I’m so sorry for not posting reqs for like-half a year
This school year has been ROUGH. So I just lost the motivation and want to draw, and that’s why I haven’t brought myself to draw any of the requests. Although now that my mental health has been getting somewhat better I’m going to try and hop on the grind😼
(Unused dialogue between 1x and Telamon in reblog!)
post. fic art
┊ ⇢Part.1 ┊Part.1.5 ┊
Line Without A Hook (Rick Montgomery) ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 3:18
tw/cw: not proofread, violence, death, no happy ending again haha, Telamon talks in like… third person he's just super weird, Telamon and reader lwk got a lotta issues, reader has shoulder length hair, idk much of Roblox admin lore so this is just my interpretation ig lol, reader is like… weird too, they match each other freaks, 'they make me laugh' ahh Telamon, the heart is mentioned a lot… for a reason, he gets jealous over a plushie
note(s): (I was planning to add 1x more in depth, but scrapped it bc i couldn’t rlly fit em in) anyways @fishermanshook hope this makes you cry
summary: To love a god that cannot is the greatest heartbreak and blasphemy to man.
(word count: 7.4k)
ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name
You are a danger.
You are the danger Robloxia fears. The hacker that took over Robloxia by storm and wrecked havoc in every corner with your code altering abilities. The citizens feared you, you had people who adored your almost god-like powers and may have started a cult in your name but whatever, and the admins despised you.
It didn't matter. It wasn't supposed to. You had all you needed, people that worshiped and kissed the ground you walked on, people who were smart enough to not cross you, and the admins had tried and failed for a long time to try and capture you.
Until he changed that when he finally revealed his presence.
Telamon was a sight to behold. Laying eyes on him for the first time while the pumpkin head shot beams at your form to bring you down from the sky, if you weren't completely infatuated with his very being, his very essence, you were now.
You've known of him for a while. A mysterious being, with wings with such flattering brown and gold that put even the most vibrant feathers to shame, eyes that pierce through your very soul, and words that sound as if the angels themselves blessed the ears whoever was listening to him.
Robloxia knew him as a being that seemed more interested in sword fighting than anything else, admins knew him to be powerful but only showing up when he was sure he was going to aid a victory, citizens knew him as the apathetic, out of touch and arrogant half avian-god that just so happened to be in charge of their safety.
One who never referred to himself as 'I', rather, as 'Telamon'. His already odd figure of speech, coupled with how he seemed to think mortals were beneath him, left you with little good things to work with when you did your research on him.
Breathtaking. You were so distracted by his gaze focused solely on you, large wings sprouting from his back as his lips were curled in a lazy and ever so smug smirk, his eyes narrowed in calculation, that you forgot you were supposed to be flying with your control panel, finding yourself plummeting to the ground at such a rate that even the other admins looks alarmed as they yelled something inaudible.
This was how you were going to die. By high heights from admiring Telamon himself, gazing upon him with your own eyes. You wouldn't complain about going out this way, honestly, until you felt the soft embrace of feathers, robed hands holding your body.
"So… this is the hacker that is causing Telamon and the admins so much trouble."
Your heart raced at his voice. Telamon really was like the legends and rumors said he was. Imposing and almost petrifying, but he had a almost… relaxed? quality to him? How odd. You'd thought a god like him, who had lived since the creation of the universe, would be more rigid.
After a few moments of you staring at Telamon's face, his eyes hidden by the shadows of his hood, runes at the edge of the fabric, you realize that he was flying himself towards the admins, and Doombringer with the Banhammer was enough to frantically teleport yourself somewhere in Robloxia, away from Telamon's arms.
Your body hit soft grass and flowers hard, squashing the colourful plants underneath your weight and the force of your landing, a squirrel scrambling for cover in the hollow space of a thick tree. Your heart is now hammering in your chest, banging at your ribs and threatening to leap out of your throat as you curl into the soft blades of grass, breathing so hard your vision blurred.
You had just seen Telamon with your own eyes up close. Not only that, you had managed to be in his arms. Setting sights on him up close was a privilege that you're sure few have, but being in such close proximity? You're sure you are the first mortal to do so.
But Telamon was a admin. Your 'enemy', for someone like you, a notorious hacker capable of terroristic level threats.
He was also a god. Telamon had been alive since the start of the universe, before any mortal set foot on Robloxia, before the admins were created. A god that had ichor running through their veins, instantly killing any human that even laid a single finger in the gold liquid, and ichor ran freely through his body, without the need of a heart.
You had felt his chest when he had so graciously tried to fly you towards the admins just a few minutes ago, and it held no heartbeat.
A heartbeat was what kept a mortal like you alive.
A heartbeat was what is felt when one feels emotion.
A god like Telamon does not require either.
The realization doesn't wash over you like a icy cold wave. It had already nestled in your heart, curling and cooling in your guts in the form of a slight, nagging feeling you could ever peel off.
You pride yourself in knowing almost everything that mortals knew of Telamon. Perhaps it was affection, perhaps it was akin to a cultists' view on their god, obsessive. Hell, you even have almost every single merchandise of Telamon you could find, which is very little, and a plushie of him sits in the corner of your bed.
You lie in the grass, dirt sticking to your hoodie as you curl your hand into a fist, a small, aching hole in your heart cracking ever so bigger.
❦ ❦ ❦ ❦
You were in love with Telamon.
It was a sudden realization that came to you one night in your home, a exact week after you had officially made the decision to semi-retire from hacking, sticking to just causing petty chaos rather than demolishing houses for the fun of it. The librarian who had allowed you to be their assistant for decent pay kind of scared you too much to try any tricks anyways.
You could not deny it. The very idea of him consumed you, to the point it were considering simply turning yourself in just to see his face. But if you did, you'd be sent to the Banlands, and you'd never get to set sights on his face again.
Your mind kept returning to that day. His chest devoid of a heartbeat. His grip had felt warm then, but you remember shivering slightly when his talons came in contact with your skin, because they were deathly cold.
After getting a job at the library, you had found yourself obsessively reading books of gods, religion, and the concept of love.
It was not that the idea of either three were foreign concepts. Gods have co-existed with humans enough for there to be dozens of thesis and studies of them. Religion was a belief system that had people going for a place of worship to pray and confess their sins, for pastors to preach values that some don't follow at all, and it is what cults employ when recruiting and keeping members in their orbit.
Love was subjective. The books you buried your head into during lunch breaks and off days while the librarian checked on you occasionally to make sure you didn't pass out halfway on the floor could never describe the essence of romance and love properly at all.
Love was the essence of affection. It was the reason mortals like you have relationships, built on trust and love for one another, which is why kisses and first times in a relationship are so sacred and revered.
But love is also the catalyst for heartbreak and tragedies, take a cheating ex, for example. One could still love their ex for a plethora of reasons, perhaps clinging to the idea of what they once were, or simply thinking they can still change.
Love was either a base or a factor.
So what was your love for Telamon? Why did you love him? How did you even come to love him?
Were you in love with the idea and concept of him, or the being that Telamon is? Was your affection comparable to that of a love-struck fool, or of a religious fanatic?
You could not figure out a logical conclusion. Your love was neither a catalyst nor a basis, rather, it was rooted in something. Something raw and vulnerable, a dangerous combination.
Telamon took up every inch of your mind. The merchandise you had collected like sacred treasures on a expedition were not helping, and the plushie in your bed seemed to judge you.
His face, hooded and mysterious, the obnoxiously stupid smirk that made the corner of his lips curl in a way that made your heart flutter too fast, greedily consumed your canvas, your literature, your lyrics.
You have penned subtle declarations of love like a lovesick admirer. Inked images that was just shy of capturing his divine essence perfectly. Sung melodies that were raw and heartfelt.
Is it annoying? Infuriating, how he could never leave your mind? No, you had answered to no one in particular, strangely enough.
On some days, it was painful. Telamon was a god, one who would not, could not, understand how mortals work on a emotionally fundamental level. He could never understand love, nor feel it.
On some days, love and obsession would overlap and merge into one being and you'd find yourself staring at photos the media took of him, blurred and unfocused, and you'd wonder whether you should simply force your way into his cold heart.
But it was still fascinating. In the confines of the human mind, to have a single being, a single thought, devour every corner, every crevice of your brain, was no easy feat.
Then again, Telamon was always a difficult endeavor.
❦ ❦ ❦ ❦
The shift at the library had ended smoothly. The cool, crisp night air greets your lungs, wind blowing gently as stars littered and dotted the sky, shoving your hands into your pockets as your feet bring you across the gravel.
You had become less reliant on your control panel. You used it for things like materializing coffee beans into the machine, but less for making life difficult for others. The appeal of living like a regular human started to pull you in, though the threat of arrest due to past misdeeds hung over your head.
Solitude had somewhat embraced you, it's comforting though often melancholic arms metaphorically holding you close.
The feeling of being watched, however, had not.
Sitting at the edge of the park's lake, the silence is loud, save for the sounds of crickets chirping and the ducks that graced across the water's silvery surface under the moonlight with soft splashing sounds, the grass is slightly dampened from the downpour that had ceased long hours ago.
Your control panel whirred and hums in your hands, the command !SUMMON BREADCRUMBS! stares back at you with the bar at the bottom slowly filling, from 0% trickling to a measly 14.3% when the loud sound of rustling wings and footsteps that sounded like someone wanted to conceal them but was doing a poor job at it scared the living daylights out of you as you whirled around, a second sub panel from your control panel ready to materialize a array of spikes to defend yourself.
Telamon stares back at you. His ever present smirk seeming to widen at your defensive gesture, his lower eyelid lifting into a more prominent curve, his footsteps becoming slow, deliberate, like a predator that circles doomed prey.
He doesn't utter a word even as you start to stammer incorrigible words, some of protest, of fear, your heart starts it's familiar head pounding rhythm, your control panel finally finishing your command of wanting breadcrumbs as they were dumped unceremoniously into the lake, the rush of the ducks honking and squeaking as the flap and fluter of wings smacking each other sound out behind you as they battled for the treats greedily.
Telamon continues to remain silent, his smile returning to its usual minimal and slightly intimidating form, he settles himself beside you, moon kissed grass engulfing the base of his cloak, his wings splaying out behind him as his pupils continue to trail all over your form, making you feel exposed.
He basked in the glory of the moon light, a hand on his thigh as he rested his hooded head in his palm, talons that you noticed were a warm brown like the curls cradling his face that faded at the tips into sun-like yellow of his skin. He continued to stare, gaze trailing up and down, as if sizing you up, a gleam sparkling briefly in his usually detached or smug eyes as he took in every detail of your form.
"Telamon is surprised you still dare to show your face in public with active arrest warrants."
He states matter of factly, unimpressed at the idea, but seeming amused at your growing nervousness. His eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his head, the god looking more like a curious bird rather than a imposing authority figure.
"You are afraid of being caught. But you don't seem to be afraid of Telamon."
His clawed hands reach out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, a sharp talon running down your temple from the base of the hair, sliding down the contour of your jaw and settling to lift your chin, as if inspecting you.
"Most tremble in the presence of such power and greatness. Yet… you stand your ground, unfazed by Telamon's divine presence.."
Telamon observes, his thumb talon clamping down on your lower lip, his index still lightly grazing your chin, his gaze intrigued, and his pupils flickered with what seemed to be irritation.
"I've seen worse."
Your voice comes out smug, a cheeky grin making the corners of your mouth curl upwards, which seemed to somewhat agitate Telamon by just a small fraction, his hand on your face moving to card through your hair, starting at the base and running through them, gentle with that undertone of danger.
"You have seen worse than a god? Than Telamon himself? You are either a fool or very brave."
His words come out laced with the slightest whiff of disdain and disbelief, claws paused at the base of your scalp, the grip tightening slightly, not in warning nor in anger, but more as a test. He wanted to see if you were lying, if you would flinch and he could have the satisfaction of catching another proud mortal off guard.
You did no such thing, even as your head jolted back from his pull, your eyes remained solely on his expression, and he let go, the wings behind his ear barely hidden by his hood seeming to droop just slightly in disappointment.
"You here to arrest me, bird man? Or gonna slice my head off with your sword?"
Snickering, you relaxed your posture, the breadcrumbs having long since been devoured by the ducks as they scatter back across the lake, the moonlight reflecting the image of you both on the surface, soft silver and deep navy distorting it in waves.
A god and a mortal, sitting at the bank of a lake. Two polar opposites in more ways than what flows through their veins and whether their hearts beat. You were everything Telamon wasn't, everything he prided himself he would never be.
Brash. Loud. Fragile.
You were human.
Telamon found that as he stared at you, at your mouth that stayed curled in a smug grin, eyes that not so subtly trailed over his facial features, hands with fingers that curled on the soft grass, he could not understand what you were thinking.
He was perplexed. Mortals fell to their knees when greeted by his divine presence, would either beg for mercy or pray for his blessings for trivial, unimportant matters. They feared him, the god of war and the sun, more than they feared Builderman, the creator and overarching god of all things living or not.
But you didn't. No mortal would dare to stare straight into his eyes and dare to hold that gaze so steadily, smile and shoot back words that made him feel the urge of continuing this mindless conversation when he should be arresting you.
It made him curious.
And once Telamon was curious, he would do anything to quench that feeling.
The silence stretched between you both as his hands continued to absentmindedly comb your hair, fascinated by the texture, watching it just brush past your shoulders, his eyes roaming over your form, how your relaxed stature never once tensed even when he pulled just a bit too hard, nor when his talons poked at your scalp.
He continued to not say anything, his smirk having now curled into a slight frown, though more indifferent than angry, leaning closer, his wings flaring out and almost embracing you, his other hand moving to grab your chin again, tilting your head in different slight angles, like observing a stone caricature.
Telamon's body shifted closer, chest just shy of pressing against yours, his face closing in on yours, the sharper edge of the hood covering his forehead cushioning your bangs against the black runes on golden edged cloth, his scorching breath finally making you jump up, feeling your face starting to grow hot as you laugh, too loud and too nervous as the action seems to startle Telamon.
He was close. Too close. A wobbly smile graced your face, heart pounding louder in your ears than it ever had, even more since that day you first ever laid eyes on Telamon. He seemed genuinely and utterly confused at your reaction, and you swore he seemed to look like that one time a owl that tilted it's head to stare at you point blank.
"Okay… I'm going home."
You mutter out, stepping back onto the pathway of the park, the sound of stone bricks with worn edges in varying shapes and sizes coming in contact with the soles of your sneakers as Telamon stands up, wings rustling back into their folded positions as he followed your steps, menacingly as as began to trail after you against the path.
You took one step, he takes one as well. It's like a game of cat and mouse, except the cat is not trying to eat nor kill the mouse, rather, it follows like the mouse was anomaly to be studied and understood till there was nothing left incomprehensible.
❦ ❦ ❦ ❦
He is still here.
You stare at Telamon, this half avian-god that was feared and resented by Robloxia, the god who literally held the title of greatest swords master of all time, was chowing down the bucket of fried chicken with such gusto that one would have thought the god was starved.
"Dude. That was my dinner."
Your deadpan and rather pissed tone did little to faze the god from his feast, Telamon only pausing on the last bite of chicken to smirk at you, his voice a infuriating calm as he plopped the bone from his mouth.
"And Telamon was savoring the flavour. The softness of the flesh with the crisp, golden brown exterior… coupled with the tantalizing smell, Telamon simply revered the treat."
"Bro are we deadass rn."
Telamon had been unceremoniously crashing in your 'just enough space for two people and nothing more' apartment, deciding to make your couch that was wearing at the seams and long overdue for a wash cushions his sleeping area. In all honesty, you weren't even sure if he slept, ever since he came in here about two weeks ago, he always scared the living daylights out of you when trying to grab a glass of water at different hours with his glowing eyes peering at your form in the dark.
Telamon had also decided to make it a habit to follow you around like a lost puppy. Or bird. He trailed you to work at the library, oftentimes making passerbys turn their heads to stare at one of the admins just walking about behind a wanted criminal without wanting to arrest them.
The librarian seemed less amused, and after the first day of him deciding to follow you throughout the library, terrifying the people in it from how silent and menacing he was, she had told you to, in her words, 'get that bird out of here or she'll do it herself', and so, partly out of fear for her safety against a god, you had pushed him outside and shut the door, and since then Telamon has been faithfully peering through the glass windows, keeping a watchful eye on your every move after you shooed him out.
You weren't sure what he was doing.
You had first assumed he was playing the long game. Staking it out till he caught you off guard and brought you before the admins to have your crimes processed. So you kept caution around him, ignoring his presence the best you could.
After all, even if your heartbeat spiked like never before when he got close, when his chin brushed too close against your back as he stared your hands down as you chopped vegetables, as his lips pursed slightly while he watched you sketch on your tablet, lines controlled though in a way that seemed unpredictable.
He was still an admin. Telamon's ultimate goal would most likely be to bring you into custody and have you sent to the Banlands, never to be seen again by the world. You'd deserve it, honestly, but you didn't want that fate.
Until that didn't seem to be the case. He, made absolutely no move to catch you off guard. He didnt watch like a bounty hunter keeping tabs on their target's every move, rather, he observed like a toddler that just discovered the outside world.
So now you weren't even sure why he was so intent on observing your every move.
He followed you everywhere. The library was a given, though he respected the librarian's wishes to stay outside, he followed you to the cafe downtown when you went to grab lunch, and he keeps snagging a pastry off your plate when he thinks you're not paying attention.
It got to a point. Sure, no person would be stupid enough to get annoyed with and scold a literal god, that usually turned bad quickly, but he was- infuriatingly curious.
You were not kidding about the toddler part. He behaved like one, for admins sake— He stuck a fork into a thankfully unplugged toaster, and his answer?
"The feeling that flows through this… contraption, crackles with power. Telamon wanted to learn and feel more of it."
"Power from the fucking electricity that thankfully isn't flowing."
It was like wrangling with a overgrown child that for some reason, also had no clue what boundaries and privacy was. You'd think for a god that has been friends with other admins who are more connected with humanity would have learnt from them what those two things were.
Telamon followed you around the house, that was a given since he also had no qualms about looking like the equivalent of a poorly hidden stalker in public. But it was the things he did when doing so, or rather, what he didn't do.
Telamon didn't do anything but stare.
And stare.
And stare some more.
He stared at you no matter what you were doing. Wake up and try to materialize breakfast with your control panel? He stares, smirk perpetually plastered to his face as he observed like a puppy fascinated by it's reflection. A day off spent with you trying to doodle, write, or think of lyrics that sounded better in your head after penning them down? He's looking over your shoulder, eyes trained and fixated on every stroke of your stationary, every way your fingers curled and curved over the paper.
You weren't sure if he realized it, or if he was doing it on purpose, but he kept moving his face too close to your neck and face. His hood, which he refused to pull down, would brush against your cheek, the slight nudge from his wings behind his ears would prod your scalp lightly, his palms sometimes firmly planted beside your cross legged form, as if trapping you in a ghost of a embrace.
He'd seen you draw his form before. Telamon watched you capture his details, the onyx black of his hood that blended perfectly with his brown curls that fell just short of covering his eyes. The shine of the hilt of his sword, sharp edges of gold mixed with the silvery glow of his blade, capturing the faint stains of blood from those he had defeated.
Telamon found himself not bothering to correct you when you drew one of the runes on the edges of his hood or cloak wrong. He watched you make minor flaws in your caricature of him, sometimes you'd capture his smirk wrong, one of his eyes would be bigger than the other.
He didn't correct you, because he remembered something.
"Humans, they all make mistakes, small or big. Makes 'em, well, human."
"An' if yer want my honest opinion, Telamon, we admins ain't that different. Even a god like ya."
A god making mistakes?
Unheard of. It should not happen.
If a figure that commanded power and authority made mistakes- they'd be ridiculed. They'd be called a fraud.
And emotions were the root of cause of it. Telamon had already sealed his hate in 1x, sent them into the pits of the Banland to forget about him. He had buried the rest of his emotions deep in him, repressing them till he was what he called the epitome of perfection.
So he didn't understand why he felt the need to ask you on a rainy night, the flash of thunder rumbling occasionally as rain battered against the windows and walls of the building, just done watching you cry over the latest episode of a drama show. The question that nagged him since that night at the lake.
"Why do you let yourself feel emotions so strongly?"
You had stared at him like he was stupid, which in retrospect, made him offended when he thought of it, his wings had puffed up behind him, and that seemed to make you relax your frown, and laugh.
He hung onto the sound for a bit too long. You sounded… melodic. Like a hymn sang in prayers to his name, except rather than shallow wishes for riches, for fame, for knowledge, it was a simple laugh. A typically jovial sound that one made in happiness.
"Emotions are the direct outcomes of our choices in life, aren’t they? What’s the purpose of life if you can't feel anything?"
Was your reply.
You didn't even have to think. Telamon watched you just… immediately reply to his question. He thought you'd give him a deeper, more introspective answer. The answer didn't sound rehearsed nor practiced like you had been waiting for that kind of question. It exited your mouth as easy as a breath.
Telamon sat on the answer, even when saw the clock in your living room hit 3am. Even when he knew you were dreaming deeply about something mortal and trivial in your bedroom. The blanket you had provided him when he had declared the couch as 'his' spot in the apartment lay limply beside him in a heap.
Purpose of life. Telamon had always known his purpose. To guide. To protect. To be a leader, a unbreakable figure that held a certain image.
He always knew. Until now. Now he was doubting it.
His footsteps were feather light as he made his way through the hallways, door creaking too loud for him as he frowned at the noise, though you didn't seem to stir in your slumber. Your figure, relaxed in the dark, a soft pillow cushioning your head snugly, and that plush version of him embraced in your arms, held against your chest. Against your heartbeat.
Telamon stared. Unmoving and unblinking as his mind raced with your words, his talons curled around your doorknob, cloak pooling at his feet, casting a shadow over your form in the crack of the door where he stood.
He had observed you for close to a month and a half up to this point. He knew your routine by heart subconsciously at this point, a unintended side effect. He had taken mental notes of how your body grew slightly more rigid when he pressed his chest just slightly against your back, brief touches as he made himself comfortable in your presence that he knew made your heart speed up, and occasionally, your face grew hot and flushed.
And instead of feeling satisfied with answers, he's left with more questions.
In that way that made his head spin a little for the first time since the start of his life.
❦ ❦ ❦ ❦
Telamon does not like the current feeling that is residing in the pit of his gut like a venomous snake.
He was watching you coddle that idiotic plush version of himself with the affection of a parent with their new born baby. Cooing like it could respond to your words, petting it's hooded head and burying it's cloth textured face in your chest.
He's not sure what the feeling is. He has never felt it before, and in all honesty, he doesn't want the feeling to remain there.
Why were you even paying attention to it?
You always made a effort to acknowledge his presence. Asking him to pose when you were sketching. Offering him a piece of fried chicken when you had take-out for dinner. Always giving him just a slightly bigger portion of food when you decided to cook at home.
And now… you were focused on that thing. That plushie that failed to capture his magnificent features adequately like how you did on your paper, smile too side-ways, hood too flimsy and thin.
It was a mass produced, cheap, and frankly offending imitation of his greatness. Who dared to make such a foolish knock-off? And why were you fawning over it with such joy??
"That… thing. It is a blasphemous mockery of Telamon."
He managed out with venom in his tone, claws flexing as he glared at the sewn on shadow over its eyes, his own eyes narrowing in pure annoyance at the way it stared back, mocking him.
"Oh psh, it's adorable. Merch of you is horrendously hard to find, y'know."
You dismiss his words with a wave of your hand, turning the plushie's head so it's face was pressed right in your chest, flopping back against your bed as Telamon continued to glare it down, a low snarl escaping him as you pressed it against your chest.
The admins had taught of him on a wide glossary of emotions that the human heart could run through. Some would mix with others into a messy pile, and remembered the name of one that Brighteyes had told him about before.
Jealousy. A feeling usually directed to someone, or something, because of another.
Telamon had scoffed at the concept. Why would a god find the need to endure petty rivalry with and for something that most likely was not worth his time?
The mute horror dawns on him as he continues to stare at the plushie that smugly resides the comfort of your body heat, and the final methaphorical bruise to his ego—
"Plus, it isn't stalking me every second of the day."
He splutters at your words, him? Him?? He was not stalking you! He was observing you! Keeping tabs on you, he even shooed the other admin's urgent messages that demanded his presence back at HQ, just to keep seeing you! You should be honoured he was—
"You'd rather spend your time with cloth stuffed with poorly made stuffing, than the real deal? Than Telamon himsefl?"
He questioned you, incredulously and accusingly, his tone was already icy, bordering on rage. His ego was already wounded from having to be pushed to the side by a mockery of him, and you demeaned him to the level of a punt stalker?
He couldn't take it anymore. His hands shot out and talons ripped the toy out of your grasp roughly despite your protest. You should not be finding more joy in this lifeless reporduction of his divine self.
Telamon turned the poor thing over in his palms, scrutinizing it from every angle. It's already unattractive features were confirmed with his close-up observations as he took note of how the wings that popped from its back were crooked and asymetrical, curls flat and one-dimensional.
"Telamon is much more impressive than this thing."
He sneered, voice dripping with arrogance and condescension to the stuffed object, tossing it carelessly to the side and he pushed his chin against your chest where the plushie once was, staring up at your stunned expression, pupils dilated as his wings puffed behind him, the ones behind him causing his hood to fall which he didn't seem to mind.
Telamon was here. He was the real deal, and he was right in front of you.
You sigh at his childish behaviour as his hands fisted the mattress between your arms and torso, the wings behind his ears fluttering slightly as a satisfied smirk curls at the corner of his lips as you decide to indulge his immature antic, dissmissively combing a hand through his lusciously soft curls.
"Yes, yes, of course."
Telamon was not satifsfied with merely the answer, growling as the sound came out low and just a slight tinge animalistic as he bumped his forehead against yours, nose almost pressing against yours as his breath was hot against your lips.
"Telamon demands you to mean it."
Your face heats up to a unbearable degree, as you freeze up, a nervous laugh eruting from your throat that died down quickly when you realized he was completely serious.
"Of course, my god…"
Telamon's eyes seem to almost light up when the nickname registers in his brain, or whatever the equivalent to eyes lighting up for a god was as he nodded approvingly, huffing as he made himself comfortable agaisnt your chest.
Your god. Telamon could get used to being that.
Yes. He could get very used to that, as he continued to treat your chest like his personal pillow.
❦ ❦ ❦ ❦
You couldn’t breathe.
You couldn't move.
A being stood in front of you. Green, blindingly bright torso with their skeleton showing through, two swords that resembled the venomshank you had seen Telamon weild once when he was bragging about his sword fighting skills to you.
You had been simply walking back home after a shift from the library to get lunch. Telamon was decided to return to HQ to deal with extremely urgent situation that simply required his physical presence, and then you were being slammed into the ground while destruction rampaged around you.
A laugh, or what you could assume was a laugh, reached your ears as their zipped lips curled into a unamused and sarcastic smile that didn't reach it's sharp red eyes, two sharp rows of teeth to pair with it.
"S0— th1s 1s th3 puny m0rta1 that has captur3d h1s h3art?"
His voice was agonizingly grating. Harsh against your ears as you coughed, feeling pain that bloomed in your chest where the force of the slash you had shielded a citizen from had sent you crashing into brick and concrete.
The street was in ruins. Screams from civilians rang in your eardrums, faint rumbles of mass stampedes of people trying to escape the chaos. Bodies that were crushed under rubble and collapsed buildings made your breathing hitch and stop.
But your eyes were glued to a hand that stuck out under a huge piece of collapsed drywall, a uprooted lamplight flickering as you watched crimson drip in a thin trickle down their finger into a small puddle.
You were once the cause of this level of destruction. You had loved seeing buildings burn into nothing but ash and dust, the neon signs that can now only fizzle and flicker. But you had never truly seen to the extent of how far your damage was to the people.
The being gave you no time to register the guilt pooling in your stomach. A hand curled in your hair, fingers blackened from infected code pulling roughly agaisnt your scalp as a blade pinned itself under your chin, drawing a wince from you.
They chuckled, a bitter, resentful sound as her grip tightened in your hair, making your face scrunch up in pain, which seemed to only amuse him more, the blade under your chin moving away as your head was let go, causing you to fall forward.
You knew from their tone. They would not prolong a struggle with you. Her tone was that of a fighter that would only spend their strength on a single target. You weren't that target.
"1 w4nt h1m, my CREATOR…"
The sounds of chains clanking and screeching against each other filled your ears, a scraping noise that was quickly forgotten as you felt two blades ram into your back, blood immediately pooling in the depths of your throat, bubbling out of your mouth as you swore one of them had punctured your lung, just short of your heart, which seemed on purpose.
"T0 hurt. T0 f33l, wh4t I f3lt wh3n HE l3ft m3 to ROT."
The pain was visceral. It was unbearable as more of that foul iron taste was all you could feel, hands clenching against the gravel of the ruined pavement under your body as the being seemed to be distracted by something, based on how her eyes narrowed in pure disdain and raw hatred.
That familiar sensation engulfed you again. Only this time, Telamon held onto you with the desperation of a human, and eyes wild like a cornered animal. You could briefly make out the presence of the other admins as they rushed to the scene.
Telamon felt the words stuck in his throat, words that should have easily flowed from his lips. What could he say? No— what should he say? Telamon has never felt this before. Never held a fatally wounded mortal and allowed blood to stain his robes and hands, crimson covering shaking claws as they brushed away a strand of hair from your face.
You were still looking at him. You were still alive, barely. And the god, before he could stop himself, began to pray.
It was a futile endeavour. Who would listen to his prayers? He was one who granted them. The granter, never wished for fulfilment.
"[𓏵]."
It came out of him, ragged as Telamon's breath hitched in his throat. He had never called you by your name. He never saw the need to, afterall, you were of lower standing than him, a god never addressed a mortal by their title no matter how high, a name was much less respected.
"Telamon will save you—"
He declared, ignoring the sounds that his creation made in the background while the other admins tried to keep them at bay, he could hear Doombringer's hammer and Brigheteyes' sword colliding with metal, Builderman tossing the nearest large objects to subdue 1x.
His words died halfway, feeling a single warm droplet trickle from his eyes.
No.
Nonsense.
Telamon was not crying. A god should not be crying. He must not be seen as weak. His eyes met yours, expecting to see disgust or shock. He could not think of any other reaction a mortal would give, to see a powerful deity reduced to foolish human emotions.
He locked his gaze with nothing but fear.
Not from him, no.
He felt your hand, blood making the sleeves of your hoodie you could never part from stain red, guiding it to your chest, where his creation's sword had most likely pierced you. A corrosive, black and green corruption that Telamon could akin to rusting of metal was spreading, and he felt his heart, motionless since the dawn of time, collapse into a pit of what he now knew was despair.
You were beyond saving. You would turn into one of 1x's minions, commanded as a zombie that would only serve to abide by their bidding. A hiss escaped him when one of her slashes barely missed the two of you, ichor spilling from a cut on the back of his palms as he jerked it away from your wound.
But your hand immediately shot back out, gripping it as you stared into his pupils, eyes wide and begging as he stared back, knowing what you wanted. And selfishly, he wanted to deny that wish.
But he didn't.
And for the first time, Telamon decided to listen to something else other than himself. He watched blankly as the gold from his hand seeped into your chest, your eyes dulling as the grip around his wrist finally went slack, his hand supporting your back feeling your heart rate go from erratic, to slow, to a final still.
And he held onto you, he felt it.
A thump.
Unmistakable.
Telamon stared at your face, eyes glazed over and lifeless as blood finally stopped seeping endlessly from the corners of your mouth, and the god laughed. A laugh that was neither mocking nor joyful. A laugh that was of irony, and of what mortals called heartbreak.
The irony of it was immediate to Telamon. He had let himself be broken by a mere human. And when he had finally found that he could understand a small semblance of humanity, the only mortal who would willingly let him intrude on them was gone in his arms from his own creation he had failed to keep in check.
And when their heart stopped, his had started.
As the god of war felt battle rage around him, he could not feel anything but the cold emptiness that settled at the pit of his gut.
❦ ❦ ❦ ❦
The admin hummed softly as he sat in the couch of the large wooden cabin he recognized as Matt's home. Though, the melody was more to distract himself from the overwhelming sense of dread that was clawing at his entire being.
He was supposed to be dead, right? He'd fought 1x, and his winning streak against his own creation was finally broken. He'd thought he'd be high above, not in Matt's cabin, who had also gone missing months prior to his own supposed death.
The grandfather clock ticked ominously, the hands slowly inching closer to 12, and Shedletsky felt that something important was supposed to happen. He couldn't explain it, he simply just felt it.
"Hah, maybe it's the ghosts of the past coming to give me my reckoning."
He muttered to himself, part laced with humor, part melancholic as he watched the thin metal hands finally hit 12, and he heard a commotion in what he assumed was the eating area.
He recognised some faces. There was the notorious ex-hacker who called himself 007n7, only he had been pronounced dead months ago, a year after his son went missing. There was the son of Mr. Builder, Elliot, who ran the pizza chain. And Taph plus Matt, who seemed to notice him first, looking just as bewildered as him.
And his stomach clenched when he saw who the last face was.
You.
You, in all your radiant glory. Panting like you'd run a mile, your hair longer now, the shorter parts of it sticking to the frame of your face as your forehead smacked the table, looking exhausted.
Shedletsky felt his world zoom in on you. His heart was racing, and he felt a smile, desperate and abundantly joyful as he stepped forward once, sandals hitting the floor that scared everyone around the table, including you.
He had prayed for this day. Prayed so hard, even after he gave up his divinity, as if there would have been a higher force above that could grant his wishes.
And it seems that fate had given him another opportunity to make things right.
And he would hold onto that like a lifeline, even if it would be the last thing he did.
