took out a sheeted sword and strapped it to his hips. Well, that was a surprise. They weren't going anywhere dangerous. Did he just go around armed all the time? Fit did, but he was also used to travelling far away and had made a good number of enemies before having Ramón. The God of Time added an axe on his back. He couldn't help it: "Damn, who did you piss off?". Tubbo looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Nobody?" What? "Now, that simply sounds like a lie". This is the same guy who planned to put in everyone's territory robot-janitor-spies, he couldn't have a spotless track. "Oh, fuck off". There, he wasn't denying it.
"At your orders. Let's go fuck off". Tūbhos snorted.

They joked around on the way, careful not to wake up Ramónos, and soon they were in front of Fit's house.
The other immediately noticed the lack of minor deities around and asked himself if the God of Information didn't have any. It could happen, after all, not everybody felt such strong needs and wants that they spawned an entire person. It turns out that he was wrong: Fit's entourage was just very discreet, because after barely twenty seconds, someone came to bring a letter to him.
While the god read the message, Tūbhos took his time to look around. The place was surely unique. Something in between brutalism and déco. If his own temples weren't prone to becoming an absolute clusterfuck, he would have made fun of the guy.
As things stood, he simply waited until Fit was finished, Ramón still obliviously in dreamland.
Did his dad even remember that he had his kid resting on his shoulder? By now it was like he was postponing letting go.
Maybe he was, not used to spending so much time away from his child and then only seeing him when he was asleep. Fuck, now he was feeling guilty

But, look, it's Fit who insisted on having Ramónos study under him. It's not like Tūbhos had been jumping at the chance: he liked being alone and, while the kid was a legend and he liked having him around, it had needed some getting used to. So fuck it, he was innocent. Also he wasn't the one who decided how much time Ramón spent at his temple, it had just ended up like that.
He looked to see if the other was finished and saw him write a little note in response. In other circumstances he would have given a better look at his entourage, since how they looked and acted could say a lot about their deity, but next to the God of Information they kind of blurred with the background. And soon they were gone.
Fit turned around and exhaled, before giving him the hint of a smile and signalling to wait there, probably to go and finally put down the child. "No problem, king, I'll stay right here, exactly in this point, not a step away". And while he was obviously exaggerating, the other seemed kind of relieved at his words...so, yeah, weird as usual. "Keep being yourself, boss man" he sighed and had an hard time not laughing his ass off, when Fit, who had started walking away, turned with a flabbergasted expression and then marched away faster.
What the fuck was that? Oh, well, anyway...

Tūbhos immediately contradicted himself by going further inside the temple and snooping around. Turns out there wasn't much to look at: things looked organized and the space was ugly, but clean, mostly efficient. What decoration was there was kinda random and by the end of his boundary breaking, he was feeling a bit fond of this nonsense.
Still, when he felt the other coming back, he moved back to his spot and smiled innocently at Fit when the god was in his line of vision.
"Did you actually not move?" he asked when he arrived in front of him.
"Of course, boss man: I'm a man of my word, aren't I? You should know me by now". Tubbo's smile was all teeth, not unlike the one he had sported when they had shaken hands. Fit still didn't really know how to read him. "That's kind of the problem" he observed, but didn't add anything to it, so other had no idea what he was on about except that it must have been his usual weirdness.
Tūbhos shrugged and interlaced fingers behind his head. "So, what did you want to show me?" he asked, walking casually around Fit.
"You know, just a little something, just a little something". He looked very proud of himself. "Then by all means lead the way. Don't let me slow you down".
They traversed the entire temple all the way to the back and soon they were outside and in front of a depression in the ground on the way of becoming a proper fucking crater. "What the hell?"
Fit smiled and brough him closer, before pointing down. "Just take a look and tell me if you like it". It was ancient smooth stone, blocks and blocks of it. "What the...Is that fucking- did you just have it in your backyard??? Are you fucking kidding me? How?"
"Well, it sure was a surprise for me, but you know, not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth". He looked too smug about it. "What the hell are you talking about? You must always look it in the mouth. That's too fucking sus! And you've been mining it?" He wasn't wrong, since this was a narrative device to introduce Tubbo to Fit's space, representing their growing closeness. But he was mostly yapping. "So you don't want the stone?" That got him a look. Tūbhos seemed to deem him on the verge of insanity while being on it himself. "If you don't give it to me I'm gonna cancel you from the timeline and then myself". Only in that moment he noticed that he had clasped Fit's arm and slowly let go. "How much is it anyway?" he asked. The other struck a pose. "Why, do you want to deplete it already?" That got him a light punch. "Fuck off".

Ok, he needed to sit. And so he did, legs crossed, right on the ground. The depression was right in front of them, people working to open the ground like someone burying their hands deep in the chest of a dead animal. Fit awkwardly followed his example, thought he kept one leg straight and bent the other to rest his forearm on it. "Overwhelmed?" he asked sympathetically. "Not really...just a little. You don't even know what this shit can do, don't you?" Well, he didn't, but he knew what it meant for the other god, having heard him talk about it plenty. "I'm a simple man, Tubbo, I only know that it looks cool and that it's important for you". Tūbhos nodded. "I knew I could trust you with this".
Fit felt, yet again, very proud of himself. "Well, I'm indebted to you, so anything you ask for, anything at all". Tubbo looked at him and smiled, looking almost drunk. "You shouldn't go around saying shit like that. People are gonna take advantage". That seemed to amuse him to no end. "Honestly, the only one who ever dared try take advantage of me was you". The other snickered. "Those are some wild accusations you're throwing there, king". Fit slightly pushed him with his shoulder. "It's alright, as I said, anything you ask".
It was undoubtable that Tūbhos was happy, eyes taking that particular shine that betrayed his nature and shoulders relaxed, for once. Sometimes Fit felt like he was slowly coaxing him into liking him. It was probably because he seem so skittish and untethered, like he could vanish in an instant if he sensed something was off.
The calm didn't last for long and soon Tubbo was fidgeting again, probably thinking about what he would use the ancient stone for. The madman. Fit decided to spare him and stood up first, giving him an hand so he could do the same. The god took it and standing up it was evident he was basically vibrating.
"Let's get you back to your house. I promise tomorrow you will have your first bulk".
For a moment he seemed to consider his words, but then he smiled - "Nope, I'm gonna go and touch it" - and sprinted down to the mines. Fit laughed. "Careful!" He was already halfway there. "Don't parent me!"
"Wouldn't dream of it". He started going down too, used to the rocky terrain. Still, he couldn't be as fast as a literal ram.
"Sure you wouldn't, you weirdo".
The tone was nonchalant, but it wasn't hard to imagine there could be some resentment there. "And just what are you implying? Explain it to me, please, I'm all ears". Did Fit look irked? Well, it was two of them.
Tūbhos stopped, trying to read his expression. "You treat me too softly" he accused.
Fit was taken aback and halted in his tracks as well. "That doesn't mean I baby you". There was disbelief in his voice.
"Then what are you trying to do?". Tubbo had raised an eyebrow at him, like he was catching him in contradiction.
Well, what was he trying to do? He didn't have an answer. It was true that he was only that careful with his baby boy and that those two had a sort of brotherly dynamic, but...he never saw Tubbo as a baby: he was a god in his own right, powerful and perfectly aware of what he was doing. He respected him, at times admired him. Had he offended him by...occasionally caring?
"I don't baby you. You're a grown ass adult and a dangerous man. It would be ridiculous".
That seemed to please him - "Ok" - and soon he was back to climbing down, excited to examine the stones. "Move your ass".

"You're staring" Fit commented, leaning casually against the wall. Pàk smiled at him, all sharp teeth and bad intentions, but still too good for this world. "It's because you are very handsome. Happiness suits you, you know?"
Fit sputtered and had to put down the foot he had against the wall. "Wh-what? I don't..What are you-What? I don't know what you're talking about". Pàk started circling him, big eyes looking up at him, crutching slightly. "You don't? Because I think you do-you do know. I heard you were seen hanging out with the God of Time, you two, all alone". By the end he was jumping around, invested in his own words, occasionally coming back to look at Fit for an instant. "I'm very happy for you, he seems very nice and is very handsome too. And if he breaks your heart I can kill him, don't worry, I am very strong. I have your back, you know?". Fit's had was spinning. This was too much for a casual chat.
It was one of their meetings to exchange some good leilgago, something they both enjoyed a lot. It seems, though, that today the God of Invention had decided to break one of their few rules: when the leilgago was about Phit, then it was nobody's business. "I really don't know what you're talking about" he managed to say, finally getting a hold of himself. "If this is about Tubbo, then you're completely off track: he's my son's mentor and...a business partner, I suppose".
Pàk's mouth formed an oval shape and he nodded to himself. "I see, I understand, don't worry Fit. He's just your business partner, I get it". Fit was, in fact, not at all reassured, because it didn't seem the other was 'getting it'. "Seriously, Pàk, if he hears anything like that he's gonna bail on us-on Ramón. And if something like that happens, I'm not gonna like it". That seemed to do the trick. "Don't worry, Fit, my lips are sealed and if I hear anything, like from someone else, I'm gonna tell them to shut up too, ok?"
The God of Information sighed in relief. "Thank you, I appreciate it". Pàk smiled sweetly and reassuringly. "Still, I was telling the truth, you know? You look good. Makes me want to keep you here in my temple all the time". Fit sputtered again.

Tūbhos was a very interesting person, that much Pàk got wind of without difficulty. You'd think a God of Time would be seen as very very powerful, but since he seemed more interested in machines than his own powers, people didn't look at him differently than did the God of Invention. Still, when he got near to his temple, just the air of it made his head buzz pleasantly. Then there was the size of his entourage, truly astonishing: dozens of minor deities, working around, chatting, coming and going, all dissimilar and distinct. His power must have been amazing if it kept manifesting so strongly and if that was the activity outside, he couldn't imagine the inside. So he didn't: he went in.
It was late, but nobody was resting, and immediately he found himself in front of a sight that made his eyes widen and his jaw slack: complex, amazing, beautiful machines; everywhere, all needing minimum human work, made to last and each running multiple tasks. He wanted to get his hands on them. He could have sex with those machines. Or with who made them his mind supplied helpfully. Pàk nodded and beelined to find the owner.
He was pretty set, still he occasionally slowed down to look at the fine parts of the contraptions, the delicate balance of the mechanisms, all out in the open like an undressed model or a teasing lover. He felt flirted with, his godhood singing, flattered and curious. Then he saw him.
His eyes were covered by goggles, surrounded by orange and golden sparks, face glowing and serious. He was working with expert, strong hands on a customized part, glowing, patterned stone that Pàk had never seen all around him. He squeaked at the sight, cheek slightly flushed. Then, in a fluid movement, Tūbhos had turned toward him and lifted his goggles with his thumb, and squinted.
Pàk was feeling slightly faint at having his attention.

"Hi" he greeted, taking a couple of steps towards him.
"Hi?". Tūbhos looked confused at having a stranger in his space, he must have not heard him come.
"You look very strong".
Tūbhos laughed, maybe at the absurdity of the situation. "Thank you?" he answered, then he added: "Pàk, right?". The god nodded and got even closer. "Yes. Your machines are very cool". That seemed to be accepted more easily, since he simply grinned, happy with the compliment. "I saw a few of yours in the past, you actually gave me inspiration for a couple of mine, it was awesome. That why you came?"
Pàk scrolled his head. "No, but I should have. I want to touch them, can you give me permission? I don't want to overstep, you know?"
Wow, that was fucking weird. But he could understand, so he shrugged. "Sure, king. But what had you come for?". It was a fair question. "Oh, I've come to see you because I was curious, you know". Tūbhos did, in fact, not know. "What about, boss man?"
He hadn't noticed, but the God of Invention was now awfully close, head slightly turned downward to look at him and his contraption. It made him feel shy, especially since he was so obviously attractive. And dangerous, Tubbo had to keep that in mind.
"I heard some nice things about you from Phitch and Ramón, so I wanted to come and get to know you in person" he said casually, like that wasn't a bit suspicious.
"Did I piss you off somehow?" was what exited Tūbhos' mouth without thinking. But, instead of getting confused, Pàk's eyes glinted mischievously. "Why, are you gonna put me in my place if I came to complain?". The other snorted. "Are you a bit wrong in the head, king?". That didn't seem to deter him. "Well, you could, right? Because you are so much stronger than me. That's what made me curious".
"I think I lost you, boss man". Tūbhos looked tense and the air around him buzzed a bit more. And that was it, that was exactly what Pàk was talking about. "Why does nobody know? If you ask me, I think that is very obvious that you are super strong and powerful".
Tūbhos breathed in and out and slowly stood up, now eye to eye with the stranger that had come into his temple to question him. Not even Fit had done that. That was crazy.
"You need some medical help" he sneered. "There is something very wrong with you".
"Maybe you're right. Can I touch your machines?"
"Go crazy". "Thank you".

In the end getting along with Pac had been easy, since they shared such an important thing in their lives.
Pàk was funny, easygoing, gregarious and charming; even sweet, at times. Still Tūbhos never lowered his guard, especially after their first conversation. It didn't sour the mood, after all it was almost impossible to be angry or unpleasant with Pac and he seemed to know, since he took full advantage of it. Must have been some name bullshit.
They ended up working together and were very surprised when the morning came knocking.
"Fucker, it is very late", the God of Invention exclaimed. Tubbo laughed. "No, it is early. Early morning. Hello". He turned towards the sun, cheeks lifted to it and eyes closed, letting the warmth cover his face softly in light. The first rays of light were always welcomed.
"You're very handsome" came Pàk's voice. Tūbhos' face flushed the slightest bit, not from the compliment, but from how pretty the other was in the daylight. "Thank you, king. You too".
His entourage started moving to prepare pito and food and gave him questioning looks. "Breakfast?"
Pac brightened up like he had been offered a star as an energy source and nodded. "Yes, I want to stay a little bit more and I feel a bit hungry, you know. Thank you, Tūbhos". The latter curled his nose. "Just Tubbo is fine, boss man". That seemed to make him even happier. "Then you can call me Pac or Patchi, because we are friends now".
"We are?". "Yes". "Aw, that's nice". "It is, right? I want to be a good friend to you, so you can always call me, if you need anything". "Same for you, king".
Tubbo hadn't expected that at all, but it felt natural and he didn't really question it.
Then there came the food. The pito was plenty, and they sipped it over some glass they were cutting for an integration Pàk had suggested.
"Good morning!". A deep voice had come from the entrance. "Pac? What are you doing here?"
Ramónos had already sprinted to look at what the two had been working on, moving Tubbo's hands to see the blueprint. His mentor looked curiously at Fit and Pàk, who stood to go jump around the new comer and fire his greetings.
The God of Information looked confused and ill at ease, like seeing the engineers together worried him. Catching that, Tūbhos smiled mischievously. "Relax, king, we didn't blow up anything". Pac joined in: "Yet". "And we won't". "Unless we need to". "In a controlled environment". "But not too much controlled, Tubbo, I like the danger, you know?"
It was nice having a new friend.

Chapter Text

“So, any idea what this is?” Fit asked, arms crossed and a slight scowl on his face.
“Go buy yourself some patience” was Mike’s dry response, though from his smile it was evident he was just messing with him.
The God of Information had known the minor deity for a long time, same as Pàk; but he was at times unsure about calling him his friend aloud, since he still didn’t know his real name.
The Great Goddess Mine was very protective of him in that way and with good reason: not only was he born from her, they were married. Literal husband and wife.
Still, there were plenty of theories:
His name could have been Mikəlos, meaning small, dainty, warm and clever;
Mik, Mike or Mikos, meaning twinkle of her eye or desire;
Miks, meaning to confuse, to stir, to mix and to squeak.
Since the Goddess’ name had a variant that could mean small, many assumed the first to be the one; the second was deemed true by those who considered themselves romantic; the last by either those who attributed his smarts on the stirring part, in common with Pàk and Tūbhos, or those, like Fit, that had the feeling Mike was destined to become a god in his own right, but a dangerous one, a God of Chaos.
For now, he was just Mike, Pac’s friend and the guy nice enough to give him a hand and help calm his worries.
“We already know what it is, it appears when a God is born; what we don’t know is what Tubbo could do with it” came Pàk’s voice, his hand now on Fit’s back to draw warm circles.
“In theory, a lot of things: they come from the huge amount of energy that is needed for a god to come into the world; but in practice it’s impossible to…look here: you can’t extract the energy, you can’t manipulate the stone, what can you do?” Mike added to Pac, having just tried to do different things with it without success. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask my wife? Her name means thinking too, she always has good ideas or she might remember something”.
Well, her name did mean to remember, but Fit didn’t want to involve the Great Goddess of Creation in this. He trusted Mike, but he didn’t know his wife quite as well.
“I’d like to keep it between us, if possible” he stressed for the third time that day, leaning closer to Pàk without noticing and letting his expression fall in one of exhaustion.
The God of Invention, noticing this, side-hugged him and rested his head on his shoulder. Fit tensed only for an instant, before becoming putty.
Had they been anywhere else, it would not have been allowed, but there was only Mike in that room and, honestly, since the god and the deity shared a mind-link, it’s not like he was ever ‘not there’.
“We won’t, don’t worry” they answered in unison.

Mike got back to trying to get a chemical reaction out of the ancient stone, and Pac would go back and forth between helping him and staying close to Fit.
Even when they had given up for the day, the God of Information lingered, sharing funny stories and leilgago with them.
They were sipping wine and having a great time, when Mike dropped the bomb: “An idiot has been flirting with my wife”.
Pac gasped so audibly that Fit choked on his drink.
“What did they do?” he asked as soon as he wasn’t feeling like he was dying.
“Engineering a new plant” the deity answered, green eyes shining dangerously.
Pàk could feel his outrage and made it his own: “They were coming very strong. Using what she represents like that. If I was married and a god started inventing machines out of nowhere, I would kill them, you know?”
“Same as me. It’s a matter of respect” Fit agreed.
It wasn’t a light matter. Their names and natures were points of vulnerability, an easy way to make a lasting impression.
Fit’s mind went to Tūbhos’ information-gathering machine and had to scroll his head to not let it affect him again. Yeah, that was cool. And bold.
Well, the God of Time had been elegant about it, not stating outright what he had in mind and giving plenty of space to Fit, so that he could choose if he wanted to acknowledge it or not. Of course the intention was different, since the air was business like: more of a friendship offer, then a courting one; but it had still been something powerful.
“So, is he dead?” Pàk’s words snapped Fit out of it and they both looked attentively at Mike, who smiled his violence-starved grin.
“She said that if he tries again, she wants me to do it”.
“That’s a very good idea! I wish that I could see it, you know. It sounds fun” was his soulmate immediate answer.
“That’s why I told you. I want you two to be with me”.
“Of course Mike, I’ll be there for you, just tell me when”.
“Thank you, Fit”.

They went back to lighter chatter, this time keeping to the rules, and their meeting ended with TazerCraft showing him their latest inventions.

In his element, Pac’s divinity came through in such a way that the underside of his hair shined blue, the same shade that flickered deep in his dark eyes the few times they had gotten close enough to see it. He was small, fast, lean and elegant, the epitome of godhood. He and Mike caught him up in no time, his mind having never let go of the information about their oldest crafts so that he could take educated guesses about some things and leave the explanations for what was new.
“Next I wanted to try to make a time machine, but not now, like later. I’m still not sure. I think I can do it, but I don’t know if I really want to” came Pàk’s confession.
Mike laughed: “I suppose you want to do this alone?”
“Yes, thank you. You understand”.
“I literally have no choice” he mock complained, tapping his temple.
“You’re right. Sorry, I know it’s been a lot”.
Fit closed his mouth and cleared his throat.
“A time machine?” he croaked.
Pac’s eyes shined and he sprinted closer to crouch in front of him.
“Yes, because you know that I went to Tubbo’s lab and it was full of inventions and he let me touch them and we worked together and now we are friends. And if you are ok with it I wanted to see him more and, you know, maybe later on I can…because seeing him gave me the idea and I wanted to try to build it. But it’s not serious, you know”. He was talking too fast.
Fit’s mouth felt like paper, but it was nice to know they had become so close.
“No, it’s alright Pac, don’t worry” he said, a smile on his face. “Just be careful. You know that he can be…sensitive. We don’t want to scare him, he’s a good friend”.

Mike swears in the background notified them that he had found something that needed to be fixed.

It wasn’t different from how they had become close: Fit had ideated and made his own prosthetic, Pàk had shared with him information, then later their metal limbs had become a common subject, same as the leilgago they heard.
Taking interest in another god aspect made him more powerful, you created a bond, a tie. That’s why Mike made him feel insecure: he couldn’t solidify their friendship by doing the same for him.
“Yes, I will be careful. You know you can trust me”.

“I’m comiiiing” Tubbo screamed, leaving Ramón to go help Pàk with his section of the machine.
“Thank you, Tubbo, you know that it’s hard to connect it with only two hands and I don’t want to grow more hands accidentally”.
“You can do that?”.
Though he was in disbelief, it wouldn’t be that crazy: he had seen stranger.
“No, but you can never be sure enough that it won’t happen”.
“Well, that’s a very good philosophy, king”. He stretched the hook until it was easy for Pac to secure it and let go when it was done. “There we go”.

A mechanical whirring. A scream. Blood.
The gods’ eyes snapped in the direction of it and found Ramónos, his leg still connected to him only by a couple of tendons and a layer of skin and muscles, bone drowned in red and in the open.
Pàk run to him, but Tūbhos’ eyes shined golden and green and the screaming stopped, reality overwriting itself painfully until they where back before the incident had happened.

Without batting an eye, the God of Time picked the child up, before going to Pac to help him with the hook. The other two batted their eyes once, twice, then they realized what had just happened.
Ramón cried, one hand reaching for Pac, while the other gripped Tubbo’s clothes with white knuckles.
The God of Invention could do nothing but comfort Ramón, jaw tight and a chill to his bones. He got soaked in tears, pain in his chest for what the kid had experienced, the memory vivid in his mind. He wanted to throw up.

He searched the other adult’s gaze, maybe for comradery or reassurance, but he found it distant, an empty turn of the lips under it and nothing more.
“Tubbo?”
“Yes?”
Silence rolled.
“Can you go ask for something warm to drink for him? I think it would help”.
“Of course, king. I got it”. He pried Ramónos hand off and went to search for someone in his entourage who could take care of it.
While he was at it, he took his blanket, old, loved and thick and brought it over to the other two.
When he wrapped it around them, the kid still sobbing and screaming his throat raw, Pàk found a bit of life back in his eyes.
“I’m glad that you’re back”.
“I wasn’t away long”.
“Yeah, but it was scary”.
“I know. Don’t worry, thought: it’s just the scare, he’ll be fine. Children are resilient like that: they cry, but then they stand up again and they’re fine”.

Ramón sniffled, shifting in Pàk’s embrace to rest his head on Tūbhos’ shoulder.
“W-when you were a child, did you get hurt too?” he asked, sparkling a light of realization in the God of Invention.
“Yeah, but I’m fine, now, see? You’ll be fine too, promise” was Tubbo’s answer. “Also, did you know that this blanket is magic? It’ll make you feel better in no time, boss man, I swear”.
He pulled the cloth tighter around them, then smoothed it down, brows frowning slightly.
His words had seemed to calm the child further and the latter went back to resting his head on Pac. They stayed snuggled like that until his breathing evened out and in no time he was out like a light.
The God of Invention pressed a kiss to his head, then his eyes flashed sharply to the other.
Tubbo took an instinctive step back, a nervous grin in his face. Why did he feel like he had been caught in the act?
“Did it happen often?” was Pàk’s whisper.
“No, this is the first time he gets hurt”.
“I was talking about you”.
“Then…no? Only when I was a kid”.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know? Why do you always ask the most insane questions ever?”
Pac sighed and unwrapped an end of the blanket. “Get in here too”.
“You sure?”
“Yes”.
Since the other god sounded at the end of his wits, Tūbhos complied.
The blanket wasn’t big enough and they ended up mashed together quite uncomfortably, but it was warm and maybe there really was some magic involved, because none of the three seemed to mind.

When Ramón woke up, it was to the sound of three adults whisper-shouting, air abuzz with godly power. Then, as soon as he blinked open his eyes blearily, his father’s arms were around him and, without being quite so sure as to the why, he sobbed his heart out again.

 It was raining, a quiet pitter patter that drowned out any other sound. And Fit was singing a children’s song. Not a lullaby, because he had never heard any growing up; but that wasn’t important: it was a nice song, upbeat and in the tong of Ramón’s other father. That had been enough. When they had been left alone and Fit had to reinvent himself a father and his son had to learn what it was like to be a child, that song had filled the emptiness some and Ramónos had slept. What else were lullabies supposed to do?

And then it was raining again, a quiet pitter patter that chorused with the sound of machinery. And Fit spied his son talking with his mentor, asking the same questions one would an older brother; something that had become usual after the incident, when Tubbo had taken the pain away and hugged him in his childhood blanket (nobody had called it that, but everybody knew, Fit and Pac’s eyes meeting in the middle of the room to say everything that couldn’t be spoken aloud). And every time Tūbhos had an answer, the picture was clearer.

“Tubbo, do you know any lullabies?”
“A lullaby? Of course, Ramón! Why do you ask?”
“Fit sings me one, but it’s not a real lullaby”.
“What, for real? Then what is it?”
The kid jumped around, singing the song with such energy and fondness that any feeling of inadequacy left Fit’s body. At least for the night.
He smiled from his corner, tapping the book he was holding in time with the song.
“Wait, that song rocks! Mine is kinda boring, king, I’m sorry”. Tūbhos’ defeated tone was in jest, for the argument was not serious.
Still, Fit decided to pause his reading to play along: “Well, I want to hear it. What about you, my boy?”
Ramónos nodded and that was that.
Now Tubbo literally had no choice.
“Well it goes like: When the Cosmos made you and I found-no, wait, that’s wrong”. Tūbhos laughed. “Let me try again. Wait. Don’t judge me, it’s been a while.
So, ehm:
When the Cosmos made you in hoping,
And your mother found you on your side,
She said what a worry, that’s foreboding
and she kissed you misty-eyed.
but, like, there’s more. Wait, shit.
… see this glow…na na na…they forego… no, na na break-no, damn.
Shit, I can’t remember”.
That’s what a real lullaby sounded like? Fit wasn’t sure he liked it.
“That song was sad” Ramón declared.
“Yeah, king, I’m sorry. Maybe it’s better that I forgot it. It was long ago, anyway”.
Fit had lost all interest in reading, so he pocketed his book and came closer to the two.
“Who even sang it to you? Weren’t you born grown up like me?” Fit asked, almost without thinking.
Tūbhos side-eyed him and scoffed. “Nah, I was like…a child, but not really, because I had all this adult knowledge in my head, like how to take care of myself, what my powers were…”
“Me too, but I was a teenager, almost an adult”.
“Well, it wasn’t that drastic. I wasn’t a literal child, more, like, a preteen”.
Fit had looked seventeen and he had felt abandoned and lost. What was Tubbo, fucking eleven? No wonder…
“Cheers to us, we survived, Fit!”
That they did.
Fuck, how strong was he?
Ramónos threw his pocket confetti and the two started jumping and screaming a chorus of ‘we survived’. The God of Information smiled at their antics.
Pàc was right: Tubbo was scary.

“Hey, Fit, come look at what you perfect baby boy made”.
Every time Tūbhos used similar expressions, he forcefully deepened his voice to imitate Fit, making it scratch and grate. It almost sounded painful.
“Oh, Ramóooon, what did you make? Show me, my child, my pride and joy”.
The kid was almost vibrating when he jumped to take his hand and make him come closer to the table.
There laid a contraption that he immediately activated. Then he put an object on it, and it vanished, only to reappear in a little chamber on the other side of the table.
Fit’s jaw was slack. “Ramónos, this is incredible! This is…I’ve never seen anything more amazing in my entire life”.
Had he been rational, he would have found in his memories that he had already seen such a machine and quite often, but that is not the nature of a father.
“It’s cool, right? And he learned that in literally a second. Your son is a genius. He could give me and Pac a run for our money”.
Ramón danced around the table, happy both with his machine and with the praise.
Fit was glad that he had decided to stick around for the lessons, even if they had to be shorted because of his obligations back at the temple.
Quite a few things changed after the incident.
Now he was always there, no matter if it made no practical difference, he wanted to be there for his boy.

The rest of the day, Tubbo kept humming bits and pieces of the forgotten lullaby, until it was forgotten no more.

When the Cosmos made you in hoping ,
And your mother found your side,
She said fretting, that’s foreboding
and she kissed you misty-eyed.

There you laid in starry coating,
Warm in your mother’s godly glow.
she saw your future in the making
Please be a child till until morrow.

Forego all and every worry,
In your mother’s godly glow,
If it breaks you can say sorry,
Close your eyes and breath in slow.

Who had thought him that song was still a mistery, at least for Fit, but he didn't dwell too much on it and just worried about keeping his son under his watchful eye until the sun kissed the hills in the back and it was time to go back.

The stone was thrumming and buzzing under Tūbhos’ fingers, hungry for his power the way he expected it to be.
Nothing was as good a conduit for it as this stone and, trust me, he had tried alternatives.
Well, the time was night, the mood was chipper, the guests had left and it was only him and the stone now, possibilities in the making and unending, not unlike the always expanding universe, a tad colder every day.
Isn’t life unfair? A new god was born every day, but not a lot of them came directly from the Cosmos itself, so they didn’t spawn very-useful-stone.
What a rude bunch.
But no matter, he had it now. Wasn't that nice?
A quiet light shined in the natural incisions, blinking and pulsing, moving like fishes in a bowl. It was pretty and he’d never get tired of looking at it.
Still, he had better things to do. So he slotted one of many pieces in position and adjusted his calculations.
He could feel the grime on his skin, but he was used to it, so he didn’t mind. He could always take a bath later. In all truth, had someone pointed out something so utterly unimportant in the face of his work, he would have at least tried to hit them.

While Tūbhos molded the stone with his power, slotting in place block after block, the air buzzing and suffocating for anyone else, his entourage steering clear of the area or asleep; Fit had already put his son to sleep and was in his backyard, sword in hand.

Esterleuk (Etelle or Etoiles for his friends) and him had decided to take advantage of the opened earth to train without worry for damage: the ancient stone would not break, obviously, and the rest was ugly already. While they exchanged blows, they chit chatted, mostly because Etelle couldn’t physically shut up in the excitement of a fight.

“And I said, Gelouré, my friend, why so sad: you are beautiful and young and if you can’t recognize yourself in the reflection of your frozen oceans, then I can make a mirror with star-metal, it’s no problem, and if that doesn’t work we have all the time to find a solution” the Starlight God was narrating, slight worry in his eyes.
The deity he was talking about had been born from him in the early days, bringing water to the world in a crash of fallen stars: not everybody knew how much their mere existence mattered; but those who did were in constant awe, and that is probably way some had hurt them, intimidated by their light.
“Did they accept the offer?” Fit asked after parring a blow. He didn’t know Gelouré much, but if you knew Esterleuk, you were bound to meet them. They were nice, pleasant to be around, so he could feel sorry for what they had gone through in their life. It also wasn’t difficult for him, who had lived an hard life himself, to know what it felt like to be a stranger to yourself.
“Yes, but I think they are scared of it not working” was Etoiles’s answer before he summoned his power to hit Fit with the strength of a crushing star.

An instant before their swords crossed, Fit used his own powers and used what he knew about his fighting style to find the right stance to counter and throw him off.
“That’s understandable. Are they with Bhamanà, now?”
“Yes, I sent them to their temple with the excuse of bringing a gift”.
Fit nodded and hit Etelle, taking advantage of a blind spot. The Starlight God dodged at the last minute, but not without putting strain to his body, then returned the favor.
“That was good thinking, Etoiles. The Numen of Mothers and Grandmothers always has sound advice”.
Esterleuk’s brows furred and he became a tad more aggressive in his hitting.
“Yes, they do, when they aren’t trying to set me up with Charlie”.
Fit had an hard time not laughing and opted for a few coughs instead.
“The God of Slime? Karoi?”
“Yes, do I look mad, Fit? Do I look absolutely insane?”
“I mean, do you want me to be honest?”
“No, do not talk. He and Emariàn have a very unhappy marriage and I do not intend to ruin that. If I do, I kill myself”.
Emariàn was a God of Accidents, probably why his name meant delay, struggle or death; while Karoi meant trap. They were bound to be trapped in marriage with each other, since accidents, a general lack of self-respect and their jobs kept pushing them together.
“Well, I know for a fact that they are in the process of breaking their bond” Fit teased, leaning in his godly power to check the truthfulness of the rumor, simultaneously spinning on a block of ancient stone to land a good hit on the other.

As soon as he spun, though, his power expanded in a ripple, knocking him off balance, and the stone shined. Other stones, close to the places he had been fighting in, seemed to answer with a shine and ripple of their own.
Fit could feel his own power cascading off him to feed the phenomenon, dizziness clouding his senses. Faintly, he could hear Etoiles voice: “What the fuck?”

Illuminated by the moon, casting its light from the windows, the lab had been taken over by TazerCraft, who were taking advantage of the insanity that being awfully tired brought.

More quiet then usual, Pàk had started looking at the ancient stone sample Fit had brought them. He touched it, fingers tracing the natural carvings and feeling it hum under his hand like a purring cat.
“Do you think we were going at it from the wrong angle?” he whispered to his soulmate, who was grinning maniacally at a sealed glass capsule.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe it’s not about what the stone can do, you know? Or what Tubbo would do with it. But, like…”
Pàk cleared his throat and exited the room, before coming back in and getting close to the stone, acting as if he had just seen it for the first time.
Then, with an exaggerated voice, he said: “Oh, look, where I was born this stone appeared. In my head there is the knowledge that this stone absorbed the excess of power that came with me coming into existence, so that I would not start in a wasteland”.
He touched it again, brushing it like the cheek of an old friend. After all, that was the stone that had probably come with Ramónos, absorbed his power so that he would be safe in his first moments, then laid forgotten.
Right…it had done that.
“What would happen if I put more power into it, would it get absorbed?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he did exactly that.
Ripples of light of the purest blue soon radiated off of them, the stone shining.
Pàk giggled, bracing himself through the waves and giving the stone as much as it wanted.
“Pac! Stop that!”
Mike grabbed his hand and pulled him away, but the stone didn’t stop shining, ripples still going off of it.

“I don’t like this”.

Tūbhos said at the same time as Mike.
He was still working in his lab on the stones, when the blocks started singing, too much for the power he had used, like they somehow had gotten fat on godhood.
“What the hell? Stop it” he said to the blocks, like they could understand him and, if they did, they would listen to him.
It didn’t work.
“Right, as if”.
He grabbed an handful of strings, futures that would never be, realities that had collapsed on their own too close to their birth, and tried to wrap the stones to seal them, since they were still making grabby hands at his power.
It did absolutely nothing, strings absorbed effortlessly.
“Yeah, you would do that”.
He was starting to sincerely freak out, looking around for somebody, anybody that could help, but he was alone, exactly as he had wanted, exactly as he was used to.
The stones gave one last wave, flashing white before settling. And that was that.

“Did it end?” Fit asked, not knowing if to Etelle or himself.

“What the fuck just happened? How is this possible?” Tubbo screamed, before going absolutely insane.

“Mike calm down. I swear it wasn’t taking too much, it’s a good puppy, it just needed a lot for something”.

Chapter Text

The darkness didn't feel like anything really, it was just a black space, solid ground under his feet, probably just to keep him from freaking out. It was smooth, impersonal, boring, the same temperature of his skin. It truly felt like nothing.
Tubbo walked to the usual window, strings dragging around him, tensed just enough not to trip him. The golden and green light that came from the aperture did not come in further then to illuminate the chair that was in front of it. 
He felt tired, still he dragged his ass to the seat and started on his job. He could have tried not to do it, see what would happen, but just the idea made him feel sick. It would be a nightmare, hunting him in the waking hours, a suffocating feeling to his chest, heart racing, stomach in knots, cold sweat to his skin, dizziness and molting hot bones.
A voice in the back of his mind that sounded awfully like Foolish, commented: 'That sounds awful'.
He banished it. It didn't matter, did it? He didn't plan on messing around just for funsies.
He tried to comb his hair out of his eyes and lost himself in the familiar motions, the events of that late evening forgotten, until two strings moved all on their own.
He turned with a questioning hum.

Fit sprinted towards the beach, not even noticing that Etelle was still behind him, watching his back. They were obviously both weirded out and Fit’s mind had become quite single-tracked: check on Pac and then go together to check on Tubbo.
It could have something to do with either of them, but alone he had a better chance at helping Pàk, who only had one stone and had Mike there (probably); he needed him if he wanted to help Tubbo. Assuming they needed helping.
Assuming it had happened to them too.
When he arrived on the shore, he took his boat towards the Creation Territory. Étoiles jumped in.
“Nice boat” he commented, not expecting Fit to tense at his words. “I have your back, Fit. You’re going to be so impressed with how amazing I am you’re going to say: ‘Esterleuk, you are the best friend ever, let’s fight in this moment”.
That managed to get a huff out of the God of Information, then an open laugh and a pack on the shoulder.
“Thank you, my friend. I just hope that being amazing has being discreet in the package”. He gave the other a meaningful look, hoping to have confirmation.
“It depends, sometimes to be a good friend, you have to be a terrible secret-keeper”.
Well shit.
Still, Étoiles smiled in a way that hinted he was trying to be reassuring. If the secret was not a danger to his loved ones, the Star God would keep his mouth shut.
“I appreciate it”.

They docked and Fit looked up, Pàk’s temple right above them on the hill.
Knowing the other could keep up, he sprinted. Thanks to Etelle his anxiety had lowered, but now it was rocketing again, his powers flaring to get as much information about his surrounding as possible.
The main door of the temple opened, a flash of blue in his vision, then he got a handful of Pac in his arms, legs crossed around his back and body tilted to force them in a spin.
And spin they did. Fit felt fresh, straight hair touch his cheeks for a moment, the other’s smell of electricity, iron and fire wafted around them until they settled, then it staid close to its owner, to the warmth of his skin.
“You’re ok”, Fit stated, mostly to reaffirm it to himself.
With the corner of his eyes, he noticed Mike crouching next to them.
“You are touching his ass”. The deity nodded.
It was like getting his breath kicked out of his lungs.
He was.
He had his hands full of it.
He tried to release him gently, but ended up squeezing the slightiest bit before letting go.
Pac was a delightful shade of red, but didn’t look displeased except towards his soulmate.
Sometimes he would have liked Mike to shut up. But he understood why he did it.
When Pàk’s feet were back on the ground, he went on his tiptoes to kiss Fit’s forehead, then unlocked his arms, allowing them to be at a normal distance.
“Sorry, you know that it’s not like that”.
“I do”, he sighed.
“Well, I’m glad that you’re ok”.
“I am. The stone was very nice. It ate your power too, right?”

Esterleuk was observing in silence, head tilted slightly in thought. He probably wasn’t needed, but he wanted to know what had happened.
“Is that what it was doing? But I didn’t feel anything”.
Pàk looked at him, then narrowed his eyes. “You were together with Fit?”. He looked briefly at the dark sky, the moon was shining gently on the dark waters of the sea, a black similar to the shine in the Invention God’s eyes.
He leaned into Fit’s side, sneaking his hand around him to hold on his waist.
Etelle’s looked confused, before panicking, then settling on amusement in the span of an instant.
“The Star God greets the God of Invention and the consort of the Great Goddess Mine. Yes, we were together, we were hitting each other, fighting, next time you should see. You’re courting a strong man”.
Fit tried to put together something coherent.
“I don’t know what gave you the idea of- what is this? To insinuate that- You know what? I’ve had enough! Keep your nose out of my fucking business. I can’t believe it!”
Pàk was still holding onto him, pressing his body close. He must have been tired.
“Yes, keep it out of his business”. He smiled coyly and rested his head on Fit’s shoulder. “But I will come see next time, thank you Etoiles”.
Mike’s voice rose unexpectedly: “Are you on drugs, do you have some?”. He was far too close to the Star God’s face.
“I should say I am, to have an excuse” he grimaced.
Mike laughed and slapped his shoulders. "You're so awkward, man".
"I know, I'm the worst. I've not seen you in too long and now I'm making everything embarrassing. I should ask Philza to take away my immortality and kill me with his very nice sword".
Pac scrolled his head. "The important thing is that you're doing your best. You don't have to worry, you know". He sighed. "I should have seen you and greeted you first, I'm the one who is the worst”. His voice sounded mournful and sincere, his expression downcast. “Will you forgive me?” he whined, eyes wide and round and shoulders rising to make himself look smaller.
Immediately, the God of Information surrounded his shoulders with his arm, pressing him closer. "None of that, we are all friends here".

“I can’t believe you are all on crack and didn’t give me any”.
Etoiles jumped on the distraction with no small amount of gratefulness. “Next time, I will find all the drugs and I’ll give them to you, my friend”.
They started migrating towards the inside of the temple, conversation finally shifting to the reason of the visit.
Fit didn’t like the guilt that crept on him from sharing Tūbhos’s business with an additional person. Pàk was fine and Mike was fine for association, but Etoiles had not been thinking of creating a bond with Tubbo, it wasn’t right.
Still, the Star God was a good fighter, so good that he managed the border with the Death Territory and had Philza’s trust. Maybe it was for the best.

Quite anticlimactically, when they finally checked on the Time God, they found him sleeping, curled on one of his machines.
Feeling a bit awkward, the Star God left, leaving the other two to brush Tubbo’s hair out of his face and pull the blanket tighter around him.
Looking at him in such a vulnerable state, all soft and warm on his creation, the darkness surrounding the room, filled with the quiet murmur of the engines; Fit felt all the tension leave him completely. Pac looked at the closed smile that was drawing itself on his face, relaxed and serene, and for the first time felt attracted to someone not because they could unmake him. And it was…it was a lot.
He batted his eyes against it, redirecting his gaze on the sleeping god.
“Do you think he owns a bed?” he whispered.
Fit chuckled low and soft.
“I honestly have no idea. Neither would surprise me?”
Pàk kissed Tūbhos’ cheek, then the two turned back.
“Do you think it would be weirder if he has one and doesn’t use it, or if he doesn’t have one at all?”
“You seem very interested in his bed situation”, Fit teased.
“Maybe”.
“We should gift him one, just to find out”.
“Yes, he’ll probably tell us then. Also I want to see how he reacts, you know?”

Fit laughed in the quiet night air, Pac joining him without restraint, and the two made their way back, unconsciously keeping close to each other, hands brushing at every swing.
Then, when they were almost supposed to part, the God of Information intertwined their fingers together and brought the other’s hand up to place the gentlest of kisses on the back.
For a moment, the God of Invention shined a shy, diaphanous blue, the same shade of the circle surrounding the watching moon. It was sweet and it was beautiful.
Then, when it seemed Fit wanted to let him go, the blue gleamed electric in his eyes, pupils a pearly yellow.
He had wanted to keep to the baby steps. He had. It was Etoiles fault, and Tubbo’s, and of Mike’s constant egging. It was…amazing. The press of his lips against Fit’s, in itself, was mildly nice. But the surprised stammering of his breathing, his eyes slowly closing on their own, his free hand clinging to the fabric of Pac’s cape…that was, oh, Fit was cute, wasn’t he? He was so many nice things. He smelled of movement and metal and stone and wind, he was strict and kind and careful and deliberate and clumsy and he was his. In time, everybody would know that.

Pàk severed the kiss and took a step back, a satisfied smile on his face and apologies ready on his tongue. He licked his lips to catch the lingering taste on them and opened his mouth, but Fit cut him off: “It’s ok”, words rushed.
“Are you sure?”
“Just this once. We can...I still want to take it easy, of course, but this was nice”.
“Only nice?”
Fit would never get used to how much mischief Pac could carry in his gaze. As a matter of fact, he blushed.
“Baby steps, Pac. Baby steps”.
“Yes, yes, of course. But to be honest I found it more than nice. I really like you, Fit. That’s why I want to wait too”.
“Well, we don’t strictly have to wait, just…build our own slow, steady pace”.
“Yes! Slow and steady” he repeated in a lower tone, joking around.
“Exactly, exactly”.
They shared a moment of silence, then Fit spoke again: “The kiss was great”. He fixed his gaze in his eyes. “I like you a lot too. I just…don’t want to mess it up”.
“You won’t”.
“I will sure try”, he laughed.
“And I will too, we’re both going to try and everything will turn out great”.
Now, if I was a horrible person, things would turn out horribly just because of this sentence; but we are all suffering in the same way (too much), so there really is no reason to torture ourselves further.

Fit looked around, no alarm in his mind until he realized the last thing he remembered was going to sleep. And now he was here. Well ‘here’ was a bit generous, this didn’t look like a place – “Hell, it doesn’t even feel like one” – and he couldn’t see shit. He was sure he was standing on something, but that was little consolation.
He must be sleeping. A dream. A quiet one.
“My mind must be giving me a little vacation, after today. That sure was an hell of an evening” he commented, then picked a direction at random and just walked in the darkness. But was it dark or was it just black? His power couldn’t help but stretch, searching for answers, only to find nothing. Truly a vacation, then, even from information.

He went and went for a while, until he saw something, far away and barely visible, but there.
His expression tensed, but he knew how his dreams worked: no use evading things. And so he took a faster pace until the object revealed itself to be Pac’s laying figure.
“I don’t know why I fought my head would go easy on me tonight”, he greeted.
The other god perked up and sat down, his movements leaving a bluish afterimage.
“Fit?” he questioned.
“Hi Pàk”.
“Oh”. The God of Invention smiled, then made grubby hands at Fit.
The latter figured “Why not?” and picked him up so that they could hug.
They sighed, melting into each other, Pac slotting himself in the curve of the other’s neck, Fit enveloping his torso with his arms and squeezing.
Things were missing, like their smell, how their bodies would run at different heats; but otherwise it was perfect, and time wasn’t working quite right, so they lost track of it.
“This is great”, Pac commented, making the other smile with a hum. “I should find a way to record my dreams, to watch later, you know?”
Fit laughed and a bit of distance grew between them so that they could look at each other.
“I mean, do you really want to? With your nightmares and everything…oh, right, dream-Pac probably doesn’t have those: I wouldn’t want him to”.

Something wasn’t quite right.
Pàk was the first to notice, face scrunching up in confusion.
“Fit?”
“Oh, shit”. Fit’s powers flared up, hues of greens flowing onto the black floor and around them. “It was the stones. Since we both put power into them at the same time, it must have linked our dreams. You’re real, we both are”.
“Or I could be dreaming that our dreams are linked”.
“Fair point. I’m sure though: my powers are pretty reliable even when I sleep”.
“I’ll have to wait until we wake up, then. If it’s fake, I’m going to be pretty bummed”, he sighed.
“Why, do you miss me so much?”, Fit joked.
“No, it’s because if it’s a dream, then I’m wasting it”. Wow, that could have sounded wrong. “Not that it’s a waste to dream about you. I really like it. It’s my favourite, you know?”
The God of Information scrolled his head. “Don’t worry, Pac, I understand. I don’t get it, but I know you didn’t mean that, I trust you”.
They started walking, hands linking on their own.
“That’s good, because I’m very trustworthy. For you, always”.
“Thank you Pac, you’re too good to me”.
“You too, you too. You’re too good to me”.

And smiling in the darkness they went. They walked and walked, alternating between talking and staying in silence, time stretching in the weird way they were growing accustomed to.
But it didn’t go on forever: soon there was a light in the distance.
“Well, it’s either Etoiles or Mike, or it’s the end of the dream”, Fit shared with the class.
They approached it with little caution, curious, but not really wanting to say goodbye, even though they’d see each other soon.
Then they were in front of a window, a figure shrouded in strings sitting by it, the light behind him darkening his silhouette and making his outline shine azure and green.
He turned humming and only then did they notice the strings attached to them.

“What the hell???”
The familiarity of the voice almost made them trip. Only now could they see Tūbhos clearly, the god even more surprised then them.
And when Fit’s power reached towards him, angry for hints, it immediately recoiled against the light, the sound of broken glass like broken chalk on board for Pac’s ears.
The God of Information flinched. His power had been split by Roier and untangled until nothing remained by Cellbit, but this was the first time it had met a literal opposition.
With alarm, he saw Tubbo rise, face blank and then screwing and then blank, anger clearly boiling under his skin.
“What the fuck are you doing here, get the fuck out!”
“It was an incident!” Pàk jumped forward, brave in the knowledge that the God of Time, as much as he could, would never hurt him.
Still, he felt himself choke, when he saw that his eyes were white, pearly and empty.
“I don’t give a shit. You have no right to be here! Back away!”
Tūbhos pushed at the air, making them stumble backwards, hands twisting around the strings attached to the two.
Fit showed his palms. “Tubbo, listen to me, we’re not here to hurt you. We think this is a collective dream caused by the sto- the God of Time screeched: “This is the Window of Time! By the Laws of the Cosmos no other God is allowed! BACK-THE HELL-AWAY!”
Pac took Fit’s arm and rushed backwards, taking him with him.
“Help”, Pàk screamed, an idea swirling in his brain. “Tubbo, help us, please, we want to get out, help!”
Fit didn’t need his powers to realise that they weren’t dreaming together: they had invaded Tūbhos’ turf and there was no way they could defeat him here.
“Yes, Tubbo, we’re your friends! Help us get out”.

Their voices scrambled together to convince the God of Time and, little by little, it seemed to work. First Tūbhos cocked his head, then narrowed his eyes, looking at them up and down.
“You’re not here for the Window?”
He was wary, the strings looping and floating around his fingers. They didn’t know what he could do with them, but mostly they wanted to speak with him, figure things out as a team.
“We didn’t even know it was here, or that we were in…whatever this place his”.
“Yeah, sorry for intruding, we didn’t want to scare you”. Pàk pouted.
Tūbhos seemed to relax a bit, his shoulders untensing.
He couldn’t quite manage a smile.
“You could never scare me, boss man, don’t worry”.
Pàk’s shoulders sagged in relief, smile coming back to his face.
“Yes, you didn’t scare me either”, he boasted.
Tūbhos snorted. “I literally saw you trip on your feet to get away”.
Fit took a step forward. “Hey! That was to calm you. We weren’t scared”.
“Sure Fit, whatever lets you slip at night, king”.
When his gaze left the bald man, he found Pàk crouching in front of him, gawking at his face.
“Why are your eyes white?”
Tūbhos considered him with a confused face. “They are?”
The God of Information widened his eyes, noticing the change for the first time.
“Oh, wow, that’s freaky!”
Tubbo brought his fingers under them, then over his eyelids, like he could feel the change by touch.
“There are no mirrors here. I didn’t know they did that”.
Foolish’s words came back to him like a kick to the knees.

“I think you look good”, Pàk reassured him, hands rising so that he could join Tubbo’s own in exploring his traits with careful fingers.
The God of Time closed his hands and retreated them close to his chest, while the other’s fingers flied on his cheekbones, the arch of his brows and his jawline like butterflies. Both him and Fit held their breaths until the other was finished.
Tūbhos’ heart was pounding so strongly in his chest, that he felt like it was doing so for the first time.
“Kuquros”, Pàk whispered, before letting his hands fall and taking a step back.
The word made Tubbo dizzy.
Looking at the two, Fit was feeling the skin of his face tingle, warmth flooding his chest and helium in his head.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, king. I’m still kicking you out”, Tubbo joked, though his voice came out too softly.
Pàk puffed out his cheeks and held on his clothes. “Are you? Can’t we stay? I want to look”.
“At what, king?”
The other’s eyes pointed to the window, strings still floating towards and out of it.
“Oh.”
Fit came closer. “We should disappear when we wake up. It’s probably better if we tell you what happened, but we don’t want to keep you. Wouldn’t be a bad idea if you work while we keep a respectful distance and catch you up”.
Pàk nodded theatrically and Tūbhos took his time to think about it, chin resting on his hand.
“Alright. I should probably know as soon as possible, so it’s fine by me”.

He stretched, masking his shyness at having someone with him, looking at him, and walked back to the chair.
He sat and started running a string through his fingers, sighing at immediately meeting a knot.
While he took care of that, the other two sat on the ground, eyes trained on him.
They had no fucking idea what they were looking at, but their divinity tried to give them an approximative feeling of it. It was maintenance, of the time flow…or something.
Is this what the God of Time did every time he fell asleep?
If so, he should have rested more during the day.
Wasn’t he tired?
But he wasn’t.
On the contrary, being so directly in contact with time seemed to reinvigorate him.
He looked like a painting.
This is what mortals imagined gods to be like.

When they got a hold of themselves and Tūbhos of splitting his focus, they all told their sides of what had happened.
Tubbo was disappointed at his business being shared without his consent, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it, instead starting to theorize with the other two.
And that ended up being…enjoyable.
They went from theories on their current situation, to their idea of how the Cosmos worked, what godhood was, all laughing at the ridiculousness of the names and how frustrated it made Tubbo. It pulled at all their aspects at the same time and they relaxed more and more, turning to joking around and teasing the hell out of each other.
Time stretched so much it both felt as if they had been there weeks, and as if only one hour had passed.
At a certain point Tūbhos abandoned the chair, choosing to sit with them while he sorted the strings.

“So, are we all invited to your spars or is it a Pac’s privilege”.
‘Pac’s privilege’ had become code for ‘shit that only Pac gets away with on account of his name giving him an unfair advantage’. You understand that that was too long.
“Well, we can make it a Tubbo’s privilege too no problem”, Fit answered.
The God of Time sputtered and handed a string he needed to keep tense to Pàk, who found himself on the verge of panic over the fact he was holding a timeline. He didn’t even know he could touch them!
“Wait a fucking minute, I don’t have that, what the hell”.
To distract himself, Pàk was happy to jump on the teasing Tubbo train: “I agree with Fit, you have pretty privileges too”.
“Wait, why are we calling them that? What happened to Pac’s privilege?”
Fit put an hand on each of their heads: “Ah, yes, my pretty boys with their pretty privileges”.
“What the hell, get your hand off me!”

Chapter Text

When Tūbhos woke up that morning, after having had the weirdest, most concerning, nicest experience of his life, was to the sound of wet crunching and munching.
A well ingrained sixth sense made him sit up before he was even awake, his jaw unclenching like it had been unbuckled to breath in the air necessary to whine.
"Why?" he asked with his eyes closed, a reflex.
"Good morning, honey. I'm home".
More crunching.
Tūbhos wanted to die. So he proclaimed it loudly. Then he decided he wanted to go back to bed. He was having such nice dreams...
As soon as he tried to lay back down, though, a hand grabbed him from the collar and started tugging to get him off the machine.
"Let me go, I don't want to fucking deal with you today", he tried, fingers grabbing at smooth metal and head not quite screwed right.
"Honey, why are you like this, it's been so long since we've seen each other. At least let me give you a kiss".
The smell of abolis was starting to be obnoxious, like the person who was eating it. "Stop it. This is disgusting. You're being disgusting. Go away".
Even with his hands wet and sticky from the fruit, the God of Trickery had too good of a hold on him. It was like a war of tug, with the God of Time as the rope and at the end of it.
"My wife, you are being hysterical. It's obviously because I have been far from home for too long. I shall embrace you and cure you this instant. It's for your own good, please stop resisting".
Tūbhos contemplated murder.
"I don't even have an uterus!" he screamed, hands loosing their hold more and more, the sound of his skin against the metal a most unpleasant screech.
"Don't be uncultured, I'm referring to a metaphorical one".

With a final tug, the two fell to the ground with a thud and immediately ended up in a tangle of limbs.
The blond god was trying to pin Tubbo to the ground, getting advantage of the sheer length of his arms and legs. The other was, obviously, fighting and biting him off.
"You are actually insane and I hate you".
"I love you too, honey. I'm so- I'm so happy that we're together again, reunited, that I'm going to cry and piss myself" he prattled, not without difficulty, as he was getting quite winded.
"Fucking hell, you're disgusting and if you don't get off me I'll have you banned from the territory".
Tomesus gasped and fell on his behind quite dramatically.
"You wouldn't!"
"Fucking try me".
Tūbhos got up before the other could get any ideas and kicked his shin with his best shit eating grin."Get up".
Tommy howled and held his leg for, at best, three seconds, before springing back on his feet with the most radiant smile ever witnessed.
"You're the shittiest friend, mate. Can't believe I married you, I want a refund".
Tūbhos looked at him in a way that made it not quite clear if he wanted to cry or just roll over and die of exhaustion.

The crunch of an abolis being bitten into snapped him out of his homicidal-suicidal thoughts.
Where the fuck had he gotten another one? And why was he so obsessed with the golden fruit?
Tūbhos knew, of course, but 'fuck's sake.
"I think you have an addiction".
"You're delirious: I'm a big man and I get no addiction from my big man drugs".
He looked at him for a few seconds, not to gather if the statement had been sincere (it was an old argument, never quite discussed seriously if not in a few words, in the way they managed to communicate quite a lot while not having to deal with the whole talking thing); but to take inventory of the changes that had imprinted themselves on his best friend.
His eyes were still as shiny as usual, his hair cut messily and the ends just a bit burned, but golden like grain, healthy.
He couldn't stand still, but in a way that spoke of endless energy and not of nervousness.
He shouldn't have worried about this idiot, really. He had Molly, now, and the War Territory was less scary then when they were young and inexperienced. He could hold his own.
He grunted and declared his examination concluded.
Now it was his duty to hate his ass.

Dragging his feet, Tubbo managed to get himself to the bathroom, where, of course, Tomesus followed him.
"I'm serious, king. Drop the abolis", he scolded, though he'd never insist more then the occasional comment every decade or so.
While he relieved himself, the other started messing around with his things, as if he hadn't seen them a thousand times.
"You're talking nonsense. Abolis are round, sweet springs of goodness, prettier then my prettiest offers, shiny and all that. They can't cause nothing wrong ever".
Tūbhos cleaned his hands and splashed the other slightly.
"Sure".

He stretched, his spine popping with a satisfying sound, and turned towards his best friend.
He smiled all nice and kind and curled his fist around the other's clothes, dragging him towards the pool.
"Oh, wow, I love how bold you are today, honey" Tommy joked.
He was rewarded with the most exasperated nasal sound.
"Just get with me in the fucking bath".
"Please, have restraint, you know I'm shy".
"Drown and die".
He pushed him in without giving him the time to undress, immediately doing the same with a splash.
Clothes could be taken off after a bit of reciprocal attempted murder.

Tomesus pulled him from the heels, trying to get the upper hand, and the game was on, violent enough that, had they not been gods, they would have bruised from it.
They were both slippery, so manhandling, too tight grips, clothes' pulling and dirty tricks were the only ways to go to ensure that both of them had their fill of water in their lungs.
When they started tasting it in their brains, they stopped fooling around and sluggishly got rid of the wet layers.
Their noses and eyes were puffy, their throats sore with coughing, their heads stuffed with cotton balls and sinuses irritated. It had been fun.

They kinda floated in the water, only half resting on the edge.
Humid, warm silence settled on their bones, only interrupted by water ripples when, minutes later, they started actually cleaning themselves.
Maybe because they were together, they actually used the appropriate products in the appropriate way. Nothing short then a miracle.
Tūbhos was glad, since Tomesus had little in terms of entourage.

While the latter made bubbles with his mouth, head half out of the water like an alligator, he observed his best friend with curiosity.
Tubbo seemed different.
The temple itself did. It was the first thing he noticed when he arrived, other then the heavy trace of two other gods both in the place and on him. He smiled mischievously.
"Niki told me, that Bagi told her, that Cellbit told her, that you've been hanging with Fit". He moved his eyebrows in a suggestive way.
Tūbhos stopped his hair combing and looked back at him, clearly trying to read his angle. "Yeah?"
"You bonding?"
The question almost made Tūbhos reel back.
He got out of the pool and searched for something to dry himself.
Holy fucking shit.
He did not just ask that.
Holy shit.
He started yapping in distress, feet bringing him here and there in the room.

Tomesus let him do what he had to, getting himself dry too so that he could safely handle a Tūbhos' crisis.
He was an expert on those.
The secret was to not stop the yapp and instead make him throw words at something else.
"It's honestly fine. I just can't believe that you're cheating on me".
That redirected him quite well.
"We're divorced!"
"Are not. I signed nuthin' ".
"Then fucking do it! You have a girlfriend!"
"She's chill. Seriously, it's fine. Just tell me next time you plan to open the marriage".
"What?"
"Well, I would have liked to know this Fit fella before you went and cheated on me with him".
"Oh my god, you're insane".
"I think you'll find that I'm the sanest god in all of Kauleuke".
"You are, you are actually clinically insane. I'm not even sure I'm friend bonding with Fit, what the fuck".
"Tubbo, you dirty boy, are you shagging a god without a bonding? Doing a bit of bonding-less pounding? Engaging in the nuts without knots? Dabbling in the-" he got himself an handful of solid soap in his mouth. Still, he tried to talk through it, tasted it and almost died.
"Clean your mouth, king. Can't believe you kiss Molly with that".

Tomesus got on his knees to clean his mouth in the pool, eyes full of unshed tears for the horrible, terrible experience. He would tell Niki and she would say that Tubbo had not been nice at all.
He scrubbed his tongue diligently, fueled by disgust and resentment.
"Can't believe I'm being treated like this after I've been so nice" he finally managed, sitting on his heels to batt eyelashes at him and pout.
"You've been nothing but a nightmare".
"I just came back from a war zone!"
Tūbhos blinked.
"You live there. In the War Territory. You chose it".
Tommy smiled innocently.
"Oh my god, you started the current war!"
Tomesus tsicked.
"I hoped you would forget that, damm".
Tubbo gestured widely at nothing, then scrolled his head.
"Just get dressed" he sighed.

When they finally got themselves more or less in a god shape, they decided to eat breakfast, though it was almost midday.
Since they were famished, they ate voraciously and, as soon as Tūbhos got his hands around a cup of pito, he gained two decades of youth.
They mostly messed around and updated each other on what they were up to, Tommy lamenting loudly Tubbo's decision to move to the Eternity Territory, instead of staying with his friend where they had been created.
He wasn't serious, he knew that his best friend was not quite suited for the place. He had been brilliant, of course, a force of nature and someone to be feared. In that environment he had grown into the god he was now; at the end of it, he could have eaten for breakfast half the gods Tomesus had daily disputes with and probably still could.
So yeah, he had been cool and strong and shit, but not quite... thriving as he was now, pursuing his passions, making friends and whatnot.
He was happier, safer, healing.
While Tommy had gotten happier by embracing his own chaos without guilt, Tubbo had done that by laying down the bombs and picking up whatever the fuck cleaning water bullshit he was making.

Tūbhos was currently telling Tomesus all about his new projects and, by the end of it, the God of Trickery was quite pleased: the God of Time was now a man of peace, but he was still as tricky as his best friend should be and, what's best, he hadn't given up on his ancient stone use.
Of course, there were scarier things Tūbhos had used for his machines in the past, like all those little animals for his biotech and, in some dark spots, things a little...bigger that that. Still, the stones were sick.
"The hell? For real?" Tommy exclaimed.
"For real. I'm still wrapping my head around it".
"I didn't know they could do that! That's sick!"
"It is, right? Honestly I'm dying to get my hands back on them right now. Maybe drag Fit and Pac here to mess around a bit with them, see what happens".

Tommy snorted.
"Yeah, bring your girls here. I want to take a look at them".
"Woa, woa, rude. That was very uncomfortable to hear, king. Not cool".
"Whatever, you know what I mean. And, for the record, I'm unable to say anything uncool ever".
"You whish".
"Oi! What's that supposed to mean? I'm the greatest guy you know! You married me!".
"I'm thinking of becoming a widow".
"But honey!"
"Literally kill yourself, I'm not even joking".
"But, darling, think of the children!"
At the bewildered look on Tūbhos' face, Tomesus grinned, then schooled his expression in one of great tenderness and rested his hand on his friend's belly. "I hope they have your eyes".
Tubbo sputtered and stood up.
"That's it. You're banned. I'm gonna cut your head and parade it in front of my temple to keep other nutjobs away. Prepare to die".

"Wait, wait, let me finish breakfast!"
With a scream worthy of his name, Tūbhos pulled at the other's hair to force him out of his seat and into a fist fight.
The two tumbled, screamed and swore profusely, having fun roughhousing like younglings.
"I will chew on your corpse, bitch!" Tommy declared, fixing his stance to have a proper go at it.
Tubbo grinned, wild and ruffled.
"Try it, fag".
Then he reserved himself the right of the first hit, directing a punch at his friend.
It was deviated and answered with a low kick, all the while the two kept screaming.
When Tūbhos landed a hit with the elbow, he immediately got punched to the nose, his eyes watering.
Those always hurt like bitches.
"Fuck you!"
He put to work a combination, hitting blindly until he felt a rib cage on his knuckles.
"Ouch! That hurts, you dick!"
"Don't be a child".
"I'll fucking end you!"

They knew each other too well, though, and soon the screaming subsided enough that they started concentrating.
Now the screaming mostly came from Tomesus, while Tūbhos' voice became lower and teasing.
Their movements were more fluid, the new following the previous ones, instead of switching, a never ending flow.
In time, they worked a bit of a sweat and Tommy charged his hits with more force. Tubbo had no choice but to start evading them, instead of blocking. Still, that meant that he could play at anticipating his opponent.
It would have been no problem, considering how long they had known each other, but Tomesus was a trickster and the game was guessing how many layers of deceit went in his movements.
All in all, they were well balanced. Tommy had a bit of an edge, there, since he was less rusty...even freshly sharpened.
Tubbo started getting sloppy.
It wouldn't be long before he got handed his ass and they both knew it.
Tomesus started smiling with satisfaction.

Then he didn't smile anymore, knocked back by an unknown party.
Tūbhos felt fresh fingers on his heated cheeks, pools of black in front of his eyes.
"Pac?"
"Stay the fuck away from him. Last warning", came Fit's voice.
Tubbo spied behind Pac to see the God of Information, sword drawn, keep Tommy at bay.
The latter was smiling meanly, the situation clear to him only and intent on getting advantage of it.
"Who is he? Are you ok?" Pac asked, using his cloak to dry the sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck.
"Who the fuck are you two! I'm his husband, you dicks!"
He surely looked proud of his line.
"Nice joke. Step back".

Tubbo decided to let Fit and Tom sort themselves out and sighed, resting his face on Pac's shoulder.
"Can you please not be crazy?" he asked the God of Invention, resting his hands on his hips to cuddle closer to him.
"Yes, don't worry, we're gonna protect you!"
Pac let him snuggle and brought his arm around him, the other hand ready to bring out his knife.
His eyes stayed trained on the situation, less worried, since Fit looked like he had it handled and Tubbo was there in his arms.

"Be careful, Fit", he warned anyway. If the stranger was able to exhaust Tubbo so much, he must have been powerful.
"I know. I recognise him, he's the God of Trickery".
"Yes, and also Tubbo's husband. Tell the bitch back there to stop touching him".
In response, Pac smiled and hugged him tighter, planting a kiss on his temple.
"Stop", Tūbhos whined, half to his best friend, half to Pac.
But he really didn't want to explain the situation.
The other could have his fun.
"Honey, please come here".
"Tommy, please rot and die".

Fit looked at the both of them, confusion drawing on his face until he reached with his powers, then it got worse.
"Ok, what's going on?"
"I'm the one asking the questions!" Tommy countered. "Tubbo, are you cheating on me, right now? Right in front of my eyes? That's not cool and you're a dick and a bitch. And a pussy. You're pussy-boy".
Pac used his cloak to hide him more, almost making him disappear from the other's eyes.
It was nice in there: Pac's body heat and smell surrounding him, the morning light shielded and turned in golden hues. He had no intention of coming out and solving things.
If they weren't standing, he would have fallen asleep.

"They're actually married", Fit whispered.
Ok, no, Tubbo didn't want them to actually think that.
"I told you! Now let me get to my husband. Honey, come on".
Tommy took a step forward, but Fit just strengthened his stance, ready to attack.
"You see, I don't give a shit about that. You were hitting him!"
The God of Trickery batted his eyelashes.
"I know that you're the God of Information, but you should seriously consider minding your own business. What me and my wife do is-
Pac interrupted him: "I will kill you".

Was the situation escalating a bit too much?
Probably.
Tubbo squeezed Pac a bit, then let go, getting out of the cloak with a sigh.
This sucked ass.
"We were sparring. We're not really married because I was tricked into it. Everybody has to calm down and my best friend has to grow up and sign the fucking divorce papers".
Was that a good summary?
Tūbhos felt that he did an amazing job.

Tommy pouted.
"So kind of you to ruin my fun, dickhead!"
"They were gonna kill you, bossman. You were kinda playing with fire, there".
Pac kept his arm around his shoulder, eyes narrowed on Tubbo's supposed best friend.
He didn't trust him one bit.
"You tricked him into marrying you?"
"Yes, it was hilarious".
"How do you do it?"

Fit got backlash from that question while he was busy analyzing the new development with his powers.
Tomesus, though, just smiled something wicked, eyes shining in understanding.
"Like I would ever spill my secrets to you, bitch".
"If I'm a bitch, then you're a dog, but not a grown dog, you're a puppy. You're a very bad puppy".

A second of silence passed, Fit's brain rewiring and Tomesus loading a dozen fresh insults on his tongue.
"I should probably apologize", the first started. "But I really don't feel like it".
Pac nodded. "Yes, he has a horrible best friend. He's really mean".
"Fuck you two! What's that supposed to mean? I'm the best best friend and husband he could ever wish for!"
"I really, really wish you were not my husband".
"Stop whining about it!"

Fit and Pac had relaxed enough that they could find the exchange funny.
It was still strange and Fit really had to put away his sword, but they smiled and that pretty much put an end to any hitting, that day.

Later, when they found themselves around the table for a late lunch, Pac slid closer to Tūbhos and rested a hand on his back.
When he had his attention, he got close to his ear to whisper, delighting in the other's slight shiver.
"I really want to trick you into marriage too, you know?"
With a huffed laugh and an eye roll, Tubbo inched closer too, pressing into the other's hand.
"Then you shouldn't have told me, boss man" he whispered back with a wink.
Pac frowned and pouted.
"Oh. I see. Can't you forget?"
"I fear not, king. But do you know who we can still trick into marriage?" He asked, sly grin and head tilted to point to the person in front of them.
"Fit! Yes! I like it! You're too smart!"
"No, you’re too smart!"
"No, you!"
"No, really, you are!"
"I think you're smarter".
"Surely not!"
"Then we can say that we are both super smart and cool, right?"
"Pac. I think that we have found ourselves a most pristine solution. I'm delighted to compliment you in your accomplishment and agree fully with the aforementioned arrangement".
They nodded several times at each other.
"Perfect".
"Perfect".
"Yes, perfect".
"Likewise".
"What???" Pac flashed red and Tubbo snorted.
"Thought we were complimenting each other, king".
"No, you didn't. That was on purpose!"
"Don't know what you're talking about, bossman".
Pac tilted his head downwards to look up at the other's eyes.
"You are a dangerous man, Tubbo. You're too slick".
"Oh, shut up".
Pac moved his hand upwards to surround Tubbo's shoulders with his arms, smiling happily at Fit, who was talking with Tommy, but kept glancing at the whispering pair.
As he did before, he kissed Tubbo's temple to see if he could still get away with it and succeeded.
"No, you shut up".

Fit and Pac had come to speak with Tubbo about what had happened that night and to check on him, but Tommy's presence made it impossible.
They found him rather clingy, but they could understand: if they had grown up with the God of Time and he had then up and left for another territory, they would have felt the same.
"Don't let him fool you", Tūbhos said from under a machine, elbows deep in its belly. "He was clingy when we lived together too. He's a clingy man and a child".
"And you're a pussy and a dick. And you're the clingy one, you can't live without me. You would cry and piss yourself. And also shit. You would shit and piss and cry all at the same time".
"I think he would throw up too".
"Thank you, Pac. Yes, he would be a mess of fluids all on the floor, going weeeh".

"I will never speak to you guys again. Fit, please check the pressure and tell me the color".
"We're orange".
"Thank you. You're the only man ever, king".
"You're welcome, I'm happy to help".
"Weeeeeh".
"Weeeeh".

"I should have never allowed them to meet", Tubbo deadpanned, twisting a wire with too much strength.
"At least they're having fun and, you know, getting along well. It's good, since we'll probably meet him often".
Fit waited to see if the other was gonna contradict him, but he didn't.
"You're right, but still...I don't want to be ganged up by all three of you at the same time. You and Pac teasing me is bad enough".
"Well, in our defense, you're a very teasable man and it's incredibly funny".
"Fuck you".
Fit moved his foot with his own, just to mess, and got kicked in the shin.
"That was very weak. You should train with me and gain some muscles".
Tūbhos snorted and looked at him with amusement.
"If me and you get hot and sweaty fighting each other, I think Pac is gonna get a stroke".
Fit flushed the slightest bit pink, easy to miss, and covered his mouth and cheeks with his hand.
"So you noticed that he has a thing too", he laughed.
"By now we can stop calling it a thing and label it a problem, king".
Fit sized him up with his eyes.
"Well, it's not a problem for me".
"For me neither".

Fit crouched to be more eye level, now redder, but still able to talk with a straight face.
"Who do you think..."
"...he would jump first? Totally you, surely. You're hot". Tubbo looked back at the machinery. "Give me the color".
Fit checked carefully, but he knew that the other couldn't be needing it so soon. He wanted to change the subject.
"You're a fine man yourself if I say so, Tubbo. Still orange".
"Thanks, boss man".
And that was it.

Chapter Text

Pac sat up in the bed with his eyes still closed, mind feeling blindly for the link so see where Mike was and if he was asleep.
And yeah, there, right beside him, dreaming of something pleasant, warm and soft.
Pac snickered, knowing full well his soul mate was probably dreaming of his wife.
Then he opened his eyes, morning light still not intense enough to battle the morning fog that came from the sea. That made it plenty easy to get used to it.
Still, he had to clean the crust and stickiness from his lashes and the corners of his eyes.
When that was done, he yawned and stretched, interlocking his fingers as high as he could, then bending forward for another stretch.
He hummed until he felt satisfied, then moved to sit on the edge of the bad and rerolled his pants leg that had gotten down during sleep. He put on the sock on his stump, checking the tightness. It was still fine.
Without looking, he reached for his prosthetic and started the process of clasping it on, fast and efficient in the way that spoke of an old habit.
When he stood up, though, he almost fell down like he had put his weight on an asleep limb.
He cursed, holding on the bed and his bedside table for support.
His brain should be used to it, so why?

The pain came sudden and far stronger than usual, forcing his ass back on the bed and gasping.
Ants were stabbing at his leg, going up to his hip to burn him down.
He was being eaten alive by invisible insects, crawling and hungry.
His head started to fog up, no thought able to pass through it.
He was burning, he was dying, the pain so bad he felt a clean cut on his back, up to down, to show his spine.
And his brain couldn't work enough to allow calling for help.

That was the thing, though: he didn't need to.
Mike's arms soon were around him, ready to keep him together even when his parts weren't connected anymore.
And little by little, Pac became aware of his words, of his own wet face and burning cheeks, of his haggard breathing and his galloping heart.
All of these things real and the pain not.
But it didn't matter.
What mattered, what helped, was Mike's hand on his leg, batting away the invisible ants until they all disappeared.
Pac cried of relief in his chest, Mike swaying them back and forth like a mother trying to soothe her child. And, when the wailing stopped, his soulmate's hand reached the clasps with a sort of angry determination and took off Pac's prosthetic. That became a crutches day.

They got dressed and had breakfast and never spoke about it, Pac hopping around with the widest smile and the most charming laugh, relaxed and at ease.
He never let his entourage around him when he didn't have his leg on, so everybody pretty much said bye from more or less of a distance and left for their own business, leaving only an handful of people for emergencies and to take care of the machinery and projects that couldn't be abandoned.
TeserKraft mostly kept to their living spaces and private sections, unless they needed something specific, and soon the vibes of a rest day settled completely on them.
By lunchtime they were feeling like lazing around, getting plenty of naps and just having fun without anything crazy.
So they cooked together something highly caloric and easy to make, opened some medhu to sip on and let the hold on their godhood go.
The food was good, sauce and cheese and olive oil staining their mouths and hands. Tongues tingly from the fruit. The air in the temple starting to get charged.

Pàk found himself in the natural pool near the beach, at a certain point, cup of medhu to his lips, tasting both of the metal and the liquid, prayers buzzing at the back of his mind close to the mind-link.
He relaxed down down down, sitting on the salt rocks of the pool, blue shining from his hair, his eyes; his very own skin covered in a golden hue like the light deep inside his pupils. He could see Mike's pink and green reflected on the water, feel both his power and his presence in the link.
They were laughing and drinking and eating and answering prayers with bursts of power and godly favour.
Any child's idea had his approval, every mother's invention his go ahead, each sparkle of creativity and innovation received a content humm of blessing and compelling, no metter the nature of it.
War, medicine, crafts, arts, everything new was blessed by him, fondness flowing in waves.
'Thank you' and 'we love you' they were saying and they felt his 'of course children, you're good, you're amazing, do it, do it, do it' under their skin, in their heads, in their hands.

And then they were back at the house, eating fruit by throwing it at each other, being silly and goofy and going down down down, rolling on the cushions, the rich carpets, the silks. And mortals felt them and asked 'please, please, please, if my offers were ever timely and well received, then please' and they answered 'yes, yes, yes, yes'.
And all their devotion and love made them more drunk then the medhu, fuller then the food, the offers multiplying and making them richer and stronger.
Pac wore his most beautiful garments, paraded around the house with his crouches, posing for his soulmate, who clapped and whistled and cursed him with fondness, each insult more precious then the other.
This was a very vulnerable way to live godhood and few were the ones powerful enough to be able to allow themselves this pleasure.
But it was only them, that day, and it was perfect and it was amazing.
They played hide and seek, hunting the other, prayers coming to help in droning out the link and making the game almost real. It turned in a game of catch soon enough anyway, but it had been fun.

Still, Pàk found himself feeling mournful with the coming of the evening.
"Next time", he promised to himself, " I'll do it with them too, it will be amazing, Mike, we'll have so much fun".
His soulmate smiled, opening himself more so that the other could have the space to move them into perfect cuddle position.
"You just want to see them drunk on divinity, medhu and prayers".
Pàk stretched on him like a cat, pawing at his chest.
"And kiss them lazy and slow, you know?"
"You're drunk".
"You too".
They smiled stupid and happy, on the brink of another nap.
"Want to start on your time machine, tomorrow?"
The cheshire smile on Pac's face was ruined by a yawn.
"Maybe".
"Sleep then, I'll wake you for dinner".
Pac hummed in agreement and got comfy on him, his cloak sprawling around them like a blanket.
"Sweet dreams, Patchy".
"You too".

The echoes of the boys' laughter in his ears, Fit left Tūbhos' temple to start his journey back home.
He hadn't had the possibility to talk with the God of Time about what had happened the previous night, but the chat with Pàk on the way there had confirmed for both of them that it had been real.
Fit wasn't sure, but something told him that they had stayed in front of the window for longer then one night. It had felt like weeks, more then a dozen days spent only with eachother, talking and joking and sharing pretty much everything; esitancy, fear and timidness diminishing day by day, until they had felt full of eachother.
They were inventing theories, stories and plans, sharing them and helping Tubbo hold his strings while he worked. Their bonds kept tightening more and more, leaving them happy, relaxed and euphoric at times, warmth spreading inside their chests even through the weird temperature of the place.
It had felt intimate, but sometimes a bit too much. Maybe because of the fear that they all carried all the time, their personal history making them wary.
And so they shared that too: their past, the wariness, the fear.

Not all of it, of course.
There were still things they kept for guessing or deeply hidden, secrets biting at them from their guts.
Tubbo spoke little of the time before Fit was born, when the War Territory had still more grass then holes, and nothing of the years of his disappearance; Fit shared his first years there with no emotion in his voice, detached like he was recording something in his archives and not speaking about his life: plenty of ugly details, but none of those that were too close to home; Pac passed more time talking about having rebuilt the bond with Cellbit, then about what had happened between them when they were in the mortal realm.
Nobody could boast knowing more then what they now knew of each other, except for those who were with them from the start.

By what had felt like a week or so, Fit had realised that it was time to up his game a little, if he wanted to be greedy and keep both of them, and so his normal jokes had started sounding less and less like jokes, spying Tūbhos' white eyes for the interested shine they took once or twice, and then more and more as the days went on.
He wasn't the type to be overly touchy, but Pàk filled that distance for the both of them and soon Fit had the honour of supporting Tūbhos' body with his own as he worked, to help keep the hair out of his eyes with his fingers, feel his laughter against his chest.

It was natural that, in the waking world, there had been more distance, especially with a third party presence.
So Fit was excited and nervous at the idea that, tonight, it might happen again.
Ramònos caught the weird energy coming off his father, when he came back home, but just eyed him with curiosity and let him be, for the moment.
Especially since Fit soon got immersed in his love for his baby boy, focused of hearing about his day in the temple, his dinner and what he hoped to do the next day.
They played together with some dolls, as Banama had recommended to help develop his emotional intelligence.
"As the king of this land, I cannot leave this castle, for it is my duty to serve my people. So I cannot go slay the monster that is threatening our villages", he theatrically boomed.
Ramònos jumped a little in excitement, then settled enough to make his doll say his line.
"My liege, as a faithful knight, it will be my honour to help the people, please give me this quest".
Fit moved the doll's arm so it would look like it was holding its chin, pondering, then declared: "So mote it be. But heed my words: might you find a way to save the people without spilling the monster's blood, your reward will be double".
Ramòn's eyes widened and he smiled happily, invested in the turn the story had taken.

A hour and an half later, they put away the toys.
The child was tired, yawning even with the toothbrush in his mouth, eyes pleading to be allowed to close.
He was a bit sad because he had had to kill the monster even when it wasn't completely the monster's fault, since there really was no other way.
He knew that if he told his father, he would get a very big hug, but he was scared that if he did, he would cry a lot.
So he pushed it down and washed his mouth, avoiding his own reflection and his father's eyes.
There was no way Fit would not catch up on his son's behaviour.
So, instead of ushering him to his bedroom, he scooped him up in his arms, holding him tightly as they went.
He hugged him ever more tenderly when they sit up on the bed, kissing his head as the first tears wet his son's cheeks.
It wasn't the first time the stories they played took a sad turn all on their own.
Banama had said that it was natural and to not fight it when it happened, since children needed the space to conjure up their fears and struggles and find a solution for them in a simulated and safe environment.

When Ramón looked soothed, he put him under the covers, hoping their lullaby would cheer him up and give him sweet dreams.
So, with the softest voice, Fit sang, the roll of his tongue playful in all the right parts, making the little one giggle and kick his feet.
Then he kissed his forehead, ready to say goodbye for the night, and was surprised to see his son hold onto him.
"Can I...", he esitated. "Can I hear Tubbo's song too?"
Fit froze, surprised, frowning in confusion.
Ramònos rushed to explain himself. "I still like ours more! And it's only if you want and if you remember it! I can help you too!"
Fit pulled the covers tighter around him, taking his time to think about it. He could, of course, but he was really curious about what had brought it up.
"Of course I can, my boy. Everything for you! I'm just curious about why, since it's been a while since you heard it and you didn't like it back then".
Ramònos squirmed, cheeks tinged pink in a way that made him resemble his father quite a lot.
"I just missed Tubbo today, but don't tell him".
"Of course, my boy, it will be our secret, I'll keep it as long as you wish", he spoke solemnly.
Ramòn relaxed and settled in the covers, closing his eyes to wait for the lullaby.
After struggling a bit to remember, Fit started singing the words in his mind, humming the tune, just to be sure to have it all straight.
When he felt confident enough, he sang:

"When the Cosmos made you in hoping,
And your mother found your side,
She said fretting, that’s foreboding
and she kissed you misty-eyed.

There you laid in starry coating,
Warm in your mother’s godly glow.
she saw your future in the making
Please be a child till until morrow.

Forego all and every worry,
In your mother’s godly glow,
If it breaks you can say sorry,
Close your eyes and breath in slow."

He spied the slight smile on his son's face and kissed his head one last time, before he got up and walked to the door.
"Good night, my little egg, have a sweet dream".
Then he closed the door carefully and sighed.
He already missed him.
Would it ever get easier to close that door?
He doubted it.

He scrolled his head and rolled his shoulders, then got ready himself for the night, more interested in going to sleep then in the hours of freedom he could get before going to bed.
Maybe, though, he was too eager, because sleep didn't come fast nor easy.
None the less, it came, but filled with normal dreams that didn't interest him.

When he woke up, he felt slightly irked, and maybe that was the reason why he decided to have a good dig in the War Territory and Tomesus.
He received reports, of course, but non of them could be compared to the sort of information he could dig up in person.
He started his day with a good shower in his temple's pool: he had had a waterfall installed pretty early on and it had never stopped being the best choice he had made about the place.
The thunderous flow of the water on his head, going down and around his neck and shoulders, brought him a bit of clarity.
The best course of action would be to bring Ramòn to Tūbhos' temple for his mentorship, making an exception about always being there with him in hope that nothing would happen.
Maybe he could ask the other god to keep to safer activities for the day: he was sure his request would not be denied.
After that, he was free to hunt down intel, dirty his hands a bit, just like old times.
His brown eyes flashed a murkier shade for a second, before settling back to the hint of green that suggested the use of his powers.
He raised his head and started the process of cleaning his skin, then he took a dip and, when he resurfaced, he put his palms on the edge of the pool and pulled himself up to stand on the dry floor and trot to the towels.
That was enough about himself.

When he got out of the room, he requested for breakfast to be made and went to wake Ramónos.
They ate while chatting about the plan for the day, the boy excited to have Tūbhos all for himself.
When they departed, it was in good spirits, and Fit had to reprimand his son more than once about rocking the boat.
It was always a good sign when the boy didn't listen immediately, the important thing was that he did eventually, so the God of Information didn't mind. It showed that he felt sure of his father's affection and his safety and was giving himself time to process the request, all good things.

When they finally got to the temple, Ramònos was the first to get inside, hurrying to reach his mentor.
Fit heard their laughter and chatting before he could even lay eyes on them and, when he did, he forrowed his brows: the God of Time looked exhausted.
"Tubbo, what happened to you?" he couldn't help but ask, reaching to touch the dark circle under his eye with the tip of his fingers, the briefest of contacts.
"It's nothing, king, I just spent the night trying to get the ancient stones to behave. The ones I worked with the day before yesterday are unusable now" he explained, rubbing where Fit's fingers had just been with his fist.
"Do you want me to bring Ramòn back? You should go to bed and rest a bit".
"Nah, it's fine, bossman. But if Ramòn doesn't mind, we might take it easy today, just check on the machines and brainstorm".
The boy nodded, not impressed at all with his mentor's state and already deciding to drag him for a nap as soon a he could, maybe in a real bed.
He shared a complicit glance with his father and they nodded at eachother.
"Yeah, sure, conspire in front of me, I don't mind", Tubbo joked, rolling his eyes.
Fit laughed.
"It's nothing. It's just that I would have asked you to take it easy anyway: today I won't be here with you, I have some business to attend to".
Tūbhos tilted his head, looking at him in that way that, months before, had unnerved him, but that now, at best, made him feel sheepish.
He waited until the other man had concluded his pondering, smiling at him in hope of being reassuring, or looking innocent, or whatever was needed and appropriate.
Tubbo snorted.
"Ok, bossman, me and the little boss will be here waiting for you. Don't do anything I would do and all that".
Fit laughed and scrolled his head.
In all honesty, that was a good recommendation: the God of Time was a reckless one, always pushing boundaries when he could, going farther then anyone else.
"I'll try, but no promises. You know, I've gotta make you and Pac proud", he laughed.
"Oh, shut up".
They snickered and then said their goodbyes, Ramònos barely nodding at his father now that he had gotten his hands on some redstone.

Fit didn't bother going back to his temple, deciding to travel to the War Territory from there instead.
He was already decently armed, the only thing missing some good armor, but he could get that on the way: it was a long walk even if he used is godly speed.
He remembered there being a way stone halfway to the territory. If so, he was sure to find a shop there that sold some decent armor. He could also get some better enchantments on his sword, since it only had sharpness and unbreaking.
He did so, the shopkeeper (some deity working under Terpale, the Numen of Wealth) more then happy at seeing how nonchalant Fit was in his spending.
"Thank you for buying from Aiera: Terpale's 2914th shop. Have a nice travel".
The number didn't even surprise him: they had shops for everything, from miraculous charms, to magic, to robotic war machines. He vaguely recalled seing a disc shop under their name and...was that element-bending school theirs?
"Thank you. Oh, is Terpale still doing hero-sponsoring?"
"Yes, would you like to donate?"
"Sure".

That taken care of, Fit teleported to the War Territory, taking a long deep breath before selecting the destination.
As soon as he stepped outside, he was greeted by, from what he could remember, a new big hole in the ground.
"Great, that's absolutely great".
His senses became immediately sharper, his attention focused on a possible ambush while be trekked down and then up.
Apparently, people didn't even bother with bridges anymore.
Not surprising.
Thankfully he had never stopped training and some of his reputation still carried, because he got little trouble while he made his way to his destination.
He didn't know who he would find at the temple, it was a bit of a gamble in that sense. Still, he was sure he would be able to get the upper hand no matter who he spoke to.
He scrolled his sword, getting rid of most of the blood that stained it, then passed an already dirty cloth on it.
The important thing was that it wasn't dripping, he could do maintenance when he came back.
It was a good thing that his mind was empty, focused on the mission and nothing more, because otherwise he would be having a very nice mental trip.
This place was the worst.
Smoke on the horizon in almost every direction, remains of bases, temples and homes, both dry and fresh blood every two steps.
The difference with the other territories was as stark as the one between night and day.
Still, he had a job to do.

When he spotted the iron walls, he hastened, thankful to be walking on an actual road now.
He found the gate closed, but he was pretty sure other god hadn't changed his passcode, no matter how much time had passed, so he entered the six numbers and waited.
Soon the gate started rising in a cacophony of metal and hears, old and new technology combining together with little elegance.
It would close fast, so Fit went through it and let his power spread.
From the moment he had entered the territory, he had kept it unraveled around him, ready to notify him of any enemy approaching.
Now, though, the purpose was different: it was gathering and processing as much data from his surroundings as possible.
The first information he got back, was that the owner was home.
At least he wouldn't waste time.

He walked towards the black walls of the temple, white eyes with red pupils painted everywhere.
It was the preference of the original owner, who the current inhabitant had murdered in his ascension to Great Godhood.
Now it was his, like the entourage of the dead god, but the now Great God of Duality still managed to look and behave like a...well... something of a loser.
As much as he was cunning and sharp, dangerous in his own right, he was also able to sound and act like the most pathetic little god ever.
It was something of a trip.

When Fit arrived in front of the door, it was immediately opened from the inside by an eye worker and the God of Information made his way towards the main room.
There, surrounded by rich tapestries, was Quackity's throne.
On it, with an intrigued expression, sat Quákitis, one of the gods with the most simple name. It simply meant 'duckling gait', with little space for different interpretations. Maybe one could suggest it meaning 'going crying', but nothing else.
He had been born as a God of Luck and Loss, the two sides of him getting further and further away until he split, becoming the God of Duality.
He had worked under the Great God of Sin as his right hand man, right here in this fort, and the rest was more legend then history.
He still liked to gamble, though; always on his terms of course.

"Look who has come back home. Interested in my courting proposal, now?", he addressed Fit, legs swinging childishly.
The God of Information curled his nose. He had really really hoped that, with time, he would have dropped it.
"No, Quákitis, I'm here to propose you another deal. Nothing serious, just an exchange between old friends".
Quackity huffed, clearly displeased, but decided to let it go, since he was in a good mood and, honestly, he had missed his friend.
"Whatever, it's you who's missing out. Let's open some medhu or something".
He rolled his eyes and made his way down from the stair, then snapped his fingers at one of the eye workers to get things ready.

Fit smiled, more relaxed.
That was actually Quákitis, not that nightmare of El-Quàkitis, his 'brother'.
If Quackity was incarnating Luck, his other half was to be pitied, because he was an incarnation of Loss, the 'el' particle underlining it, since it meant quite literally 'miserable' and 'wretched'.
Sometimes, thought, the line between the two blurred, as was testified by the red ribbon around the god's arm.
If that had happened to Fit...

"If you get drunk, I will ditch you", Fit joked, following him to the room the other reserved to guest reception.
"You'll ditch me anyway as soon as you get what you want. So let me get drunk".
That was accurate and the phrase managed to make him feel a pang of guilt, somewhat.
He wouldn't have, years ago, when he was more worried about survival then morality, but now things were different, and he was too.
"I promise I'll visit more often. Honestly you can't talk, since I don't recall receiving a visit from you in the last centuries. I don't even think you've met my son!"
"Bullshit, I did meet Ramònos!" Quackity sat down, pointing to the seat in front of him. "By the way, how are the kid and your partner?"
Fit paled.
"Oh...uhm. I...well, haven't you heard?"
He really really hoped the other did, because this had the potential of becoming a very awkward conversation otherwise.
The other's eyes widened.
"Oh, shit, right!"
He put an hand on his mouth, processing the realisation.
"Sorry, my brother heard it and...even though our memories are shared...you know how it is, I was running on mine and didn't realise. Sorry".
"No, it's fine. Don't worry. Me and Ramòn are doing well, so, you know..."
"Yeah, yeah. Happy to hear that".

An awkward silence stretched between them, only interrupted by a worker serving the two gods.
The medhu sparkled in the cups, swaying slightly after being poured.
They both reached for it at the same time, sipping quietly to pretend they were not dying inside a little.
Quákitis cleared his throat.
"So, what exchange did you want to make?"
Fit sighed in relief.
"Some updates on the territory and pretty much everything you know about Tommy and I get you all of Luzu's movements in the past century or so".
At hearing that, the God of Duality laughed out loud, his head tilting back with abandon.
"Yeah, absolutely not. In what world does information on Tommy AND on the entire territory equal information on Luzu? Fuck, I'd even wager that I know more on him then you do, what would I even gain?"
Fit was a bit surprised.
Considering the other's obsession, he didn't think it would be hard to get some intel with what he was offering.
Something was up.
"I can bargain: just on Tommy, then".

Quákitis' teeth clenched, his eyes thundering for a second, before he relaxed and rested his back on the seat.
"Now I get it. You didn't realize what you were asking" he observed, leveling Fit with his eyes.
Then he added: "Do you know how old I am?"
The God of Information tilted his head.
Well, Quákitis was a Great God, but he had been under the impression that he had simply cheated his way to the position.
Maybe there was more to it.
He scrolled his head no and saw the smile creep on Quákitis' face.
"I'm older then Tomesus. He was a kid when I met him".
Fit froze.
The duck had been alive since the previous eras?
Wasn't that at least two or three eras ago?
But still, that explained little.
"I still don't get what the problem is", he admitted.
The God of Duality chugged down his medhu and cleaned his lips with his wrist, eyes shining.
"The problem is: I'm old enough to know who stands behind him and I don't plan on blowing up, nor losing an eye".
He passed an hand on his face and, for an instant, one of his eyes looked white, a scar across it; then it disappeared. Freaky.

"This is just making me want to know more", Fit said, drinking some large gulps too.
Quákitis chuckled and rested his elbows on the back of the seat, head tilted to the side.
"Just tell me why you want to know and I'll see if I can help you, old friend".
That was... generous.
Fit narrowed his eyes, but let it go, knowing full well that he wasn't holding much in his hands.
He folded.
"I've been...around Tūbhos, the God of Time, for a while now. I just want to know more about his friends, make sure there is nothing to worry about".
Quákitis started laughing so loudly that the glass trembled, voice echoing on the walls and tears to his eyes.
He kept laughing and laughing, then he stopped abruptly, curled over, hands joined like in prayer covering the lower half of his face, elbows resting on his knees.
He was looking up at Fit and, when he spoke, his voice was like gravel.
"If you don't want worries, just get away from Tubbo and keep to your lane".
He straightened up and so did the God of Information, brows furrowing in confusion and offence.
"Careful there, my friend. It almost sounds like you have something to say against the God of Time", he warned.
Quackity was having a blast.
Fit wasn't offended for what he had said about him, but from the possibility that Tūbhos was being offended too.
That was hilarious.
"Don't get me wrong: he is an alright kid, but he is also batshit crazy, dangerous, with too much power for his own good and an interesting pedigree". He gesticulated vaguely. "But if you want to burn, be my guest".
Fit was seething, but also confused.
A part of him wanted to make the other eat his words, but his power was boiling under his skin, searching for answers.
He tried to calm down, reasoning that he already knew that Tubbo was both powerful and dangerous.
It was no surprise that somebody as old as Quákitis was aware of it.
"We're just doing business", he lied.
The other snickered.
"No, you're not. Please never lie to my face again".
Fit refrained from scoffing.
"Alright".
The God of Duality snapped his fingers to get his cup filled, leveling the younger with his gaze until it was done.

"So, I have good and bad news", he started. "The good is that you don't have to worry about Tommy, unless the two get their heads together towards world domination".
The both of them smiled, tension somewhat leaving the room.
"And the bad news?"
Quackity blinked slowly, clearly savoring his next words.
"That, if a were you, I would worry more about Foolish".
For a second, Fit was surprised, then his powers worked fast, showing with no space for denial just...how compatible the God of the Undying and the God of Time were, both for their passions and their aspects.
It was...
They even lived in the same territory, Foolish holding a position above Tūbhos, officially, but, with what he now knew, them being actually on the same level.
Still, he asked:
"What do you mean?"
The other sipped from his glass and smacked his lips together, enjoying both the medhu and the conversation.
"Only that they are both patrons of the same city, often work together and are already strongly bonded, if rumors are to be believed...and they are".
Fit sputtered.
"What-why would that...why should I care about- no, wait, I've never seen them together, no, that's not the point, what do you mean with that?"
The other smiled innocently.
"I mean that you have the hots for Tubbo, that the guy is almost taken and you should seriously reconsider my offer", he listed on his fingers. "Also, the reason you haven't seen them together is that Foolish is busy on a project. But, trust me, he will be back".

Chapter Text

Mike shook Pàk’s shoulder, soliciting a whine from the other and a change in position: the God of Invention hid deeper under his cloak and the blanket his soulmate had added when he felt him being cold. No wonder he didn’t want to rise: he was pretty damn comfortable.
Still, the dinner was ready and the deity didn’t want to eat alone, so he kicked his side until the other sat up cussing up a storm. He answered in kind, until his clothes were grabbed to invite him back in Pac’s embrace for nap number eleven.
“Pac! Absolutely fucking not, get your ass up, we have to eat. I didn’t cook for the fucking birds”.
He tried prying the other’s hands off, finger by obstinate finger.
“I want cuddles, asshole”, was Pac’s answer, now almost climbing him by holding on his head and neck, to make him fall with his weight.
“And I want to fucking eat. You’ll fall asleep on me again and the link will make me fall asleep too and the dinner will get cold”.
Getting advantage of Pàk’s move, Mike put him on his back, half holding him up, half hauling him to the kitchen.
Pac perked up on him, like a mermaid on a rock, only now noticing the smell, sleep and cuddles forgotten (he’d get them anyway when they sat down).
“What did you make?”
“Zukanda”.
“Wait, really?”

He climbed off, hopping to the pot. And there, behind the fog, was the best lamb stew ever invented.
The first time they had tried it, was when they robbed a palace, entering from the kitchens. They had waited hidden in barrels for the night and, when the evening came, they got out, hungry and anxious. Fortunately, the staff had left the stew to cook during the night. It told them two things: someone had a candle with nails in it to wake them every once in a while to check on the stew, so they better scram; and: stew! royal stew! TezerKraft hungry! Stew stew stew!
Pàk went ahead in pouring the food in their bowls, humming a nostalgic tune with a big grin on his face. Then he handed the green bowl to Mike, waited for him to sit and sat on his lap with his own bowl, hand digging in it to tear a piece of meat, fingers slightly cupped to get with it a good mouthful of veggies.
He ate his first bite with gusto, cheeks swollen and leg swinging.
Mike did the same, but he separated the meat and the bones first, throwing the latters in the barrel. Then he started eating, groaning at the taste. It wasn’t often he cooked, doing it mostly for the people he loved when he was feeling sappy or had no access to more interesting stirs and pots.
Cooking was a science too, but it was supposed to create order from chaos and not the contrary: it was a personal insult that could only be corrected if he cooked for the right people. Speaking of which, Pàk had already finished and was now gnawing at the bones, breaking them with little snaps of his jaw.
“Still the God of Swiftness”, he mumbled at the sight, changing the hand holding the bowl to pat the other’s head.
Pac made a questioning sound, looking up from his bowl of bones.
Apparently, he had lapped up the broth, because that thing was drier than his mouth.
“I said you eat like a dog”.
The mrew that left his throat, this time, was highly offended. If he had a tail, it would be hitting the other in the face right now.
“And you eat like a virgin old priestess” , he retorted via the link, snapping bones open mouthed in an irritated click click click.
“It took me three hours to cook this, you didn’t even taste it!”
“There’s more in the pot”.
“Fuck you anyway!”
“I’ll hang you!”
They’re voices mixed in the link, the following insults without owner or direction, just the spirit of the banter in the back of their minds.
They settled, Mike finishing his food and Pàk licking his fingers clean.

Guys, I’m drinking the best coffee ever.
It has a shot of espresso in hot water, a little spoon of barley, a spoon of cocoa powder and a fuck ton of honey (my hometown produces a late summer and late winter honey from mixed flowers that is heavenly). It tastes of perfection.
What was I writing about?
Right.

After Mike cleaned his hand on a random cloth, forcing Pac to do the same because he was being, quote, disgusting, unquote; they stayed there for a little, looking outside the nearby window at the reflection of the light on the dark sea.

I’m making myself miss home, fuck me.

That temple was built on hope and desperation.
The perfect spot for it, always growing in size, a maze of buildings of all types, colorful and chaotic.
Now that, what they built, would be there to stay, they couldn’t help themselves, making and making in the hope that something would stick long after they were gone.
Sometimes, the deity, holding the secret of their nature close, would ask themselves if it had been because of them that Pàk had been destroyed and remade.
The thought couldn’t be allowed clarity in their mind, for fear that their soulmate could hear it; but it was there nonetheless. Instead of making him let go, though, it made him hold the other a little bit closer: he was still someone who belonged to Mine, so maybe he could also keep his pieces together at least.
He would hold him as long as it took, he’d be the leg and the half of his godhood he lost.
Sometimes he hated that after Pàk lost so much, they ended up fitting better together.
“If you don’t stop thinking stupid things, I’ll chop your head off”.
Mike slapped Pac’s harm half heartedly.
“I’d see you build the guillotine, stupid”.
“I’ll make it in Tubbo’s temple, you won’t see it coming”.
“Yeah, good luck”.
“Damn it”.
“You’re the dumbest genius in history”.
“Shut up!”
They giggled, deciding that it was time for real sleep, and stood up to go to bed.
They left the bowls in vinegar, found Pàk’s clutches and made their way.
After changing their clothes and sliding under the covers, they chatted about their plans for the next day, teasing each other about this and that until their eyes closed and they drifted off to sleep.

I’m back with the sweetest cherry tea on my desk, added some cinnamon to make it taste more like candy.

The taste in Fit’s mouth was similarly rotten when he left Quákitis’ temple, a little dizzy for the onslaught of bullshit that the other fed him.

He knew the God of Duality, he knew how much delusional he could get, that’s why he never stopped fact checking with his powers. Problem was...as much as he was a bit delulu, he wasn’t actually crazy: his unhinged conclusions, forgery of proof and spiels often originated from concrete facts, things that rang true within Fit’s powers.

Somehow, the God of Information doubted that Fulisestis and Tūbhos were in such a stage of bonding, that the matter was certain and closed

Why the fuck am I tasting blood?

Because of epistaxis, let’s not not notice the blood until it’s in your throat next time, pliz. I made a mess of my cup of tea, it has smears and all that (yes, I kept drinking my tea, ignorant of the world). Oh, well, anyway.

since the God of Time had showed a positive reaction to...well, what him and Pàk were doing. Also, he had not mentioned the name of the God of the Undying, not even once.
On the other hand, he knew that Tubbo could be oblivious at time and, that it still had not happened, didn’t erase the threat. Not that it was one! Fit was perfectly fine with...no, maybe the rules that applied to Pac and Tubbo did not apply to others. Or they did? If Tūbhos was happy, he wouldn’t be able to find it in himself to be sour.

Fit had found himself closer to the center of the territory, where the old waystone was, and realized that he had gotten himself a bit too distracted.
He was a mess of blood, his sack full of resources he didn’t have when he started his journey.
He cursed, hand dragging on his face, exhaustion setting in.
It was better to pull in, now, the original way back too far away.
People at spawn were desperate and overexcited, starved or there for an easy massacre.
He rolled his shoulders and pushed on, mind easily drifting away again.

Fact was, if keeping things between them three was for him more a preference, then a necessity; he was a bit scared of what Pàk would have to say on the matter. By now, it wasn’t a secret that the God of Invention could be quite possessive, if Fit’s friends and Mike were to be believed (and his powers said they were).
This had the potential of being a bit of a mess even if Foolish and Tubbo were only friends: their compatibility would elude no one.
The Nature of the Masses and The One Who Sways, The Being of Dust and Decay and The Frail One, The Essence of the Gateway and The One Who Kills, the God of the Undying and the God of Time.
And its wasn’t only a matter of titles and aspects: they both played silly, had different but complementary hobbies, chose the same territory, were on equal footing when it came to status.
Pàk wouldn’t like it and Fit, of course, would do anything he asked.

Fit rolled his shoulder and cleaned his sword on the clothes of the guy who had had the nerve of coming at him so unprepared.
At long last, he was going home.

He teleported back in his territory, since it would be closer to Tūbhos’ temple.
There he went, taking the first boat he could, feeling his mind fraying at the seams. It had been a while since he had felt so tired.
When he saw the roof peeking from the waves, then the columns supporting it, he exhaled a sigh of relief.
He got off the boat, walking towards his baby boy and his big boy in long, fast steps.
He went through the threshold, eyes searching.
The lights were dimmed, the tables full of paper and gears abandoned.
Then there was only one place the two could be.
He smiled, shoulders relaxing when he pictured the familiar sight.
And there they were: sleeping on the belly of the larger machine, the usual blanket covering them both.
They looked comfy, their cheeks squished and expressions lax.
Fit walked back to the tables to grab a piece of paper, where he explained that he had come to pick up Ramón and they would see each other in the morning.
He went then to retrieve the child, careful not to wake him when he picked him up.
The kid stirred but didn’t show other signs of having been disturbed.
Feeling like he was carrying the entire world (and that the world was surprisingly light and would soon not be, since it was due a growing sprout), Fit left the note close to the sleeping god, vague red fingerprints where he had touched it.
More out of habit then out of the belief it would serve some purpose, he tried to comb the hair out of Tūbhos’ face, seeing it bouncing back immediately after. It really was no use, but the God of Information wouldn’t complain it meant he would perpetually have an excuse to tread his fingers through Tubbo’s waves.
He smiled and started making his way back home, where he would change his boy, put him to bed and do the same for himself, probably after a good shower.

When he lied down, skin pink from a good scrubbing soothed by the fresh sheets, he found sleep coming easily to him, mind fuzzing and limbs sinking in the bed, eyes closing on their own until nothingness and respite greeted him.

Tūbhos knew what he was doing when he decided to work on the ancient stones the entire night, instead of going to sleep.
Tommy would tell him that he was being a pussy and there really wasn’t much wiggle room to deny it.
It just...had been too much, to have them there with him, and he had gotten sloppy and soft and cringe.

He had clocked a while ago on the fact that Fit and Pac were probably courting, trying to make peace with the idea that they were only temporary friends, that they would stop looking for him, that his little disciple would turn to Pàk for guidance instead.
He could see their strings interlock, their future inseparable, while his was looser around them, never quite really holding onto them, just...there for now.
Of course he didn’t tug on it, didn’t peek, choosing to be cautious with the bond that was already forming, one of friendship and trust. He would keep it cool, do the steps, but never permanent things.

He knew that he could get clingy, since to flatter his godhood people just needed to give him their time, to make things so he would have more of it or other dumb shit that didn’t mean anything, because it wasn’t done on purpose.
So, he would get attached when there was nothing there and others would get annoyed and then he would fee heartbroken.

It was nothing as bad as Tommy, who would bond one-sidedly with people that were successful or good at tricking him. That had...caused problems, messing with his head and everything.

He just needed to be careful, make sure that the intention was there from the other side too, and then be careful in not going overboard, so that if the bond got eroded or broke it wouldn’t hurt like it happened with permanent ones.
Little trades in information with Fit, some brainstorming with Pàk, some quality time spent together related to other things, never for the sake of it: that would be perfect, had been perfect.

Then the fucking stones had to mess it up, a freak accident.
They were trapped there, but Tubbo could get them out, or try, at least, and they had said no; even after his little freaking out, the way his instincts had screamed at him to eliminate the danger, fragments of his childhood aspects making him want to blow up the threat, his current powers asking to rip them out of existence.
But no, they wanted to spend time chatting and watching him work, like the freaks they were.
And he had messed up.

Not immediately, of course, but it was only a matter of time, no pun intended. By the window, his godhood was stronger, affecting him more, and he found himself giving and giving and receiving in equal amounts.
Fuck’s sake, it was just talking, but it was days of it, of information and ideas shared in a ball of gifted time and attention.
It all had come together neatly: turns out passing the time theorizing was what flattered all their aspects simultaneously and that was stupid.

They were just there, giving him their attention, keeping him company and it was so nice, so refreshing, it felt so special and warm and safe, and the feeling kept growing and then he really, truly fucked up.

First, he abandoned his chair to stay closer to them and that was...it was fine, just a symptom of having gone soft. Then he had to really mess up and have them help him with his work, holding the strings of time for him, helping him get comfortable while he worked, like it was a group project or something.
It had felt like...well, after they held the strings, leaning on them hadn’t really felt different, because for him it wasn’t: the strings were an extension of him after all, and they had held them with such care!

When he woke up and Tommy had teased him about Fit, for an instant things had felt normal, then he had opened his mouth to tell his best friend that he wasn’t sure he and Fit were even friend-bonding and...it had tasted like the worst lie ever uttered, his mouth forming around the words like they belonged to a stranger.
Because now that the bond was stronger, he could see the shape of it and backtrack all their steps, all the months spent together, how his actions might have looked- no, what they were!

Little steps? Things that wouldn’t be permanent? Say it to the entire lab of inventions! The private, dangerous information he trusted with Fit!
And he kept doing it by the window, making it worse!
This wasn’t friendship bonding. True, it was a type of intimate flattery that, standing alone, could pose the foundations for an eternal friendship, the close type that people had with platonic partners, but it didn’t end there, there was physical attraction somewhere in the bond and, fine, people could be attracted to close friends: he and Foolish had messed around enough to prove it without issue. But this wasn’t platonic at all, there was no intent in it being platonic, and, now that it was strong enough, he could see it, could see the intention behind the two’s actions, the wish behind his own.

If things stood as they now very evidently did, he had no reason to hold back, because there was no risk of losing them: they wouldn’t abandon him.

So, why was he going insane over some stones, trying to hype his brain so he wouldn’t fall asleep, just on the off chance that he would meet them in his sleep again?
He had no idea.
He had even flirted a bit with them that day! Nothing major, granted, but he had! No reason to sweat over passing some more time alone together, strengthening the bond even more in a matter of two real-life-days, actually end up in a relationship with them, build a separate temple as a common space that Foolish would surely propose to be in charge of making; take care of Ramónos together and then lose his mind over their inevitable death, having to take care of the child alone, which he would suck at; and build a machine that would malfunction and destroy the entire territory, killing a lot of innocent gods!

Tūbhos was out of breath, head swimming in incoherence, eyes flashing. He felt like he was dying. Like the world was tumbling down on him or folding on itself.
Then he caught his reflection in the metallic side of a contraption: dishevelled brown hair, eyes shining green and blue; no blonde waves, no cyan eyes, no yellow symbol in his pupils. What was he thinking about, again?

He felt a bit warm, his skin sticky with sweat, like he had just overexerted himself.
Moving those stones by hand really hadn't been the best idea, apparently, but it felt like a waste to use materials just to build something that would move things around.
He hadn't even noticed that it was making him so tired! He had felt fine before, but his heavy breathing was clearly a sign that he had just drone out the strain, wouldn't be the first time.
He huffed, moving his hair out of his eyes.
Now that he thought about it, he should probably cut them a bit, get those yellow ends off and finally get rid of the last traces of blonde.
He didn’t remember dyeing his hair, probably done to match with Tommy in his childhood or something; and now it just looked ugly.
Too much to do, so little time.
He decided to get to it in the following days and moved along with his tests, side eyeing the stones: they really were not collaborating after the incident and that was severely pissing him off.

I’m waiting for my pot to do its job and boil the water for my cherry tea.
I had gay panic that I erased during the last part, then a trans awakening for the child I was in the time I spent away from the puter to rest my back. This has been a day.
Also, you might not know, but when I actually speak to the readers it’s because I’m tired as fuck and can’t write for shit.
Water boiling, gby.
This morning I woke up at four and made myself a soup (I keep precut veggies in the freezer, so I can just get them out, caramel some onion, add some tomato sauce and make soup whenever) with some cinnamon, now I’m drinking cherry-cinnamon tea, cinnamon is gonna consume me.

Here’s the actual writing: the three fuckers go to sleep. Tubbo was tricked into it by Ramón, Pac is sleeping after having a giddy day with Mike, Fit has come back from arriving in front of Tubbo’s temple all bloody and tired, which nobody was there to witness, pity, and is now in dream land too after a shower. Remember?

So, like...they fell asleep, Tubbo being the first one to, finding himself in the darkness, empty and comfortable.
As usual, he walked to the window, trying to pretend he was as nonchalant as one could be and totally not anxious at the idea of the other two showing up.
His routine felt weird after days spent in their company: sitting on the chair felt weird, like he was doing so in the home of some distant relative; the silence felt silent; the place felt bigger, which was so dumb! It was an infinite empty space; it couldn’t get any bigger if it tried.
He scrolled his head and got to it, immediately cursing at the state of the strings after his absence.
They were so bundled up together, that he feared he would have to tear some of them to make sense of it, internally hissing at the thought.
He grabbed at the bigger tangle, trying to see if it could be loosened up a little without pulling, just by moving it strategically this way and the other, give a little scroll.
It fell into two smaller knots, unfortunately a bit tighter then the big monster it was.

While he tugged at one of the strings, just to see clearly how it was placed in the bundle, a pair of hands appeared to hold it, so he could pinch at the strings with both hands.
They were big and calloused, thin scars running through them. He could easily recognize archery scars, but also those that came from holding a weapon from the wrong end and ones that were clearly the result of an enemy slipping through his guard.
“Thanks, Fit”, he worded, a little breathless.
“Don’t worry, I got you. You seemed a little stressed, there”.
Fit, kneeling in front of him, hands outstretched holding a little piece of him, looked as reliable and comforting as always. And maybe the God of Time was a bit flustered.
“Yeah, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to miss on sleep”.
“Who would have ever guessed”.
“Pitus, Piteus, Pito, Pit, Fit, are you sassing me right now? No way! The gall of some people!” Tūbhos leaned forward, smirk on his face. “And while being on your knees, no less”.
He kept getting close, just to see how long would it take the other god to fluster. Turns out, it didn’t take much.
Fit sputtered, pink tint to his face, worried about keeping his hands loose while not dropping the damned strings.
Satisfied, Tubbo decided to cut him some slack and straightened back up.
“That’s what I thought”, he mused.
For an instant, Fit was overcome with the impulse of grabbing the other by the ankle and pull to make him fall on his lap, just to teach him a few things on how to use closeness as a weapon; but he kept it together.
“One day you’re going to get your just deserts, Dhubos, and I’ll be there to watch and point”.
“Sure”.

While Tūbhos enjoyed their current positions (the light cascaded from the right top in the perfect way to highlight Fit’s bone structure, his eyes popping up beautifully in those hues), it was a bit impractical, so they ended up sitting together again, knees touching.
“After last night, I assumed it would be a one time thing; but it must have been the fact that you hadn’t slept at all. We really are just intruding in your space, then”.
Tūbhos hummed, the fingers of one hand spreading a section, while he pinched with the other at the knots to loosen them up.
“Yeah, please stop getting into my head and picking at my brain, it’s annoying and I hate you and people didn’t mean it literally, you’re being weirdos”.
“You should consider shutting up”.
“You should consider shutting me up yourself, bossman”.
Fit burst out laughing.
“Did you really just throw at me a cliché line?”
“Did you really just tell me to shut up?”

Fit’s laughter still tinged his eyes and he seemed to consider the other for a while, pondering.
Did Tubbo actually want him to do it? Was it an invite? And did Fit want to?
he couldn't deny that he had thought about it, more then once. But thinking about something wasn't the same as doing it.
Still, there was a feeling in his chest, one he didn't know what to do with, one that last time had brought to the kiss between him and Pac.
He leaned a bit, holding his breath.
He wanted to do something, trying to decide on the way if pressing his lips on the other’s or on his cheek.
Tūbhos kept still, eyes widening and heart racing.
Then Fit stopped and shrank back, nervous line on his forehead.
His heart was beating too fast, palm sweating. It was too much, he couldn’t...
“Sorry”, he apologized. “I don’t know why... I got too nervous”.
Tubbo was feeling minuscule, both relieved and disappointed.
It just...hadn’t felt right.
He wasn’t...he still wasn’t sure on what to do.
The bond felt so strong in that place, but that was also what was holding him back: it was too strong, scarily so, like they fit together too well, like everything was too easy, like he actually had permission to hold on these people without strife. And if there wasn’t strife, then probably they would be taken away as soon as it became real.

Gods messed around all the time.
Casual or temporary bonds were common, an ornament to everyday life.
If it had been like that, Tūbhos would have kissed the two of them a thousand times over, pressed into their warmth for anything he could get.
It wasn’t like that.
So kissing Fit was scary, he didn’t want to, not even after the months of knowing him, the eternal night spent together sharing secrets and basking in each other; and especially because of that.

He belatedly realized that he hadn’t said a word, just looking at the other god with uncertain eyes, white glimmering in the subdued light.
“Don’t worry, king”, he tried to come back in himself. He gestured with hands laced in strings to their closeness. “This is nice too, I like having you here”.
It was the most honest he would allow himself to be, cheeks slightly warmer.
“I like being here too, for you. You don’t look much like yourself, when you sit alone on that chair”.
The confession had flowed effortlessly, but his eyes were lowered to the new string he was made to hold.
“What to you mean?”
“Well, you look beautiful, but a bit distant, like there is a gap I would never be able to cross”.
Tūbhos frowned, eyes glancing at the Window of Time, at the strings attached to him that flowed through it, at the brushes of green and blue almost unbearably bright.
Then he looked back at Fit, at their position on the black floor, only surrounded by a dimmer light, strings connecting them from their hands.
“Well, you’re here”, he deadpanned, as true in his tongue as it ringed in Fit’s godhood.
“Yeah, that’s right”.
With an air of solemnity, Tūbhos crawled to lean his back on his chest.
Sputtering, Fit held the string high, scared out of his mind that it could get stuck and snap while the other maneuvered himself.
Tubbo ignored him.
“I don’t give a fuck about gaps”, he declared.
“You’re a fucking menace”.
“Just stay fucking still”.
“Tubbo!”
"The strings are finee. They're not fragile".

Chapter Text

When Pàk found himself surrounded by darkness, he smiled happily, head tilting this way and the other in a giddy motion.
He had to get to Tubbo! Fit would surely meet them there!
Maybe if he was quiet, he could spy on the God of Time unnoticed for a bit, just to admire him and his concentrated face, all careful and serious.
With some bounce in his steps, he went on his way, only to find out his plans had just gotten un upgrade: the other two were already together, basically cuddling while the older worked.
It really was a sight for sore eyes, Fit handsome and cute and soft as always with beautiful, sharp and equally soft Tubbo leaning on his chest and squinting his eyes at a tangle.

He would grade it 9/10, minus one point because they weren’t kissing.
That was absolutely something that needed to be brought to attention.
So he finally decided to get closer, dragging his feet and whining loudly.
The two turned towards him with such synchronization that he almost dropped the whine to laugh, an excited ‘Pac’ put of their mouths again and again, greeting him, calling to him.
“You two have no right to call me like that, you ruined it” he grumbled, calculating the best spot to place himself in the cuddle.
It happed to be horizontally between Tūbhos’ legs, so that he could both lean on his shoulder and look up at Fit with big puppy eyes and trace his jaw with his index finger.
He plopped there, cheeks full of faux annoyance.
“You almost killed so many people, king. Like, so many” Tubbo murmured, wide eyed and holding his work with almost fear.
Unbothered, Fit crouched. “What did we ruin?”
Pàk scoffed and leaned to put more weight on the two.
“Everything! I wanted to come here and find you two kissing, you know? You guys are useless”.
The shades the others took were unmeasurably deep, almost the same colour as the sea, but while Fit was very busy sputtering, Tūbhos was laughing and cackling his ass off.
“Wait a second there! Calm down! This is absolutely unfair! I’m asking for a lawyer!”
“Yeah, bossman, it’s not even my fault! I would absolutely slabber all over Fit’s mouth, but the guy is a pussy and a virgin, cut me some slack!”
Fit blinked.
“Gross”.
“For a guy who said that, you look very into it, so shut up”.
“Can I slobber too?” Pàk chimed in.
“What is this, the slobber fest?”
“Hell yeah, let’s all slobber this place the fuck up, king”.

A couple of kisses on the cheeks later, the Gods of Time and Information were declared forgiven and the three eased up in a cycle of chattering and comfortable silence.
It was what felt like days later, that the subject shifted to what they had done in the time spent apart.
“Wait, king, just curious. Do you and Mike fuck? Like, all nasty and shit?”
Pàk interrupted his recounting with an almost alarmed look.
“You mean, usually?” he asked in turn, eyeing Fit’s shifting.
Tubbo was far too nonchalant for the conversation, but maybe he was just used to this sort of chats.
“Dunno?” he said, then raised his shoulders, having stopped to pick at a string.
Pac seemed to be shifting through his memories, maybe a bit too confused for the nature of the question.
“No?” he finally settled on.
Fit’s eyes were alternating between the two, having found himself to be a bit tense. He didn’t want any problems to arise, but maybe he was taking it too seriously, considering how relaxed the others seemed.
Tūbhos in particular looked as if he was making a point out of being unperturbed.
“Ok, cool. I wasn’t judging, swear, just curious! Platonic soulmates can fuck, you know?”
Fit breathed out and scrolled his head.
He wanted to ask about Tubbo too, see if there was any merit on Quakity’s words. It would probably never be a better time.
“I never asked, do you have one? A soulmate, I mean. Or, well, a fuckmate, since we are in argument”.
Tūbhos straightened out, unconsciously copied by the other two.
“No soulmate, no. And, uhm, does it count as a fuckmate if you sometimes fuck your mate?”
Three dots could basically be seen on the heads of the other gods, Pàk’s face darkening the tiniest bit.
“Depends on how frequent it is” he answered, still trying to appear cheerful.
Tubbo didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh!” he said, then: “No, no fuckmate. Guess nobody wants me and I’m going to die alone and miserable. Oh, well! Can’t be helped!”
He tilted his body so far, he almost fell on his side, cheerful and seemingly unbothered.
Fit put his hand on Pàk’s back, rubbing it up and down and deciding to take control back of the conversation.
“It must have been a while, since you haven’t mentioned your ‘mate’, then. I mean, we haven’t met him, right? And I see you almost every day”.
Tubbo tilted his head, now pondering on the conversation.
“Foolish has been busy, he’s making a giant monster or something”.
“Fulisestis? He’s a nice guy, from what I know. Wasn’t he married, though?”
Tubbo scrolled his shoulders, but his gaze had sharpened on the other two.
“Does it bother you guys?”
Well, that was the question Fit had asked himself.
Did it?
He wasn’t sure.
Pàk very much was.
“Can I hang him?”
“What?”
“Just once, I promise”.
“Please, don’t hang my friends, thank you”.
“It will be, like, a second, you know? Bet you he will even look pretty”.
“That’s like, very fucked up, king”.
“Come on” he whined one last time, throwing himself on the ground in a bout of dramatics.
“Get your murdery hands away from my mates”.
“But it won’t even kill him! Hanging is fun! What’s some fun between friends?”
“You’re sick in the head: blowing people up is better. Beats hanging by a million points”.
“What happened to good old stabbing?” Fit intervened, very offended.
“That it’s old” Tubbo monotoned.
Pàk nodded along, happy that they could at least agree on something.
Fit was outraged.
“It’s not that old!”
“I feel younger” Tubbo deadpanned in the same tone, eyes hooded with sass.
The God of Invention was still nodding, his chin touching his chest with how vigorous the movement was.
“And Tubbo is ancient, you know? He is, like, super old. He’s greying”.
“Now we’re not in the same team anymore. I’m offended, fuck you”.
Fit chuckled.
“Don’t be sour, Tubbo, you’ve gotta forgive us youngsters, since you’re so aged and mature”.
“If I’m so old, are you guys going to call me daddy or something?”
“From my intel, we better call you grampa”.
Pàk was having a blast.
“Are you going to scold us, grampa? Kick us out of your yard?”
“You’re both sick in the head. I’m hanging with nutjobs! Unbelievable!”
“At least we don’t have dementia”.
“Please don’t spank us, grampa! We’ll be good”.
“That’s crazy!”
“Pac, don’t listen to him, he’s senile”.
Pàk sighed, making a show of being sad and pitying.
“He’s not the same anymore. He travels in mayonnaise all the time, you know?”
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
They bickered freely for a while, as happy as one can be.
If it was always going to be like that, then Fit had no reason to worry, right? No reason at all.

“Yeah, very nice to meet you all, you know? But why are we here?” came Emariàn’s voice, carelessly seated next to his husband.

The Council of the Gods had been called in assembly with very short notice: something that only a Territory Leader could do.
Pretty much everybody came to this one, each curious about the reason for it, but also carrying their own agenda.
If one were to look at the gods of the Mystery Territory, they would surely be unnerved: their king Cellbit was scanning the crowd with his eyes, his partner whispering in his ear and a lazy smile on his lips; his people had almost the same intensity in their gaze, the God of Information in particular: arms crossed and tilt to his head.
In Pàk’s modest opinion, he looked sharp, dangerous and godly, the buzz of his powers in action perceivable even amidst such an overwhelming gathering. It was as if he had been made for that seat. Well, he had been, of course, but in that context it was particularly clear.

“Are you rushing a Territory Leader? That’s crazy” was heard from BadBoyHalo, the Leader of the Death Territory showing his fangs in a smile, while his co-leader Kristin hid hers behind a fan.
Foolish pretended to swoon, batting his eyes at the God of Death.
“What would I do without my knight in shining armour? And how can I repay him? Why, I must gift him with the press of my lips on his” he recited.
“Language!”
“What are you languaging?”
“All of that! Don’t wink at me! Language!”
“I didn’t say anything, that’s crazy” Fulisestis grumbled.
Tūbhos leaned closer to him, cheeky smile on his lips.
“That’s homophobic, he’s just a hater king, don’t mind him”.
Foolish snickered.
“Can’t believe there are still homophobes in this assembly, we should language him”.
“That’s what I’m saying!”
They were interrupted by the slamming of a hand on the connected desks each god had in front of them, joined in circles that were higher or lower depending on the station of the gods seated by them.
Quakity seemed to have had enough of the chit chat.
“Can we fucking get to it? Or will you take responsibility if I get stuck here too long and things at my temple go to shit?”
Tommy kicked the legs of his armchair.
“Calm your ass down, I didn’t plan nuthin’. I’m here ain’t that right?”
“You’re not the only kid with a head full of shit”.

Philza sighed.
“Can we not?”

Pretty much everybody was locking at him and Bamana in search of help.
If someone started arguing it was sure to devolve in a destructive fight, especially since everyone and their mother from the War Territory was present.
The Numen of Mothers and Grandmothers smiled placatingly and let her voice resound in the large space with her powers: “Aren’t we glad to be all reunited here? As Mariana said, it is very nice.
But I’m sure everyone is curious and worried and would like to hear you out now, Fulisestis, since it was you who called us here”.
Many nodded and Foolish felt a bit shy, all of a sudden.

Why was it always him that had to do these serious things, he couldn’t gather. It was very clear that he just wanted to chill.
Nevertheless, he straightened up and his gaze steadied into something thunderous and heavy.
“I met the Cosmos” he started, his words immediately drying everyone’s mouths. Many could taste blood. “She didn’t look...Ok, I’ll be honest: she appeared like a girl who hadn’t slept in months, she was a mess. She explained that she was like grieving a friend or something”.

Struck with the familiarity of the description, Tommy tried to ignore the nervous buzz that traversed his body, eyes diverting towards his husband.
Tubbo looked fine.
Was he?
When he felt Molly’s hand on his closed fist, he forced himself to relax.

“Who died?”
Kristin’s voice rang like bells in the silence that had fallen, gentle but firm.
“It sounded like they were of the same kind as her. But I couldn’t understand much: point is, she was pretty out of it and she said something ominous”.
Fulisestis frowned then, but people were more bewildered at how he could be so unfazed after basically declaring that a being like their creator could die. Maybe for him, as the God of the Undying, it was old news; but many gods were very young and many more knew little of what was outside of their sphere of competence.
He continued. “Actually, she sang it: 'The children are singing, the world’s on fire and soon what you desire you shall have'. And for some reason I couldn’t ask anything about it”.
“Wow, king, you got a talent there” commented Tūbhos, but his tone felt flat, his eyes distant.

Was it envy that grippled at Pàk’s heart at seeing his eyes turn to his best friend and not to them? His concern only grew once Tubbo caught his staring and closed off even more.
He wanted to call to Fit, get his opinion and his reassurance, but the God of Information seemed equally distant.

“Yes, bro, nice singing” were the first words out of Esterleuk, lips twisting in a smile.
Fulisestis laughed.
“Thank you, thank you. I know, I’m amazing!”
The silence that fell on the room was now filled with thought and murmurs of the mind, but more worried than panicked or horrified.
Foolish was right: the message was ominous, but they trusted the Cosmos, more or less, so they knew that if the world was actually on fire there would be no riddles. Still, it wasn’t exactly a relaxed situation.

Roier took control: “What’s the problem, hey! Our territory takes care of the mystery. Easy peasy, idiots. Don’t get all emo until we know for sure we have to be worried. I don’t see the world on fire right know. Buy some glasses, man”.
He rested his elbow on his husband shoulder, who had looked up from his scribbling to smile proudly at him.
Bagi got on the train: “Us in the Filia Territory will be in charge of checking in with the Cosmos, if possible. Someone should also gather everybody’s gifts and thoughts”.
Tina smiled at her wife. “Yes, thoughts and prayers, babe”.
Many, who more serious who less, repeated the words, as if they were not gods themselves.
There was uneasiness in the air. Weren’t they supposed to inquire more about the dead being? How had Fulisestis met the Cosmos? Why did nobody feel it in themselves to ask?
Curiously, the next person to chime in in collaboration was from the War Territory, the Goddess of Anarchy herself: “Can’t Smalrāt help with that? Both their flowers and vegetables are amazing, it could provide the materials for food and bouquets. I can coordinate the baking and cooking”.
In very little time, many came forward with what they could help with.
It was important to console their creator, to make sure that everything went smoothly in the mortal world in the meantime and that as many burdens as possible could be lifted from the shoulders of those in the Mystery Territory who would take care of finding out what was going on.
Soon Fulisestis was surrounded by the kings’ close circle and Fit among them, very much ready to squish any detail out of him.
The next days would be turbulent, that much was clear.

Little by little, people began to leave the room. Smalrāt was approached by Terpale and Niki decided to stay in proximity in case the Numen of Wealth had had something against not being mentioned first as a provider. Surprisingly, the two smiled at each other and started chatting, seemingly happy to collaborate, so she left too.

Mike had left with his wife, leaving a concerned Pàk, a busy Fit, an unreadable Tūbhos and a jittery Tomesus.
When the latter moved to reach his best friend, Tubbo moved so fast towards the exit you would believe his ass was on fire.
“Hey! Don’t avoid me, dipshit!” screamed Tommy, running to catch him and force him to have a talk.
“Leave me alone! I have literally nothing to say”.
Pàk stood, deciding to follow the two with some discretion. Not to spy, of course, just to make sure the God of Time would be ok.
They made it outside and on the path off the mountain that hosted the council.
“Look, I know you said you don’t remember anything, but I told you the bulk of it and you know-” Tomesus was saying after having placed himself in the middle of the road with his legs impossibly wide. But he was cut off by the other.
“I don’t know shit! I’m nothing like the god you say I was and I never had- I...I...I never did-” His words ended in a cacophony of shallow breaths, his expression so grief stricken that Pàk was on the verge of making his presence known to reach for him and console him.

Tomesus, of course, was first, clutching Tubbo close like his own life depended on it.
In his panic, Tūbhos’ power had unravelled, showing a plethora of strings connected to him and everything around him. Everything except Tommy.
Pàk tilted his head.
Little by little, the God of Time calmed down and the God of Trickery bumped their foreheads together.
It was sweet, but seeing the both of them so vulnerable was tugging at something in Pàk’s chest.

“...sorry to bother, by I hate those things, could you...”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. No bother, king, give me a sec”.
The strings disappeared, leaving two friends leaning on each other.
Silence stretched, the sun lowering in the horizon.
Surprisingly, the first to speak was Tubbo: “So, we’re thinking children? Little gods? Bringing big changes ones?”
Tomesus took a deep breath and redirected his friend so they could sit on a nearby bench.
“Big changes? Ha! That’s a way to put it! Well, it’s a pattern, innit? One started with us?”
“Want me to come to your territory? To keep an eye on it?”
“Nah, if someone important dies, you’ll know first from where you are. Also, you have Fit”.
Tūbhos’ cheeks reddened slightly and the god punched the shoulder of his friend.
“Yeah, think I do have him” he hummed. “Pac is also very smart and informed”. Now he was just bragging.
“Can’t believe you’re getting more pussy than me”.
“I’m literally getting no pussy whatsoever”.
“It’s spiritual pussy, it counts the same”.
“Shut up”.
“No, you shut up!”
It seemed that whatever that conversation was about, Tubbo meant to speak to them about it, rely on them in some measure.
The relief Pàk felt was dizzying.
Thank the Cosmos, he thought.
And thank the Cosmos he should.

Was Fit worried? Yes, of course. You never know what change might bring. Was he also having a lot of fun? Certainly.
Not only he now had an excuse to observe and ask question to Fulisestis, but there was plenty of leilgago to gather.

First of all, turns out that Foolish had indeed gone to build a monster (a lot of the conversation was derailed on the subject of the giant being in the making). Problem was, while he was mining for materials, he had stumbled on a cavern, where the Cosmos, in the form of a young girl, was making soup.
What followed was the disjointed recounting of several days spent with her in mourning. They had made an altar for the deceased, done the proper rituals and, when Fulisestis had asked about the body (there was supposed to be one, right?), that had prompted quite a bit of crying and mumbling in several unknown languages.

Despite having been the god of prophecy, at a point of the story, Foolish complained that he wasn’t a seer, so he had no idea what had had been going on.
The comment irked Cellbit greatly, but Roier was there to distract him and Fit had pity on the guy and confirmed the truthfulness of his statement.

Onto the matter of the song, apparently it had been sung on and off for the entire duration of that fever dream. And not only had it sounded really weird (other than incomplete), but the last time the lyrics were uttered was in front of the altar and strange enough, even though they were inside the cavern, for a second they could see the sky and three comets traveling in it.

Then Foolish had been ushered away with several jars of soup in his hands. He tried finding the cavern again, but in vain.
Any curiosity about the soup died when Fulisestis admitted of having consumed it, since apparently it really was only soup.
Even the jars were only plain jars, but they asked to examine them anyway as soon as possible.

When the conversation reached a conclusion, Fit found himself a bit tired, as he always did when he tried to find information on matters relating to beings higher than him.
He hoped that, when he was back home, Ramónos would already be tucked in bed, though the chances were slim to none. He tended to be less attentive when he was tired enough and his child was sure to notice. He didn’t want him to believe that staying in his company wasn’t an absolute delight. Also, was it selfish that he wanted to be done with social interactions for the day?
He surely was looking forward to his nightly activities: he really really wanted to get some cuddles from the two gods he was courting, close his eyes and let their fingers trace his features.
This sentence really took his head for a spin.
He was a bit giddy.
Could one fall asleep in a dream? It wouldn’t be bad in it happened. He would be ecstatic to be able to sleep with them in the literal sense.
The metaphorical one too, but that wasn’t something he allowed himself to think about.

He could barely purposefully think about kissing them without scaring himself.
Were they going to get tired of waiting? He didn’t think so, since the desire to do so seemed mutual...was it? He searched the forming bond for answers, but he didn’t get clear ones. Still, finding it stronger already, only after a day had passed, was reassuring.
Spending weeks in a space outside of time, passing them only by being in their company, had done wonders for them.
If he had only to consider his own inner time, it was getting closer to half year since he met Tubbo, maybe five or six months?
For Pac it must have been around three.
And if they were only to consider real life, it was very little.

It already felt like they were going quite fast, but from the outside that would have sounded like nonsense: they had barely kissed. And that...fine, what would somebody from the outside understand of the physical closeness that had grown between them?
They might have not been kissing (like Pac mock complained), but it was rare to not find them interlinked in some way, when they were alone.
He loved kissing Tūbhos’ forehead when he came down from a bout of anger and he felt an headache rising. Tubbo rested against him all the time and often bumped against him on purpose just to have contact. Pàk had his hands on the both of them all the time, almost studying them with his fingers.
And just that made all three of them feel so much, the bond enhancing every point of contact.
Then bond with Pàk had been weaker when they had kissed, wouldn’t it be more intense now?
The mere idea made his head spin.
And would it ever stop growing?
Oh, that thought was downright terrifying.
Maybe he should talk with someone about that.
If it never did, would he die? Could one die because of feelings?

With similar thoughts, he went back home, put Ramón to bed and slipped inside sheets himself.
But to greet him that night was no darkness and no company, except for his own nightmares.

Chapter Text

This time, when Fit woke up, he knew what had happened.
And that is indeed what he thought as soon as his eyes were open: that he knew what had gone wrong.
Wrong, yes, because while their connection had been an accident, it had been a welcome one. It felt right that they met during their sleep, it was only fair, since they had little chance of being alone just them three, without anything to keep them distracted or to bother them.
They all lived in different territories, for fuck’s sake. And yes, they met almost every day, but there was a child there and plenty of deities coming and going.
He stared at the ceiling of his room, exhausted after the nightmares, skin sticky with sweat.
He knew what had happened, but why? Had the events of the previous day bothered Tubbo so much that he hadn’t slept a wink?
Was he busy with a project again?
Was he catching up with his friend, who had been gone for months?
He had to check on him.
His mind didn’t keep track of any of his actions, while he got himself ready, argued with Ramónos about the child having to stay home again and got on the boat.
He was halfway there, when he met Pàk’s own and Fit smiled, relieved.
Now that the other was there, they could deal with anything regarding Tubbo no problem.
“Pac!” he called, just for the pleasure of saying his name.
“Fit! Fit! I have to tell you something”.
Pàk looked nervous, unsure about whether to say what he wanted.
That...that wasn’t good.
He steeled himself and started rowing again.
“Tell me on the way, I’m all ears”.
After a second, Pàk did the same.
He didn’t want to betray Tūbhos’ trust, but the reason why they hadn’t met must have been because he hadn’t wanted to tell them what was going on.
He understood secrets, he had had plenty.
But he had hoped...
After everything they had told each other, the time spent alone talking, sharing, being close...
It wasn’t right to push, of course, but he wanted to catch Tubbo when he fell too, he wanted to be there too.
So he had to team up with Fit. They had to make the God of Time understand that he could lean on them.
“I spied on Tubbo after the council, yesterday” he started, words flowing out of his mouth with bitterness. “Tommy was with him, trying to make him talk with him. I think something about what Fulisestis said, like, triggered him-them, I don’t know”.
Fit listened intently.
They were almost on the shore, now, the roof of the temple visible on the horizon.
He hadn’t noticed, too taken by the mystery thrown at them by the Cosmos, too taken by his wariness and curiosity towards the God of the Undying.
He had failed as a potential partner, but most importantly as a friend.
“I’m sorry for not noticing”.
There were a few moments of silence, while the God of Invention let go of the few seconds, the day before, where he had expected to find Fit’s support and complicity and found nothing. He hadn’t held it against him, but hearing the words made something soften inside anyway.
“It’s ok. What you were doing was important too and it can probably help now, since they were talking about the thing. Tubbo knows what the message means, it has happened before” he explained.
“What? Then why didn’t they tell?”
“Because it’s about the birth of a new god, or gods, apparently they were born this way too; but Tubbo doesn’t remember...I think. At least he says so”.
Fit had needed the help of his powers to catch all of that.
It was a lot.
“That still doesn’t answer the question”.
“They’re not normal gods, so I think it’s not that simple. They’re supposed to bring a big change”.
Now that made more sense.
Until they knew more about the new arrival, it wasn’t wise to share that information casually. Change could be positive or negative and scared a lot of people.
“I see. I think I understand. And if it’s something about Tubbo’s past, when he was little, then I get why he must feel vulnerable and not want to spend two weeks stuck with us in his head. Still wish he did, though”.
“Me too. I just want to help him. When I saw him, I think he had a panic attack. Tommy was there, but...you know?”
That new bit of information made Fit sick with worry.
He really hoped he would find out that Tommy, Fulisestis or whoever had spent the night keeping him company.
The idea of him alone with the memories of his hard childhood (from what they had gathered), was more than unpleasant.
“Guess I wasn’t the only one hunted by my past, tonight”.
It was only when they moored, that he noticed Pàk wasn’t wearing his leg.
Understanding passed through his eyes, and he went to help him by lifting him up and off the boat.
He lingered before letting go, caressing with his eyes the dark circles on his skin. He kissed them, soliciting a giggle from Pàk; then he handed him his crouches and the two made haste.
One step they made on the stairs to the temple, two steps; then the feeling of wrongness overwhelmed them completely. Fit stepped in front of Pàk and let his power extended in front and around them.
“Stay close” he whispered.
For good measure he analysed again, but the result was the same.
“What is it, Fit? Where’s Tubbo?”
Pàk’s eyes were worried, a line of fear in them and the God of Information couldn't stand it.
“He’s not here. But El-Quàkitis was”.
“Son of a gun! Did he hurt Tubbo?” The expression was unfamiliar on his lips, but it was clear that he had taken it from the other two. In other circumstances it would have warmed Fit’s heart.
“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like there was a fight”.
He went further inside, hoping to find and ask Tūbhos’ entourage what had happened.
The atmosphere they found was tense, but otherwise normal.
If nobody was particularly alarmed, then maybe there was no reason to.
Fit went to Tubbo’s desk and searched under it for his weapons.
They weren’t there.
Could it be that he had left on his own?
“But what, in the middle of the night?” the other asked back.
Fit hadn’t noticed that he had spoken aloud.
He hated the idea of answering that he didn’t know again, so instead he marched towards one of the deities.
“Oi, you! What happened here? Where’s your maker?”
As soon as they were face to face, their name became apparent, as it always was among gods: Arnerudos.
“The Great God of Timewent out early, yesterday night. Do you need to give them a message? If it’s not urgent you are welcome to wait here, I’ll accompany you to the reception room”.
Did they look like they wanted to wait?
“Did he leave with someone?”
“Yes”.
“Are you not going to tell me who?”
Arnerudos curled their nose. “Nope. You can ask him yourself when he comes back”.
In two steps, Pàk was in their face, skin buzzing with power and eyes alight: “What if he doesn’t? We have a right to know if he’s in danger, Deity of Gemstones. And we are not stupid, this temple is full of the energy of the God of Duality”.
He was slightly terrifying. He looked ready to toast the other with a good amount of electricity.
“Tūbhos has secrets, and we keep them. He is strong, he will come back with no harm. And you are not bonded yet, you’ll have to respect his wish to keep you out”.
His...wish?
Did the God of Time actually want to keep them in the dark or did he just think he would have the time to explain everything to them and was robbed of it?
What was going on here?
Fit was ready to give a good shake to this godling that thought they could stand between them and their courted. But Pàk smiled, he smiled and rested his hand on Arnerudos’ chest.
“You think you have a choice, but you don’t. We don’t mind violence and I bet the God of Time would forgive us a murder or two, torture as well”. He spoke clear and slow, smile fading from his lips more with each word.
“He’s not in danger” they still insisted, but they looked uncertain.
Fit found himself being the good cop, taking Pàk’s hand in his own to detach it from the poor deity who was only trying to be loyal.
“We think he is or might be. Something isn’t right here” he explained with a new layer of calmness in his voice, the same he used with Ramón when the kid was being insistent.
The deity looked them up and down, probably thinking back on the times he saw all three of them together and the happenings of the previous night.
“He went with Quákitis, yes. The God of Duality wanted to show him something and asked to be followed. The maker looked fine with it” they admitted.
“Thank you”.
One of a mind, the two gods retraced their steps to their boats, deciding it might be faster to go by sea.
“That wasn’t Quákitis” Fitsaid.
“Yeah. Do you think Tubbo was tricked?”
“Well, he managed to be tricked into marriage, didn’t he? He’s not the best at saying no”.
For a moment, a smile tugged at their lips, but it died fast.
They shared the boat, Fit on the weel, while Pàk rested his leg.
They didn’t need to say aloud where they were going.
“I hope he didn’t get hurt”.
Fit sighed. “Don’t worry, Pac. He can heal himself, he’ll be fine”.
The God of Invention’s nervous tapping went unheard with the crush of the waves.
“But it still hurts, you know? I don’t want him to be in pain at all, not even for a second”.
Fit agreed.
The rest of the journey, by boat and on land, unarmed and then in full armour, went in silence.
Pàk put on his leg with Fit’s help, having put it and his weapons out of a pocket dimension of his ideation. They buckled each other’s armour into place and shared a meaningful gaze, before they went through the portal.
Once in the War Territory, they moved fast and efficiently, Fit much more present than last time, with the God of Invention there with him.
Fit was the shield and Pàk the sword that pierced their distracted enemies, moving in unison in blue fleshes of electricity and green gleams of power.
The smell of blood and churned flesh lingered on them, but they didn’t mind.
Defeating their foes so easily had given them a bust in confidence, making them really feel like the all-powerful beings they were.
Fit would telegraph the predictions of movements his powers conjured, then he’d take on every attack to give Pàk room to strike true.
They could defeat anyone in five seconds, less if the enemy was not particularlyexperienced.
When they got out of the central area, things became less chaotic, but they didn’t give themselves time to think.
They had a certain temple to reach and a certain person to grill.
When they stopped was in front of a mountain, which they climbed with little effort.
There they found an elevator. Once they were inside it, the most annoying rap music ever heard filled the space, making them cringe aloud.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they touched ground.
They walked with confidence, until they found the person they were looking for.
Tomesus sat of a throne in the centre of the room, two ancient artifacts nobody knew the origin of at his sides.
“My friends! My in-laws! What brings you here?”
Though he seemed cheerful, there was a sharp edge to his gaze.
“Does El-Quàkitis have a grudge against Tubbo?” Fit went to the point.
Tommy’s eyes widened, then narrowed.
When he scoffed, his entourage left the room in a hurry.
“El is a bitch. He should let Big Q front all the time, he’s less lame. What did he do?”
Pàk crossed his arms in a copy of Fit’s stance.
“But does he have a grudge?”
“Tubbo blew up their nation”.
Oh, well. That sounded like something one could have a grudge on.
But why now?
Did it have something to do with the Cosmo’s song?
He voiced as much: “Why get revenge now? Hasn’t this happened two eras ago?”
Tomesus sat up from his throne and walked towards them, his face the dictionary picture of pissed off.
“I asked what he did”.
Pàk, who had been smiling about Tūbhos blowing up an entire country, felt the worry and dread claw up his back again.
“Kidnapped? We don’t know. They went away together from the temple yesterday and Tubbo still isn’t back” he summarised.
Tommy rolled his eyes.
“Let’s go pay a visit, then, warlord to warlord”.

“Immolate me and destroy Troy. This is my eternal monument, this is for me children, marriage, glory” she had said, mortal born. And the Cosmos had listened.
Her mother had pleaded: “Wait, don’t leave me”.
“Venerable mother, I’ll not allow you to cry, the ritual does not permitit.
Escort me, the winner of Ilium and the Phrygians. Bring me garlands, to crown my head, provide lustral waters.
Celebrate by dancing around the temple and the altar.
With my blood, with my sacrifice, I will realize the prophecy.
Young women, celebrate me! Because of me our people will be victorious, because of me war will be brought on the stepsof the Troyans”.
And the procession had walked her to the altar, next tothe man that was promised to her, in front of the knife that spilled her blood.
Ifigenia remembered her tears on her father’s knees, when she had pleaded for her life just a fortnight before. As those tears had left her, so had innocence.
It was that memory that made one last tear spill on her cheek, while blood spilled on her dress: one last drop of childhood and a river of blood.
That was for her: marriage, children, glory; of that the Cosmos made sure.
And her children opened their eyes to a clear sky as soon as she closed hers.
Their names were Tantrum and Lost Innocence, and they were the Gods of War.

Tūbhos wasn’t sleeping, nor dreaming.
He was wide awake.
It was somewhat disappointing that the only way people thought of stopping him was always the same: ice, ice, ice.
Of course, let’s freeze time. That sounds smart and doable.
He wanted to sleep, tell Pàk and Fit to come rescue his ass. It’s not like they had anything better to do, so they might as well, right?
Instead, he was stuck with his own thoughts to keep him company and they were awful.
He had lost interest in thinking about machines seven hours in and now he was stuck reminiscing about the things Tommy had told him about their past.
It was all useless stuff, honestly.
And it’s not like his predicament was so complicated that he had to figure something out: the God of Duality couldn’t have been more suspicious if he tried, he only went along with it because he underestimated him and really really did not want to go to sleep yet.
That had clearly proved to be a mistake.
And El-Quàkitis should get a life.
At least he had managed to get everything out of him while he was being kidnapped. The guy loved to talk and explain his plans to somebody who could understand them, he had only needed to irk him slightly.
So everything was thought and done and nothing remained but boredom.
He hoped he would be rescued soon, because otherwise he’d have a fuck ton of work to wait for him.
And, as I said, his thoughts were awful.
You can guess what they were about. It made him so antsy and frustrated.
He had things to tell the gods he was courting, future gods to track, changes to get ahead to.
But no, his ass had to be frozen.
How many times in his existence was this going to happen?
It was unfair and if he could move at all he would whine about it.
He’d certainly do that when he met Fit and Pac.
They weren’t going to hear the end of it.
He’d whine and ask things from them and they’d do it.
They were being so slow.
Did they even know he was kidnapped?
If they didn’t, shame on them.
And he was strongly hoping Tomesus wouldn’t arrive first, because that would be depressing and a circus and those two words didn’t mix well together.
Tommy would barge in, blow up the ice, laugh at him, then laugh at El-Quàkitis, then again at Tubbo, then he’d ask that the two of them bring chaos together to everything and everyone and sing to him some annoying song.
He didn’t feel up for all of that.
He just wanted to hide in Pàk’s cloak and curl up against him and Fit.
Just about now, that sounded like a splendid idea.
He might even decide to actively engage in the courting rituals, instead of letting them happen on their one by chance.
He should make them something.
A Time Capsule for Pàk to think and invent with no worries for the clock and something to predict part of the future for Fit? He should think about that more.
It should be something that completely blowed their minds.
Maybe make them into rings. It would be a struggle to make them pretty, but with a couple of lessons from Foolish, he could learn to do it.
It would take time, of course. But that was kinda the point.
Nonetheless, he had to get out of there first.

When they got in front of the temple of the God of Duality, Fit started putting in the gate’s password, then again, then again.
His brows frowned, his fingers basically smashing the pad’s keys.
“Maybe he changed it” Pàk suggested tentatively.
“No shit” was the dry response he got.
The God of Information kicked the metal gate, still closed as if to mock them, and stepped back.
“Doesn’t the God of Invention have any gadgets to break in?” Tomesus suggested.
Pàk blushed. “Why would I have something for breaking and entering?” he asked shily.
The others were not impressed and stared at him until he, still red as a maiden, took out of his dimensional pocket quite the device.
Tommy snatched it immediately, his powers helping him figure out how it worked in the span of a breath. “I’m totally keeping it. Say goodbye to your cool thievery tool”.
Pàk squeaked: “It’s not!”
In the time it took Tomesus to answer: “Sure, Mr. Patron of the Thieves”, they were in.
They marched straight up to the main room, where, collapsed on the ground, back propped against the throne, was the God of Duality himself, surrounded by an impressive collection of bottles and completely out of it.
“Can you believe this bitch?” screamed Tommy from the top of his lungs.
The Great God flinched and took his head in his hands, muttering curses.
Pàk felt unsure.
Wasn’t this Quákitis? It felt like it.
What had happened here?
He had thought they’d find his brother, make him spill what had happened to Tubbo and rescue the God of Time.
But wasn’t this person innocent? Maybe they shouldn’t scream at an hungover person, at least an innocent one.
“Quackity” Fit called, stepping forward to crouch next to him.
The God of Duality raised his head, looking at them through his fingers.
It was at that point that he seemed to realize the situation.
“What happened?” he croaked.
The three shared a confused glance.
Tommy was the first to understand, so he kicked softly at his leg.
“Did he close you off from his memories and got your body drunk again?”
The question surprised the other two gods infinitely.
Of course, Quackity would never share such a thing with anybody, careful of keeping his weaknesses close to his chest. Still, Fit thought he knew everything that was of significance about the guy. Was he overestimating his proficiency in information gathering?
“I just woke up, you piece of shit, give me a second” he muttered.
“Q. Big Q, did he?”
“Fucking...yes! I think so. Surely looks like it, asshole” he yelled, immediately regretting it.
His hands pulled at his hair, almost making his hat fall off.
It wasn’t a good sight and Pàk felt himself soften towards the guy. Not that he wouldn’t hang him in a split second, if it was necessary.
Quákitis sniffled, then looked straight at Fit.
“What did we do?”
The God of Information pressed his lips together.
“That wasn’t you, Quackity. It was all him” he felt the need to specify (he was still his friend). “We don’t know, we wanted to ask you...or him. People saw him leading Tubbo somewhere and now he’s disappeared”.
Quákitis groaned, rubbing at his face until it became pinkish.
“I can’t...he’s too closed off, it’s...it’s useless. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t...Tommy, you know I would never, right? I would never touch him, I’m smarter than that. I like Tubbo, I have nothing against him, I swear. Will you tell him? Tell him that I’m sorry, I don’t...I swear, I would never-”
Tomesus curled his nose.
“Oi, get yourself together. It’s fine. Just try to find out what you can when you’ve gotten some food and water in you. I’ll send some of my people to you and Fit will do the same. Maybe he left some clues around” Tommy instructed, then he turned on his heels, marching out like a general ready for a battle.
Baffled, the other two muttered some goodbyes and followed him.
Pàk walked in silence, eyes unfocused, seemingly deep in thought.
Fit was no different, calculating the next step to make.
It wasn’t long before the God of Invention fastened to walk next to Tomesus, gaze sharp and expression set.
“I’m going to use Tubbo’s stones to find him. I think I know how to do it”.
The sentence made a smile tug at their faces.
“You do, uh?” Fit commented, impressed but not surprised.
Tommy scoffed.
“Thank fuck. How long will it take?”
Pàk lost some of his confidence, but didn’t falter.
“I don’t know. But I will hurry”.
Having multiple plans in motion, helped alleviate their worry, but it still jumped at them as soon as they were behind closed doors, clutching at their chest with all it’s weight. They could only hope Tūbhos was fine.

After three days trapped in ice. The God of Time was not happy to admit that...he wasn’t doing too well.

He wasn’t fine, at all.

Chapter Text

When Pàk had told them he had an idea about a device that could help find Tubbo, he hadn’t lied.
Problem was that he had never worked with the Ancient Stones and his lab wasn’t suited. Which meant that he needed to use Tubbo’s and he fully expected to meet a good amount of resistance from his entourage.
After all, he had never ventured in the place alone and while the God of Time had always granted him ample freedom, that had always been in such circumstances that Tubbo could appear at any given moment, be it spontaneously or upon call from Pàk himself.

He would not be surprised if the doors of that temple closed on him just by his daring such a request and as such he steeled himself and, the next morning, arms full of parchment and the likes, he presented himself to a room full of anxious deities, ready for the slaughter.
He did not open his mouth fast enough, that a crowd formed around him and he was surely surprised when many knelt, holding fiercely the hem of his cloak.
Such a show was not common, for that was the way one guilty of a mighty crime asked for forgiveness, or one in dire need asked for help. It was considered humiliating and uncalled for among gods.

In a corner he spotted Arnerudos, watching the scene unfolding with crossed arms and an unreadable expression on their face. When their eyes met, the deity turned their head and Pàk was left to navigate the situation alone.
He flustered, looking at the expectant faces below him, all eager and earnest.
“What is...I’m sorry. You can...Can you stand? Did I scare you?”
He had walked in there like a god preparing for battle and they didn’t have their protector there, so...

“Help us” one of them spoke.
“The creator is not well”.
“Find him”. “Help him”. “Save him”.
“Help us”.
Like a river, their voices flooded him, making his mind reel with fear.

“Tubbo? Not well? Is it bad?” he asked. Now he was kneeling with them, but he had no hem to hold to for salvation, he was the salvation.
The chorus of pleas started again, none explaining as he needed, all putting fear in his heart of terrible things.
It was the Deity of Gemstone that spoke upon the rest: “He is cold, and his mind is not well. More we don’t know, but there is fear in us. You care for him, do you not?”
Pàk straightened as he listened to the other carefully.
Before he knew, he had stood again, solid as rock in the storm. At his feet, the clothes of the deities looked like waves, clinging to him, but barely touching him.
“I’d kill for him”.

“It’s good enough. What do you need?”
“This place, the stones, plenty of metal and wire”.
“It is done. You lot, disperse”.

And just like that, Pàk was able to sit at Tūbhos’ desk, sketches held open on the firm wood.
“I will need to make three machines and then we will have to move them” he said to himself at a point.
Rapidly, as if they had been waiting for a whisper, a piece of paper depicting carts suited for such a feat was placed in front of him.
And all of a sudden, more clearly than when they had pleaded with him, he saw how much love they all had for Tūbhos. Because a gesture of discreet attention and dedication such as that could only be born from habit and care.

He slapped his cheeks, reinvigorated, and focused on what he was to do.
The machines were simple on the exterior: each sporting two ancient stones, charged with the power of a god, a computer connected to a beacon and an antenna.
The problem was making the single parts, take them to the War Territory and place them so that they could triangulate Tūbhos’ position.
After all, the stones had already connected them, and hopefully they could also help bring them together again.
But was the third machine also to be charged with Pàk’s and Fit’s powers? Maybe...maybe they’d need Tomesus’ too?
He should speak with him, ask him what was best.
They already had a bond, a marriage one at that.
So...yeah, probably.
But maybe not?
They had never connected with the stones, not that he was aware of.

For now, he should focus on the computer part, that was sure to be tricky.
He didn’t know how technology interacted with the ancient stones, but Tubbo had explained a bit of how he had used them before, so...yes, he could do it.
The days passed fast when he had such a clear challenge in front of him.
Still it didn't matter how focused he got, at any moment he could crumble and he knew that.
And being there, at every moment he was made aware of the urgency of his task: the deities tried not to show it, but they could feel Tubbo getting worse and worse and fear had taken firm hold of their hearts.

No more then a week had passed, when Fit appeared on the door.
He looked exhausted and Pàk felt tears swell in his eyes.
Uncaring of the eyes upon them, they hugged and the God of Invention clung to the other with both desperation and weariness.

“Let’s get some food in you, then maybe a nap? Tomorrow morning Tommy will be here and we’ll share what we know, ok?” Fit suggested.
Pàk could only nod, eyes wet with tears and face flushed from rubbing and salt.
They did just that, but when someone showed them to a guestroom and they found an open door next to it, room full to the brim with knickknacks and so clearly Tubbo’s, it was Fit’s turn to cover his face and cling to Pac.
They didn’t want to find like this if the God of Time had a bed.
Pàk closed the door with eyes shimmering yellow and blue, then turned to Fit again.
He held is face with such strength it would have been painful for a lesser man.
“We didn’t see it” he declared.
“...Pac”
“We didn’t”.
It was such a small thing, it didn’t matter, a joke in passing. Then why...
“Ok, Pac. Everything you want”.
Finally, he smiled, and it was the first warmth Fit had felt when he wasn’t with his son, those days.
A similar one tugged on his lips and he closed the distance to kiss him.

It felt...it was so much more than he had imagined.
Salty, sure, but the inner part of Pàk’s lips was cherry sweet. There was softness and there was warmth, but as soon as their lips met properly he felt electricity dance in his skin, metal on his tongue.
His head swam, gravity forgetting how it was supposed to work.
And then again the softness and the warmth and the most amazing eyes.
He took a breath, Pàk doing the same to steady himself.
“Next time” he breathed to his courted.
“Tubbo too”.
“Yes”.
And, perfectly in agreement, they went to sleep.
Holding hands they dreamed of kisses, given and received, of hair that needed to be kept out of the way to cover eyes and foreheads with pecks.
A regular dream, false and bittersweet.
The bed felt incommensurably wide.

Now there was no need to fret for 2 dracme it was very much fine. It was so fine, in fact. That evil’s ready to testify in front of of an entire court. The ice. His head was very cold. Why did it feel colder? It couldn’t be. His mind. Tortured by images of this past. Was the real point of this to leave him alone so that he could go insane? And that wasn't him. He felt so different. As soon as he had opened his eyes. 7. 8. The very few things he knew. His name. And the person next to him who he felt to be so close to his soul. That he had very few words to describe him, best friend. Forever. Or until they died. Because they could die. The next thing he was aware about most, the precariousness of the place they inhabited. He remembered things too vaguely. Why? It seemed like a very friendly and peaceful place. But there was something ominous there, like a constant presence. Looking at them. Not that much. Different from the cosmos? But different in the way that it was not benign. <hcr: ‘esc; rt#83bsu; 00 000; yesk;’> Or, well, it was not always benign, and it could be so. At least, it seemed to care for the people that were around it. Not that a presence could have much people around it. Must it have been a presence at all? A person? 6. 02. Angry. He was so angry. Building up like pain and death. Rope tightening and pulling. One of the next things that he found out was that he had a penchant for mischief. That inclination was shared by his best friend. And they had plenty of fun. Mostly it was Tommy having. The most insane idea. And Tubbo following him. But it was no mystery to anybody that was acquainted with the two. That he could be a initiator of chaos all on his own, especially when left to his own devices. What was most peculiar is that. Even thought they were very clearly Gods of War, or at least, born from it. Nobody tended to realise that. It was not uncommon that new gods or young gods. Would not have powers so strong or presence so established that the nature of the their godhood could be perceived even by other people. But to perceive them as merely gods of. Childhood and childishness. Was at least surprising. Specially considering the amount of. The amount of. Destruction. Chaos. Murder. Robbery. Delivery. Destruction. They could make. Delivery delivery theory. Thierry. See a very. Savoury. Ice Ice. Ice. Cold, cold, cold, cold world teach. Student. Disciple. Mustache boy. Black cold, black black. Black. Cold, cold, cold, cold. This time. Tube allows a very faint image. He cannot seem to put into focus exactly what they were doing that was so. But. Was it bad? Were they bad? Was everybody like them or was it just them? And then there was pretty much nothing. If you were to exclude. The leaders. Images and feelings that Tubbo sometimes had when his mind was left to wander. In charge tell territory. 12. 4. Without nothing practical to think about. It's not even that he couldn't remember if he wanted. He was pretty sure that the if he. If he. If he when like you know when you grabbed ground and that's the way you're you're you're going down the ground you're not escalating, it's not escalating. Point is If he put an effort. He could remember everything Tommy, liked to go on about. Or maybe he couldn't. There was like a blank space. A big piece of emptiness like. A lot of garbage out of junk had been thrown out to make space for something that occupied. Very much a lot of space. The windows there. The window was there. It was not there before. Was there something else? But. Again, the space with the window was infinite. They could not have erased Infinity from his mind. That would be absurd. But he. Right? He had erased something on purpose. To help, to save, because he didn't want to be alone again. Not as alone as he had been, 11. 1. How did he manage to forget all that? I mean, he knew that there was a part of that he had forgotten. He he hadn't forgotten. He. He hadn't forgotten. Was the was the forgotten placed upon him? Anyway, he knew the rules, something that he had done on his own. And then that thing had become. Big, bigger, bigger. It was called. And The Wars in it. So very much cold. So very much dark. Maybe he shouldn't have closed his eyes when he was placed in the office. When he was placed in the eyes. Ice. Ice. Did he even have an office? Like ever. There was the big and it had gotten bigger. And then there had been nothing. And the whole Lot of stars and again. And starting again. And then he had been the God of time. With a lot of strings attached to it and him. And the window. And the need to make so many things. And made can make. He was sure he was getting dumber in the ice. I mean, if you stay in the ice. Too long 01. 9? For one that called himself the God of time. He didn't have a gift with the. Knowing, understanding how much time had passed. He knew he wanted something, Someone. Something that was warm colour and sky blue. And yellow and gold. And green and brown, and comfort and sturdiness. And from, fast, almost as fast as. And in the broken and remade bonds There were two. New and. They pulled him. He would have liked to be out of his prison yesterday. **** a month ago. Was he now censoring himself? That wasn't. He wasn't. </hcr> #9a8dn; Honestly, they mistake was his. He shouldn't have shown Tommy. That there was no string attaching them. Like they have. Like they had never shared time. Like they were never to share time in the future. Of course, Tommy was going to do something about it. And marriage seemed something very binding and reliable. Yeah. And Tomesus had been there all the time. Time shared. Bond realizing itself. He missed him and the colours and the softness and the boy. Was someone even going to come?

Fit had toyed dangerously the line with his kings.
The song was to be unravelled both to find out what did it have to do with Tūbhos’ kidnapping and to ensure the safety of them all.
As such he should have told Cellbit everything: about the conversation between the God of Trickery and the God of Time, about the disappearance of the latter just as he was probably about to tell them about it... Instead he just suggested here and there a thing or two, pretending that it came from his powers:
“Could it be about the coming of new gods?”
“Maybe this has happened in the past?”
“Should we see if someone of note has disappeared?”

And every time his king looked at him with suspicion. Not that that hadn’t happened often in the past, considering how wary the god was, but...it was unsettling.
No matter how good he was at bluffing, Cellbit had the power to unravel the truth, so it was only a question of time.
In four days, time was up.
Kélbitros had waited for a moment in which they were alone, his husband Roierek filing his nails in a corner with a disinterested air.
They had been putting their heads together, trying all morning to form multiple hypothesis to sort through.
It was only five minutes after the last person had left the room, that Fit realised he was being cornered by the two.
Roier was close to the exit and Cellbit was in front of him, looking at him like he himself was a piece of evidence.
He had felt their powers on him in the past and didn’t want a repeat of the experience.

Roierek was the Cutter of Darkness, the All Reaching Roar, the Ruler of The White Stripe, the Rushing Gloom, and the God of Plurality: he could divide you in your aspects, like you were white light and him a prism, stun you in immobility.
Kélbitros was the Hidden Wildness, the Sharp Dart, the Swift Biting, the High Discerner, He Who Hides his Keenness, the Shelter of the Grim: he could unravel your powers, bring you on your knees while he looked at your mind as if sorting through a book.
As such, they were the leaders and kings of the Mystery Territory, no matter how friendly and nice they were.

“Who do you work for?” was the first question Cellbit sent his way.
Fit groaned, closing the folder in front of him.
“You, as always” he answered truthfully.
He felt the other’s power reach for his mind and Fit hurried to hide what he didn’t want to reveal, keeping his loyalty on the forefront to show it.
Cellbit frowned.
“This makes no sense, why are you hiding if you are loyal?”
In the background, Roier shifted, lime put on the side.
Fit breathed in deeply.
“I just don’t want you to know where I took the information from, I’m still loyal to you and I don’t think knowing that would help in figuring things out. If that changed, I might tell you then”.
The God of the Unravelling snarled: “Might?”

Shit.
He hadn’t meant to phrase it like that. He hadn’t simply because he didn’t know before that moment that his priorities had shifted, from keeping favour with his friend and king to protecting the God of Time.
Was it because of the bond? Was it because of the anxiety of losing him, now that there was something real between them? A danger to someone he considered precious?
While courting Pàk left him with a sense of stability, the same couldn’t be said with the other: there was always something to be careful about, he could never grab him fully.
It must have weighted on him without noticing, making him reluctant to risk his trust and safety more then normal.

“It’s not so simple. You would do the same if...” Fit didn't feel in himself to finish.
Kélbitros pinched the skin between his eyes, unhappy and suspicious, but tired.
“We are in different positions; I can allow myself more liberty” he explained.
Among gods, strength was important. It was a bitter truth, but a truth nonetheless.

A light flickered on in Fit’s mind.
That privilege and authority didn’t need to come from him.
“The god I got the information from is not someone that can be treated carelessly” he said in a breath.
He meant it in more than one sense, really.
The other looked surprised.

“No way, he’s stronger than us?” came Roier’s voice, the god getting closer to them.
As if it was instinct, the royal spouses gravitated towards each other, shoulders touching.
“I really have no idea, maybe...probably. They can do...damage”.
Now Cellbit looked intrigued, he intertwined his fingers and leaned closer.
“How much damage?”

“I only heard stories and everybody is very secretive, almost scared. He got backing too, if that wasn’t enough”.
While he was being sincere, a feeling of wrongness clung to his tongue.
If Tubbo was so powerful (and it was evident) then had they all underestimated the God of Duality? Fit should have been more careful of the fact that he had killed and taken the place of a Great God.
“Interesting. Then I will find out on my own who they are and if I really have to be careful. How come they told you?”

Fit sat down, suddenly not feeling up to standing.
“They didn’t. My courted overheard a private conversation”.
Roier whistled.
“Shit, man. That’s why you don’t want to tell? To protect your lover?”
If only it was that simple.

Fit scrunched his nose and Cellbit, fortunately, didn’t check, just sent a sympathising glance his way, before pressing even closer to Roier.
“It’s ok. I’ll find out on my own: you are one of my people, it wouldn’t do to have you and your...courted in danger. The rumours are true then? Congratulations, man”.
Roier gave him the strongest pat ever delivered and Cellbit laughed in the way that screamed how much he loved his husband.
“Thank you, thank you. I’m doing my best, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah, asshole. Bring us good news soon, you hear?”
“Hopefully! Not everybody bonds as fast as you two, you know?”
“Right, right, we’re special”.
Special was the kind way of saying they were freaks who had their bond in their name, fated from birth.
The Shelter of the Grim and the Ruler of the White Stripe.
Crazy bastards.

“Is everything good on your side, Fit?” Pàk asked through the communicator.
Those things were plenty useful, but such methods of communication were considered rude by most gods, since a messenger could be taken hostage and sending one implied trust and safety.
They really had no fucks to give about that, given the situation.
The three machines were being turned on one by one, the craft simple in its madness.
“Yes" he answered.
“Tommy?”
“Yes, this machine is my bitch now, all purring for me and shit”.
Tomesus had maybe charged the stones too much, seeing how they had become round, giving the contraption quite the phallic shape.

The God of Trickery was really hoping that Tubbo wouldn’t be too upset about the information he had revealed to the other two.
But that was a problem for future him and it’s not like the God of Time could erase him from the timeline, since he technically wasn’t in it.
Nothing more than a trick, the strings of his web holding on to Tūbhos and his current reality.
After all, Tomesus was the maker and cutter of strings, as much as he hated the sight of them.
And that he had to explain to Pàk for the machines to work.

“I’m ready too. Fit, getting anything from your people?” the God of Invention wrote.
“No movement from the God of Duality, we’re clear”.

“Ok, start NOW”.
The three gods pressed the main button and the stones shined bright, energy thrumming, until it converged on the beacon, freeing itself in search of its adjacents.
A few seconds passed with nothing on the screens, until the waves bounced on each other and came back to the antennas.
Four dots appeared: three of them they knew as their positions with the machines; but the fourth one...
“We found him!” Pàk screamed, jumping in the air with a raised fist.
“Going there” Tomesus sent, but there really was no need.
They were already running in that same direction, fast and faster, hearts beating wildly in their chest.

Nothing could stand in their way, as miles flew by.
He was alive, of that they were sure. And waiting for them.
But no more. They were coming for him.

Fit was the first to notice: the building and the changing sky.
One of the three meteors was making its way towards them.
The firmament was red, as if it had caught on fire.

Pàk felt heat caress his skin, warm wind moving the hair of his arms and then he saw it: passing right over his head and towards one lonely building.

Tommy’s only thought was that this was the second time some big ball of death fell on his head because of Tubbo and he wasn’t even mad.

The conflagration arrived unexpectedly, ears deafening even before the raising dust could reach them, stealing their sight.
In the aftermath, Pàk, Fit and Tomesus were unharmed.
They screamed each other names, but didn’t hear the answer, heads ringing and eyes watering.
Still they walked forward and soon Fit could make out two silhouettes getting closer with no hesitation in their steps: they were fine.
He called to them, but still heard nothing in return.
Was it because of the ringing?

It took a few more seconds for the dust to settles enough to reveal the white shell of the building, cracked open and sending smoke in the air, light and curling.
Pàk run again, uncaring of the possible danger.
Fit was stunned in place, dread traversing him in waves.
Why? He was asking himself.
Then the God of Information realised that the other was running and did the same, a mad chase to catch something that maybe wasn’t there anymore.

They didn’t notice the red string floating in the air. One end in the building, the other in Tommy’s hands.
“You bitch. You scared the fuck out of me” he breathed, legs turned to jelly collapsing under him.
“Fuck” he sighed, then closed his eyes as if in prayer, only one word on his lips: Molly.

“Tubbo!” Pàk screamed.
“Tubbo!” Fit did the same.
And soon the two found each other, hands holding on elbows and shoulders.
It was a brief moment of reassurance, as their eyes couldn’t settle, nor could their feet.
They carried them past the ruined remains of the exterior walls and inside the smoking building.
The heat was unbearable, but they persisted.

Pac started coughing, one hand holding on Fit.
The God of Information rested his on it and they fastened their pace. The darkness of the still lingering night wasn't helping. In the search for him, some light would have helped lots.
Then they turned a corner and the temperature dropped. Their feet met water under them, rippling quietly.

“Tubbo!” Fit called.
“Tubbo!” Pac echoed.
And, for the first time, their calls were answered.
“Wha-gu-I'M HERE!”
They darted towards him, his voice slashing at them with such strength they wobbled.

The sun rose, its rays making their way through the broken ceiling.
They shone on a person with brown curls with lighter ends and a face stained with tears, sitting on a wet floor and surrounded by melting ice.
On his lap sat a small child, hair of the same colour, no older than six.
The name of the child came to them with ease: Siuannis, daughter of Tūbhos, Goddess of the Sun.

“Guys, I’m a dad” Tubbo said, holding the child close, eyes wobbly with new tears and nose running.
He said it as if that was salvation and absolution, erasing everything that had been, like the sunrise that after a night full of nightmares shined upon the souls of the tormented.
Pàk fell to his knees next to him, raising his arms to hug them both. He too was crying.
Fit just couldn’t move, thanking the Cosmos over and over in his head, locked in place as if by a spell, eyes unblinking for what was in front of him looked like a miracle; but the God of Time looked straight at him as he nuzzled against Pac and repeated: “I’m a dad”.
And as he smiled, so did the God of Information.
“Congratulations, Tubbo”.
In that moment, he too felt really close to tears, throat straining, and ignored the buzzing of his communicator.
He just wanted to bring his family home.

Chapter Text

Fit promptly took the child in his arms, instinct overtaking him, and Tūbhos stood up on shacky legs, supported by Pac.
Only then did he notice that Tubbo was dripping wet.
The relief and the absurdness of the situation were so strong, that he started laughing, sound full, coming straight from the belly.
The wet god staggered in his direction, giggling at him and opened his arms to circle both Fit and his sleepy daughter.
Pac joined in and soon it became a chorus of laughter.
It was a loud, wet hug, both with water and tears.
“What the hell happened here?” asked Fit, still incredulous.
Tubbo breathed in.
“I was trapped in ice, again. Sunny fell on me and melted it. She’s my little hero”.
The child couldn’t even keep her eyes open, seemingly exhausted.
Pàk squeaked.
“Again?”
“Yeah, people like to do that. Don’t think about it, king”.
Pàk hugged them tighter.
“If someone tries again, I will hung them and slit their throats”.
“Thanks, Pac”.
“It’s nothing. Everything for you, you know?”
They relaxed in the hug, but far too soon it was time to get out of there.
The structure creaked and bellowed, reminding them of its state.

Pàk was the first to take a step back, still holding Tubbo to help him out; but when the latter released Fit, the strongest urge overtook him and with his free hand he grabbed Tūbhos by his wet clothes to press their lips together.
Tubbo made a strangled noise, hands coming to hold onto Fit’s arm.
He wasn’t the only one shacking: a slight tremble had taken the God of Information hostage, still, he didn’t let go.
It was a simple thing, and it had nothing of the sweetness shared between Fit and Pac: fear, desperation and unending longing whitened their lips until they parted to gasp in search of air. Tūbhos swayed and rested his forehead against Fit, while Pac’s hand settled on his back.
For a few seconds, the world was silent.

But it seems that Sunny had woken up enough, because when Tubbo’s eyes turned back on her, she had wide very awake eyes.
“Is Fit my other dad, pa?”
Pàk nodded immediately, while Fit reddened and felt his head spin.
Tūbhos’ panic exploded inside of him.
Wasn’t she sleeping a second ago?
How much had she seen?
“I’m sorry poppet, he’s not...He’s Fit, he’s just...he’s not your parent, he’s...”
His daughter had known him for a few minutes and he was already being seen kissing someone who was not her parent.
How was he already screwing it up?
Fit saw Tubbo paling slightly, cheeks red, still as wet as they had found him.
He helped Pac in holding him.

Sunny looked at herself, still perched on Fit’s arm, then at her father, who had been kissed breathless by the same god who was still taking care of the both of them.
This was going to be hard to sell.
Then her eyes trailed to Pàk, who had confirmed her suspicion.
The God of Invention gave her a thumbs up.
Well, if he wasn’t her dad, then: “You’ll be my bodyguard, Fit, I’m hiring you”.
Tūbhos sighed in relief and Fit brightened up, making her jump a little to hold her better.
“It will be my honour, princess”.
Seemingly satisfied, she closed her eyes and fell asleep on his shoulder, arms limp at her sides. Apparently, she had woken up just to give them a heart attack.
Tubbo was never going to trust that she was actually sleeping ever again.
He sighed and leaned more on Pàk, happy to finally be able to hide in his cloak, which Pàk had draped on his shoulder, putting a hand on it while the other held his hand in support.

The four of them made their way outside slowly, keeping close as if scared of being separated again.
There, Tomesos was looking at the sky, arms crossed and leaning on a piece of wall.
As soon as he saw them, he threw a golden apple in Tubbo’s direction.
The God of Time caught it and immediately bit it, the magic tingling on his tongue and warming his throat. The crunching sound was the only thing ringing in the silence that had fallen on them.
Tomesos waited, hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his side.
His gaze was unreadable, but it seemed that seeing Siuannis had hardened it even more. Fit and Pàk, not for the first time since they had teamed with the war lord, exchanged a look.

When Tubbo was finished, the four made their way to the God of Trickery.
Now Tūbhos was much more stable on his legs, colour returning to his face.
There was no uncertainty in his voice: “This his Sunny, your daughter”.
Tommy nodded and stepped forward to take her, but the God of Time put himself between him and Fit. “You don’t have custody. I only allow you visits”.
They swore they heard the faintest ever "Bitch", but Tubbo didn't comment on it and Tommy didin't complain further.

“Fine. We ready to go?”
He gave his husband a sword and Tūbhos took it without a word, then he turned to his courted.
“Can you keep her safe?” he asked.
Fit held her closer.
“Not gonna slag off on the first day on the job, don’t worry”.
The God of Time nodded.
“You guys can go back, if you want. I have something to settle”.

Than it all made sense: the two gods were not preparing to go back home, they were getting ready for battle.
Pàk straightened up.
“If Fit can bring Siuannis home on his own, then I’m coming”.
Fit didn’t like how this was going.
He didn’t want to leave Tubbo, not now.
It’s true that he wouldn’t want the kid to be in danger, but surely he would be able to go with them and keep her safe at the same time.
They wouldn’t make him go, right?
“I’m coming too. I will stay away from danger and keep your daughter safe, but you’re not getting rid of me”.
Surprisingly, nobody protested, but Tommy splashed a few potions on them, keeping them at the ready for the next dose.
Like that, they marched.

Thankfully, they met little trouble on the way and they were able to ask Tubbo a few questions.
“Oh, he talked plenty. The problem was getting him to shut up” he answered Tommy, who snorted.
“Don’t they fucking always? Monologuing is so dumb!”
Since they had gotten out of the building, the God of Time had seemed unreachable again. So far away Fit and Pàk could barely speak to him.
It was as if he had become a whole other person.
Last time they had seen him and Tommy together, they didn’t look so...interlocked.
Now it was as if they shared a soul.
How many battles had they faced together like that?

“I kind of pity him, but I also want to send a nuke his way, you know?” Tūbhos commented light-heartedly.
“Wait, what?”
“Do you reckon there is still one stashed somewhere in my old factory?”
Tommy stopped in his tracks, hand coming to clutch at Tubbo.
“Clingy much?” the latter asked.
Tomesos sputtered, eyes wide.
“Do you fucking-fucking...shit, bitch!”
He threw himself on him for a hug that had them tripping on their feet.
Tubbo laughed, a laugh so much younger than his age, and hugged him even tighter.
Fit noticed how the tips of Tubbo’s hair were the same colour as Tommy’s and all of a sudden became aware, truly aware, of the kind of bond they shared.
Best friends, husbands, co-parents, because no amount of labels would ever be enough to satisfy the need of closeness, the desperation that came with it. For an instant, he wished for something like that in his life.

When Fit turned his gaze on Pàk, an half smile was on the other’s lips, a green shine to one of his pupils. TezerKraft could understand, he imagined.
He took the hand of the God of Invention in his for a few seconds, chest full to the brim with fondness, then let go.
Pac simply grinned at him.

“Let’s go fuck him up” Tubbo trilled when he and Tommy were done with hugs and screaming nonsense at each other.
So the group soon arrived at Quackity’s castle, Tomesos taking out the breaking-and-entering-device in a breath.
“This is so not yours” Tubbo commented.
“Excuse me, this is my super personal totally not snatched born from my own two hands cool as fuck-

While the blond fished for other cool adjectives to add, they went through the gate and made their way to the usual throne room.
Surprisingly, the one they found was actually El-Quàkitis and he was not alone, nor did he seem surprised at the scene.
He stood donning a black tunic with red details, hand affectionately resting on the small child’s head.
“So, how is it?” he asked, eyes trained only on Tubbo.
It was as if seeing Fit holding a sleeping kid had been exactly what he expected.
The other child, no older than Sunny, probably sensing their gaze, hid behind the Great God’s leg.

Still, as far as El-Quàkitis was concerned, it seemed there was only one person in that room.
Fit and Pac didn’t like the way he was looking at their courted, not even one bit.
The God of Information was rendered powerless by his duty to protect the sleeping kid, but his instincts screamed at him to put himself between the two and shield Tubbo.
Pàk moved to do something, anything, but the God of Time stepped forward.

“Did you forget who I am?” he asked.
At that, the pitiful god laughed.
“No, I fucking didn’t. That’s why I’m asking: how does it feel to have a child to raise, while you’re mourning another?”
Tommy bristled, hands visibly clutching at his sides.
Fit didn’t like what this was implying one bit.

The God of Time and the God of Duality maintained eye contact for what felt like an eternity.
“You piece of sh-
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Tommy!” El-Quackity snapped.
The red ribbon around his arm looked like blood in the dim light.
“Give me a reason why we shouldn’t kill you” Tubbo deadpanned, hand raised to rest on his husband’s arm.
“You can’t kill me: it would doom your dear Big Q. He really tried to save you, you know?” he chuckled.
Then he sat down on his throne, putting his scared child on his lap to dry their tears with his palms.

“Give me one reason I would actually care about”.
The sentence froze the blood of everyone present.
All except Tommy, who just passed a hand in his hair to keep them out of his face, unbothered.
The first to gather himself was the God of Duality and he laughed hysterically, before snapping his fingers to have one of his eye-workers hand him something.
When he threw the object at their feet, the enchanted porcelain made a clicking sound.
“You two are real pieces of work! You truly take after the Great God you slayed, just like me. Hey, Tommy, do you still throw up when you see your power or are you now less of a hypocrite?”
The God of Trickery switched his weapon for a pickaxe, wild smile on his face.
“You fuck, you pussy” he spit at him. “Why even the fuck did you do that? Just to make Tubbo as miserable as you? He won’t be! He has friends, you bitch! While you push everyone away because you’re a bitch pussy!”

“How original”.
The God of Time sighed.
He stepped forward to kick at the object, making it slide back at El-Quàkitis’ feet.
When the War Territory was not the War Territory, its leader was a God of Shifting, able to control time, dreams, space. But, as much as he tried, he could never control people. He fancied himself a manipulator, a backstage whisperer. But he was clumsy.
That’s why he tried to rob Tommy of his power: the ability to manipulate bonds.
Ironically, he had been the only one to realize that they were not Gods of Childhood, but of man’s tantrums: their violence and arrogance; and of lost innocence: both in the victims and the executioners. They were Gods of War.
Half their childhood they spent fighting against him, not even knowing in full what they were fighting for, as their powers had only manifested in subtle ways.
Then it all had fallen into place and into pieces.
The first time that god had grabbed at Tomesos’ power, red strings tainted green by his touch, it had felt so, so bad; but finally they knew, they understood.
Tubbo’s had manifested in moments of fear and paranoia: the power of calculation, of the nasty type of science.
And Tommy’s manipulation and Tubbo’s power had killed him, together with a good portion of the territory.

It changed them and not only their godhood.
As soon as he knew how to, Tubbo chose to forget, remake himself, remake history in the limits of his new powers.
Those more powerful or as powerful remembered, the rest forgot.

“You lost the game, El. We did what you couldn’t because you played it too safe. Now you come crying to me that it isn’t fair that I got to forget. But I had earned that. It’s not my fault you’re a poor loser”.

Neither of them had lost their birth power.
The first thing that Tommy did, was proclaim himself the cutter of strings. As such, he freed himself from the strings that had been in the hands of that god: time, space, dreams, even bonds. Of the latter, he crafted only one string to anchor himself to reality and to Tubbo.
He never touched a bond again.

Tomesos teleported wherever, whenever, whispering in the ears of the arrogant and blowing up the houses of the stupid one time and doing the contrary the other. In this way, he kept his Godhood alive. But he hadn’t lost his birth power, kept in two artefacts he had been able to retrieve.

El-Quàkitis knew he couldn’t use them, terrified and forever scarred by the use his enemy had made of them.
“Point and laugh all you want. I just evened it out, because that’s what I do: I get piss poor cards and I make it work!”
His grief was always so present in him he was defined by it, loss all he could ever be.
As such, he had understood the song immediately: who had lost a child, would get one; simple as that. Wasn’t it unfair that Tūbhos was the only one having it easier?
They could do jack shit about it now, no matter what Tūbhos said: he liked his brother and would never hurt him, same went for Tomesos, who last time he had seen him, couldn’t even look at strings.

But while surely he didn’t like them, so much time had passed.
I’d say: just enough.

Pàk couldn’t keep it in anymore: “By making everyone as sad as you? This makes no sense. You hurt him and the reason is stupid!”
The Great God barely looked at him.
“Pàk, right? Do you know that Tubbo still has the power of contrivance? Do you think that a coincidence?”
He was smiling, now.
His gaze shifted to Fit.
“And do you know that, with his time powers, he can know anything whenever? Well, aren’t you three perfect for each other?”
There was nothing strange in that, because, as Pàk answered: “That’s because the Cosmos loves us, so everything goes in the better way for us. When we change we have to trust that each stage is to make something good possible”.
He had needed to trust that a lot when, from the God of Swiftness, he had become the God of Invention: the loss of his leg, the months of being so physically slow, so hard to bear.
“That’s right!” El-Quackity confirmed. “But what about who dies. Who doesn’t change, just dies for the benefit of others? What of our children?”

The four gods, as any other gods would do, just raised their chin.
“You think you are superior, don’t you? That you deserve to grow and have good things coming. That leaving things in the dust, forget and go on, is a right you have, a privilege you deserve. You’re sick”.
The Great God hugged his child tightly; fallen from the sky, little and fragile and so mortal.
“You think you deserve better than children!” he bellowed.
Maybe Tūbhos should have felt guilty, but he hadn’t simply forgotten: he had been made anew.
The old Tubbo was dead.
He could remember him now, thanks to what El had done.
But still, that person did die with his family.

Maybe Quackity needed the same.
Tommy patted Tubbo’s hand and walked towards the throne slowly.
“Don’t worry, Big Q: I can fix you” he comforted.
The Great God had no time to react, because Tūbhos froze it, keeping them all in place.
His strings soon joined by Tommy’s own: red and green painting the room a sickly yellow, a web of illness.

It was a matter of seconds: the bond between El-Quàkitis and Quákitis snapped.
The two brothers couldn’t even scream.
Then, just like that, the first was erased from time, from that point onwards. Green string disappearing like burnt paper.
When the God of Duality came to, he didn’t even feel like crying.
And now he was no Great God anymore.

Wasn’t that a bit too much? How could one hold such power? It made no sense.
For the first time since they knew him, Fit and Pàk truly feared the monster they had saved and his husband.

The yellow subsided, all came back to normality.
Just two children, five gods and the horrors.
Terrified and a bit dazed, Quackity took his child and fled the room.

“What is it, Pac, don’t I get a kiss for killing the bad guy?”
Tūbhos was incredibly pale, as if all the yellow in the room had been absorbed by his skin.
“You didn’t even let me hang him” the God of Invention pouted.
Tūbhos laughed with a dazed shine in his eyes and opened his arms for him.
Pàk jumped in them, interlocking his fingers behind his neck, and the two kissed with murder on their tongue and something twisted in their hearts. It was long and longing and, just to be sure, Fit covered Sunny’s face with his hand.

When Pàk tasted blood, at first, he didn’t feel alarmed: it was, after all, very fitting.
But then Tubbo parted their lips, pink spit between their mouths, and he slumped forward, as if a puppet with cut strings.
The God of Invention, unprepared to hold his weight, sank with him to the ground.
“Fit?” he called in a panic.
A thump echoed and, when they turned, Tommy was kneeling on the floor, keeping himself upright on his pickaxe.
“Well, fuck” he slurred.
Fit felt this close to a bout of hysterics.

Tommy’s entourage didn’t bring them to his temple, said it would freak Tubbo out if he woke up there.
Instead, they were teleported back to the Eternity Territory, in the temple of the God of Time.
Sunny was given to Pàk to hold, while Fit took Tubbo and Molly brought away her boyfriend to the Filia Territory.
As soon as they entered the temple, the deities came forward in joyful silence, muted by a certain cautiousness. One by one, as they walked towards the bedroom, they touched their creator’s hand, the hem of his clothes, bowing to the gods who had brought him back.
Thank yous were murmured and tearful looks exchanged, the sunlight pouring inside like a waterfall.
They didn’t touch Siuannis, just fretted on preparing the temple to house a child, disbelief and fondness in their gaze.
The kid, after all, was still sleeping.

She had woken up once or twice, but she had just checked that her pa was there and fallen back asleep.
Pàk and Fit put them down in the bed.
Ramónos had already been warned that his dad might have not come back for the night, so he only sent a messenger to tell him that they had Tūbhos and all had been well.
They watched as father and daughter curled close, breathing steady and expressions lax.
There was no way they were leaving them out of their sight, not after everything that had happened.
True, the threat had disappeared, but it had felt too easy, even with the minutes of panic while they dosed the God of Time with potions to bring him back to stability.
What if they hadn’t found them at the right moment, what would have happened to them? Would’ve El-Quàkitis taken advantage of Tūbhos’ weakened state to hurt him?
The thought lingered in their minds even after they settled under the covers, one on each side of the duo: the most formidable shield against the outside world.
Their fingers interlocked in the middle, like a loving belt on the tired gods, and in little time they fell asleep.

When they opened their eyes, the relief at being surrounded by darkness was such that they fell in a shower of giggles.
Hand by hand, they run to the God of Time, laughter on their lips when they made the confused god fall on the ground with them.
Fit pressed his lips to his forehead, hands holding him close while Pàk’s kisses fell on his cheeks like rain.
Tūbhos giggled, trying to free himself from their attention.
“Guys, guys! It tingles, stop!” he whined, red cheeked and misty eyed.
“Nope!” Fit answered.
He dragged him on his lap and slipped his fingers in his hair to card through them lovingly.
Pàk leaned forward, perching with his hands on Fit’s knees, and went on with his pecks, scattering them everywhere he could reach.
It was too much all together and the God of Time alternated between pleading for them to stop and laughing until he couldn’t breathe.

“Wait, why am I the only one being tortured?” he giggled.
Pàk’s gaze narrowed, but it seemed to work, because a mischievous smile graced his lips.
“I feel like this might be dangerous. Can we please focus on Tubbo again?” Fit asked, one hand resting on Tūbhos’ cheek and the other raised defensively.
“Well, I mean” started the God of Invention, “Tubbo never got to see us kiss. It isn’t fair, right?”
Fit muttered something similar to ‘I knew it’, the slightest blush creeping from his neck.
Tūbhos fake gagged. “You guys are so gay it’s disgusting”.
His white eyes looked at them expectantly and he crossed his legs to make himself more comfortable.
Before Fit could have the time to die inside, Pàk pressed his lips on him, slowly luring him closer.
The former felt his head fuzz, thoughts getting drowned in the rising tide of his love and fondness and the cherry sweetness of the kiss.
Tubbo could almost taste it through the bond. It made him feel exhilarated.
When the two parted, lips red and swollen, all of them had to take a deep breath or two.

“That was gross” Tūbhos declared. “Me too now”.
Fit laughed.
“I thought you wanted to be left alone?”
“I don’t want to be smothered. I’m all in for kissing all disgusting and shit”.
Pàk hugged them both, swaying his weight from one side to the other.
“Can’t you say it more nicely?” he teased.
“Nope. If you want to be gross and not let me work, this is what you get. I don’t make the rules”.
“Who does? I can hang him!”
Fit snorted.
“Should we be alarmed about your fixation with hanging?”
The god smiled all teeth, trying to suppress a snicker.
“That depends. Are you going to be a good boy?”
“Wait, wait, wait! Calm down! Calm down”.
“This is literally so so gross and disgusting. You guys are freaks, go do these things in your own head”.
“It’s your head that is kidnapping us. We are innocent!” Fit defended.
“My head would never do that, that’s crazy!”

Chapter Text

Needless to say, Sunny woke up with the sun.
She sat up, little fists dragging on her eyes to clear her sight and a yawn parting her lips like the beak of a seagull.
Something was pinning her down, so she looked at her lap to find two arms holding her and her pa’, interlaced hands like the buckle of a belt.
She travelled with her gaze to find the two gods to whom the arms belonged.
Her pa’ had been clear that her bodyguard wasn’t her dad and, now that she had more of a grasp of...well, everything, she could see that for herself.
She had other parents, that she knew, but they were different than her pa’. It was like Tūbhos had been waiting for her for a long time, made a space for her in his heart a while ago. The others still didn’t know her and how amazing she was.
For now it was just her and her pa’...and Fit and Pàk.
She rolled the meanings of their names in her mind for a bit, trying to place them in the shapes of their faces and the lingering darkness under their eyes and their attire.
Pàk was better dressed, but that wasn’t saying much.
That was the first thing she would see to: dresses.
And a crown.
Her future temples should be made of diamond and gold and the same went for her altars.
She could feel her will impose itself on reality.
The mortals knew of her now and were feeling the need to thank her for the warmth and the light.
She puffed out her chest, proud of herself, and started fumbling to get out of the mess of limbs.
As soon as she was able to stand, she patted her father’s head and went out of the room.

She closed the door with care and started walking along the corridor with a hand on the fresh wall.
No more than ten steps outside, she met one of the deities born from her pa’.
Arnerudos? Arneruda?
The adult bowed slightly, bright smile on their face.
“Arnerudos greets the little goddess”.
Ah, Arnerudos then.
“Siuannis greets her father’s courtier. But I’m not little, unless I say I am”.
Upon birth every god was aware of the procedures and protocols and mannerism that was opportune in a context.
Every temple and god had their own, of course, and the knowledge of them was as natural as the one of names.
Siuannis was relieved in finding that her pa’ and her had the same, for now.
Arnerudos chuckled and offered a hand to accompany her.
“As I expected from a daughter of the maker. May I have the pleasure of escorting you to breakfast?”
Now, while Sunny was quite sure there was some teasing there, she just raised her chin and accepted.

Hand in hand, she was brought to the main room of the temple, surrounded by the squeals of those that caught sight of her.
A high chair with a step was placed at the table and warm, honeyed milk, juice and sweet teas brought to her with cakes, biscuits and eggs.
After that, Arnerudos set up on a desk next to her, opening a pouch filled with little boxes, all carefully labelled, a sketchbook and strings of metal.
Siuannis took a sip of her milk, eyeing the deity with great curiosity.
When they opened one of the boxes to reveal that they held gemstones in order of size, already cut in shining shapes, Siuannis had to contain an high pitched sound of delight. Instead, she started swinging her legs, eyes wide and sparkling, barely looking at the sweets with which she filled her cheeks to look at the working courtier.
The deity pretended to be unaware of it, smiling furtively while they worked on a design.
Without noticing, Sunny started perching herself more and more, neck stretched to have a better view.
It was unfairly cute and many members of Tubbo’s entourage felt their hearts warm at the sight.

It was as someone brought a refill of her milk, that a group of people filled the entrance with shadows.
The smallest walked inside with confidence, while the deities at his back tried to merge with the pillars like assassins.
He strode right to the little goddess and stood before her, fists on his hips in a way that resembled painfully both Pàk and Tūbhos.
He knew who she was and immediately became aware that he was in her father’s temple and was supposed to follow her customs in greetings.
It was so visible in her face that she would make a fuss if he didn’t, that he decided to just huff and get on with it.
Damned toddlers.

“Ramónos, son of Fit, is happy to meet Siuannis, daughter of Tūbhos” he drawled, cheeks red. It was the first time he had to do this on his own, in front of all these people.
Fit’s entourage had accompanied him there when they realized they couldn’t stop him from going and Tūbhos’ was all around them, protectively looking over their new ward.
“Siuannis welcomes the son of Fit. Do you want cake?” she asked, pushing some in his direction.
Someone immediately put a chair on the table for him.
Ramón looked around, searching for his adults. Nobody in sight. Was it a good sign or a bad sign?
“Where’s Tubbo?” he said, fidgeting with the goggles on his head.
Sunny tapped his side of the table to insist.
She then looked over her shoulder in the direction of the bedroom. “My pa’ is sleeping with bodyguard Fit and Pàk. They were very tired”.

Ramónos walked to the side and forward to catch a glimpse of them on the machine with the larger nap space; but they were not there.
“Are you lying to me?”
Siuannis gasped. “I would never!”
“You are!”
“I am not! I’ll show you!”
She hopped off the chair and rushed towards the bedroom.
Caught off guard, he took a second to go after her, but he had longer legs, so no problem there.
When they were side by side, she took his hand in hers and put a finger in front of her mouth to signal him to be quiet.

The two children tiptoed to the door and opened it carefully.
In her absence, the three gods had shuffled a bit.
Now both Fit and Pàk were hugging Tūbhos tightly and the God of Time was clinging to Fit with his hand and hiding his face in the curve of Pàk’s neck.
They looked warm and comfortable and Ramón felt a waterfall of relief in his chest.
He sniffed and walked in to get a better look of his mentor.
Tubbo looked tired, sure, and palish, but when did he not? It was almost as if he had never left and, in the effort to not wail like the child he was, he buckled over. Which scared the shit out of Sunny.
She moved closer to him, fretting and trying to decide if it might be better to wake the adults up.
It hit Ramónos all at the same time: his mentor was really back and he had a daughter and he was safe and his dad was safe and Pàk was safe and...had Sunny been in danger?
He needed to put her in the safe place, so he grabbed her wrist, trying to coax her gently into getting on the bed.
Confused as she was, he was fairly successful.
Sunny only started trying to get an answer for his behaviour when he had already started to try and put her under the covers without waking the others. He had had to climb on the bed himself and his own body was being an impediment.
He shushed her gently and with a harsh tug was finally able to tuck her in.
“Stay there” he whispered and climbed down.
Siuannis would have protested, but the warm milk and the full tummy started to catch up with her, making her slow and sleepy.
She snuggled on her pa’, warmth all around her.

Ramónos, mighty proud of himself, looked at the four of them.
They were all safe now.

He closed the door and went to get some paper and stationery, then he ran to the people that had accompanied him there.
He was sure they were still waiting for Fit’s dismissal, just on the steps of the temple.
When he saw them, he puffed out his chest and levelled his voice: “Give me a communicator and create a perimeter around the temple, message me if anything happens”.
Endeared, but ready to comply, Fit’s entourage nodded in unison and started organizing themselves. They gave him one of their spare communicators and in ten minutes they had disappeared.
Happy that his demand had been met, the kid went back to the door and sat in front of it, set on standing guard.
He would design an alarm system to pass the time, so that he could install it for Tubbo and Sunny. After all, being kidnapped was extremely lame and it wouldn’t do to have a lame mentor.

When they, in the end, woke up, Tubbo expected everyone to say goodbye and go home; then they stayed for lunch and he forgot about it while they spent the afternoon together; after dinner, he waited for one of them to say it was time to go home, but no such thing. He didn’t know what hit him, when he fell asleep surrounded by the people he loved.
But, surely, after staying together for weeks at a time in his dreams, they would need some time for themselves.
Pàk had to close his mouth with a gentle touch to his jaw, when the morning after in came Mike with his and Pàk’s clothes and toiletry.
Apparently TeserKraft had decided to spend some days at his temple.
Chill, it was chill.
It was probably for the machines, after all they spent the day messing around with them, brainstorming and what not.
Fit would probably leave soon for work reasons, taking Mustache Boy with him.

Then his entourage showed up with his and Ramón's things too and Tūbhos didn’t have it in him anymore to be surprised.

With Mike around, the sleeping arrangements shuffled a bit.
The first day it was the adults in a room and kids in another, then the soulmates had a day on their own, then it was Fit, Pàk and Tubbo in a room and Mike with the kids.
Siuannis had convinced Arnerudos to make her a crown and her and Ramónos worked on the design of her room; when they had all completed it, she had started asking for privacy, since apparently princesses should have that.
But the need for privacy didn’t stop father and daughter to seek each other in the night to fall asleep in the same room, apparently.

After a week of people being nice to him and his daughter and his courted being awfully amazing, tugging at his aspects with quality time and attention and care for Sunny; Tūbhos started hinting that they should all get back to their lives, like, for real, stop making him feel like they cared.
He knew they actually did: he felt it in the friendship bond with Mike, the brotherly bond with Ramón, the forming bond with Fit and Pàk. He did. That doesn’t mean they were supposed to act on it and make him feel things!
After getting his memories back, he was supposed to be miserable! Have flashbacks and all that bullshit!

“What the hell” he whispered while he bathed, the others’ things having by now their own place in the room. “What the actual fuck”.
He blew on the soapy bubbles on the water surface, head half immersed like a crocodile.
One corner of the bathroom was occupied by a cosmetic table encrusted with jewels and decorated with gold leaves and what not, his daughter’s things all across it.
He wasn’t even cleaning himself with his own soap, having taken Fit’s by mistake.
Did he have a family now?
“What the fucking hell fuck?”

But, apparently, he didn’t have time for a proper freak out, because Pàk walked in. “Oi, Tubbo, your husband is here”.
This time, he cursed out loud: “Fuck!”
His courted, traitorous as he was, giggled and left.

“Soz augu arestalo damai, Pepito!” Roierek bellowed. He run after the kid, who was trying to go after Quákitis. When he caught him, he locked the door, plopping Pepito on the ground next to some paper. “Iste ankios!”
After throwing some wax colours at the kid, he sat next to his husband, who was already scribbling furiously on his notebook.
Quackity had been awfully elusive, just gave them Pepito, mumbled something about a funeral to organize and left.
Honestly, rude.
Kélbitros had had no time to ask questions and that was probably the plan, if Q’s fast walk was any indication.
Roier’s eyes lingered on the shrinking figure outside the window, pensive.

Then he looked at his kid, fuck Pepito.
He let out a miserable sound, sliding down in the chair.
Cellbit didn’t stop scribbling, just used his left hand to draw shapes in the skin of his neck.
Reassuring, but Roierek wanted his full attention.
He kicked at the legs of his chair until his husband turned to look at him.

Kélbitros froze.
Roier’s eyes were red, lips tight, ready to curl in a snarl.
“Gumnos” Cellbit breathed, holding his face with both his hands. He looked around, ready to tear into pieces anything that could have caused...this!
“Gwinkos, I can’t! Look at...I can’t!” he gestured wildly at Pepito and released a long string of mumbled curses.
Kélbitros’ eyes widened in understanding and he silently placed his husband on his lap to hug him and drag his hands on his arms and shoulders, grounding him until he calmed down.

The mystery could wait.

And wait it did, until, the next day, in came his sister and Jaiden, toddler of their own in arms.
Roierek whistled, looking at Jaiden’s tired but smiling face with his own tired but smiling face.
“Well ouai” Cellbit commented.
Bagi glared at him, pointing with her head at the children.
Her brother rolled his eyes.
Those in the Filia Territory took education too seriously. It was better to learn some cussing as early as possible, considering.

The kids were sent to play together in what was now Pepito’s room and the adults settled to talk.
Cellbit knew they had to make it fast, since Jaiden and Roier would surely want to watch the sunset together.
“So, two kids. Where does Empanada come from?” he went straight to business.
Bagi took out of her pockets a notebook similar to his own, opening it to a bookmarked page.

Roier and Jaiden had sat in close proximity to whisper and comment on the siblings with ease, almost cuddling.

Bagi smiled at them, but didn’t let it distract her. “The children are the comets, but you already knew that. We just need to figure out how they connect to the song, what it means”.
Kélbitros nodded, then smirked, draped on the chair with far too much confidence. “I have information that the children are supposed to bring big changes and that something like this has happened in the past. But I can’t find anything about it”.
Bhagi was surprised. This information didn’t seem like anything that could be guessed from the song, so it must be true that the informant spoke from experience. “You have already checked it, right?”
Cellbit moved his hand dismissively. “The informant is not someone who would lie to me”.
The Goddess of Longing hummed. Her brother didn’t trust a lot of people and only a few could have this sort of information, the kind that spoke of experience and recognition of patterns. “Was it BhàbBhubKorðn?”
Kélbutros’ smile stretched, but he didn’t answer.
BadBoyHalo? Sure, that was a good guess. She couldn’t know that Fit’s courted had overheard the conversation of a powerful god.
Hell, it could be that the god in question was BabBubKoron, it wasn’t out of his speculations.

“You are right: we should find out how to interpret the song. I think the reason it has been so hard is that it’s incomplete, but the Cosmos wouldn't give us something useless”.
They went to work, moving around pieces of the sentence.
They even transcribed the music to make sure there was no clue in there.
Hours later, Roierek and Jaiden had started singing the song again and again with different voices and intonations just to mess around and to annoy the working twins.
They repeated it so much that it lost all meaning, until it was just a jarble of words.

It was then that Roier said: “Oi, are we searching for like...a metaphor? Can’t it just be literal?”
His husband hit the table with his forehead and didn’t raise again.
Cellbit spoke to the table: “Literally it doesn’t make sense. It’s just three nonsense sentences. ‘The children are singing. The world is on fire. And soon what you desire you shall have’. The children are the children, sure. Why are they singing? What does it mean the world is on fire? Is it because the impact caused some flames? It doesn’t seem right. The only clear part is what we desire, since it seems like the Cosmos decided we want children”.
Roierek tilted his head.
“It’s not three, you idiot, it’s two” he claimed.
Bhagi nodded tiredly. “Yes: ‘The children are singing, the world’s on fire. And soon what you desire you shall have. There is a comma between the first two”.
Kélbitros jumped straight. “That doesn’t change anything!”
“You are both stupid: it’s a colon. The children are in the meteors, so they sing that the world is on fire! There, easy!”

For a full minute, everyone looked at Roier with slacked jaws.
Then they looked at the stack of notes on the table.
Jaiden tried to make things better: “Well, it was meant for Foolish, he’s not the type for riddles. So...it wasn’t really one. She showed him the comets, basically told him there were children there and that they were ours. Mystery solved?”
This time, the twins hit the table with their faces at the same time.
A long, pained sound filled the room.

Roierek stood up and stretched.
“Me and Jaiden are going to see the sunset. Get some alcohol for later, you two” he announced.
The only answer he got was a second groan of pain.

The news came in this order.
-Fulisestis had had thirty to forty fights with BhàbBhubKorðn;
-Karoi and Emariàn had reconciled, then fought, then reconciled;
-When people had gone to find Tūbhos, they had found an eery atmosphere in his temple, no trace of the God of Time and a very stressed God of Invention;
-The preparations for the offers to the Cosmos were almost finished and Terpale had somehow found a way to profit from it;
-Smalrāt and others form the Creation Territory had started painting one of the rooms of the council building with the saga of the recent happenings;
-Someone had died...again;
-Fit was nowhere to be seen;
-Children were falling from the sky.

Roierek decided to ask his dad more questions, while Kélbitros did the same with BhàbBhub.
Unsurprisingly, the Rushing Gloom and the Being of Dust and Decay, came to an unsettling conclusion: Fit and Tubbo were super dead.
They both came crying to the castle, mother and son clinging to each other in grief.
“I can’t believe Quackity didn’t invite me to the funeral! That’s horrible!” Foolish whined in his cup of medhu.
His son gave him a handkerchief to blow his nose and he did so loudly.
“Things won’t be the same without Fit, man! He was going to get married, man! Nobody should die without being married!” Roier echoed, nursing his seventh cup and rocking back and forth.

Their call and answer of sad things went on for another hour, before Kélbitros was back.
When he entered, he found the room in a pool of golden tears and his husband with eyes too red to keep them open. Both gods had apparently drunk and cried themselves silly.
He approached with soft comforting sounds and put Roier on his shoulder to get him away from the water. “Time for a bath and then some sleep, Gumnos” he declared.
Head upside down, Roierek huffed. “Yes, yes, whatever, we were finished. I’ll just cry some more in the bathtub”.
Brows furrowed in concern, Cellbit sighed and took in the mess that was his mother in law. “Dad, do you need me to call papa?”
At that, Fulisestis’ crying doubled, cup abandoned on the wet ground.
His tears came out of his eyes like two little waterfalls, multiplying as they fell because of his powers.

Then he seemed to suddenly get a hold of himself and tried to stand up.
Kélbitros helped him steady himself and was surprised when he saw his expression.
He looked sober now, a grave expression on his face.
“Son, it’s better that you hear it from me” he started.
A chill went down Cellbit’s back.
“What is it? Who made Roier cry?”
The call for blood started rising in him, not quelled by the words Foolish spoke: “Fit and Tubbo are dead. Roier thinks that the god that Tubbo overheard found out and killed them both”.
Ice filled his veins and rage his mind.
For a few seconds, all he could see was red.
This was his fault: he should have insisted that Fit tell him everything. Now he was dead and Tubbo with him. What about his son? How long ago had it happened?

Roier snored loudly, snapping him out of it.

He breathed in deeply to clear up as much of the red as he could.
“When did this happen?” he asked.
Foolish just scrolled his head. He didn’t know.
He opened his mouth a few times before he was able to talk. “Tubbo was my friend. When we find that son of a bitch, I’m going to kill them and then unkill them until the Cosmos itself intervenes”.
The King of the Mystery Territory nodded once with resolution. “I’ll help you. Nobody kills one of my people and lives in peace”.

With hearts heavy and anger in their veins, the next day they travelled to the Death Territory to ask the Goddess of the Afterlife an audience with the dead.
Roierek stayed home with Pepito and Richas to keep an eye and a hear on the lookout. The territory would not manage itself and couldn’t suffer the absence of both its kings, especially in the wake of the death of one of its most active and powerful members.
Since he very much felt like a wife left home by her husband gone to work, he decided to sit on the throne in the clothes of Melita.
His dear subjects tended to stammer a whole lot more in her presence and that made ruling easy.
Cellbit almost wanted to stay, since it had been a long time since he had had the pleasure to chat with her. When he said so, she just scoffed and patted his ass, telling him to bring her back something pretty.
With the headspace he was in, he pondered bringing her the tears, the blood and the eyes of their enemy. She would have liked it, he betted.

But, Melita notwithstanding, duty called; so, he and Fulisestis went to Kristin’s temple with resolve and the might of their authority.
There, surrounded by the crows of a dozen of murders, they walked through the halls in search of the main room.
The smell of flowers was almost intoxicating and both gods felt their rage wash away as time went on.
Their grief met consolation within those walls and, while their resolve hadn’t weakened, they felt more steady and no more blinded by resentment.
It was then that they arrived in front of two golden doors. When they pushed to open them, they were surprised in finding them warm to the touch.
Now that Cellbit noticed it, everything was warm, there: the perfect temperature for a nap.

Not five minutes after the two gods went in, a shrill feminine laughter was heard in the room, then the cussing of a very angry, very frustrated spirit.

The next day, when Fit came back to work, sure that he would have a lot of explaining to do, nobody asked a single question or batted an eye.
There was some awkwardness, sure, like his kings were hiding something from him; but he really should have expected that they would already be aware of everything: one does not become the ruler of the Mystery Territory without the abilities to back it up.
Already a day later, they were teasing him for his ‘honeymoon’ and someone threw at him the folder with the results of the investigation he had missed on and instructions to keep an eye on the children.
All was well.

Chapter Text

Tubbo’s face got smashed against a very firm, very big chest. The arms holding him against it felt immensurable and unmovable, hard like metal and smoulderingly hot.
“The tracks got messed up” the god spoke in a surprisingly light and even voice.
Tūbhos could feel the words against his cheek before they made their way to his ears.
“It’s fine, king. I’ll fix it” he answered.
He tried to give an awkward pat to his back, but he found that he couldn’t quite reach an optimal patting place.
“It might have been my fault” he added, squeezing him briefly.
Tubbo snorted. “Yeah, I bet”.
He was starting to feel a bit suffocated.
“I didn’t make progress on the monster at all”. Foolish hid his face on his shoulder, looking everything like a pillbug and nothing like a God of the Undying.
Tūbhos sighed, this time able to reach his head for some pats. “You need my help anyway for the alive-tech, so it’s chill, bossman”.
The warmth was starting to make him sleepy, but he forced himself to stay awake: he had missed his business partner a lot.
The presence of his friends in his temple and the great number of cuddles had imprinted in him the habit to nap at odd hours and Foolish was so very warm and reliable.

The next words were spoken against his collarbone and the memory of past interest traversed his skin in goosebumps. “Fobo missed you, man”.
Tubbo shut his eyes tightly, cutting that part of their past relationship from himself with the coldness and precision of a surgeon.
His head cleared up and he could answer sincerely: “You were missing for more. Hang around more often, yeah?”
He was released from the hug and could finally look Fulisestis in the eyes, half closed because of the huge grin across his face, all sharp teeth and cheeriness.
Foolish shook him from the shoulders, making his head feel like a rattle.
“You’re courting Fit?!?” was his friend shout, loud enough that it echoed on the walls of the temple.
Fuck, the others better not have heard him: he wanted a minute with him before things started being complicated. Unfinished bonds made people sensitive to things that could endanger them and Fit had shown to become anxious when he believed something could go wrong, while Pac became devious: in short, they could be territorial, they had even admitted as such by the window.
“And Pàk, I’m courting both of them” he couldn’t help but add, happiness in his voice both by the ability to state as such and how genuinely happy Foolish looked for him.
“Aw, man, you’re right that I stayed away too long. And what about your daughter? We should arrange playdates with Leo! Are they all here? I should thank them for saving my business partner. I must arrange for a joined temple at Fobo”.

Foolish started walking inside, barely noticing the hands against his chest trying to keep him in place.
Tūbhos needed a game plan, he needed a second, he needed...
The God of the Undying stopped in his tracks, but Tubbo didn’t have the time to feel relived, because he caught the distant look on his face and the grimace that traversed it before being carefully tucked away behind a gentle smile.
When that ancient gaze fell on him, he felt painfully closer to the young god he had been when they met for the first time.
He hoped his mouth would stay shut.
It didn’t.
“Does this mean that you are not sad anymore?”
“I wasn’t sad. I was angry”.
Foolish shrugged.
“You still pissed, then?”
“Yeah, but it’s different now”.
The memory of when things were not different made their godhood hum, eyes shining briefly. They both knew fury.
“Makes sense. Well, I’m happy for you. Great things ahead and all that”.
Tubbo untensed and sighed, before putting on his best charming smile, and nodded.

Alright, it was probably time to rip the band aid.
“Here. The children are at the Filia Territory with Tommy and Mike, but I want to introduce you to my courted”.
With both hands, he took hold of his arm and tugged him further inside, towards the main room where Fit and Pàk were chatting over a cup of pibo. It always eased something in him when he saw them together, relaxing in his temple as if it was their own.
When their eyes turned on him and his guest, he took a deep breath and walked over to leave a chaste kiss on their lips.
Would that calm the territoriality? He hoped so.

As soon as Tūbhos took a step back from Pàk, lips still tingling from the kiss, he was pushed forward by long fingers curling on his hips.
A longer kiss, this one more languid, melted his bones in a cloud of want.
When he breathed air that didn’t taste of electricity, it took him a second to understand why that was, having forgotten that a world existed outside of Pac, air existed other than his breath.
He tried to glare at Pac, but his righteous protest was undermined by Fulisestis’ whistle.
Pàk’s self-satisfied smile faltered at the embarrassed heat that coated Tūbhos’ cheeks at the sound, but grew again soon enough.

Fit, arms crossed, stepped towards Foolish.
“Hello again, Fulisestis. It’s nice to meet again such a close friend of our Tubbo” he stated. “Where have you been the past weeks? Tubbo could have used a ‘mate’. Right, Pac?”
That was downright mean, wasn’t it?
Pàk put his chin on Tūbhos’ shoulder and hummed gently.
“Maybe? We had everything under control, so... he wasn’t really needed. He must have had much to do elsewhere, after all”.
Fulisestis squared up, shark teeth lining up for a dangerous smile.
He laughed as carefree as he usually looked, but the room felt colder, the air almost as thick as water.
“I see” he said slowly. “Is it in the habit of smaller gods to be passive aggressive? Are you too scared to speak straight to you betters?”
Ok, this was fucking spiralling.
Tūbhos tried to step between the three before they started something, but he was stopped by Pac’s digits digging into his waist to keep him close.
“Let go” he whispered.
“It’s alright, let us” the other whispered back in his ear.

Was it insane that he kinda wanted to see how it would turn out?
Yep, it was. He was just as sick in the head as they were. Just great.
He told himself it was only because the bond was pleased by their behaviour. Nothing more.
He would step in if things worsened.

Fit was visibly seething, but managed to restrain himself and scoffed. “We were just being kind: it would be nice if you apologized before we had to call you out. It’s called being subtle and considerate”.
Fulisestis rolled his eyes and walked towards the table to serve himself a cup of pibo. When he was close enough to his friend, he winked at him and hid his playful smile behind the glass.
Pàk nestled himself better against Tūbhos, following Foolish with his gaze.
The latter took a sip of pibo and smacked his lips, before saying: “So you do have a problem with me. What’s that?”

This was all so very petty.
Why was nobody cringing? Tūbhos hazarded a glance at his entourage, only to see them enjoying the spectacle with both amusement and fondness.
And that wink had told him that Foolish was purposefully messing around, taking advantage at the sensitivity from the bond to poke some fun at them.
Children, the lot of them!

“Tubbo was kidnapped and you didn’t show your face once!” Pàk snarled, as possessive as he was protective over his own.
Confusion then anger flickered in the eyes of the God of the Undying, air electric from the meeting of his powers with Pac’s. They didn’t clash, just sparkled. For now.
Fulisestis’ voice was as icy as the ocean depths: “And did anybody think of telling me? Fit, you knew we are friends, we spoke when you investigated the song, but you didn’t say a word of Tubbo missing! Should I take offence at that? Should I demand apologies from you? Because I can do that!”
All of a sudden, the pressure became suffocating. The knees of the deities present buckling under it, before they run away.

But Tūbhos thought that this was quite enough and freed his power from the tight clutch in which he usually kept it. It cascaded over, overflowing them.
The room was painted in the most beautiful blue, reflected on every marble surface. Tranquillity, dignity, decorum, stability.
The power of contrivance, held expertly in his fingers, kept him logical and steady, washing away any irrationality from the room.
Fulisestis was stronger than him, but this was his temple and the terror of the abyss turned in the calm of the never changing lake.
It was with playfulness that his power greeted Pàk’s energy in the room, pledging to make together, electric poison blooming in promise.
Then it nudged at Fit’s power to invite it in the room, so that it would unveil the game that Fulisestis was playing. Fit raised a brow, curious, but submitted to the request.
His courted had felt righteous in their questioning, both because of the unease brought from the bond and the protectiveness that had plagued them from the start and more so after the recent happenings.
But the blue was calculating and cruel, it left no space for delusions.
It showed suppositions of real hurt in the God of the Undying. He had not known anything; he had not worried to check on his friend and he had feared to have lost him.
It showed Fit’s fear that anything could shake the balance, bring Tūbhos to distance himself; his need to be on Pàk’s side even in the wrong.
It showed Pàk’s desperation in holding his people close, his fear that a distraction could bring them to leave him behind, how the fear of being alone crept constantly at the corner of his mind.
And it showed nothing of Tūbhos. He alone stood whole and unveiled, scary and godly.
The power of information revealed the truthfulness of those theories and nudged the power of invention for a solution.
The blue buzzed with electricity, invention making use of the paths inside contrivance to bounce ideas and scheme.
It was soon clear to all the gods gathered that the solution was to start again, to speak sincerely and plainly, use the formal channels to bring forth their natures safely.
The blue subsided and disappeared, leaving four gods and the sunlight bathing the room in gentle warmth.

“Fit, Pàk, I’m pleased to introduce Fulisestis, God of the Undying, with whom I share a bond of friendship and partnership, so that he can be to you known and you to him”. Tūbhos’ voice rang clear and pleased, gentle in the curve of their names. He walked closer to his friend and pushed him closer to the other two with a firm hand.
Foolish blushed and bowed his head briefly, before fumbling to reach the table and put down the cup.
“I, Fulisestis, greet formally Fit and Pàk. From today they are to me dear for their courted is of my shoal and I’ll stand vigil so that the bond will be completed safely and healthily” he recited.
Tubbo was surprised. He didn’t know Foolish considered him shoal. Why had he never said anything? Oh, man, he was going to get all soft and moved now.
Fit and Pàk shared a glance and the first stepped up.
“I, Fit, am happy to be introduced to Fulisestis, acknowledge his bond and submit myself to his vigil”.
The smile that Tubbo sent him was worth it: warm and loving and happy.
It only now occurred to him that such an introduction was soothing his bond, since it was creating definite positions and roles; something he didn’t know he needed.
Now that it was his turn, Pàk shook his hands to hype himself up and shake some lingering nerves, then he took a small breath. “I, Pàk, am pleased to be acquainted to you. I wish for us to always meet in friendship and will trust in your vigil”.
It didn’t escape anyone that his phrasing made clear that he would not renounce Tubbo in any circumstance, but that was alright.
Foolish snickered and Tūbhos flashed him a most blinding smile.

“Great” Foolish said. “Now I can thank you for saving this idiot”.
Tubbo sputtered, turning to his friend in betrayal.
“Surely you didn’t just call me an idiot”.
“Oh, no. I think I did”.
Fit’s lips curved in half a smile. “Honestly”, he joined him, “only Tubbo could know that he was getting kidnapped and still follow his captor for no reason”.
And as usual, Tubbo regretted introducing his courted to his friends.

From afar, it looked as if the window looked over green plains and cyan skies, bathed in golden light.
He came from outside, that much was clear.
Fit and Pàk were kissing sweetly and slowly, lost in the taste of one other and encouraged by Tubbo’s gaze on them, eyes white and burning like Prometeus’ fire.
When Fit tilted Pac’s head to change the angle, the God of Time slipped up and the knot he was working on tightened. He started cussing so loudly that he didn’t hear the snickers of his courted.
Then Pàk, amidst a giggle, looked up just so that he witnessed the light curving in a silhouette.

Outside the window was a young man.
Then the young man was climbing inside.
His food had barely touched the ground, that Fit and Pàk were on him, pinning him down.
“Who are you?” Fit snarled angrily.
“How did you find this place?” Pàk asked viciously.
“Can you please let go of my dad?” Tubbo requested politely.

Fit and Pac stopped, eyes focusing with more calm on the stranger, who gifted them a smile with too many teeth, part mischievous, part fond.
He didn’t seem real, in a way. As if someone had crudely drawn the approximation of what a god should look like.
His hair were dark, tight curls, all perfectly identical. There really were too many teeth in his mouth. The skin was the same shade as Pàk, but no sign of pores, veins or blemishes could be seen, as if there was nothing under it: no bones and no muscle.
It occurred to them, that everybody would describe the Cosmos as a being that looked like them, but strikingly different.

Fit jumped back, hands raised; but Pàk lingered, looking the stranger in the eyes. In the past, he had hoped with all his strength that the Cosmos loved him, that the horrible things that happened to him were for his good.
Mortals didn’t have benign gods: the gods of Kauleuke could bring them prosperity or ruin, which is why they were oh so careful with their offers and prayers.
But the gods had the Cosmos. It made them, gave them knowledge, arranged their destinies so that everything would fall neatly and, as it imprinted on them, it loved them.
It was hard to believe when he was hurting, when many days were passed in pain.
And now he looked in eyes that were supposed to love him and searched.
The stranger raised a hand and carded it carefully through his locks. It was warm.
“Hello, Pàk” it whispered.
“Why?” But even while asking, he found himself nuzzling against the hand.
Fit watched, alert.
“He’s you friend, he needed help. You wouldn’t mind, I knew. Just a piece of you to complete his picture”.
Pàk chocked on nothing.
It was Fit that spoke: “What of the drugs. Him having to do that, was it you?”

All of a sudden, Tūbhos was on his feet, walking towards them in a hurry. “Stop it. Don’t ask him questions. He lies. He can’t really explain in a way we can understand, so he lies. Do not listen”.
He grabbed Pàk, trying to get him away and hide him in a hug.
Pac felt boneless, so he let him, curling on himself like a wounded animal.
Fit didn’t avert his gaze from the Cosmos, wary and conflicted.
“What do you want, dad?” Tubbo demanded. He was tense. He didn’t want his courted to be here, if the Cosmos had come.
Usually, he didn’t mind his visits: it had made him twice, had helped him in remaking himself and remaking time and forgetting. In his first childhood Tommy was there. For the second, he was alone. Except for the Cosmos, never staying, teaching him duty and songs.
“Just checking on you. How is your body doing? Do you want a new one to conciliate first you and second you? Do you want to forget? You can start again, if you want: erase the last months or the last eras, see them again” it spoke. But lies. It was all lies.

Tūbhos thought is was a way to make him reveal everything to Fit and Pac; then that it was bait.
He wasn’t wrong. It’s just that the bait wasn’t for him.
“If you can bring back the people he cares about, why not the children?” Fit hissed.
One thing was when ancient gods died to make space to new ones. The universe was ever changing and so Kauleuke had to be. But the children...it had created a rift.
It was Tubbo that answered: “That’s not what he’s saying. That’s not how time works. And it’s not what this is about”.
“Then give me some information so I can understand, instead of talking down on me”.
“I’m not doing that! Why are you being a dick?”
“Maybe because you called dad the thing that took away Pac’s leg”.
“That was your king, bossman. Fucking learn what freewill is. Last I checked you didn’t have a problem with Kelbitros”.
“That’s not the same, he changed”.

Silence stretched in the infinite darkness. Pàk didn’t move, didn’t dare.

“Well, I didn’t. I killed an entire territory and didn’t change one bit. But you are courting me”.
Fit blinked, his brain rewiring to face this accusation. It didn’t feel true.
“That’s not true. You entirely remade yourself. You told Quackity that that person died with his family”.
Tūbhos scoffed. “As you noticed, I call him dad: the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I might just be a liar too”.
Fit crossed his arms, feeling like there was something weird with this conversation, something he wasn’t catching. But one thing he knew: “My power allows me to see through lies. You could never lie to me, even if you tried. I know that you changed, I know that it’s the truth. You are not that person anymore.

He’s dead”.

Tubbo felt on fire, tears gathering at the edge of his eyelids.
His chest was burning.
Pàk made an alarmed sound, pressing closer in the hug to comfort him.
Fit hesitated, but then it suddenly downed on him: Tubbo had remembered, not only the people he lost, but also the person he was. He had had time to grieve his child, or at least time to be in pain because of it. But he had never grieved for the Tubbo that would never be again: Tommy’s Tubbo.
He came closer and joined the hug, murmuring sorrys against his hair.
If this was his mind, Fit wondered for a destabilizing second, why was it so big, lonely and dark; so silent before they invaded it?
As soon as they were all hugging together, Tūbhos came undone and his tears didn’t stop for a very long time.
None of the three noticed that the Cosmos had disappeared.

It didn’t go unnoticed how Pàk had started disappearing for days at a time and Tūbhos would have sincerely been worried, if not for the fact that when Pàk was around he had the air of a cat who had caught a big, fat, rat, as Fit had described it.
He was tempted to just tug at a string to see what this was about, but he had the feeling that he should really wait for this one and be patient.
Also, not all evil came to harm and this was giving him the opportunity to work on his little side projects with his courted being none the wiser.
Sunny was happy to help and Ramónos was the perfect accomplice, always ready to distract his dad with his own projects.
It was also a good thing that the God of Information had work to do, so while the kids stayed at the Filia Territory or with Phil, he had ample time to dedicate to the more dangerous parts of his crafting.

Right now, Siuannis, after having absolutely roasted Arnerudos with questions, still hyped up from the time passed with Bamana at her temple (it was considered a good idea to make the comet-children be around her as much as possible, so that she could be sure they grew up healthily and happily and that anything strange would be noticed and addressed), was sketching a couple of idea for the designs on her own very royal, serious desk.
Tūbhos, in the meantime, was grinding the ancient stone with a pestle, the southing sound reverberating quietly in the room.

In the Creation Territory, Pàk was putting together his baby.
The surface was smooth and cold, with onyx covering the channels through which the energy would travel. The portal itself was simple to make and put together. The hard part was the interaction board and the modulator, that were requiring all his concentration to not fuck up.
The modulator was filled with an incredible number of metal sheets, all delicately carved with the letters of the LdC or SR Language.
Infinitesimally small beaded strings, braided together, connected to the interaction board.
Not even his delicate fingers could really help, so he was using his tools, not all that different from the ones he used when he was a thief.
It wasn’t the first time he was putting it all together, since this was already the seventh trial, but he already knew that he would need to this quite a bit of times, since many problems could be identified only with the machine put together and could be solved only with it in pieces.

Concentrating on this was helping with his mind too. Fit and Tubbo helped, of course. Many weeks had passed by the window since the Cosmos’ visit and it wasn’t troubling him as much anymore. Tubbo was better too. They had talked and cuddled and talked and kissed. But it stayed on the back, ready to gnaw at him as soon as his mind emptied.
He knew it was lies, but the dangerous thing is that...if somebody told him that a friend needed a piece of him to become whole, he would do it. Maybe not really, but a part of him wanted to.
If he thought about it too long, he would go crazy.
So throwing his mind on the machine it was and maybe, with time, things would get better.

In random moments while he sorted through documents, Fit asked himself if they knew that he knew. It wasn’t necessary to be a genius to figure out they were moving things up in the courting by exchanging gifts.
Fit and Pàk had done so a long time ago, when the nature of the forming bond between them was still vague. Fit had given him materials and tales of inventions from distant lands and shared how his prosthetic had come to be; Pàk had taught him how to improve on it, had gifted him cameras and spywares and shared with him any scrap of information he could get his hands on. Then, with their friendship, the gifting had ever stopped.
But even doing everything right, their bond had remained stuck, never completing; until Tūbhos came in their lives and it started growing again.
Now they had to bring him up to speed and they would finally stand equally, bond-wise.
That was the plan.
But Fit was truly, utterly fucked, because he had no idea what to gift Tubbo and the idea to ask for suggestions made him nauseous.
How does one gift time? Maybe by giving something that could stand it? Something eternal?

“How the fuck do I do that?”

Chapter Text

To some, the smile of the God of the Undying was fearsome: sharp teeth decorated his mouth and a strange glint could often be found in his eyes.

Sunny knew she was special in that Foolish cared for her, so, when he sat next to her on the steps of the temple, she dropped her weight on him with a soft sound.
Still, she couldn't stop her tears, no matter how many times she rubbed at her face and took big breaths. She must have looked so ugly right now. She really didn't want her pa' to see her like that.
Foolish was alright, though. He just stayed there, quietly humming until the tears stopped a bit.
“So, Sunny", maybe that's why, when he whispered, it still startled her a little, "why are we crying?”
The question almost made her start crying all over again.
How to explain? It seemed so complicated inside her head.
“Lullah doesn’t like me. No one does. They just put up with me and then they can’t anymore” she expressed, golden light shifting restlessly under her skin.
Fulisestis hummed, eyes drifting from her to where he knew Tūbhos was working on his gifts. They truly were father and daughter, he thought.
“I like you a lot” he stated matter of factly. “I think you are smart, charming and all the good things in the world”.
Sunny had the half thought to straighten up and start boasting, but it felt as though she couldn’t gather up enough to do that. The dimmest candle with the shortest wick.
“I’m too much. I burn and there is nothing left. Not even for me”.
To hear her talk like that was almost physically painful for Foolish; not only because he was quite familiar with the feeling, but because for a moment it brought him far away both in time and space.
“You know, the sun it’s just perfect: if it was any smaller or any colder, mortals would all be dead. The only times when people feel like it’s too hot is when they have made a mistake: polluted the air, traveled to a place not made for them, chosen the wrong outfit…”
“Uncle Foolish, you are not making much sense”.
The god stopped, surprised. “Ah, I suppose I’m not, am I? Sorry”
The little goddess smiled, tears dry and cheeks warm. “It’s okay, you’re perfect like this”.
“Thank you, Sunny”.

Sunny woke to the soft hum of her father’s presence. Tubbo stood by the window of her room, looking at her designs for crowns and dresses and castles. For an instant, she could almost imagine the ribbons of time bending faintly around him.

He wasn’t just the God of Time; he was her pa’—a title that, in her heart, carried more weight than all his divine accolades combined.
Being with him settled and agitated her in equal measure: his never ending love comforted her infinitely, but he himself was not a man at peace and it carried over to her like a disease. At times she could taste it, his insecurities and his resignation, the fire in him that never let him truly rest.
Nonetheless, he was her pillar and her roof. She felt safe with him and in his temple, no matter how simple and in dire need of decorations it was.

But today, there was an air of excitement mixed with tension in the house. The Courting, as the gods called it, was entering what she had already dubbed her favourite phase: gift-giving.

The gifts were supposed to be secret, but secrets were hard to keep in a divine household. Sunny knew Tubbo, Fit, and Pac were all caught up in their creations, each working tirelessly to impress the others. And somehow, despite their best efforts, she had become entangled in all of it.

“Sunny, over here!” Fit’s voice rang through the library—a sprawling labyrinth of books, scrolls, and glowing artifacts that seemed to stretch forever. He was the God of Information, and the library was his domain. It would have been a place out of a book, if it wasn’t for the fact that the walls were made of cobblestone and there were only torches to illuminate the place.

The first time she had visited, she had looked at him for a long time in disappointment.

This time, though, Sunny hurried to him, weaving through shelves that whispered secrets as she passed.
Fit was perched on a ladder, his arms laden with scrolls that threatened to tumble at any moment. His chiton was crumpled, his eyes frowning, but his smile was warm.
At the feet of the ladder was Ramón, arms full of his own pile of books and scrolls.
The amusement in his eyes told her that Fit’s behaviour was an anomaly. She had seen him much more calm and composed, that's true; but her first impression of him was not, to say the least, of a composed man. That he didn't usually go around tripping on his feet for people was news for her and it sounded fake.

“I need your hands,” Fit said, waving her over. “Careful now, these are ancient blueprints. One wrong move, and they might dissolve into stardust.”

Sunny rolled her eyes but obeyed, steadying the scrolls as Fit climbed down. “What are these for?” she asked, even though she knew he wouldn’t tell her outright. The gods were nothing if not dramatic about their secrets.

“For a project,” he said cryptically, a twinkle in his eye. “And I need your help sorting through the Index of Ideas. Think you can handle that?”

She nodded, eager to dive into the task. The Index was a massive, living book that cataloged every idea ever conceived. It hissed and shifted as she approached, the pages flipping of their own accord.

Hours melted away as Fit and Ramón worked, their fingers tracing over illuminated script, while she was mostly dotting down things she wanted her pa’ to get her. Other gods occasionally wandered by, muttering to themselves or offering bits of advice and light-hearted conversation. By the time they broke for lunch, Sunny was bored to death. Whatever Fit was making, it was going to be incredible, but the process had to be considered a form of torture somewhere in the world.

Pac’s workshop was the complete opposite of Fit’s library. Where the library was quiet and kind of empty, if not wild in its lack of refinement and decoration, the workshop was chaos incarnate in its clutter. Sparks flew, gears turned on their own, and half-finished inventions filled every surface. Pac himself was at the center of it all, the God of Invention in his element.

“Sunny!” he called, his voice booming. “Perfect timing. I need a second opinion and Ramón just left with Chayanne and Leonarda”.
She curled her nose at the mention of the son of Philza, remembering well that she was still to apologise. Well, it was Lullah’s fault, wasn't it?
Then she remembered to frown also at the mention of Leo, on principle.

Sunny ducked under a flying cogwheel and joined Pac at a massive workbench. In the center was a peculiar contraption—a box that seemed to shimmer and shift as if it couldn’t decide what shape it wanted to be.
“What is it?” she asked, tilting her head.
“A gift,” he said, grinning. “or rather a part of it. I can't get it to integrate with the rest. Any ideas?”
Sunny leaned in, studying the contraption. She wasn’t a goddess of the Creation Territory, but she always shined the brightest, and her intuition was sharp. “What about a music core?” she suggested.
Pac’s eyes lit up. “You’re a genius, Sunny! Amazing! I knew you were super smart and cool. Just like your pa’!”
He ruffled her hair, and she couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of bells making the space just that tad bit brighter. Helping Pac was always an adventure, and by the time the sun dipped low, she felt like she had helped build something truly special.

When Sunny finally returned to her father, she found him in the forge, where time itself seemed to slow. Tubbo stood before a great spinning wheel, its wood shimmering with the colors of the Ancient Stones. He was frowning, deep in thought, his hands moving in precise, deliberate gestures.

“Pa’?” she called softly.
He turned, his expression softening when he saw her. “Hi, poppet. Busy day? Your escorts told me you walked around a bunch”.
She nodded, stepping closer. “I helped Fit and Pac. They’re both working so hard on their gifts. Are you okay?”
Tubbo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just… trying to make sure everything’s perfect.”
Sunny hesitated, then blurted out the question that had been nagging at her all day. “Do you ever feel like… like you’re running out of time?”
He looked at her, startled, and then chuckled. “I am the God of Time, you know. Surely I don't have to worry about that too! Surely!”
“No, I mean…” She trailed off, fidgeting. “Do you ever feel like you’re being left behind?”
The question hit the god like a brick, memories of days and weeks spent cursed by insomnia because of that same question.
Tubbo’s face softened, and he crouched down to her level. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”
She nodded, tears welling up. “You’re always so busy, and Fit and Pac are amazing, but they already have their children and I’m just… here. What if I can’t keep up?”
Tubbo pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. “Sunny, listen to me. You’re not just ‘here.’ You’re a part of this family, of this… you are my family, you're my everything, above everyone. And you’re more than enough, just as you are.”
“But what if you leave me behind?” she whispered.
“I won’t,” he said firmly. “Not ever. And you know what? Fit and Pac see how special you are too. That’s why they let you help with their gifts. They trust you, just like I do. You make everything better”
Sunny sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Really?”
“Really,” he said, smiling. “Now, how about you help me finish this? I could use a fresh perspective. And worse comes to worst, we can use the same parts to build a bomb, destroy everything and run away, only me and you”.
“...Pa’, - Sunny looked at him with an unreadable expression - do you need a nap?”
“C’mon, poppet! It would be an adventure!”
Even through the exasperation, it made her smile.

Together, they worked on Tubbo’s gift, the hour growing late. Sunny didn’t know what the final products would be, but she could feel the love and care her father poured into every detail. It wasn’t just gifts for Fit and Pac; it was a piece of him, a testament to everything he held dear.

By the time they were done, the forge was quiet, and the spinning wheel glowed softly in the dim light. Sunny yawned, leaning against her father’s side.
For the last minutes she had been daydreaming about a princess being cursed with a spinning wheel to eternal sleep.
“Time for bed, poppet” he said, scooping her up.
As he carried her back to their bedrooms, Sunny felt the weight of her earlier fears lifting. She didn’t have all the answers, but for now, she was content. She belonged here, with her father, with their family. And that was enough.

The Assembly Plain, as it had been dubbed by the children, was quiet, save for the low rustle of a warm breeze weaving through the tall grass. Charionåuiə stood on the freshly leveled plot, his hands resting on his hips, the weight of his own expectations pressing down on him as he examined the space. He hadn’t slept much—Tāllūlla’s words about Sunny still gnawed at the back of his mind, making every decision feel heavier than it should.

“Still staring at dirt, are we?” Sunny’s voice rang out like a bell, soft and sharp at once.

Chayanne froze, the muscles in his shoulders tightening. Of course she’d show up today, of all days.
When he turned, Siuannis was approaching with her usual flair. The golden robe she wore shimmered like liquid light, catching the last rays of the setting sun. Her small frame made her look delicate, but her presence carried an undeniable weight. Next to her was a deity, surprisingly not from her father’s court, but Fit’s.

“I thought,” Sunny continued, her tone light but pointed, “that I might find you here. I figured you’d need someone to balance out all this... dreariness.”
“I’m not in the mood, Sunny,” Charionåuiə said flatly, turning back to his outline.
“Not in the mood?” Sunny echoed, her brows furrowing slightly. she hesitated, lingering at the edge of the plot.
There was a beat of silence, and then Sunny stepped closer, her sandals crunching softly against the dirt. “I’m serious, Chayanne. I’m here to help.”
Chayanne glanced over his shoulder. “Help with what? Adding unnecessary flourishes that’ll cost a fortune and take months to finish?”
Siuannis winced but kept her composure. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“What’s not fair,” Chayanne snapped, rounding on her, “is you acting like you’re the only one who cares about this place looking good. We’re building something for everyone, not just a monument to your ego.”
Sunny’s eyes widened, and her golden glow dimmed ever so slightly. She opened her mouth to speak but faltered. She felt like crying, but really didn’t want to.
Chayanne pressed on. “You have no idea how hard it is trying to get everything right. And you wouldn’t, because you don’t take anything seriously, do you? You just... float in with your sparkles and ideas and act like the rest of us are being unreasonable.”
Sunny took a step back, her voice quiet. “That’s not true.”

Chayanne’s gaze burned with frustration, but as the words settled, so did his anger. The sight of Sunny, so subdued and out of sorts, twisted his chest in a way he hadn’t expected. She was small, truly small. How old was she again? A month?

Sunny shifted uncomfortably, her golden glow flickering like a candle caught in a draft.
“I—I was going to apologize,” she said softly, her voice tinged with guilt. “For the letter. And for making you feel like... like I didn’t respect you.”
Chayanne blinked, his momentum stalling.
“I wanted to apologize days ago,” Sunny continued, her hands fidgeting with the edges of her robe. “But after Lullah—” her voice caught, and she shook her head. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to hear it.”
Chayanne’s jaw tightened at the mention of his sister. Lullah’s words had been cutting—her anger at Siuanni’s behavior fierce enough to worry the divine crows. But now, standing in front of Sunny, who looked so small despite the radiance she carried, the edges of that anger began to soften.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” Chayanne asked quietly.
“I didn’t know how,” Sunny admitted. “You were already…mad?, and Lullah... She’s not wrong, you know. I am a bit too much. I just thought—” she took a shaky breath, meeting his gaze. “I thought it would be easier if I stayed away.”
Charionåuiə sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sunny, you’re exhausting. You really are. But—” He hesitated, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. “I’d rather you say what you’re thinking. Even if it pisses me off. Your opinion is important and it’s going to be even more vital after- forget it. You get what I mean”.

Sunny’s glow brightened slightly, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
“Depends,” Chayanne said, his tone lighter now. “Are you still planning to suggest marble pillars?”
Sunny let out a soft laugh, and for the first time in days, the space between them didn’t feel like a battlefield.

“Well,” came a new voice from behind them, low and calm, “this is progress.”

Both gods turned to see Philsàk leaning casually against a nearby tree, his expression amused but carefully neutral. He stepped forward, his presence grounding the space like a steady tide.

“Sunny,” he said with a small smile, “it’s good to see you talking instead of arguing. Chayanne, same goes for you.”

Chayanne bowed slightly, but the smile on his lips ruined the picture of stoicism. Sunny, meanwhile, gave Philza a sheepish look.
“I was just about to suggest we find a compromise,” Sunny said quickly, her tone overly cheerful.
Philsàk raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what does that look like?”
Sunny hesitated, glancing at Chayanne. “Well... strong materials for the foundation, of course. Practical stuff, like Chayanne wants. But maybe... just a little ornamentation. Something to make it feel special.”
She more muttered then said the next part: “Hoping that Lullah will want to help me”.
Chayanne studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. As long as it doesn’t delay things, I’ll talk to my sister for you”
Siuannis’s face lit up, and she clasped her hands together. “Perfect! I promise you’ll both love it.”
“Good,” Philza said with a nod. “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s get to work. Sunny, you can sketch out some ideas while Chayanne and I start marking where the supports will go.”
“Wait, you’ll help me?” Charionåuiə was surprised. He hadn’t even thought of receiving help from his dad. It wasn’t a possibility. He was so sure that he had to do it all alone, that the sudden relief was almost too much.
“Of course, mate. I’m here for you”. Philsàk’s smile was less carefully crafted than usual, some uncertainty in the lines of his eyes.
Sunny beamed, already taking a small, glowing notebook from the hands of the deity that accompanied her. Chayanne watched her for a moment, shaking his head but smiling faintly despite himself.

As the three gods began to work, the tension that had lingered like a storm cloud finally lifted, carried away by the breeze. Above them, the first stars began to emerge, her light soft and steady, mirroring the quiet understanding that had finally settled between the children.