Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The newest God of the Grove was lost.

How, he had no clear idea. As far as Thespius had said, moving from realm to realm was quite simple; all it took was finding the edge and moving forwards to where you wanted to go.

It wasn’t as though he needed a map, and yet here he was, wandering in a low-hanging gloom. A chill sunk into his skin, making him shiver. He could almost feel his fingers and toes creeping with the reminder of frostbite, the phantom pains pinging against his memory of his recent near death experience at the Spire.

He rubbed his arms, the light layer of fluff decorating his body puffing up to stave off the worst of it.

…he should have just taken up Thespius’ offer to walk with him. He was growing increasingly nervous with every step, the fear of dying suddenly crawling back from its grave in the back of his mind.

[ “ Gods can’t die, Toby.” Click Clack mutters, hoping his destination will appear soon. “ You’ll be fine…It should be just around the corner.”]

The hypothetical corner, of course. Click Clack had been walking in a straight line for what felt like forever now. It was never ending…a walk in the cold, up an endless amount of stairs-

He stopped walking. Okay. Okay. He just needed to take a break for a moment. Just a moment to stop and think.

Buzzhuzz. He wanted to go to Buzzhuzz…a place he’d only been to in passing, briefly, as it was storming, cold whipping at his face-

Nope! Okay. Backtracking. He tried to think, shoving his hands behind his mask to rub at his face.

What did Thespius say Huzzle Mug’s realm was like? He racked his brain for the answer.

Something about…sand? Sand as far as the eye could see…

The land underneath his feet began to change…the ethereal chill calming into something more cool than frigid. Crickets slowly faded into Click Clack’s hearing, the hoot of a distant owl pulling him from his stupor. He looked up.

…He was in Mitternacht’s desert…the same familiar moon painting the landscape in a soft glow.

Confusion hit him. This wasn’t where he had wanted to go at all. Sure, it was better than…wherever he just was, but at this point he was hopelessly late. He didn’t want to stand up the other gods during their first meeting.

He held himself as he trudged through the dunes, stopping to flick grains of sand from his feet every few minutes. The tragedy of sacrificing his shoes to godhood was not lost on him, and other downsides were becoming increasingly apparent as he happened upon Mitternacht’s place of worship.

The chairs he had previously rested on during his visits as a mortal were entirely too small for him now. Click Clack nudged one of them, sending it skittering a few feet away.

…he quickly set it upright, attempting to wipe away the evidence in the sand.

This sucked, for a lack of a better term. He was intruding on someone else’s home, when they were not here, and now he was making a mess. Great.

He plopped down to sit in the sand, shoulders hunched around his ears.

[ “Why now?” Our downtrodden God laments, sighing deeply. His annoyance with the situation is steadily rising. “ I should have asked for help…and now they'll hate me before they even get to know me!”]

He thumped his foot on the ground, slouching with a sigh.

There was a soft breeze. On the wind, Click Clack could faintly hear the familiar knocking of wooden wind chimes.

“ Click Clack? Dear, what are you doing here?”

A familiar voice met his ear, and he turned. Miss Mitternacht stood against the light of the moon behind him, surprise written across her face.

He quickly climbed to his feet, trying to dust the sand from himself as he puffed himself up as tall as he could manage…

…Which was still not much. He cleared his throat.

[ “ N-nothing!” Our Storytelling God blatantly lies, given the mess he's made of Madame Mitternacht's pews.]

He paused, then groaned as the weight of his narration registered. He still hadn't gotten used to it, yet.

[ “ What I meant to say was …I was simply trying to think…I may have lost my way trying to get to our planned meeting…” Click Clack elaborates. He hopes he hasn't caused any distress.]

The Goddess laughed, a hand brought to her beak. As she drew closer, Click Clack realized that the intense pressure he had become used to when he was in her presence as a mortal had disappeared. The raw, biting edge had subsided, replaced instead by the feeling of a cool, ebbing tide..

“ Mmm… no harm is done, Moonbeam. I was just on my way now…if you'd like, we can go together? Realms can be difficult to navigate with a lack of experience.”

She offered a hand to him then, her eyes upturned in a smile.

Slowly, he raised his own hand to take it. He was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth by any means, especially after his last attempt…

He shivered.

“Come now, dear.” Mitternacht said cheerfully, leading him with their hands held. “ We've yet to be too late.”

They began their trek back through the desert, coupled firmly together. Click Clack felt much like a child guided by his mother, occasionally glancing up at her from the corner of his eye.

…It felt like eons had passed since he'd done anything similar with his own mother. He'd been young…long before the days of boarding school and eventually, estrangement.

…He wondered if she was still alive, if she knew what he had accomplished in his mortal life.

If she knew they would no longer meet, afterwards.

He had resigned himself to never knowing, the disappointment she'd displayed when he had told her of his life's dream being enough of a deterrent to prevent him from reaching out.

…He couldn't bring himself to regret it. To mourn, maybe, what he never had…but not regret.

Mitternacht was graceful as she moved. She did not drag him, like his mother tended to do when he couldn't keep up. They were at a perfect pace.

….it was nice. A respite from the big feelings of the last hour or so.

The sand underfoot eventually grew coarse, the silky grains now scratchy and irritating against his skin. The sky began to lighten from its midnight blue into a range of colors that highlighted the landscape a bright orange.

He held a hand over his eyes, squinting through the sudden brightness. Wordlessly, Mitternacht drew her long dark sleeve over his head, shielding him from the light.

“ We’re almost there, child.” She began. The faint echo of voices over the sand began to catch Click Clack’s ears.

“ Bauhauzzo and Huzzle Mug have been very eager to properly meet you.”

The Storytelling God swallowed, the hair on his spine fluffing up for a different reason than the cold.

…he just had to remember that he wasn't a mortal anymore. They couldn't smite him or anything if he offended them…

…But they could still dislike him. They could still be holding a grudge against him for his fight with Thespius…or they could find some other flaw with him that he couldn't rebuke.

He tried to shove down the unease as he had done for past situations…meeting with managers, bosses and overseers.

Much too soon for Click Clack’s liking, forms were visible over the dunes. A familiar sight, Thespius sat cross-legged on a picnic blanket, Tony propped on his lap. Click Clack’s feet itched to run over and greet him, but the two additional Gods present gave him pause.

The taller of the two reminded the Editor God of cliffs and crags he’d read about in vacation pamphlets...Hot tourist destinations that exposed the layers of the Earth’s life for all to see. Large hands gesticulated as he spoke, his voice a deep, rumbling timbre that shook Click Clack down to his bones.

The other was not quite as solid, draped over an armchair that sat anchored in the sand. Their body was less symmetric than the first, the lines of their form falling with swoops and curves, like the feathers of a waterbird.

Oddly inhuman, compared to Thespius...but he supposed he also fit in that category.

He and Mitternacht finally approached, the attention of the three other Gods drawn to their arrival. Thespius’ expression lit up, a smile growing across his face, only to falter slightly as Click Clack stepped from Mitternacht’s shadow.

“ Clicky, you made it! Are you okay, dawg? You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

“ Thespius,” Mitternacht chided gently. Thespius immediately sat back on his heels. “ You neglected to remember our newest member has never been to Huzzle Mug’s domain. It was no surprise he managed to find himself in my realm instead.”

The God of Love was admonished, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He coughed into his fist.

“ Ah….I thought I forgot somethin’...Sorry about that, Clack. Next time I’ll make sure to remember.”

[ “It’s no bother! I’m fine, I promise! I just….got a little lost.”] He immediately tried to downplay, waving his hands as he skittered to Thespius’ side.

There was a musical snort across from the picnic blanket. The God lounging in its armchair tittered softly.

“ Your faceymask says otherbetterwise! No shame in admittysaying it!”

Click Clack put a hand to his mask, the traitorous thing. Of course it would betray him like this. Since ascending, hiding what he was feeling had become infinitely more difficult. Thespius had been able to spot a bad mood from a mile away every time he visited, to his chagrin.

..it was frustrating. Emotions were hard enough to deal with, but the fact that people could see them now made it much worse. He hunched his shoulders.

“ Huzzle Mug is right, young one,” The Mountainous God chimed in. He laced his craggy fingers together, closing his eyes. “ Wearing one’s heart on their sleeve is no terrible thing. In fact, there’s a beauty to baring your soul to the world, despite the vulnerability it brings.”

The colorful God, Huzzle Mug, squinted in amusement.

“ …Like Thespius.”

“ Exactly.” The Stone God agreed.

“ Guys…” Thespius groaned, hiding his face in his palms. The reason why, Click Clack couldn’t understand.

[ “ I don’t mind it when It comes from Thespius,” The unaware God postulates. He climbs upon The Love God’s knee, his new height from his metaphorical soap box not doing much to give him the needed context. “ His emotions make him an excellent playwright…much better than ones I used to meet in my previous line of work.”]

Thespius made a choking noise behind him. Mitternacht, who had been watching the exchange with quiet conservation hummed.

“ Previous line of work? From what I remember of our first meeting, Thespius hired you from out of the Grove, Correct?”

Click Clack nodded. [ “ I worked in New York. Broadway…and sometimes Hollywood. The amount of amateur screenwriters far outweighed the talented ones…” The Storytelling God fusses. He shakes his head in disappointment. “ Being inexperienced is one thing…but buying your way into an audience with a shoddy script is another. I just about pulled my hair out with the number of them I had to read.”]

Huzzle Mug threw up its hands suddenly, making the editor jump.

“EXACTIPRICICELY! Bauhauzzo, you’ve heard me saycomplain about this verysamey thing!”

It crowed, tapping a finger against the other’s stone body.

“ Money money money…where’s the inspiravation? The mindwhimseys that createmake for the sake of it?”

It languished in its seat, shaking its head with a tut. Bauhauzzo gently patted its back.

“ Disheartening, it is,” He said. “ But I believe I speak for all of us when I say how happy I am to see Thespius has found such a passionate partner…He’s spoken very highly of you to us all.”

“ That’s right!” Mitternacht chimed in, her skull balanced in her boney palm. “ Oh dear, he was absolutely smitten with you once the two of you met…”

She wistfully sighed. “ You should have seen him while you were asleep! Rarely did he leave your side…a million questions on his tongue. We visited, of course, and offered to take turns watching over you, but he was adamant that he would be the one to keep you company! It was the sweetest thing-”

Click Clack was nearly knocked off balance and into the sand as Thespius jolted up from his sitting position. The larger God caught him from under the arms, scooping him up close to his chest in a half-hug carry.

“ - Ooooohkayyy! That’s enough of that…He doesn’t need to hear all the boring details, right Clicky?”

The recipient of the statement was still buffering, clutched onto Thespius’ suit like a startled cat. [“ ..Wh…”]

“ Exactly.” Thespius reiterated. Click Clack missed the knowing glances shared between the other three gods.

“ …Sooooo….the bodyform, then.” Huzzle Mug began again, undeterred by the tension.

“ What are your thoughtsfeelings about it? Bighappygood, I Hopeywish!”

Click Clack adjusted his mask, which had been tipped askew by the sudden movement from Thespius. The warm body holding him gave him a mite more confidence in response.

[“ It’s…a lot. I haven’t really taken the time to do any admiring…” The humble God admits. To be completely honest, he’s not sure of the nature of some of the design choices.]

“ Oh?” Bauhauzzo exclaimed. The rest of the Gods leaned forward to listen, leaving Click Clack lightly startled. “ Are you unhappy with your form? What is it you don’t like?”

The smaller God huffed. [ “ It's not that I don’t like what I look like…I just…don’t quite understand the reasoning.” Click Clack tugs on the front of Thespius’ coat, a motion meant to signal he wants to be put down.]

Thespius obliged, setting him down on the picnic blanket. The newest God took the opportunity to twist around, showing himself off fully to the enraptured audience.

[ “ The lagomorph theme is completely out of left field,” He begins, pointing to the small, fluffy tail on his back. “Not to mention, inconsistent. I was never athletic, nor were my eating habits akin to that of rabbits.”]

A touch of the coarse sand leaked onto the blanket with Click Clack’s pacing. The feeling had him irritably flicking his foot to remove it from his toe pads.

[ “ I was never all that colorful as a mortal, so that isn’t an issue…but the mask? I was never an actor myself, so I never had the need to wear one.”]

“ Hm….” Mitternacht mused, rubbing her chin. “ …Have you considered that there may be some symbolism at play?”

Bauhauzzo fitted his fist into his palm. “ That must be it! Rabbits are known to have represented many things throughout history…Resurrection, Rebirth, Luck….” He looked behind Click Clack, towards Thespius as he finished his sentence.

“ ..Fertility….”

The God of Love threw a clump of sand at him. Click Clack didn’t seem to notice, too lost in thought.

“ Maybe,”Huzzle Mug started, catching the newest God’s attention. “ It's not about symbolmeanings…but instead your deepinsideyfeelings.”

It pointed to its own chest. “ Mine own ascension freed the heavymessy feelingthingies. I felt muchlots better! Much like I wanted to be inside.”

Click Clack frowned. He wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that…what, that he had deep, unfiltered feelings he wasn’t aware of? It was already difficult as it was with the ones he could recognize!

“ Hey…we’ll figure it out. And if you end up unhappy about it, I’m sure there’s a few tricks we could pull to help, right guys?” Thespius’ warm hand atop his head snapped him from his stupor. He looked up at him, then around at the other gods. Mitternacht was in the process of cleaning sand from one of Bauhauzzo’s floating eyes, but she made a point to wave, as did the other two gods.

“ As far as we’re concerned, you’re family now, Click Clack.” He said, wincing as his eye watered from irritation.

The God of Innovation honked from its chair. “ Familindeed-y! And you’re the babygod!”

“ Congratulations, Thespius,” Mitternacht said dryly. “ You can no longer be teased as the youngest.”

“ -But you can be pokedproddedteased about OTHER things…” Huzzle said slowly, laughing under its breath.

Thespius grunted with irritation, leaving Click Clack to watch as he rolled up his sleeves and strolled over to the colorful God’s chair with malicious intent. Huzzle squawked, giggling as it scrambled from its chair, Thespius now slipping and sliding in the loose dunes after it.

“ Ohhh, you’re gonna get it now Huzzie!”

“ Keep your sandyhandies off of me!” It shouted back.

It was an oddly domestic scene as Click Clack sat down on the blanket, the anxiety from before slowly draining away.

…maybe, he could get used to this.

Chapter Text

There was a mirror in Click Clack’s studio.

It had appeared not long after his first gathering with the other gods, a pristine tarp draped over a corner of it as it innocently sat in his peripheral vision.

At first, the object was inconspicuous enough; sat in the far corner of his studio, out of the way and out of mind. As time passed, however, the editor God noted changes in its position….moving closer and closer to the edge of his dias despite him not having moved it himself.

Covered as it was, a sliver of its surface peeked from behind the cloth, catching his eye as he often paced about his home. He always quickly looked away before he could get a good look at himself in the reflection.

It beckoned to him, though. The thought was always nagging at him, begging him to indulge in its visions.

Why, exactly, he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was only a mirror…a completely harmless object with no real power over him in any way….and yet…

…he shoved it to the back of his mind, once again caught staring at the innocent piece of furniture, which had moved closer several inches in the past few days.

He had work to do…scripts to write, and a visit to Thespius to make. He could think about it later.

--- - - -- ----- --- -- -- -- -----

Adamant was not a word he had ever thought he would assign to a mirror.

Days passed and the pressure steadily grew. The tarp continued to slip further and further, the mirror closing in closer and closer, tantalizingly beckoning him from his work.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that this was no ordinary mirror; replacing the tarp to its place across its surface did nothing to guarantee it would stay in position. Turning around for even a single moment reverted it to its prior state, the bait reset for its dubious trap.

Click Clack was beginning to think this was some sort of cruel prank from the other Gods. No matter how much he tried to will it away, the mirror would not budge. He even tried picking it up to return it to its corner, only to wobble under its weight and unwieldy length. He didn't want to drop it and shatter glass everywhere, after all.

[ Our editor God, troubled by the presence of his fantastical mirror, keeps his back to the wretched thing,] he narrated, hands tapping away at the keys of his beloved Georgia.

[ It covers his blindspots, clouding his mind with its visions. If he didn’t know better, he would believe it as some sort of cursed object to test his will. Perhaps, the powers that be placed it to distract the Storyteller God from his work…to halt the progression of the World’s tale that our brave editor valiantly transcribes each and every day.]

Click Clack smiled to himself, the thought taking root in his head. A fervor began to overtake his fingertips as he typed away at his newest script.

[ That must be it…A challenge for the newest God to test his mettle. A tale of an enchanted mirror, placed in the editor’s sacred realm to distract him from what is truly most important. Click Clack has yet to solidify his role, after all….one misstep would certainly spell catastrophe for the inexperienced God. A devilish grin spreads across his mask, confidence solidifying in his chest. “ Not today, Godly phantom, for I, the dutiful Click Clack, am steady on my course. No task is too great, no distraction too enticing for me to simply abandon my duties.” He pulls back the paper shelf with a ‘ding’, frothing at the mouth to flood the new, untouched page. “ Now, to put you from my mind once and for all, wretched creature. One more screenplay should do it.” He presses the keys, eager to put this setback behind him- ]

The typewriter shuddered. No movement was made, no letters printed on the page. Click Clack paused.

That…shouldn’t have happened. Georgia rarely jammed, even when he was a mortal. He took too good care of her to ever let it happen. He had figured Godhood had blessed the machine with immunity from the occurrence, and yet…

He reached over and tugged at the page, attempting to unstick it from the shelf. It pulled taut, trapped firm in Georgia’s clutches. He fiddled with the metal bar, frustration mounting as she refused to release the paper.

[ “Georgia…Come now,” Click Clack says, exasperated by his beloved partner. He tugs fruitfully at the page. Again, the typewriter exists to thwart him.]

He planted his feet on the dias, grabbing onto the page with both hands. Even attempting to dig his claws in did nothing to budge it from its position. He tugged with his whole body, leaning back in hopes his weight would dislodge the paper.

It slipped from his grasp. Click Clack went tumbling backwards, rolling head over heels until he was stopped by a solid object. His feet dangled over his ears, his vision tipped upside down as he stared back out onto the traitorous machine.

The page was intact. He growled, deep in his throat.

[ “Fine! Be that way. I’ll find something else to write on until you change your mind!” The enraged God shouted, pulling himself to his feet. “ I’m sure there’s a pen and pad around here somewhere…”]

The tumultuous God moved to get up, falling to his side with a gentle ‘oof!’. Again, he bumped into what he presumed was the wall, his mask knocked askew as he sat up to silently curse.

It was the mirror, its tarp pulled down in the frenzy. As he looked, he caught his face briefly in its reflection, the mask frozen like a deer in headlights, and just visible beneath it, his natural visage peeking out at him from behind.

He scrambled to his feet, covering his face with both hands. The panicked God scrabbled at the edges of his mask, forcefully yanking it back down into its proper place. He breathed heavily, turned pointedly away from the mirror's distractions.

[ “…That's enough.” Our disturbed God rasped, his throat dry with dread.

“ I'm….I'm getting back to work. Your tricks won't sway me, devilish device.”]

He shakily managed to dust himself off, smoothing himself out in an attempt to bury the hammering heartbeat in his chest. Staggering over to one of the many document cabinets lining his domain, he practically ripped open the first drawer. Scripts lined the inside from front to the supposed back, receding into the dark as Click Clack attempted to find the end to the infinite space. He swallowed.

…Maybe he could just…ask to borrow a pen.

Thespius was the first to come to mind, but Click Clack wasn’t quite sure how exactly the God managed to write his scripts in the first place. Never had he seen him writing with pen and paper in the time they’d known each other. It wouldn’t have surprised Click Clack to learn that the God had spoken them into being.

…Huzzle Mug was a creative type, though. He hadn’t seen it writing anything, but their last meeting had been enough to convince him that they could conjure things without much issue. New God as he was, the ability had yet to come naturally to him like that.

He sighed, preparing himself for the cold of the trip like he’d experienced last time. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but he also wasn’t about to waste precious creative writing time moping.

He made his way to a side door built seamlessly into the wall of his realm. This was from where he usually traveled to Thespius’ home, but its use in his current endeavor had him hesitating like he never had with the God of Love.

He sucked in as much air as he could muster straight into his lungs, squaring his shoulders.

…Then, he opened the door.

To his surprise, on the other side was the familiar waves of hot sand that had greeted him when he visited Huzzle last. Not anywhere to be seen was the dense, cold fog from before.

He paused, thinking back to what Mitternacht had said to Thespius following their arrival.

….he supposed now that he knew what he was looking for when it came to Huzzle’s land, there was no true way for him to get lost. The thought was comforting, at least.

With that out of the way, he refused to look back in fear of the mirror being there when he turned. He stepped onto the course sand, already wincing at the texture of the grains sliding between his toe pads. If this was anything like the last time, he would need to shake himself off thoroughly before he returned to his studio, lest he make a mess everywhere.

He scurried over the dunes, the lack of traction causing him to catch himself on his hands as he nearly face planted in the sand multiple times.

[ “ Would it kill it to make a path?” The humbled God mutters, once again brushing sand from his arms. He can feel the grains tickling his skin from under his thin layer of fluff.]

“ But ohsowhy? I like the slipseyslidey way around my homseyrealm.”

Its voice came from right beside his ear and he jumped, instinctively bolting across the dune he'd been actively trying to climb. His feet lost purchase on the loose grains, and suddenly he was sliding further and further down the dune, flailing this way and that in an attempt to stop his movement. From its spot above, Huzzle Mug tittered, a hand over its mouth in amusement.

“ The babygod came to see me! Muchawouldthink you would be with Thespie, not alltheways out hereandnows!”

The innovative God pulled itself over the dune and slid down after Click Clack, albeit much more gracefully. It came to a stop right next to him, reaching over to help him brush the sand from the top of his head. He appreciated the sentiment.

[ The Storytelling God loves Thespius dearly,] he began, not catching Huzzle's knowing squint.

[ -But the God of Love is not the answer to our God’s current predicament. Click Clack hopes that Huzzle Mug may have a solution.]

“ You've come to the right placeyrealm then! If a solution is what you needsyfind, then Huzzle is your pallyfriend for the job!”

It snapped its fingers, though the sound was akin to the cry of a dolphin rather than what he had expected, and suddenly they were both sitting comfortably in chairs above the sandy floor. The relief was almost instantaneous for the newest God, who immediately took the time to remove the sand from his person the best he could.

“ So tellsatalk….what's on your mindbrain?”

Click Clack sighed, his small body heaving with the weight of it.

[ The God of Storytelling is experiencing a dilemma. His beloved G-... Typewriter is on the fritz. It's his only method of penning his edits on the scripts given to him by Thespius.]

He began, lifting the bottom of his mask a small bit to let the sand fall out.

[ “I was wondering if you could spare a pen…I am not sure how to conjure one myself quite yet.”]

Huzzle Mug honked with glee, leaning back in its chair.

“ Ofcoursolutely pallyfriend of mine! Muzzle Huggie has you covered backandfront!”

It plucked a feather from behind its ear, or its approximate location, anyways, twirling it between its fingers. The end was capped with a golden nib, reminiscent of the expensive fountain pens he had only seen displayed on fancy desks of high-end executives.

It gently placed the pen in his outstretched palms. Click Clack cradled it like even a breath would break it.

“ There! Nothingsmuch special…but it will do.”

[ “ Nothing special…?” Our aghast God gasps. “Huzzle, this is gorgeous… are you sure you're willing to let me use this?” The minor God feels like he is unworthy of such a beautiful artifact, crafted straight from the God of Innovation’s hands.]

Huzzle fluttered its eyelashes, fanning itself with its hand.

“ Manythankies…but it doesn't mattermuch… Huzzle can always makesydaisies more!”

Click Clack stared down at the pen. Its gold accents glimmered as he tilted it this way and that.

A lump appeared in his throat.

…He held it back up to Huzzle Mug.

[ “ I can't take this.] Click Clack said.

[ “It's too precious… Do you have anything you wouldn't mind losing? If, by chance, I were to lose it…”]

If Huzzle gave him anything, of course, he'd keep track of it like a hawk….but this? This was too much.

Huzzle Mug looked taken aback. It leaned forward, oddly critical.

“ Whatsyou mean? No taksiesbacksies! It's for you, SillyClicky!”

It reached over and placed a hand over his, curling his fingers around the pen.

“ Why don't you wannakeepsies Huzzle’s giftpresent?”

Click Clack stammered, trying to backtrack.

[ “ No offense was meant! I love the pen, really I do! ” The Editor can only think about all the things that could happen to the beautiful object in his home…especially with the stress he's facing with Georgia, the Mirror-]

“ What mirror?” Huzzle asked, suddenly. It was oddly subdued in its question, startling the Storytelling God out of his ramble.

He clammed up, his narration running dry. Huzzle’s expression softened, the soft jingling of bells audible as it sat back in its own chair.

“ It's okay, ClickyClack….Huzzie won't bite. What is this about a mirror?”

Click Clack’s gaze trailed to the ground. He placed the pen to his side, hands falling to his lap.

[ The God of Storytelling is unsure of h- “ I’m unsure of how to describe it.” ] He began, stopping his narration with a sharp word before it could continue any further.

[ “ It sounds….insane…but there's this mirror in my studio. I…don't know how it got there….but it keeps following me. Day in and Day out…it gets closer and closer. It's….distracting to say the least.”]

The Innovative God sat in silence as he explained, nodding along.

“ Is there anything oddlystrange in its reflection? Spookiescaries? Wavyshapeybodies? Emptynothings?”

It took Click Clack a moment to interpret what they were asking, before shaking his head.

[ “ N-no…not exactly….it just….won't leave me alone! I don't have time to gawk at myself in a mirror all day; I have work to do!” ]

He dropped his cheek into his palm, sighing deeply. Huzzle watched him for a long moment, long enough for Click Clack to notice the prolonged silence and look back up at its face.

It was looking at him with a face he struggled to discern. Sadness, perhaps. Pity? And something like…. recognition in its doe-like eyes.

“ ClickyClack,” it finally spoke, slow and gentle, as though he'd spook like a scared animal.

“ …Did you ever think that you made the mirror?”

He looked at it incredulously.

[ “....No. Why would I have made it? I don't know where it came from…I certainly didn't wish or need a mirror…I know what I look like.” Our oblivious God responds, caught off guard by the question. He forgets that mirrors are not just objects of vanity, but of self image and reflection. Huzzle Mug knows this, of course, but Click Clack is in need of a reminder.]

The feathery God seemed to take note of something, humming lightly in its throat. The sound was akin to a harmonica, low and droning.

“ When was the last time you took a peeksiepie at your prettyself?”

…Click Clack wasn't quite sure where it was going with this.

[ “ Well…I see myself every day? And when we had our meeting we discussed this very same subject…Thespius described everything to me the best he could…I don't see why that's important?”]

Huzzle Mug narrowed its eyes. It leaned forward.

He leaned back.

“ And before the formtwistie? When you were a mortalsperson?”

He opened his mouth, a retort on his tongue. Again, why did it matter? He wasn't a mortal any longer… he knew what he used to look like, and it wasn't anything special.

…But as he thought, he realized he couldn't answer the question.

…when was the last time he had looked in the mirror before he ascended? He could have sworn he'd seen his reflection in a cup of coffee or something…a passing window, or a puddle on the ground after a fall rain…

Lingering on it had never done him any good. What he saw in the mirror was not handsome by any standard…he was not a sought after commodity, thin or clear of eye bags and wrinkles.

He had been just…

A man.

…The term instantly felt sour on his tongue, a bitterness he couldn't explain making him shake his head.

He had been a man….was a man….wasn't he?

….well, no. He was a God now, and not just a man….but he was still….?

He slumped back in his chair, a hand to the forehead of his mask. He felt unbearably hot all of a sudden, the cool porcelain a relief against his sweaty palms.

[ “ ….Huzzle I….” Our dawning God swallows. “I don't know. I don't remember.”]

“ Why are you avoidylooking at the mirror, ClickyClack?” It asked in a hushed tone. Click Clack barely noted that its chair had been moved to sit directly next to him, and it was now offering a hand to hold.

…he took it. Its grip was soft, like goose down.

[ “......” The frazzled God is at a loss for words. He knows deep, deep down that something is wrong with him….has always been that way, and he's never been able to fix it. It just wasn't plausible as a human…his looks too rigid, too conforming, and his bravery non-existent. He can't face it…even now, when his body is so close to what he's always wanted inside…because looking into himself has always been harder than anything else.]

Huzzle Mug frowned. “ SillyClicky….”

Click Clack's hands flew to the eyes of his mask, hiding them from sight. A mask of a mask.

[ There is always something else to do…something else that puts it off just a little longer. If the papers stack up, then our God doesn't have to think of himself. He can think of other people…he can lift them up, and make them famous, and watch as they become stars. He never has to think about how unhappy he is, how scared he is to make a change, because what would other people think?]

His wrists were gripped with surprising strength, but not enough to bruise. Huzzle Mug was knelt in front of his chair, a worried expression unbefitting of the God washed over its face.

“ I had a guessygoosey this would happenstance…I'm bigsadsorry I didn't say something soonerthanlater.”

It pulled his hands away from his face, allowing them to meet eyes.

“ …it doesn't matter what people thinksayado… what muchmatters is your happiness.”

It brought a palm to its feathery chest.

“ You're in feelsiepain….and you've been for a timealong… I know-know understand what its like.”

Huzzle pulled a handkerchief from…. somewhere, offering it to Click Clack. His hands shook as he took it, reaching underneath his mask to wipe at the dampness on his cheeks.

“ …You're not alonesome. We're fambilambily.”

The Storytelling God’s heart leapt at the word…reminded that the same thing had been said during his first meeting with the others.

…Family had never been something he'd had the privilege of possessing. For all his success…Georgia and thousands of words were the only blood he could claim. Thespius and the Hobbyhooians had come into his life…but he had never expected their roles to escalate as they had.

And here was yet another person…caring about him. Loving him…and trying to understand him.

Huzzle once again pressed the pen into Click Clack's hands. Its eyes were full of warmth, the corners of its smile pulled as far as they could go.

“ So…with that out of the whichwaysies…” it said, dusting its hands and straightening up to sit back in its chair. Without much thought, Click Clack tried to wipe his nose with his arm, only to be stopped by the mask. Huzzle chattered at him in amusement, a box of tissues manifesting between them.

“ …let's have a talkyteach about something you'll likealot.”

It threaded its fingers together in a steeple-like motion.

“ …what do you remember about pronouns?”

------- --- ------ ----------

Click Clack stood in front of the mirror.

Returning home, the object had been discovered front and center in the middle of the dias, Georgia tucked neatly to the side and out of the spotlight.

The tarp was nowhere to be found. The only thing left between Click Clack and the mirror’s surface was the shadow cast from around the spotlight.

The God held tightly onto the pen that had been a gift from Huzzle, a reminder of the talk between them. Action could not be put off any longer…not at this point.

Click Clack took a shaky breath, and stepped into the dias.

The first thing that they noticed was the expression plastered on their mask. Sweat was drawn meticulously down their temple, framing a large-eyed, anxious face. A cool blush frosted their cheeks, softening their already round features.

It was….cute. Nowhere were the glasses he had worn as a mortal…nor the features he had associated with masculinity for so long. If he looked close enough, he could even see small, decorative eyelashes painted over each pupil.

The curls framing their head were familiar, though, if not more voluminous than they used to be. They drew their fingers through them, watching as they bounced back into shape. Nothing like the hair they had kept just long enough to keep themself from losing their confidence in their appearance entirely.

A spin in front of the mirror’s surface reflected what they already knew; they were small, but shapely. Curves on their chest were noticeable, down to their hips that widened a bit at the bottom, like a drop of ink.

They weren't feminine by any means; that wasn't what they had wanted at all…but they were softer than a man. Something completely different that made them almost giddy with the thought.

…Before they could get too excited though, Click Clack recalled the last thing that gave them pause.

Their face underneath the mask. They had felt it…touched the features and knew it was there…but what was truly beneath their mask's surface was completely unknown to them.

Their fingers hovered at the edge of the mask's surface, just underneath their chin.

….they stopped.

[ “ ….Not yet.” Our newly cracked God murmurs, releasing a deep breath. Today has been enough…and while it is frankly exhilarating to feel so suddenly validated…they are also exhausted from all of their recent revelations.]

They stepped off of the dias, padding over to Georgia, and laid flat on the floor, the top of their head brushing her cool metal. They were too tired to go anywhere else to sleep. The typewriter would have to be good enough company, for the time being.

The pen resting on their chest, they closed their eyes, taking a deep breath. A heaviness they didn't know that they had been carrying had disappeared…not entirely…but to a degree.

…Absent-mindedly, they reached up to pull at the page still jammed in Georgia's paper tray.

…And without any resistance at all, it was released from her grasp, fluttering to the floor from Click Clack's still outstretched hand.

Chapter Text

“ I think you're shedding,” Thespius said, running a finger over the back of Click Clack’s neck.

The Editor God hunched a note further over their typewriter, snorting incredulously as they tak-tak-takked away at their work. They were attempting…keyword attempting to write something of their own at Thespius’ suggestion, the God having cited their previous success in improving his scripts.

The request was easier said than done, of course. Even now after ascension, ideas did not come to them fluidly, writer's block savagely dooming any words stamped on the page to be crumpled up and tossed amongst Thespius’ clouds. Several had already made their way there.

The two Gods were keeping each other company while they “worked”...or rather, tried to work. Click Clack’s script-writing endeavors were regularly derailed by The God of Love; from conversations that drew them in, to small moments of physical contact that pulled them from their focus.

….not that they disliked being distracted. Thespius, as always, was a good conversation partner. Click Clack had learned during their time as a mortal that his small stories, quips and jokes were rather endearing to say the least. They had gotten used to it.

The physical contact, on the other hand, had been…surprising. Not the contact itself; Thespius had always been touchy, even when Click Clack was about as tall as one of his palms, but the Storytelling God's reaction to it had changed significantly, to say the least.

[ The God of Storytelling thinks that Thespius is trying to derail their train of thought. Does he know that they're not buying it? It remains a mystery.]

Thespius chuckled, kicking his legs behind him as he once again brushed their back with his fingers.
The smaller God fought down the urge to physically shiver, their hair puffing up on end as a result.

“ I'm serious! You've kinda got a bit of a winter coat going on. Much fluffier than when you got here, that's for sure.”

Click Clack turned from their spot to look up at the Love God, of whom simply stared innocently back at him.

[ “ …Thespius, I'm not an actual rabbit. We've had this conversation.”]

Thespius’ expression wobbled for a moment, the dam threatening to break.

“ ….Okay, but perchance-” There it was.

[ “ -You can't just say perchance-”] They interrupted. He continued.

“ -Perchance…you try a carrot, yeah? You eat the carrot, and you really like it. Best food you've ever had.”

[ “Thespius-”]

“ -And! You're definitely shedding. I'm not crazy. Look. Look!”

He pointed at a familiar dark pile of cotton gathered around the Editor's feet. They eyed it suspiciously.

[ “....Have you been pulling this off of me this whole time?” The Storytelling God is now under the belief that Thespius has been using them as some sort of service animal this entire visit.]

…Thespius tapped his fingers together.

“ …No.” Said the Liar.

[ “ Ah-ah!! You can't fool me. I could practically hear the ellipses!”]

They stood to their full height, shaking themself off. To their dismay, more small, black tufts rolled off of them like tumbleweeds. Apparently, Thespius’ touch had knocked much more loose than they had first thought.

[ Click Clack is regretting not looking at the fine print of Godhood. This reminds them of a bad hair day… times twelve. “ …I take back my answer at the Spire. This is awful.”]

“ It's too late now!~ You're stuck with me!!” Thespius cackled, pushing himself up to sit on his knees. The trumpets floating around his head brayed with the sound, announcing his mirth for all to hear.

He reached down and pulled the smaller God to his lap, half-heartedly attempting to comb the remainder off with his hand. Click Clack's breath hitched as his fingers drew through their curls.

“ ..But seriously. I could try to brush some of this out if you want? It might be hard to get to all the places you can't see.”

[ T…the Storytelling God doesn't have any qualms with the idea…just that Thespius be slow and careful. They were prone to knots as a mortal, and are unsure if that still translates to now.] They put all of their focus into strangling their narration, ensuring it wouldn't doom him by revealing something embarrassing. Thespius didn't seem to notice, a brush materializing in his hand.

“ Just relax, yeah? And tell me if I'm tuggin’ too hard.”

Click Clack opened their mouth to speak, to reassure him that he couldn't possibly hurt them too badly, and that he was nowhere near tender-headed, only for Thespius to make the first stroke of the brush.

The reaction was immediate. Every hair on their body stood straight on end, their body locked up in surprise.

The feeling was heavenly…the gentle rasp of the bristles combing through his hair, softly scratching against their skin as Thespius pulled it downward toward the small of their back.

He gripped onto Thespius’ skirt as the man went for another stroke, too stunned to breathe. Their eyes closed, each muscle untensing one at a time. He felt like he was going to melt into a puddle at this rate; tilting his head to the side as the God of Love tackled the ruff around his neck.

“ …I’m not hurting you, am I?”

The only response Click Clack could give was a rumbling hum, leaning back to chase the brush as Thespius pulled it away. He laughed again, returning to the rhythmic motion.
This continued as the brush made its way around their shoulders, a fluttery kick of their foot thumping down on the God of Love’s knee. He pulled them up with his opposite hand, dragging the bristles through the fluff at their collar.

…It hit a snag, the smooth motions of his hand abruptly interrupted as it caught on something stuck snug to their skin. Their eyes opened suddenly, and they jerked forward, whatever it was attached to them pulling them fully to attention.

Thespius dropped the brush with alarm. It easily let go of whatever it had grabbed, tumbling off of his lap and laying to rest among the discarded drafts.

“ -Ah!! Shoot, I’m sorry Clicky! I should’ve been more careful.” He picked up the disturbed editor, turning them around to look him up and down.

“ Are you okay?”

[ “ I…” Our Storyteller God begins, still stunned over the interruption of his newfound bliss. “ …I think so…”]

They reached up to touch the spot that the brush had caught against, a small, hard “knot” meeting their fingers. They sighed, shaking off the unease that it gave them.

[ Our protagonist God feels they should have expected this. Never has their hair liked to work with them, even as a mortal. It makes sense, then, that the track record would continue even after ascension.]

“ Hey, you’re not the only one! Try brushing around flowers…” The God of Love reached up to fuss with a strand of his hair, toying with one of the many blooms that dotted his head.

“ It makes me long for the days without them, sometimes…” He said, trailing off as he reminisced. Click Clack’s expression shifted into one of surprise. Thespius hadn’t yet talked about his time as a mortal. What he knew came from Mitternacht, and that was only why he had been chosen for the Godly Vote.

[ The Wordsmith God shuffles back and forth in his seat. He is unsure of whether or not it would be a sore subject to ask about Thespius’ time as a mortal.]

“ Hm? Oh, no, it’s fine!” His companion soothed, leaning back into the clouds that cushioned his body. “ I don’t mind talking about it, but…where to begin, you know?”

He ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. Click Clack took the opportunity to press themself against his side, eager to listen.

“ So…I was born here. Wasn’t much around at the time. The Fields were mostly wild at that point; but people still passed through. A lot of tourists on their way to Buzzhuzz, and it was like that until you came along, really.” One of his hands reached down to gently stroke the top of their head as he spoke. They thought about mentioning it, but the soothing pull once again tugging at their curls eliminated any qualms they may have had.

“ …Music became my way t’ express myself. I was never really an artist…singing and strumming were much less complicated. Eventually, I wanted to go out and explore what was beyond the Grove, you know? Spread my wings a little.” The God of Love quirked his mouth to the side as he considered his next words.

“ It wasn’t easy out there, as you can probably remember. Baby Thespie had to learn to fly real fast..and even then there were a few crash landings. Still, I managed, and eventually I was doin’ pretty good for myself.”

His lips pursed into a thin line. “...I got news that there was a storm. A pretty bad one, from the sounds of it…and even the Gods were having a rough time puttin’ things back together. I was at the top of my career, but something about the whole thing tugged at my heartstrings.”

Of course, Click Clack knew of Thespius' previously held fame, or at least his visage. Every record store worth their salt had at least one album of the Gods, most adorned with groovy colors, flowers, and the occasional photograph portrait. Even with all the time that had passed since his ascension, his popularity had yet to wane. In fact, it seemed to have bolstered his reputation even more.

…they thought about just how similar Thespius still looked to those portraits. Thinking back to what he had told them upon waking up, maybe the God of Love had always meant to be the way he already was.

…It was a sobering thought.

“...despite everyone tellin’ me not to, I came back home. It was…” he trailed off for a second, shaking his head. “...It was pretty bad. I'll never forget just how hopeless it all seemed. The people here…they lost everything.”

Click Clack hummed, recalling the words told to him by Mitternacht upon their visit to her realm.

[ “Miss Mitternacht implied that you founded Hobbyhoo. Is that true?”]

Thespius squinted at them, a small smile curling upon his lips. “ When did you and Mama M have the time to chat about that? On your way to the family get-together?”

They shook their head, tapping their fingers together. [ They shift awkwardly as they hesitate to admit they may have unintentionally learned a little bit about Thespius’ past before they ascended on a trip to the Cove… “...It surely wasn’t my intention to gossip, but I had questions…a-and, at the time…I just assumed you were born a God…you certainly look the part…”]

He was cut off as a burst of laughter erupted from the brass surrounding them in a ring, making them nearly jump out of their skin. Thespius wiped away tears from the corners of his eyes, giggling mercilessly as his extra hands thumped on his back to bring in extra breath.

“I'm flattered!! Gosh, you really thought I was…? Pfft, listen, I know I'm considered a looker, but I'm not the only one who could make a fella swoon! ”

He waggled his eyebrows at the smaller God. Click Clack could feel a heat burning underneath their mask, fidgeting as they tried to dismiss Thespius' words as simple teasing.

“ But yeah…I suppose I did ‘found’ Hobbyhoo,” he said after a moment, his spare hands making floating quotation marks around his head. “ ‘Started as a camp for refugees and just ..took off from there I guess! And apparently that was enough for people to vote me in next Rift.”

…They had a feeling that there was some serious downplaying going into his statement, a small frown tugging at their face. They leaned back against his torso.

[ The Storytelling God is unconvinced that Thespius is sharing the scope of his influence, but decides not to comment. Instead, their thoughts fall back on his earlier comment about the flowers affixed to his hair. “ So…do you miss being a mortal?”]

Thespius took the question into consideration, fiddling with a loose strand before tucking it behind his ear.

“ …Mmm…sometimes. Mostly just ‘cause it can be so lonely up here…after everyone ya’ know moves on, all people know you for is your godhood, ya’ know? They treat you differently.”

He looked down a bit sheepishly then, meeting Click Clack’s eyes.

“ Well…until you came along, I guess! M’ not lonely anymore, huh?”

[ “Not if I can help it,” Click Clack replies without thinking. They beam back up at him, cluelessly missing the subtext. “ We're partners now! What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't keep visiting you?]

The God of Love and Mirth seemed to sigh at that, from what Click Clack couldn't tell, his shoulders slumping forward. They received a gentle pat on the head as he spoke next.

“ Right…and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

There was a pregnant pause between them for a moment…not uncomfortable, but laden with something the smaller God couldn't put a pin in.

They opened their mouth to speak, only for Thespius to snap his fingers and jolt upright, making them jump.

“ You know…all this mortal-talk has me thinking…we could try to mosey around town a little bit if you'd like? Just you and me?”

They stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded.

[ “Thespius?”]

“Yeah?”

[ “Won't we, you know…” The God gestures between them. “Stand out? Crush people? Both of the former?”]

“ What? No! Well, to the second one, anyways.” He waved away the thought, scrunching his nose. The sight sent something fluttering in Click Clack’s chest.

“ We'll just do what I did when I visited you. Mortal disguises and all that jazz, you know? Pretty sure people’ll recognize me anyways, but they tend to leave us Gods alone when we're strutting around down there.”

He hummed, pursing his lips as he glanced them over.

“ …Dunno how you'll turn out though. Mortal disguises tend to be subconscious, y’know?”

An uneasy feeling rippled over their shoulders. Fear of returning to their mortal body hit them like lightning, the discomfort already making them itch.

Thespius seemed to understand though, his fingers working their way back into their curls to tug them gently from their thoughts.

“ Hey…it'll be okay, yeah? If you don't like anything about it, we can tweak it. ‘Might take a lot of practice, but you shouldn't have to hate the way your body feels, yeah?”

They nodded mutely for a moment, relishing in his touch. It was terrifying…the possibility of returning to such a conforming existence…but they had changed their perspective on themself. Surely, that had to count for something, right?

[ …The diminutive God of Storytelling is willing to give it a shot, if only to soothe their fears. They know Thespius is watching out for them, and that they have nothing to be afraid of. “ It can't be worse than frostbite, right?”]

The Love God's face abruptly crinkled. He flicked their woolen tail, unphased by their offended gasp.

“ I wish you wouldn't joke about that, dog. You almost died!”

[ “It was my ascension and I should get to make all the morbid quips I want about it, thank you very much!”] They playfully thumped a foot against his leg, the worry trickling from their mind as the warm wind blew across the clouds.

Despite it all, they couldn't help but reminisce about the summer evenings in their tent, Thespius lounging at their side while they worked.

If he could do it, then really, how hard could it be?