Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rain hadn’t let up since dusk. It ran hard against the apartment window, streaming down in thick, crooked lines that turned the lights of Silverfish Street into soft, flickering blurs. The world outside was lit up and lonely.

Inside, the apartment was dim and quiet. The microwave clock blinked quietly. The fridge rattled sometimes. And Sassafras stood by the window with his hands pressed together, head bowed slightly. He was whispering something, maybe a prayer, maybe a name. One of the little tentacles in his hair curled against his cheek like it was listening.

He didn’t notice Vex standing in the hallway.

“…Why,” Vex said.

Sass flinched a little. He looked like he hadn’t heard Vex come in. He blinked at the window. Then, soft and slow:

“It’s for Angus Richter.”

Vex stepped into the room. “You’re kidding.”

Sass shook his head. “N-no.”

“You’re praying for that guy? The eel with the knife?”

Sass kept his hands pressed together. “Yes.”

“The same one who came into your shop and tried to carve you open in the middle of the herb shelf.”

Sass nodded. “I’m not... I’m not saying he was good. I just…”

“You chainsawed him,” Vex said. “You cut through him like he was a bundle of rope. His blood was everywhere. On you, on the ceiling fan. There’s still probably some behind the till.”

Sass winced. “I know.”

“They never found a body.”

Sass nodded again. “I know.”

Vex folded his arms. “And you’re standing here like it’s a vigil. Like he was your neighbor who died peacefully in bed. What the hell are you doing?”

Sass hesitated, fingers twitching slightly as he lowered his hands to his chest.

“I’m praying,” he said. “Because I believe... because I believe every life is seen. Even when we mess up. Even when we fall apart. Even when we hurt people. I think… I think someone still sees us.”

Vex didn’t say anything.

“I don’t, I don’t think he wanted to die,” Sass said. “Even if he wanted to hurt me. He didn’t talk. I don’t know what he was thinking. But I was the last person to see him alive. And I think... I think that matters.”

Vex frowned. “You think that matters more than the fact that he tried to kill you?”

“No,” Sass said gently. “But I think they’re both true.”

Vex scoffed. “If it were me, I’d be pissing on the floor where it happened. Pissing on his grave if he had one. Maybe leave a sign that says don’t try it next time.”

“He doesn’t have a grave,” Sass said quietly. “But I think every soul deserves rest. Even if it’s not in a grave. Even if it’s just in someone’s memory.”

Vex stared at him.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything,” Sass went on. “I just… I feel like if someone disappears and nobody remembers, it’s like they were never here at all. And I don’t think that’s right.”

“You’re too soft,” Vex muttered. “You’re too nice. And it’s going to get you hurt.”

Sass turned to face him. There was no sharpness in his face. Just a tired sort of peace.

“No,” he said. “You’re wrong. You think not caring makes you strong. It doesn’t.”

Vex stared at him. Sass looked back with those round, watery eyes and didn’t flinch.

“I don’t want to be strong if it means being cruel,” Sass said. “I just want to be kind. I think that matters more.”

He turned back to the window. Pressed his hands together again.

Vex didn’t move for a long time.

He thought about the blood. He thought about the sound that chainsaw made when it tore through scales and organs so soft. He thought about Sass afterward, crumpled on the floor, crying like the worst part wasn’t what had happened but that he’d had to do it.

Now here he was. Not crying. Not breaking down. Just praying, quiet, like he really believed someone might be listening.

Maybe he’s right, Vex thought. Maybe not about everything. But maybe about this.

Vex cleared his throat.

“I’m making tea,” he said. “You want some?”

Sass didn’t turn around. But he nodded.

And the kettle came on. And the prayer went on.

And the rain didn’t stop.

Chapter Text

The tea was almost done. The soft rattle of the kettle rising into a hiss filled the quiet between them. Vex stood at the stove, watching steam coil out of the spout like it owed him money. Sass hadn’t moved from the window, hands no longer pressed together but still resting at his chest, like part of the prayer lingered in him even after the words stopped.

Vex poured the water into two mugs and said nothing. He slid one across the counter. Sass turned and took it in both hands like it was something sacred.

For a while, they just stood there. Sipping. Listening to the rain.

Then Sass said, “Can I ask something?”

Vex groaned very slightly. “You’re going to anyway.”

Sass looked down at his tea, swirled it once with a finger. “You… you act like caring is embarrassing,” he said. “Or like it’s a waste of time. You talk like being mean makes you real. But… I think you’re projecting.”

Vex raised an eyebrow, slowly.

“Projecting,” he repeated.

Sass nodded, a little hesitant. “Yeah. I... I think maybe… maybe you’re mad at me for feeling things because you feel things too. And you don’t want to. Because you’ve done worse than I have. And you think it means you’re not allowed to feel anything anymore.”

Vex stared at him, lips parting slightly, like he was about to deny it.

“I’m not projecting,” he said.

But Sass was already smiling at him, gentle and understanding and not at all smug.

“I think you’re hard on yourself,” he said softly. “I think maybe you feel bad. Even if you don’t say it. I think you’ve hurt people and you think that makes you bad. And I don’t believe that’s true.”

Vex shifted where he stood. He glanced down into his mug.

Sass stepped forward, still holding his tea. His voice was warm, a little awkward, but full of care.

“Cod loves you,” he said. “And I love you too.”

Vex nearly choked on his tea.

He coughed once, turned away like he was checking something on the stove, even though there was nothing there.

“That’s...” he muttered, “well, don’t the both of you have poor taste, then?”

Sass laughed softly into his mug. He didn’t push it.

Vex didn’t look at him right away. His face was half-turned, hiding the flush in his cheeks that was very much there. Sass could see it, though. The blush. The way his shoulders hunched just a little. The way he was still standing in the same room, drinking the tea he made, listening.

The rain kept falling. The warmth didn’t leave.

Chapter Text

The tea had cooled a little. The room was dim except for the reading lamp and the faint light of the stove clock. Rain kept slipping down the window like it didn’t plan to stop.

Vex stood by the counter, shoulders half-hunched, his eyes fixed on the steam still curling from his mug.

After a while, he asked, quiet and flat:

“You don’t think this Cod of yours is judging us?”

Sass blinked. “Judging us?”

Vex didn’t look at him. “For being, you know…”

Sass tilted his head. “Being what?”

Vex gave a long exhale through his nose, like the words burned a little on the way out.

“Gay. Sodomites. Wasting our seed and all that.”

Sass’s face scrunched like someone had told him the moon was square.

“Of course not!” he said, a little louder than he meant to. Then, softer, “I mean… no. I don’t.”

Vex looked at him sideways, suspicious. Sass was already talking again, gentle and firm.

“I don’t care what some old book says. I think Cod made me the way I am. Made you the way you are too. And I think Cod loves us exactly like this.”

Vex raised an eyebrow. Sass didn’t back down.

“I mean it,” he said. “If there’s a Cod out there who’d hate me just for loving someone? That wouldn’t be a Cod worth believing in.”

There was silence again. The kind of silence that’s not heavy, just waiting.

Vex finally gave a small snort, almost a laugh but not quite.

“You’re always so… optimistic,” he said.

Sass rubbed at the side of his neck, unsure if it was a compliment or not.

“I love it,” Vex added. “Because it’s contagious. You make people feel better just by being in the room.”

Sass blinked at him, surprised.

“But I hate it at the same time,” Vex went on. “Because I look at you and I think, damn, I’ll never lead a life as meaningful as yours.”

There was a pause.

Sass smiled, wide and warm. His eyes were shining.

“Well,” he said, “you make me happy. Isn’t that meaningful?”

Vex stared at him. His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say something clever or cynical. Nothing came out.

He looked away instead. His face was turning a warm red, slow and undeniable.

Sass just sipped his tea.

Chapter Text

The sky was overcast in that pale way that made everything look soft around the edges. Trees stood still, soaked from earlier rain. The stone path was streaked with worm trails and scattered petals. No one else was in the park. Just Sass and Vex, sitting on a damp wooden bench with a grocery bag between them.

Sass unwrapped his second bluefin tuna spam musubi. He held it with both hands like it might escape if he didn’t pay attention.

“You know,” he said between bites, “I used to not eat at all. Some days. Couldn’t make myself care.”

Vex gave him a look. “Back when?”

“Two years ago. It was… a bad time.”

He didn’t elaborate at first. Just stared at the pavement, chewing quietly, legs tucked together. Vex didn’t push. He just picked at the rice stuck to his fingers and waited.

Sass eventually said, “I was really depressed. Like, deep. Like everything-felt-like-a-pile-of-wet-clothes deep. I wasn’t working. I wasn’t taking care of myself. And I was using... hard stuff. Stuff that made me forget I existed, which I, uh... liked, at the time.”

Vex didn’t say anything.

Sass shifted. “One day I ended up in Inkopolis. I told myself I was gonna look for a new striped shirt. Just something new, you know? Something to feel like a person again.”

He smiled faintly, remembering.

“I walked into this tailor shop by the train station. It was small, kind of old-fashioned. The only person inside was this Inkling guy working the counter. He was wearing the most beautiful cotton shirt I’ve ever seen. Real high thread count. White, with this ink pattern on it. Looked like it was falling. Not printed, woven in. You could tell.”

He paused.

“He was a little older than me. Maybe not by that much. But he looked… nervous, but kind. And when he looked at me, I saw my reflection in his eyes.”

Sass’s smile faltered slightly.

“And what I saw wasn’t me. Or, it was me. But it was a lost soul. Like I wasn’t there, and he could see right through me. Like he saw what I’d become.”

A breeze moved through the trees. The wrappers in the grocery bag fluttered.

“That night I went to sleep early,” Sass said. “For once. No buzz. Just quiet. And I dreamed I was wearing that same shirt. The one he had on. It fit me perfectly. It felt soft, but also like… like it was hugging me.”

Vex blinked.

“And in the dream,” Sass went on, “I heard this voice. Not mine. Not his. Just… something. And it said, you are loved. You are worth saving.”

He folded the musubi wrapper neatly in his lap.

“When I woke up, I cried. Really cried. Like something inside me cracked open. And I got up, and I flushed everything. Every pill. Every vial. All of it. I cleaned my apartment. I opened the windows. I took a shower. I made toast.”

Vex looked at him, unreadable.

“Ever since then,” Sass said, “I’ve believed in Cod. A loving Cod. Not some old guy with a hook judging people. Just… a quiet presence. Watching me. Through every morning. Every shift. Every meal. Every poop. Every sleep.”

Vex raised a brow. “Really? All this because you had a dream?”

Sass looked at him. Not embarrassed. Just steady.

“Well,” he said, “it saved my life. It’s got to be worth believing in.”

They sat there for a while in the silence. Trees dripping. The distant hum of a train somewhere across town.

Vex reached back into the bag for another musubi and didn’t say anything more. But he didn’t laugh, either. He just sat close, chewing quietly, like maybe he didn’t believe in a loving Cod.

He believed in Sass, though.

Chapter Text

The sky had gone still. Grey above, pale below, like the world was holding its breath. The rain had finally quit for good, and what was left was mist clinging to the grass and a few lonely birds picking at puddles. Sass and Vex were still on the park bench, crinkled wrappers resting between them, fingers gone cold from holding nothing.

Sass was curled slightly forward, knees together, hoodie sleeves bunched at the wrists. Vex leaned back like he was bored, but his eyes hadn’t moved from the far-off tree line in five minutes.

Then, suddenly:

“I had a dream once too.”

Sass turned his head. “You did?”

Vex shrugged. “Wasn’t the kind that saves anyone.”

Sass straightened, quiet.

Vex didn’t look at him. “There’s this guy at Grizzco. Maybe you’ve seen him. Not on our crew. He mostly works off-cycle. Real… theatrical.”

Sass tilted his head, listening.

“Black tentacles. Dyes the ends. They glow in the dark. Pink. Fluorescent. Always thinks he's James Pond. Looks like he belongs in a band with a name like Clamstain or Lumpsucker.”

Sass blinked. “I… think I might’ve seen him. Maybe. A long time ago.”

Vex’s jaw flexed, like he was holding back something else. He didn’t say the guy’s name.

“One night after a shift,” he said, “I came home sore, buzzing, the usual. I’d just barely made quota. Got blackout on a bottle of cheap whiskey and two cans of Dr. Snapper. Left the TV running. Who Wants to Be a Krillionaire? was on. Couldn’t even follow the questions.”

He laughed once, bitterly.

“I passed out on the sofa. And I had this dream. I was sitting in a church. One of those big ones. High ceiling. Cold wooden pews. All the light coming from these stupid fish-shaped stained glass windows. I was sitting there alone. Just me.”

Sass nodded slightly.

“Then I saw him. The guy from Grizzco. He was sitting a couple pews ahead. Didn’t turn around at first. Just sat there. Then he did. Looked right at me, calm as anything. And he said,”

Vex’s voice dropped low.

“You’ll never wash it off your hands.”

Sass inhaled, soft and sharp.

“I woke up choking. Hands shaking. Thought I’d see blood if I looked down.”

Vex finally glanced over, unreadable.

“I believe in Cod,” he said. “But not yours. Mine isn’t gentle. Mine taunts. Mine shows up in churches and says things like that with a smile.”

Sass didn’t speak for a long time. Just looked at him, tender and serious.

“I think I might’ve seen that guy too,” Sass said. “Back when I was using. I can’t remember much. Just light and shadow. He passed me once, near a train platform, maybe. Could’ve been him. I was too high to know for sure.”

Vex stayed quiet.

Sass leaned back against the bench. “Well… at least you believe in something.”

Vex scoffed. “It’s terrifying. I hope there isn’t a Cod. Because if there is, that means someone else is pulling the strings. That means there’s a plan. And I’m just the walking punchline.”

He kicked a pebble off the path.

“Fate, up against your will,” he muttered. “Like that old Echinoderm and the Seabunnymen song.”

Sass tilted his head. “But… if it’s really Providence, then you can’t blame yourself, can you?”

Vex frowned.

Sass turned toward him, gentle but confident.

“You love blaming yourself. You cling to it like it’s all you have. But what if it’s not all your fault? What if you were carried, just like the rest of us? What if you’re scared that none of it is really yours to own, and if that’s true…”

Sass hesitated.

“…then you’d have to love yourself.”

Vex stood up.

Sass blinked. “Vex...”

Vex didn’t look at him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started down the path, shoulders hunched.

Sass watched him walk, slow but determined, until the trees swallowed him.

The park was quiet again.

Sass looked up at the sky.

“…Cod,” he whispered. “Please walk with him. Even if he doesn’t want you to.”

Chapter Text

Vex was leaned back against the trunk, pants around his ankles, one arm resting lazily across his lap. His other hand held the last inch of a cigarette, the end still burning faintly. His head was tilted back, eyes closed like he wasn’t hiding, just didn’t care if anyone saw.

Sass froze for a moment, then cleared his throat gently.

“Um... do you want some privacy?” he asked. “Do you want me to, uh, give you some space?”

Vex opened one eye. “Nah,” he said. “It’s fine.”

Sass hesitated, then took a few steps closer and sat down in the grass, keeping his gaze politely high, somewhere near the canopy.

“You know,” he said, fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie, “you can always talk to me. If there’s… something you want to talk about. Or not. Just saying.”

Vex said nothing for a beat, then muttered, “You ever notice how the version of me in your head doesn’t really match the one sitting here?”

Sass blinked. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I mean. Yeah. I think I… I know that.”

He adjusted how he was sitting, folding one leg under the other. His eyes stayed fixed on a patch of bark above Vex’s head.

“I don’t fully know you,” he said. “I don’t think anyone fully knows anyone. That’s… kind of the deal, right?”

While Sass spoke, Vex reached down and began pulling his pants back up, one motion at a time, steady and unbothered. He fastened the front, then let his arms rest over his knees, slouched forward a little.

Sass still didn’t look directly at him.

Vex lit another cigarette from the embers of the first. “How can you be sure,” he said, “that the Cod you love so much actually loves you?”

Sass looked at the ground, then at his hands.

“What if,” Vex went on, “He’s just building you up. Giving you nice things so He can tear them away later. Just to watch. Just because He can.”

Sass shifted his grip on his sleeves. “I… I can’t be sure. Not totally.”

Vex raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“So…” Sass took a breath. “If I had to be completely sure of something before I believed in it, I don’t think I’d ever believe in anything.”

He let that sit for a moment, then added, quietly but with conviction, “So I just… might as well.”

Vex didn’t respond.

They both looked out at the trees, at the patchy sky above, at nothing in particular.

Sass glanced sideways, just for a second, then looked down again.

“I mean… I don’t even… uh… know myself 100%.”

The wind moved through the grass. Neither of them moved.

Chapter Text

They sat on the old park bench again. The drizzle had stopped, but the sky still hung low, like it hadn’t made up its mind about the rest of the day. The grass shimmered with old rain. Down by the tree, where the roots tangled into the earth, a shallow puddle remained, but not rainwater.

Vex sat hunched forward, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, staring at the path like it had insulted him. Sass sat next to him with his legs tucked under the bench, still as a houseplant, quietly present.

After a long time, Vex said, “I keep thinking about him.”

Sass glanced at him. “The Grizzco guy?”

Vex nodded. “Yeah. With the black tentacles and the pink glow. The tux. That guy.”

Sass nodded again, softer. “I remember.”

Vex’s voice was low. “I had all those dreams. But they weren’t about him. Not really. They were about… someone I made.”

He pulled one hand from his pocket, gesturing vaguely in the air.

“It’s like I saw this guy, this real guy, and I built someone else on top of him. A version that only exists in my head. And that’s the one that shows up in my dreams. That’s the one who says horrible things. Like ‘You’ll never wash it off your hands.’”

Sass’s gaze was soft, but he said nothing.

“And now, when I see him at work, the real guy, I think about the fake one. The one I built. And I don’t know where the line is anymore. It’s not even his fault. He’s just there. Living. Trying to eat his breakroom crackers.”

Vex paused. “I don’t know if it’s Cod doing it to me. Or if it’s just me. And I don’t know which idea scares me more.”

Sass took a breath. “Well… it doesn’t have to be scary.”

Vex gave a flat look.

Sass fidgeted with his sleeve. “I just mean… you don’t pick what your brain latches onto. Or what it turns people into. That’s not your fault.”

Vex looked away. “Yeah, well. I don’t pick being afraid, either. But I am.”

Before Sass could reply, there was a sound like wet fabric being dropped from a rooftop.

Thump.

They both flinched.

A gull had fallen from the sky. Limp. Wings half-open. It hit the earth with a heavy, wet slap, right into the puddle by the tree Vex had stood under earlier.

It didn’t move. One eye stared upward, blank and already clouding over.

Sass’s mouth opened slightly. He didn’t say anything.

Vex stared at it. Then, slowly, he muttered, “Right into my piss.”

Silence.

Somewhere far off, another gull cried out, alive and unaware.

Sass looked at Vex.

Vex didn’t meet his eyes. “This is why I don’t believe in a loving Cod.”

Sass looked back at the dead gull, lying in the grass like it had been thrown.

He whispered, “Rest in peace, little guy."

Chapter Text

The gull hadn’t moved.

Its body lay twisted in the grass beneath the tree, wings half-spread like it had tried to land and forgotten how. One eye still stared skyward, glassy. The puddle it landed in was already beginning to seep back into the soil.

Vex stared at it like it had just given him a riddle.

“You’re a bird,” he said quietly. “You’re a damn bird.”

Sass looked at him.

Vex wasn’t really talking to anyone. Just unraveling.

“You were born to fish and fly and scream at beachgoers. You were supposed to ride wind like it was muscle memory. Nest in gutters. Shit on statues. You were one of the carefree beasts of the Old World!”

He gestured vaguely upward.

“No purpose, no prayer, no job. No nine-to-five. Just blood and hunger and mating and flight. No philosophy. No wars. Just bird.”

He stared back at the body.

“And then one day... bam. Heart muscles seize up midair. You drop like a meteor. Not even food for something else. No sacred cycle. Just...”

He pointed.

“Right into a puddle of piss.”

Sass covered his mouth with both hands, not to laugh, just to contain the weird grief of it.

Vex turned toward him, wild-eyed. “What purpose does that serve? What beauty is in that?”

Sass lowered his hands slowly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really… don’t.”

Vex raised an eyebrow.

“But I don’t have to,” Sass added. “It still reassures me to believe there’s something. Even if I don’t get to understand it. That’s… reason enough. For me.”

Vex didn’t say anything.

Sass stood up carefully, brushed his knees, and walked over to the bird. He knelt in the soaked grass, as gently as someone handling a baby jelly, and scooped the gull’s body out of the puddle with both hands. He looked at it like it was something holy.

He carried it to a dry patch of earth beneath a nearby tree. Dug with his fingers. Nothing dramatic. Just a small hole, enough.

He placed the gull inside. Tucked its wings close. Covered it with soil, then a layer of soft leaves. Marked it with a stone.

No prayer. Just presence.

Vex watched the whole thing, wordless.

Sass sat back on his heels, mud on his fingers, and looked over at him. He gave a tired smile.

Vex smiled back.

Maybe Cod didn’t show up in dreams. Maybe He didn’t whisper things at night. Maybe He didn’t have a grand plan.

But maybe, it was the case that He dropped a gull out of the sky, right into a puddle of piss, for the sole cosmic purpose of making Vex laugh. Just once.

He smiled a little wider.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Point taken.”

Chapter Text

“Mmm… that was so good,” Sass murmured, voice thick with a drowsy, erotic satisfaction.

The sofa creaked softly beneath them. The blanket was wrapped half around Sass’s shoulder and half under Vex’s back, twisted somewhere at the hips. The only light came from the window, dusky violet, the kind of late-evening hue that made everything feel distant and hazy. You could hear a siren a few blocks off, and the steady hum of an old fridge refusing to die.

Vex lay with one arm behind his head, messy-haired and still catching his breath. Sass was curled against him, tentacles draped lazily, his cheek warm against Vex’s chest.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Then Vex said, “So… do you believe angels walk among us?”

Sass made a soft noise in his throat, like the question had pulled him up from the edge of sleep.

“Hmm?”

“Like,” Vex said, “real angels. Doing Cod’s business. Watching. Intervening. Guiding weirdos.”

Sass hummed, thoughtful.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “Maybe.”

He shifted a little. One of his tentacles brushed lightly against Vex’s thigh.

“If they do, though,” Sass added, “I think that sea cucumber guy is probably one.”

Vex snorted. “C.Q. Cumber? Seriously?”

Sass nodded, sleepily. “He’s got… that energy. Like, tired but pure.”

Vex let out a breath, amused. “The guy who drives on the Deepsea line?”

Sass pushed himself up a little on one elbow. “Yeah. I was reading this article in Inkopolis Walker. About Kamabo. It said their whole thing was trying to bring about a ‘promised land’? Their idea was to erase all individuality. Blend everyone together. A great, writhing flood of ink where our earthly desires and vainty are no more. And they had the tech to actually do it..."

Vex frowned. “I thought that company went under.”

“Well, its plan got... foiled. But it still exists. Like an abandoned aquarium someone forgot to drain. They might have made your phone."

Vex blinked at the ceiling. “You’re saying it reminded you of the Flood.”

Sass nodded.

Vex rolled his eyes. “So what, you think this world is sinful? You think it needs to be washed clean with fire or… whatever?”

Sass didn’t answer right away.

When he finally spoke, his voice was small. “No. I don’t think it deserves to end.”

Vex turned toward him, just a little.

“I just think…” Sass paused. “I think Cod works on levels I’ll never understand. And if He does decide to end everything someday… then that’s what happens. Another Flood. Or something.”

His eyes were shining. His lip trembled just slightly.

“I want to believe He’s not vengeful,” Sass whispered. “But if He is, I don’t think it’s my place to question Him.”

Vex sat up halfway. “You’re such a coward.”

Sass flinched, visibly.

Vex rubbed a hand down his face. But if I were Cod? I’d have called down angels to wipe this world out a hundred times over. Just for fun. Just to see what silence feels like.”

Sass didn’t answer. He just looked at him, open, hurt, still full of love.

Vex leaned back again, eyes on the ceiling.

“But I’m not,” he muttered. “I’m just some guy. Lying here. With the one person I wouldn’t want to smite.”

Sass laughed, watery. He wiped his eyes on the blanket and nestled back in close.

The light through the window had gone full lavender. The fridge hummed on. A gull cried in the distance, very much alive.

And Cod, if He was watching, said nothing.

Chapter Text

They were lying on the futon in the middle of the room, half-covered by the old blanket Sass insisted on keeping, even though Vex claimed it smelled like laundry detergent and dust. The lights outside were soft and far away now, filtering through the window like melted toffee. Somewhere down the hall, the radiator clicked to life.

Sass had his arm draped over Vex’s chest, legs tangled under the blanket, cheek pressed close. Vex had one arm tucked behind his head and the other resting on Sass’s back. It was the sort of silence that only came after everything else had been said and done.

Vex’s voice broke it, low and quiet.

“Do you ever think,” he said, “I’m a freak?”

Sass stirred slightly. “Huh?”

“A degenerate,” Vex continued. “Like you’ve wasted your life. Like you’re using the gift of existence for… selfish, hedonistic crap.”

Sass pulled his head back a little to look at him, surprised.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I don’t think that. Not even a little.”

Vex didn’t respond.

“When we, um… when we make love,” Sass said, cheeks turning rubescent even as he pushed through the words, “it makes us really happy. It connects us. That means something. I think, uh, Cod wants us to feel joy. I think He made us to be in our bodies, to feel everything. Even the really good parts.”

He smiled, nervous but sure. “He wants us to love every part of ourselves. It’s all beautiful.”

There was a pause. Vex looked up at the ceiling. And then,

He farted. Loud and unapologetic. A kind of thick, resonant thunderclap that echoed off the windowpane like fully revved Splatling fire.

Sass blinked, eyes wide. Then he pinched his nose with both hands, trying not to laugh.

Vex turned his head, deadpan. “Was that beautiful?”

Sass nodded seriously, nose still held. “Yes.”

Vex scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not!” Sass said through his fingers. “It means you’re alive. You’re a living creature! Your body’s working. That’s beautiful.”

Vex sat up slightly, frustrated now.

“See,” he said. “This is what I don’t get about you.”

Sass blinked.

“You find beauty in everything. A fart. A dead bird. Fuckin'... mildew on a window if it catches the light right. You mean it. And I don’t know how you do it.”

Sass sat up too, rubbing his arm. “I… I don’t know. I guess I just see it.”

“Well, I don’t!” Vex snapped. “I don’t see anything beautiful most of the time. I try, I swear. But it’s like something in my head won’t let me. Like I’ve got blinders on. And then you’re over here talking about biological miracles and sacred love, and I want to believe it, but I can’t. Not like you.”

Sass looked at him, quiet.

Vex exhaled hard. “I wish I could. I wish I could see the world the way you do. I really do.”

Sass reached over and gently took his hand.

“You do see it,” he said softly. “Maybe not always. Maybe not clearly. But the way you look at me when I’m being dumb? The way you care about things you say you hate? That’s real. That’s you feeling something.”

Vex stared at the floor.

“And you don’t have to be like me,” Sass added. “I think Cod made people different on purpose. Maybe so we can help each other see what we can’t on our own.”

Vex didn’t say anything for a long while.

Then, very quietly: “That still doesn’t make the fart thing less ridiculous.”

Sass grinned. “It was beautiful.”

“You are so weird.”

“Yup.”

They lay back down together. Vex’s hand stayed in Sass’s. The radiator hissed in the corner. Somewhere outside, a car passed, its lights casting brief gold ripples on the ceiling.

They were two mollusc-people lying still in a messy apartment. Alive. Trying.

Living creatures.

Chapter Text

Morning crawled in slow through the windows of Room 428, 52 Silverfish Street, pale and watery, the kind of light that didn’t really wake you so much as admit that night was over. The apartment smelled faintly of dust and kettle steam. The radiator hissed in its usual, half-working way.

Sass and Vex were curled up together on the sofa. The blanket had slipped to the floor sometime before dawn. Sass was still half-asleep, cheek pressed against Vex’s shoulder, one arm loosely across his waist. Vex lay still, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like it had something to say.

After a while, he asked, “Do you ever think you’re beyond salvation?”

Sass blinked against his shoulder. “Whuh…?”

“Like,” Vex said slowly, “you’ve done too much. Seen too much. That whatever light used to be in you got burned out a long time ago and no god or Cod or angel could possibly bring it back.”

Sass frowned slightly, still waking up. “I… don’t know. What are you talking about?”

Vex sighed. “We’re mass murderers, Sass. You know that, right?”

Sass lifted his head a little, blinking. “Vex-”

“No, seriously,” Vex said. “We kill and eat Salmonids. Over and over. For pay. And our entire society hand-waves it with ‘they enjoy being killed!’ Like that means anything. Like that makes it holy.”

Sass sat up, just slightly.

“You’ve seen that Smallfry,” Vex continued. “The one that follows people around in Splatsville. Smiles and squeaks and plays with rocks. Friendly. Helpful. He’s a person. And we’re still out there grinding up his cousins into freezer fodder like it’s a job at the post office.”

Sass was very quiet.

Vex’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its weight. “We’re the bad guys, Sass. We’ve always been the bad guys. We just made up a nicer soundtrack for it.”

Sass’s face crumpled.

“I…” he said, voice cracking. “Maybe I am beyond salvation.”

Vex blinked.

Sass turned away, hands to his face. “Maybe it is time for another Flood. To drown this hateful Earth. To wipe it clean.”

Vex sat up sharply. “Whoa... okay, hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Sass shook his head, wiping his cheeks. “Sorry. Sorry. I just- I try so hard to believe Cod loves us, because if He doesn’t… I don’t know how to love myself.”

Vex was quiet.

Sass sniffled. “It’s like… if someone out there with infinite patience and perfect understanding can look at me and still say, ‘you are good,’ then maybe I can say it too. Just a little.”

Vex looked at him for a long moment.

Then, abruptly, he grabbed Sass by both wrists, pulled him gently to his feet, and said, “Come on. Let’s have some cereal.”

Sass blinked through tears. “What?”

“Cereal,” Vex repeated. “Colorful, crunchy, stupid cereal. You like the one with the shell-shaped marshmallows, right?”

Sass nodded slowly.

“Good,” Vex said. “We’re having that. We’re going to eat it in silence and not talk about divine judgment for ten minutes.”

Sass gave a watery laugh.

Vex led him to the kitchen, one hand still wrapped around his sleeve. And for a little while, nothing else mattered but the sound of spoons, and sugar, the shared comfort of still being here.

Chapter Text

The elevator at 52 Silverfish Street was older than the apartment itself. It groaned in its shaft like a living thing. Each button lit up with a sickly, flickering duck-egg shade. The carpeting had once been red but was now a muted stain-pattern of gray-brown, the kind of color mould made when it tried to forget it was alive. The two fluorescent ceiling panels buzzed at different frequencies, just enough to make the ride feel off.

Vex and Sass stood in the hallway in near silence, jackets only half-on, holding their lunches. Sass’s bento was neatly tied in a blue-checkered cloth, while Vex’s was a mismatched pile of leftovers in an old takeout box with a bent plastic fork jammed through the lid.

They had done this a hundred times before, waiting for this miserable elevator to drag itself up to their floor, and yet when the doors opened with their usual shriek, neither of them moved at first.

Because someone was already inside.

A Goldie stood perfectly still in the far right corner.

He was taller than expected, his polished golden head brushing the fluorescent panel, casting strange, soft shadows. He was smiling, not in a friendly way, not in a smug way, just in a way. The lips didn’t move. The eyes didn’t blink. He simply stood there, wide-eyed, a figure of gold and fat and stillness.

Sass stepped in first. Vex hesitated. Then followed.

The doors shrieked shut behind them.

The elevator began its descent, groaning and rattling like it resented their weight.

None of them spoke. Not for the first ten seconds. Not for twenty.

Then Sass, very quietly, leaned toward Vex and whispered, “Vex… have you ever thought we’re, um… helping them?”

Vex turned to look at him. Sass was still watching the floor indicator, voice hushed like the Goldie could hear thoughts.

Sass went on. “The Salmonids. Maybe we’re… not hurting them. Not really. Maybe we’re sending them to Cod. Like… we’re pushing them across. Maybe they need us. For that.”

Vex stared. “You think you’re doing them a favour?”

Sass shifted uncomfortably. “I just... I wonder. Sometimes. If maybe we’re part of something bigger. A divine system. Maybe we’re just playing our role.”

The elevator creaked louder. Something shifted inside the walls.

Vex spoke. Quiet. Flat.

“So,” he said, “what if I were to bite your fucking hearts out right now, Sass? What if I pulled out your lungs and strung your guts like a garland across this lift? Would that be okay? Would I be helping you? Sending you to Cod?”

Sass jerked back, his eyes wide. “No. No, no... please, don’t-”

His voice cracked. He pressed himself into the wall, shaking now, hands drawn to his chest.

Vex blinked like he’d just woken up. His hands lifted in immediate retreat.

“Wait. Sorry. I... shit. I didn’t mean that. I was just, I’m sorry. That was awful. I went too far.”

Sass was still trembling. His breath came fast and shallow. He looked at Vex, confused, frightened and, somehow, still loving.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vex said. “I just… the idea of justifying it. What we do. It... it gets to me. Like I’m walking around on a film set where I’m the villain and everyone else says I’m the hero.”

Sass didn’t reply. His eyes were still locked on the Goldie.

The elevator slowed. Stopped.

With a long, hydraulic wheeze, the doors slid open.

And the Goldie turned.

Not his whole body, just his head, in one smooth, slow tilt. His gaze locked directly onto Vex. Then to Sass. Still smiling.

And he spoke. His voice was not gravelly or deep. It was wet. Thick. Slippery. Like something spoken underwater, not meant to be heard in air.

“I knew you could understand,” he said.

Then he slithered out, not walking but gliding, his stubby feet not quite touching the floor. His scales left a faint trail of deep green ink and salt behind him. He moved down the hall with the grace of a dying prayer.

The doors closed behind him, shivering shut.

Silence.

Vex stared ahead, throat tight.

“…Who understood?” he said, voice cracking. “Understood what?”

Sass didn’t speak at first.

Then, slowly, his shoulders loosened. His hands came down from his chest. He looked at Vex and smiled.

Soft. Tear-streaked. Strangely calm.

“We’re not alone."

Chapter Text

The radiator sputtered again, clanging like it wanted to remind them it still worked. Outside, Silverfish Street was soaking in the low orange haze of early night, streetlights flickering on in patches like uncertain stars. A delivery scooter buzzed past the window. A gull cried once, then stopped.

Sass sat on the edge of the futon, still in his apron, eyes down, one tentacle coiled loosely around his wrist. Vex stood near the kitchen counter, jacket half-off, streaked in dried mud and ink from the shift he hadn’t yet cleaned off.

Sass’s voice came soft. Hesitant.

“Vex… do you feel bad about what you did today?”

Vex looked up. “You mean the shift?”

Sass nodded. “Yeah. Grizzco.”

Vex snorted, flat. “No.”

Sass blinked. “You don’t?”

“I can’t,” Vex said. “If I think too hard about what we’re doing out there; splitting skulls, loading eggs into baskets while they scream, I’ll spiral. I’ll start thinking, and if I start thinking I’ll stop functioning. So I don’t. I push it down. I lie to myself, like everyone else. And I go to work.”

Sass looked at his hands. “I understand.”

Vex narrowed his eyes. “Do you?”

Sass nodded, slower this time. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Vex stepped away from the counter.

“Alright,” he said. “Then let me ask you something.”

Sass looked up, startled.

“Do you feel bad about what you did today?”

Sass hesitated. “I… didn’t work at Grizzco today.”

“Not what I asked.”

Sass paused. “Well. No, not the flower shop…”

Vex tilted his head. “Then what?”

Sass took a breath. “The other job.”

Vex waited.

“At Grizzco,” Sass said. “You know. When I do go in.”

His voice cracked a little. “I feel like I’m pretending. Like the flowers are just camouflage. I cut petals and arrange colors while… knowing what I do on the other days. I go out there and I… I kill them too.”

He swallowed. “I don’t even do it well. I’m just another warm body with an Aerospray. But I keep showing up. And I smile. And I come home. And I make tea like it’s normal.”

He looked down. “I can’t forgive myself for that.”

Vex stepped in a little closer.

“So what, you want someone else to do it for you?”

Sass nodded. “Yeah. I guess I do. Maybe you. Or Cod. Because I can’t.”

Vex laughed once, harsh, too loud for the quiet room.

“Isn’t that damn funny?” he said. “You think I’m worth loving.”

He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Me. Vexatious Valerian Jr. The butcher. The cannibal. The cynic. The alcoholic. The walking disaster.”

He turned toward Sass, half-smiling, half-burning.

“And you; ray of fucking sunshine, you, who cries when your seedlings wilt. Who wraps stray bees in sugar-water cloth. Who names every plant and thanks them before cutting a stem, you think you’re a lost cause?”

Sass blinked, stunned.

“Because you work part-time at the same pit they drag everyone else through?” Vex snapped. “Because you carry the weight instead of pretending it isn’t there?”

He stepped forward again.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re not just punishing yourself in ways you’d never punish anyone else? That you’re not tearing yourself down for surviving something the whole system was built to make you do?”

Sass’s breath trembled.

Vex lowered his voice.

“Think about it,” he said. “Think.”

Sass closed his eyes.

“You’re right,” he whispered.

He took a breath. “We all treat ourselves in ways we’d never treat anyone else.”

His tentacles untwined. He folded his hands slowly, neatly. Let his eyes fall shut.

And began to pray.

No words. Just the movement of his lips, slow and private. A rhythm like waves hitting soft sand.

Vex sat down next to him.

He didn’t interrupt.

He just stayed.

Chapter Text

The sky above Splatsville was velvet-dark and full of faint neon evanescence. The city didn’t sleep so much as drift into a quieter phase. Advertisements flickered. The air tasted like electricity and fried food. Music leaked from balconies. Rain had passed through earlier, so everything still smelled like wet stone and algae and melted gum.

Sass and Vex walked side by side under the light of old signage and humming shopfronts. The pavement glistened. Sass’s sandals made the faintest squeak. Vex kept his hands in his pockets and his hood up.

They stopped at a food cart wedged under the overhang of a shuttered laundromat. A single fluorescent bulb buzzed overhead. The cart was staffed by a jellyfish with an unblinking stare and an apron that said DOGZ 4 DAYZ in peeling vinyl. He handed them two hot dogs in paper trays without a word, his face as vacant as an unplugged screen.

“Thanks,” Sass said anyway.

They sat on a low concrete planter box, paper trays balanced on their knees. Sass’s had extra relish. Vex’s was plain, just ketchup.

The hot dogs steamed in the cool night.

After a moment, Sass looked up at him.

“You know,” he said, “I think we’ve really helped each other.”

Vex raised an eyebrow. “Helped how?”

Sass tilted his head. “Understand stuff. Life. What matters. How to… how to be.”

Vex chewed slowly. Didn’t respond at first.

Sass kept going. “I think something wonderful’s going to happen soon.”

Vex glanced sideways at him. “What makes you so sure?”

Sass smiled, sheepish. “I dunno. I just have a good feeling. Can’t really describe it.”

They finished the hot dogs in silence after that. Sass wiped his hands on a napkin. Vex crumpled his tray and stuffed it into his coat pocket.

Then the music started.

It came from above, tinny at first, then louder, richer, swelling with echoing drums and synthetic flutes. A parade float was gliding overhead, lifted by invisible drones, streaming ribbons of ink and glitter. Lights played off the buildings.

Atop the float, glowing under spotlights, was Frye.

She danced with manic joy, twirling in wide spins, her eels snapping and weaving through the air around her like living Catherine wheels. Her eyes were wide with delight. Her voice echoed over the speakers in snippets of chant and laughter.

Sass stopped walking. He watched the float go past like he was seeing a vision.

His whole face was lit up.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

Vex stood beside him, arms still crossed. Something felt wrong. He didn’t know what. Just a cold drop in the base of his stomach. A sour, weightless tension, like standing too close to a ledge and not knowing why.

Sass started following the float.

So Vex followed Sass.

The float passed slowly over Splatsville’s plaza. Frye’s eels whipped and spiraled. The air was shining with artificial starlight. Sass couldn’t stop watching.

He looked transfixed. Like a child seeing fireworks for the first time.

Vex’s eyes kept darting. He still couldn’t shake the feeling.

Then...

One of the eels broke away from the float.

It moved fast. Too fast.

It dove like a bird of prey, like a bullet, no arc, no drag, just a streak of muscle and teeth and intent.

Before Vex could shout, it reached them.

With a sickening, wet crack, it clamped down and tore through Sassafras; shoulder to hip, through flesh and ink and cartilage. Sass’s body folded in on itself like wet paper. He didn’t even scream. Just collapsed in ribbons of gore.

Vex didn’t move.

Then the eel hit him next.

A flash of pain, then nothing.

He felt himself falling, saw his own blood coat the pavement, like strawberry sauce on an ice cream. His leg twitched somewhere ten feet away. His mouth filled with the taste of rust.

Neither of them were connected to a spawn point.

There was no respawn.

Up above, Frye kept dancing.

She didn’t look down. Her face was radiant with joy, eyes lost in her song, her arms lifted like she was praying to the moon.

The float drifted on.

The eel slithered back up to join her.

And the pieces of Sass and Vex lay cooling on the sidewalk, lit by parade lights.

Anarchy Poisons (Snake Mix) kept on playing. Clocks kept ticking. Time kept moving.

Chapter Text

I wake up already strapped to the chair.

No warning. No sound. Just there.

I can’t move. My arms are straightened out and jointed like hinges. My legs dangle from beneath me, stiff and narrow. I feel grain in my skin. Fibres. My breath rattles like wind through a flute. I can’t blink. I don’t have eyelids anymore.

I’m wood.

A puppet.

A doll.

The room is colourless, white, but not bright. The air feels sour and warm, like it's been sitting in a plastic bag for a hundred years. There’s no door. No corners. Just a chair, and me in it. Everything else fades like fog.

Then I hear it.

The laughter.

High-pitched. Chaotic. Wet with joy. Someone is really enjoying themselves.

And then He steps out from the fog.

Cod.

Not the gentle light. Not the great voice of judgment. Not even the quiet warmth Sass always talks about.

No - my Cod is a jester.

His mask is split down the middle - one side painted with stars, the other with spirals. His eyes are tiny and spinning. His grin is sewn into his painted lips. He twirls when He moves. His limbs bend too far. He jingles when He walks.

He’s giggling.

Not cruelly. Not really. Just like someone watching the best joke finally land after centuries of setup.

I try to ask where I am, but my mouth doesn’t work. I have no mouth. Just a seam. I creak.

He claps His hands and bows. Deep. Like I’m the act.

Then He points at me and says, “There you are.”

No thunder. No great truth. Just those words. Like He’s pleased I finally showed up for rehearsal.

He dances in a circle around me.

I feel my joints creak. My shoulders ache with invisible strings.

And I understand.

This was it.
This was always it.
All the fighting. The bleeding. The guilt. The denial. The drinking. The rage. The soft, horrible hope.
All of it.

Leading here.

To the chair.
To Him.
To the punchline.

There was never meaning. Not in the way I hoped.

I’m not a soldier. I’m not a sinner. I’m not even real.

I’m a bit.
A prop.
A gag in the grand routine.

I don’t cry. I can’t. Dolls don’t have ducts. But inside, there’s a split. A snapping, splintering relief.

Because if this is what it all was; a joke, then maybe my failures were part of the script. Maybe none of it was supposed to matter.

Cod laughs harder.

Not to mock.

He’s laughing because it’s funny.

That’s okay.

Thank Cod it's all just a bad joke.

Chapter Text

I wake up lying in warm grass.

It smells like milk and honey. The air is thick with light, not harsh, not blinding. Just bright. Gentle.

I sit up slowly. My tentacles curl in the breeze, light as petals.

I’m in a field.

The sky is endless. The flowers stretch out to the horizon in every direction. There are colors I’ve never seen before. Colours that feel like emotions. Colours that taste like memories.

I’m not alone.

They're here.

All of them.

Everyone I’ve ever killed.

Richter is closest. He stands by a tall yellow flower. He isn’t angry. He smiles when he sees me. There’s still a dent in his side where I slashed him open. But it doesn’t seem to hurt.

All around him are Salmonids.

Thousands.

Some are tall and armoured. Some are babies. Some I remember by name from Grizzco briefings. Others I know only by the shape their bodies made as they broke apart under my ink.

All of them are here.

And all of them are smiling.

Their hands are linked. The chain stretches wide and warm. Like a heartbeat around me.

And then I see more. The others.

My people.

Octolings. Octopuses. Ancestors so far back I can’t imagine their lives. Some with two legs. Some with none. Some with skin. Some with fur. Even creatures I’ve only seen in textbooks or in dreams.

They’re all here.

And they’re holding hands too.

And they’re smiling at me.

Because they know. They understand.

Every wound. Every prayer. Every mistake. Every kindness. Every time I cried in the garden or knelt in the closet or whispered into a bouquet of lilies.

They know it all.

And they forgive me.

Because there’s nothing to forgive.

Because this is where everything leads.
Because I am part of them.
Because we are part of something deeper.

I feel it. Like music under my skin. Like warmth. Like gravity, but kinder.

Cod is here.

But not like a voice. Not like a throne. Not like judgment.

Cod is everywhere.

Cod is the sun on my face. Cod is the color of the flowers. Cod is the breath in my chest. Cod is the light behind every smile.

Cod is love.

Cod is forgiveness.

And I am not afraid.

I was never meant to be afraid.

I don’t cry. Not really. But something washes through me. Something bigger than sorrow. Bigger than joy.

I lie down in the flowers again.

Fins reach out; Richter’s, and others, and they hold mine.

And I know, finally and fully:

I was always loved.

Chapter Text

The first thing Vex felt was the piercing of fluorescent lights. The second was pain, not sharp, not screaming. Just there, everywhere, like his whole body had been patched together with memory and glue.

He opened his eyes.

The ceiling was too white. The kind of white that wanted to bleach your thoughts. Sterile, glistening, too clean to be real. He was lying on a metal table. Thin blanket. No pillow. His limbs felt heavier than they should’ve.

Next to him, another table. Sassafras.

Still. Breathing.

Alive.

Vex sat up, groaning. Sass stirred at the noise, blinked open his eyes, and squinted into the brightness.

“Wh... what…?”

There was a squelching noise, like a mop being twisted out. A blur of gelatinous shapes approached.

“Ah! You’re conscious. Excellent.”

The voice was clipped and polite, and it came from a colony of salps strung together in a semi-humanoid shape, stuffed into a tattered, too-small lab coat, bearing a faded Kamabo Co. logo that suggested he hadn't worked for them for years. Its ID badge read:
Dr. Welch Seagrape, First Response Team and Biotemporal Trauma Division

Dr. Seagrape adjusted his spectacles - they had no lenses - and bobbed forward. His voices echoed in harmony with one another like a chorus of seraphim.

“You were both clinically dead upon arrival,” he said. “But an emergency directive authorised a Class-4 experimental reconstruction protocol.”

Vex rubbed his eyes. “What.”

“I reheated the remains of your bodies,” Welch explained brightly, “and used heated ink polymer to reseal the organic material. Quite crude, but effective. Then I loaded your last memory backups, pulled from the spawn points in your apartment complex, into the newly reinforced nervous tissue. Neural reintegration was successful. You’re alive.”

Sass blinked. “You… pasted us back together?”

“Yes.”

“Like soup?”

“Well. More like jam, really.”

Vex swung his legs over the side of the table. “So we died.”

“Catastrophically,” Dr. Seagrape confirmed. “Shredded. Disarticulated. Sprayed across several square metres.”

“Cool,” Vex muttered.

Sass sat up slowly, hand over his chest. “I saw… I saw a field. Everyone I ever hurt was there. They smiled at me. Even that eel. And Cod was… love. There was nothing to be afraid of.”

Vex let out a dry laugh. “You got the good ending.”

Sass turned to him. “What did you see?”

“I was a puppet,” Vex said. “Strapped to a chair. My skin was wood. Cod was a jester. He laughed at me. I was the punchline. The whole thing was a joke.”

Sass frowned. “That’s awful.”

“It was kind of a relief, honestly.”

Dr. Seagrape floated a little closer, bubbles twitching in his spinal cords.

“Fascinating. But are you both entirely certain these… visions weren’t simply neural misfires? Your brains shutting down. Delivering comforting narratives. Or perhaps narratives tuned to your expectations. Nothing more than electrical residue.”

Vex looked at Sass.

Sass looked at Vex.

And together, with perfect timing, they said:

“That’s so boring.”

Dr. Seagrape paused. “Well. Very well. I’ll log it as ‘experiential inconclusive, patient response: glib.’”

He bounced away without further comment, humming a tune that sounded like elevator music through a tube of wet algae.

Vex let his feet hit the floor. Sass followed.

“Soup...,” Vex said under his breath.

“Jam,” Sass corrected.

They grinned.

Chapter Text

They were back at the apartment.

The walls still smelled like old tea and wet metal, like nothing had changed, like they hadn’t died and been jammed back together in a glowing lab under the steady "hand' of a jovial salp in a coat.

Vex was sprawled on the futon in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, his hair unbrushed and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Sass was making tea, real, simple, homebrewed tea, like it meant something. The kettle clicked off. The window was cracked to let in the breeze.

They hadn't said much since they got home. Their bodies felt new but used, like secondhand suits that had been pressed just enough to pass.

Sass handed Vex a mug and curled up next to him.

For a while, they just sat like that.

Then Vex spoke.

“Wasn’t your vision just wishful thinking?”

Sass looked over.

Vex didn’t meet his eyes. “I mean… come on. A sunny field where everyone loves you? Cod as pure forgiveness? It’s fairy tale stuff.”

Sass took a sip of his tea.

“Wasn’t yours?” he said.

Vex blinked.

Sass looked at him gently. “A jester deity who made the whole world just to laugh at you. That’s wishful thinking too.”

Vex frowned. “How the hell is that wishful?”

“Because,” Sass said, “if it’s all just a joke, then it doesn’t matter what you did. You never had a chance. You were just a punchline. It lets you off the hook. You don’t have to feel bad.”

Vex opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I think,” Sass continued, “they were both true. Yours and mine.”

Vex stared.

Sass shrugged slightly, hugging his mug. “Cod loves everyone. Even you. And Cod gave you what you wanted. The truth you needed. A cosmic joke. A place where the pain was part of the design, not your fault.”

His voice was soft now. “I think Cod is big enough to hold both things at once. Love and laughter. Warmth and cruelty. The truth you asked for, and the one I hoped for.”

Vex didn’t say anything.

Then his face crumpled. His shoulders hunched in, and his fingers gripped the fabric of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“I hope so,” he whispered.

Sass set his mug down.

He wrapped both arms around Vex and pulled him close, burying his face in the side of his neck.

“I know so,” he murmured. “I really do.”

He kissed him.

Long and quiet.

Wrapped up in each other, in the stillness of the flat, in the noise of the world outside, breathing, and warm, and alive. Pulsating.

Chapter Text

Splatsville glowed in the late afternoon like it had something to say. The sky was daubes pink and soft violet, the buildings casting long shadows across the concrete. Ink puddles shimmered in the sunset.

Sass and Vex walked side by side, shoulders brushing.

They weren’t going anywhere. Just walking.

The noise of the city was gentle today; music playing from a balcony radio, scooters weaving around market carts, goopy kids laughing as they chased each other with ink balloons that burst into color when they hit the pavement.

Then they saw him.

Across the street.

The Goldie.

Standing perfectly still, waving.

The same grin. The same golden shine. The same gentle, unreadable presence as the elevator that night. He looked like he had always been there.

Sass didn’t hesitate.

He crossed the street and walked right up to him.

“You were right,” he said.

The Goldie blinked.

“Death’s nothing to be afraid of,” Sass continued. “You knew. Your people were trying to tell us.”

The Goldie didn’t speak.

He just opened his arms.

Sass stepped into the hug, and the Salmonid’s fins closed around him, gentle and warm.

Vex stood nearby, watching, trying not to be affected... and failing.

“If death isn’t scary,” he asked, “then why… stay alive at all? What’s the point of this place? This world?”

Sass turned in the Goldie’s embrace, smiling at him.

“It’s like an entrée,” he said. “Before the main course. Something to prepare the soul. The taste before the real meal. Cod’s wonderful restaurant!"

He reached out a hand to Vex.

“And maybe,” he added, “my entrée is meeting you. Loving you.”

Vex stared at him.

He looked at the Goldie. Then back at Sass.

Something in him broke, but not like glass. Like soil under a growing seed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ll accept that.”

They stood together, the three of them. Two Octolings and a golden Salmonid. A moment of strange harmony amongst creatures fated to war with each other all eternity.

And then, without sound, without cause, without warning, a shape darted across the street.

A rabbit.

Small. Brown. Ears tall and trembling. It ran along the sidewalk past them, its shadow long in the sunset light. It didn’t look frightened. It didn’t look confused.

It just ran.

Sass gasped. Vex blinked.

“Is that-”

“It’s real,” Sass whispered.

They had all heard it. Rabbits were extinct. Long gone from this world.

But there it was.

Living.

Breathing.

Running through Splatsville like it had somewhere to be.

None of them spoke.

Not Sass. Not Vex. Not the Goldie.

They just watched.

And in the golden glow of the day’s last light, something unspoken passed between them.

They weren’t alone.