Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Long ago, in a world all but forgotten, there had been a god unlike any other. A shapeshifter, a trickster, known for his beauty and said to glide on wings of pure gold. No living mortal could tell you his fate, for one day he simply disappeared; and with no others ever hearing his enchanted voice again, his name slowly faded into obscurity.

Chapter Text

If he were a mortal man, these godlings would be the fucking death of him. Actually, he had a feeling they'd figure out some way to do it anyway - the short one was sure as hell creative enough for it, and the tall one didn't have any better impulse control than he did. If anything could kill him, it would be trying to teach Tubbo and Tommy.
The twin godlings had been living out of their storage room - Charlie had started calling it their bedroom, but Quackity had no intention to make those little shit-heads feel any more comfortable here than they'd already made themselves - for a few weeks, now. So far, all he'd been able to teach Tommy was to leave him the fuck alone until he had his coffee - and even that lesson seemed to be forgotten every other day or so. Not necessarily for lack of trying, though he would admit that he wasn't trying very hard, since he didn't really want any part of any of this. Tommy was just... A lot, okay? The kid was loud, and fast, and reckless, and far more similar to a young Quackity than the man particularly cared to read into right now. He wondered, as he walked down the street, if this was what The Elders had felt while trying to raise him. If so, he might go back to the godly realm just to apologize to them -because not once in his long, long life had Quackity needed a coffee this much.

"Mocha, please. Biggest size possible. Throw in as many shots of espresso as you're legally allowed to - maybe some redbull too, if you've got any."
The barista - the same man as last time, with the midnight blue eyes and the mid-length black hair - gave him a sympathetic look at that, as if to ask, "rough night?" Despite himself, Quackity found himself chuckling a bit.

"Okay - should I write Duck Noise on it again, or do you wanna tell me how to spell your name?"
The man... Recognized him. Quackity would expect that from a mortal who had responded to his magic, but this guy looked at him like any other human... How odd. That was something Quackity would have to spend several months obsessing over before inevitably getting distracted from by something else. Possibly a new shiny thing. He did like collecting new shiny things...

"Oh, yeah- it's Quackity. Q-U-A-C-K-I-T-Y."
The man nodded, actively writing on the cup as he did - though, notably, writing far more than the eight letters he'd said. Ominous, but Quackity was choosing to overlook that - so he simply tapped his card on the reader, and wandered off to the pick-up area.
Much like the last time he'd been here, the place was nearly empty - this time with only the barista, the laptop guy, and some dude who was passed out at his table with a half-eaten muffin sitting abandoned next to him. It was nice, in a way. Far more peaceful than his apartment had been the past few days, and fuck did he need that right now.

"Damn-near lethal mocha for Death Wish Quackity!"
No. No fucking way, he did not-
...He actually did. Holy shit, the barista had actually written "Death Wish Quackity" on his cup. And- fuck, shit, that should not be this funny to him, but in his exhaustion, Quackity found himself near tears with laughter.
"Seriously though, don't drink that thing too fast."

"Wasn't planning on it," he lied casually, "wouldn't wanna die on your shift, after all. You seem chill."
The laptop guy chuckled a bit at that - his headphones only half-on, explaining why he could actually hear anything this time. It looked like, somehow, he'd managed to add even more stickers to that thing... It was probably more sticker than laptop at this point. That guy was weird, Quackity concluded, but not weird enough to make him want to leave or anything. More weird in the way that Charlie had always been weird.
With his prize in-hand, Quackity wandered back over to the table he'd picked last time, settled into his seat, and took a nice, long sip from his-

"What'cha got there, Big Q??"

fuck.

The little shits had NOT been here when Quackity had arrived - they must have snuck in while he was talking to the barista, though when they had snuck out was still a mystery to him. Whatever. It didn't matter how they were here, he just needed them to not be.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?"
He questioned, his tone apathetic due to sheer sleep deprivation.

"Oh! Charlie told us to follow you when you left!"
...of course he did.

"Said it'd be good for us!"
Good for Charlie, maybe... Not so good for Quackity.

"You walked here, right?"
The two nodded in sync.
"Good. Walk back."

Tommy looked scandalized at that, while Tubbo's expression was unreadable. That godling was weird, man. There was no possible way Quackity had been that weird, right? The Elders would have told him if he'd been that weird.
...Right?

"Wha- bu- but Q!! That's so far!!"

"Don't care."

"And we're hungry!!!"

"Not my problem."
Both the barista and the laptop guy were glancing at them now - not with attraction, like Quackity was used to, but with... Concern. He didn't like that. And, unfortunately for him, it seemed like Tubbo could tell.

"Quackity, if you don't let us stay, I'm gonna start screaming that you aren't feeding us."
The little fuckers had each eaten twice as much as he had that morning, but there was no way he could prove that - especially with how small the godlings were in comparison to mortal children, lacking any of the baby fat typical of youngsters. And even if he could prove it, dealing with a screaming Tubbo wasn't exactly worth standing his ground on this issue. Tommy was the loud one, sure, but Quackity had learned quickly that this was in no way due to inability to get loud on Tubbo's part. Being the quiet one was a choice - a merciful one, and one that he would quite like Charlie's feral little bastard of a student to continue making. The loss of all hearing for the next 48 hours was not a price he was willing to pay for victory.

"...Okay, brats - here's what we're gonna do."
Quackity pulled his credit card out of his pocket, and pointed to the counter.
"You're gonna go ask that guy over there for whatever food you want, give him this, take it back, get your food, and then you're gonna sit down and shut up while I drink this. And then? We're going back to the apartment, and you're leaving me the fuck alone for, like, three hours. Are we clear?"
The two lit up, nodded, and snatched his card from him - before racing off to the counter like a duo of bats out of the Underworld.
Good. He'd have however long it took them to order, get served, get back to the table, and finish eating before he had to deal with their bullshit again. That should be at least five seconds - which was around Tommy's current record for blissful silence, so he'd gladly take it.

The two, who had luckily been taught to read by now, still didn't seem to understand what any of the words on the menu actually meant - and so Quackity was left listening to the duo debating what exactly "grilled" was, and if they were even in the mood for cheese right now - to the visible confusion of the barista. Eventually, far sooner than he would've preferred, the two were bouncing back to the table - Tommy with a lemonade and a chocolate chip cookie, and Tubbo with a chocolate milk and a slice of lemon bread. Of course those two got something sweet - though, if their upbringing was anything like his had been, they probably didn't know what "sweet" even was yet. They weren't nearly old enough for ambrosia, after all - so their diets were probably just bread, cheese, meat, and vegetables. And based on Tommy's offense when Charlie had tried to give him a carrot, Quackity doubted that they had willingly eaten many vegetables in their time.
The two happily sat, looking so out-of-place in their robes and sandals that he had half a mind to drag them to the mall after this - not that he was worried about them, of course. He just didn't want them making him look like a weirdo in public.
For a wonderful, heavenly three seconds, there was silence.

"...The barista thinks you're cool."
Quackity nearly coughed up a lung.

"I- he- you- what???"
The barista, it seemed, was having a very similar reaction to Tommy's very loud observation - which only baffled Quackity more, because why the fuck was he- actually, no, Quackity wasn't going to think too hard about that.
"Tommy, you- shit, kid, didn't anybody ever tell you that you don't have to say every thought you have?"

"Yup!"
Ah, so he just wasn't listening then. Cool. It wasn't like he listened to Quackity, either. Or anyone, really, except for Tubbo.
"But that'd be boring."

"...You two are gonna get me molting from stress, yunno that?"

---

Sapnap had been working at his father's café in one way or another for as long as he could remember, really. When he'd been a kid, he'd drawn pictures of the menu items that he now looked at with utter humiliation, and his father had proudly used them in all of his advertising. As a tween, he'd been 'upgraded' to washing dishes and mopping the floor - and, when he could be talked into it, taking out the trash. As a teen, he'd taken over his current role as the main barista - and he'd always loved it, really. It was fun to make drinks, and while he wasn't always the best with people, being a barista had let him meet Karl. The man was now one of his closest friends, and really, he didn't want to imagine how boring his life would be without his favourite regular.
The newest regular - Quackity - was... Odd, though. Odder than Karl, if that was even possible. He carried himself with some sort of confidence, but the first time he'd been here, he'd rushed out shortly after sitting down like he thought he was on fire. The second time, he'd looked dead on his feet and ended up spending the next few hours being loudly pestered by two kids who had apparently followed him there - Tubbo and Tommy, as the two had so happily introduced themselves while trying to decide what to order with the credit card they clearly didn't know how to use - and while he hadn't seemed thrilled that they were there, he'd also taken responsibility for them pretty quickly, and been roped into teaching the two where chocolate came from without too much struggle. Sapnap assumed they must be his younger siblings or cousins, despite looking nothing like the man, because it was really the only way he could explain their dynamic to himself. Another time, he'd actually entered with the duo - wearing normal clothing this time, which made him wonder what the robes had been about. A school play, maybe? All three had gotten a glass of water - much to Tommy's dismay - and a honeybun - much to Tubbo's delight - and sat down in the booth in the far corner, going over some notebooks the man had brought with him. Homework, if he had to guess - though, since it was currently spring break, he thought that their teacher should be publicly executed for this. Maybe that was just because he had been homeschooled, but personally, Sapnap saw the very concept of doing school stuff during not-school time to be completely abhorrent.
Today, the man had shown up alone - casually ordering his usual mocha.

"Get someone else to watch the little monsters for you?"
Sapnap joked - though, admittedly, he was genuinely curious.

"Yeah, it's Charlie's turn to deal with their shit today."
Sapnap had heard the three mention 'Charlie' a few times, and from context, he could tell that the man lived with them - but, other than that, the relationship with him was vague at best. They seemed to like him, but that was all he could really tell.
"How's your shift goin, Sapnap?"

"Eh, it's a Friday shift," he commented, having figured out by the man's second visit that Quackity didn't care for his customer service voice. Which was such a fucking relief, because it was nice to be able to relax every now and then.

"Yikes. Sounds like you need that coffee more than I do."
Sapnap laughed, before pulling his own coffee - a caramel latte in an old cup, one of his childhood doodles printed on it (to his eternal horror) - and shook it a bit to show that it was nearly empty.
"Damn - that good, eh?"

"Karl nearly hit me with his power bank."
The man in question looked over at that, sticking his tongue out for a moment before going back to his writing project - The Ocean City, which Sapnap had happily agreed to help him brainstorm. Karl was trying to write the climax right now, and was driving himself half-mad doing so, so he scarcely took his eyes off of his laptop unless he was physically pulled away from it. A process which usually involved kicking, screaming, and even occasional biting or scratching - and, as such, something that was being reserved for absolute emergencies. This made both the accidental power bank assault more amusing, and the taunt more meaningful.
"And the blender's busted again. Honestly, I'm starting to think my dad found that piece of junk at a dump or something..."

Quackity laughed brightly, chirp-like and contagious. Sapnap laughed too, stirring the man's drink before passing it over the counter.
He liked Quackity, he thought. Tommy was a little nightmare for telling the man that, but it didn't make it any less true - he'd found the man entertaining from the first time they'd met, and his charm had really only grown from there. He could see them becoming friends, if the man was even interested in making friends right now - but he wasn't really sure how to start that conversation. Karl had been the one to approach him, asking if he wanted to go see a movie after his shift - and with Dream and George, the two had just kind of forced their way into his life one day and refused to leave. Sapnap had never actually been the one to reach out to someone, and he... Didn't know how to, if he was being completely honest.
Karl would say to just go for it, but Karl was an idealist. His dad would say to be himself, but 'himself' wasn't a person who knew what to do here. George... Would probably just shrug, honestly - since the man was generally pretty apathetic about most things. Dream, though - Dream would probably tell him to be confident, to wait for an opening in conversation, and to ask in a way that was open-ended enough to not give away what he was actually asking. Dream was a horrible influence, though, so he probably wasn't going to do that.
...Probably.
Instead, he just watched Quackity head to his usual seat - before making momentary eye-contact with Karl, who... Grinned..?

...

oh

oh no

---

Laptop Guy - they'd never spoken, but Quackity knew his name was Karl. Which was one of the only things he knew about the mortal - gave an odd grin to the barista, and Quackity would be concerned for Sapnap's safety if the two weren't clearly friends. So, not feeling worried about what he might witness, he casually pulled out his phone - scrolling through Twitter for a while. He was soaking in the peace and quiet of the café like a mortal might air. He was, in a word, thriving.
And then someone cleared his throat next to him.

Quackity - rightfully baffled, in his opinion - looked up, making eye-contact with Laptop Guy. Who was, jarringly, not in his usual seat by the window. He'd packed up his laptop at some point, and was now... Here. Next to his table.

"Hi! I'm Karl!"
He knew that, of course, but he did not know how he was supposed to respond to it.
"Can I sit with you? The glare's getting really bad over there."

Quackity went to say 'no,' but Karl didn't wait for him to - quickly taking his place in the seat across from him. He wasn't... Into him, Quackity didn't think. He hadn't ever seemed to be before now, at least. So Quackity couldn't, for the everlasting life of him, figure out what the man could possibly want.

"What do you do?"
...was he... Making small talk? Or was he actually curious about Quackity's life, for some reason?
"I'm an author. Well, not really- I'm not published yet. But I'm working on that!"
...ah. This was, like, some kinda attempted rom-com meet-cute thing, wasn't it?
Well, this Karl guy didn't seem awful, he supposed. So, fine. He'd play along with whatever this was.

"I'm between jobs right now," which was his way of saying chronically unemployed, "coasting on savings, yunno?"
The man nodded - which, if he really was an unpublished author, wasn't that shocking. Being an author only paid if people liked your shit, so you didn't get anything if you hadn't given 'em any shit to like yet.
The man didn't say anything else, as if he was waiting for Quackity to keep talking. And... Normally he wouldn't, but he was sick of only interacting at-length with godlings that he was 80% sure had rabies at this point, so he decided to go with it.
"Was a model for a bit, then did music. Tried politics at one point, that didn't work out."
Charlie had needed to be talked down from a massacre after that one, though he'd still insisted on following Quackity everywhere like a shadow for a solid decade. Not that he minded, of course, since it was Charlie - but still.
"...I guess I'm kinda like a teacher now, except instead of getting paid, I just get grey hairs."

Karl laughed a bit at that - and sure, he found it funny, but he didn't have to actually live with the fuckers! At least he only had to deal with those two when they tagged along here.

"Wow, sounds like you've had quite the life!"
Oh, he had no idea.
"So, you did music? I've got a friend who writes songs - and don't tell him I said this, but I've actually got a whole mix-tape of his stuff from eavesdropping."
Quackity burst out laughing at that, because - well, for a couple of reasons, really. The first one being,

"What the fuck, dude??"
Karl also started laughing, which was very much not an answer.

"I, like, never stop recording when I'm at home. Helps with my memory, mostly, but it's also great for blackmailing my roommates."
Oh, he liked the way this guy thought. Maybe he should start recording the apartment - Tubbo might be less of a menace if Quackity had actual evidence of him breaking the microwave open with his bare hands.
...Actually, he had a feeling Tubbo wouldn't really give a fuck - but it still might be funny, so he'd consider it.

After a while, the two slipped into the most natural and relaxed conversation that Quackity had had with a mortal... Ever, really. His worshippers spoke to him with reverence, his officials with fear, and most of those he'd met since his retirement saw him as nothing more than a pretty face. But Karl - he didn't talk to Quackity like the God he wished he'd never been, or like a monster lurking in the shadows, or an object to be possessed. He spoke to Quackity as an equal, and... It was weird, and new, and so, so relieving. Like water in a desert, air in an ocean - like some core, fundamental piece of his being that had been torn away from him eons ago had finally been returned. Like he was complete, fulfilled, in a way that the very fabric of his soul had ached and yearned to have returned for so long that he'd forgotten it was even missing in the first place.

...Love, he realized as he laid awake that night. Not attraction, or lust, or loyalty born of millennia of relying on only each other. Karl, in his every movement and word, breathed love into the environment of the café. The man loved his writing, and his favourite shows, and his friends. He loved his pets, and his favourite things on the menu, and the old photo on the wall of an awkward-looking teenaged Sapnap holding a fencing trophy and grinning sheepishly.
Karl, it seemed, was so madly in love with every minute detail of his life. Of the people around him, the scenery of the city, the process of his craft. Karl loved everything, and Quackity...

Fuck. Quackity hadn't even realized a third of him had been starving, until Karl had handed him a feast.

Chapter Text

If Karl had known that starting a conversation with the new regular would become A Thing, he probably still would've done it - but, he was pretty sure he'd have been a bit smarter about it. In his defense, how was he supposed to know that he'd been talking to a long-forgotten God of Love who had basically just been thrown head-first into an all-you-can-eat buffet through the sheer power of his optimism!? That would be a really weird conclusion for him to jump to!
But, that was the situation he was in - and so, that was the situation he had decided to write a self-help book for. He'd market it as a parody, if he ever went through with publishing the thing - but, for now, he really just needed to get his thoughts and observations organized in one place.
So, he pulled up an empty text file, and he started typing.

Old Gods, apparently, need to engage with their domains regularly. All of them - not just their favourites. So, an Old God of Love who only has one friend and keeps getting himself involved in online discourse out of boredom is an Old God of Love who will go absolutely feral when offered a food source. Full-on, 'not even trying to pretend to be a human, crawling through your bedroom window and begging you to keep telling him about your favourite cartoon at three in the morning like that's a totally normal thing to do' feral.
Karl had learned that the night after he'd first approached Quackity, which was also when he learned what exactly he'd gotten himself into by trying to befriend this particular stranger. He'd been trying to finish this scene - it was giving him a really hard time, okay? - when he'd heard something thump against the window. He'd opened it, worrying that it had been some poor bird who hadn't seen the glass. In a way, he'd been right.
It hadn't taken long to get Quackity inside, but it had taken a while to get a straight answer about what he was doing here - and, more pressingly, how on Earth he knew where Karl lived. That last one was still a bit unclear, actually.
As it turned out, Karl loved his life so much that it made Quackity's body realize that he had been starving himself for, like, several thousand times longer than anyone Karl knew had been alive for! Which totally didn't give him an existential crisis, nope, not at all. He was actually so completely fine with that information, and definitely wasn't contemplating asking Quackity if it was possible for humans to become immortal!
Anyway, as anyone with even slightly stronger survival instincts than the bird-like deity who had sat on his floor for two and half hours while Karl had info-dumped about his current projects could tell you, starving actually sucks! Kind of a lot! So, when Karl's attempts at starting a friendship had made the man actually realize what was happening to him, he'd been willing to do just about anything to feel full. Just about anything, in this case, meant climbing into Karl's bedroom at three in the morning to talk about literally anything.
It was nice to have someone who never got sick of his rambling, but he wasn't thrilled about the fact that the someone in question had left a bunch of golden feathers all over his rug and flowerbox on his way out. Those had been annoying to clean up - but he'd managed, collecting them all in an old paint water cup on his desk. He might turn one of the larger ones into a quill, if Quackity was alright with it. He'd have to ask next time they spoke.

Godlings are basically just baby gods. They're still mortal, apparently - and sometimes, an Old God will be assigned to take them in and teach them how to interact with the world and their domains. Unfortunately, given that they are quite literally children with divine powers that they didn't know how to use yet, getting them to sit still long enough to be taught in the first place was a challenge on its own. But getting them to sit still, pay attention, and not set anything on fire? Honestly, getting two of the three at any given time would be a miracle.
It didn't help, Karl had concluded, that the godlings were so sheltered that he was shocked they even knew what electricity was. From what Tommy had told him - which, against Karl's will, had been quite a lot - the two had basically been dropped into the mortal world with no prior experience and no guidance but to go find Quackity. The fact that those two were as functional as they were was beyond him, really.
Despite making a clear effort to convince Karl otherwise, Quackity was very attached to his ward - Tommy, the taller of the two hyperactive teens, who was supposed to take Quackity's title some day. Karl, for as much as the boy could be stressful at times, found himself attached pretty quickly too. He was a sweet kid, though he'd clearly rather die than act like it. According to George, Sapnap had kinda been like that as a kid. Karl was choosing not to read into that too much, because it was probably just a coincidence. Probably.

So, an Old God broke into your house after you accidentally fed him. An Old God who, for a longer time than you could ever even fathom, had been pretending to be a human. First things first: learn to keep secrets. You're gonna need to keep a big one, since he's not exactly gonna want you telling your entire friend group about the fact that you've somehow indebted an actual deity to you. Whether out of embarrassment, a desire for anonymity, or some secret third thing - one thing's clear: Old Gods like their privacy, and if you like living, you'll learn to like their privacy too.
When Quackity had left, he'd mentioned that to Karl. How important it was to keep this to himself - he'd really stressed that fact, even commenting that if anyone found out about what Quackity was, the man would know he'd snitched and kill him in his sleep. Karl wasn't sure if he'd been joking or not. He didn't really care either way, since clearly it was a big deal to the guy - and that was reason enough to keep this to himself. For now, at least. He'd probably have to tell Sapnap
something
to explain why Quackity had suddenly gotten so clingy after their short conversation the other day, but it didn't necessarily have to be the truth. He was an author, after all - he'd figure it out as he went.

Okay, so Old Gods benefit a lot from being worshipped. It's not super necessary for their health - not like engaging with their domains - but it still helps them a lot. So, if you want to keep your Old God healthy and happy, it's a good idea to set up an alter. A temple would be traditional, but nobody can afford that much real estate in this economy, right? So, a small alter will have to make do. Get some symbols, some candles, some offerings - ask them what their worshippers did in the old days, see what works for the two of you. Compromise is valuable!
Quackity hadn't even wanted to agree to the alter. Said he didn't need it. But Karl had kept pushing, and once he had a list of artifacts to hunt down, he'd set up a neat little collection of knick-knacks in an old shoe box he kept in his desk. He made a point of lighting the candles and leaving offerings every day, and even praying on occasion - though, admittedly, not about anything particularly important. Mostly just telling Quackity about something funny he'd seen that day. The difference had been noticeable right away - the man's eyes brighter each day than the last, with more energy than Karl had honestly thought he was capable of. It was kind of like watering a flower that had been abandoned in the sun all summer. Karl tried not to get too big of a head about it, but the knowledge that he was actively improving the life of an Old God - something he hadn't even known existed a few weeks ago - was kind of a massive deal!
A massive deal that he couldn't tell anybody about, though - hence why he was writing this book. And why he'd gotten his hands on Charlie's number, since the guy was literally the only non-Quackity person who Karl was allowed to tell about any of this.

So, you've decided to start worshipping your Old God because you figure it'll be good for them! What now? Well, a lot of people would probably jump to something wild like human sacrifice - but, depending on their personality and domains, that isn't necessarily the best option. It's also extremely illegal, but when you're dealing with an Old God, that's kind of the least of your problems at this point. Anyway - if you want to figure out good offerings, pay attention to what they like!
Quackity loved coffee. Sapnap's mochas, especially - but Karl had found some espresso candies wholesale while getting groceries, and had decided to buy a bag and put it in the alter box overnight. The next day, Quackity had casually popped one into his mouth while they were hanging out - and he'd looked so well-rested, in a way that Karl had never seen from him before. Another time, he'd found a ring at the mall. It was cheap, and probably pretty low-quality - but it was golden, just like Quackity's wings, and Karl had thought of him right away; so, into the box it went. The man wore the ring every single day, now, and it made Karl's heart warm up with pride and fondness every time that he saw it. Even when it reflected sunlight directly into his eyes and Quackity nearly started crying - either out of concern or amusement, or possibly a little bit of both. Karl had dropped a little paper crown he'd folded into the box earlier today - it was messy, and asymmetrical, and honestly kind of embarrassing. It had vanished by the next time he opened the box, and Charlie had texted him a picture of it sitting on Quackity's vanity, in all of its lop-sided glory.

If you can, try to invite your Old God to hang out at least once a week. Especially if you're their only worshipper, and also one of their only friends. They'll get bored and sad if they stay cooped up in their home all the time. Kinda like a dog with separation anxiety, but instead of a pet it's a being that is unimaginably older and more powerful than you are and could probably squish you like a bug! The behaviour is basically the same, though.
Quackity crawling into his bedroom through the window had been kind of cute and funny the first time. It hadn't gotten any less cute or funny, honestly - though, the fact that his roommates now knew that the two were friends made it a bit ridiculous that the man didn't just use the front door. He wasn't sure if Quackity was doing it to be funny, or because he still hadn't fully realized that he was allowed to be here. It didn't really matter either way, because whatever the reason was, he'd found the man caught in his window screen in the form of a canary the other day. Karl had been forced to cut him out of it, and they'd had to go get a new one from the store the next morning. According to Charlie, this was pretty much how Quackity had always interacted with mortals who fed him - and the image of an ancient Quackity scaling the walls of Troy because he wanted attention from his favourite priest was absolutely hilarious to him. Oh, to be a fly on the wall of one of that man's temples before he'd retired... Karl could only imagine the shenanigans he'd gotten into when he was at his full strength, if this was how chaotic he was after starving for centuries.

So, if your Old God is hanging out in the mortal realm, they're either there on a mission or they're retired. Which gods apparently do sometimes. If your Old God IS retired, don't push them on the topic if they aren't comfortable talking about it! Generally speaking, people don't leave their whole lives behind for no reason. If they want you to know, they'll tell you once they're ready.
This one Karl hadn't learned himself - Charlie had gone out of his way to warn him. He still had no idea what happened there, but he was choosing to trust the man's judgement. He'd known Quackity for pretty much as long as the planet had existed, so Karl figured he'd know what he was talking about.
...It was probably where that scar came from, though. Karl could only imagine what kind of injury could do something that to a god. Frankly, he had no interest in touching any of that with a twenty-foot pole.

Your Old God is probably used to being untouchable. They kind of still are, really - but there's a limit to it. Just because they're immortal doesn't mean that stuff can't go wrong! If you can, try to keep them out of trouble.
Quackity, apparently, was lactose intolerant. How did Karl know this? Because he'd found the man throwing up in a trash can after eating ice cream a few days back. When asked, he just... Casually admitted that his body couldn't digest dairy. And since his body didn't have blood in the same way that humans do, he couldn't take the same medications that humans did. It had been quite the battle to convince the man to try lactose-free milk in his mocha the next time he came by the café, but the sheer joy on his face when he realized that it tasted the same but wasn't making his stomach want to claw its way out of his body had made the argument totally worth it. The man had gotten obsessed with almond milk pretty quickly after that day, and Karl had to admit, it had started to grow on him too...

What's your relationship with your Old God? Are you friends, peers, or maybe even family? Why do you keep buying so many candles and herbs and random little knick-knacks every time you're left in charge of getting the week's groceries? How come you've gotten so possessive of a random shoebox in your desk? These are all questions that you might face from your friends, loved ones, and roommates. Especially if they catch you looking into ancient rituals in the living room at one in the morning with an ancient tome you found at the second-hand store, a box of white candles, a large knife, some apples, a stick of cinnamon, a jar of moon water, and a small pile of golden jewellery. Double especially if you, in a half-asleep panic, blurt out that it isn't what it looks like and then simply do not elaborate. So, it's a good idea to talk to your Old God and get your stories straight on what exactly is going on here before anyone gets the chance to question you. Trust me, it's better to have an excuse for the occult stuff prepared ahead of time.
Dream had had
WORDS
for him after that particular incident, because, as it turns out, it had kind of looked like he was about to summon a demon. He didn't really know how to explain what he was actually doing, because he wasn't even sure himself - he'd only been able to translate bits and pieces of the tome, none of which included the description of what specifically this ritual did. He just kind of thought that, if it was anything dangerous, Quackity would find some way to stop him. The man was the god of magic, after all.
When he'd asked Quackity about it, the man had laughed, before revealing that it was the recipe for something called 'ambrosia' - which he described as basically being godly booze. Karl had mis-translated a few steps, and hadn't been able to complete the steps he
had
gotten right due to the interruption. He wasn't sure if he was annoyed or relieved that he hadn't ended up pulling that off, since he was both super curious and slightly concerned about the idea of just how drunk godly booze could get a mortal. Assuming it didn't out-right kill him, or maybe turn him into some kind of forest creature. Both of which seemed equally likely, really.
Apparently, the tome he'd bought was pretty much just an old magical cookbook. Quackity had very excitedly chirped and whistled at one of the pages, and started excitedly rambling about how it had been his favourite treat after long days back before he retired. Karl had a feeling it wouldn't be great for him as a mortal, but he was happy that Quackity was happy.

Old Gods are, as the name would suggest, really old. They've probably known a lot of humans before you, and they'll probably know a lot of humans after you, too. If you're trying to be some perfect, presentable version of yourself, you're just gonna weird them out. They pick up on that right away, and it's not super comfortable for either party involved. So, don't do that! It doesn't matter if you're a bit dramatic, or loud, or kind of a nerd - if an Old God has decided that they like you, it's because of the real you. They'll probably be one of the most accepting people you'll meet, anyway - nothing you could say could possibly be the weirdest thing they've seen, and if it somehow is, they'll probably be impressed.
When Quackity had told him that he needed to be around love to feel healthy, Karl had kind of thought that was the only reason that the man wanted to hear about his interests. That it was just a matter of his survival, or something like that. He'd still wanted to help, even then - because why wouldn't he, when helping was as easy as sharing his interests with someone he enjoyed talking to anyway?
Karl had kind of thought that, while he'd gotten attached to Quackity, Quackity probably didn't care that much about him.
And then, Karl had a bad day. Not because anything had happened - he just kind of... Woke up sad, that morning. It happened sometimes. It was a bit unfortunate, since he'd had plans to meet up at the café with Quackity that day - but, he'd figured he could still talk about his work, even if he wasn't doing great.
Quackity had noticed that something was off immediately, and had asked just as quickly. They'd spent the whole conversation talking about his feelings, and it was really nice to get that stuff off of his chest, but he could tell it wasn't helping Q.
...Q didn't mind, though. He sat with him, and they talked, and eventually... He felt a little bit better about everything.
That was the moment that he realized that Quackity was his friend. Not as a cover for the whole 'Old God and his only worshipper' thing they had going on - he was actually,
really
Karl's friend.
If the man had noticed how emotional Karl had gotten at that realization, he hadn't mentioned it - and that meant a lot to him.

Karl was glad he had another friend now. It was complicated, and kinda weird - but it was nice.

...Except when Quackity got stuck in the window again. Then it was mostly funny.

Chapter Text

Quackity considered himself to be a very patient, reasonable God - The Incident and its repercussions notwithstanding - so, while he'd never really wanted to tutor a godling to adopt his domains, he'd put up with it so far. This, however, was his limit.

"But Q!! It'd be so cool!!!"

Now, here was the thing. Tommy was so very fucking stupid sometimes. And Quackity couldn't blame him - he'd been pretty stupid as a godling too, so he got it! But the kid was... Impulsive, and reckless, and seemingly oblivious to his own current mortality. And so Quackity, as the person in charge of keeping Tommy safe - most often from himself - had a few reservations about the idea of giving this little gremlin the power to shapeshift. Call him paranoid, if you wanted to, but he just had a feeling that Tommy wouldn't exactly use that power for anything The Elders would approve of! And just because Quackity didn't give a flying fuck what those old-ass bitches thought didn't mean that he wanted to take any risks here. Tommy was young, and trusting, and Quackity really didn't want to screw him over. So no, he would not be giving Tommy that much magic with zero supervision.

"Tommy. You're gonna get yourself killed."
Tommy groaned, collapsing onto the couch in despair.
"I'll give you powers, but not shapeshifting. Not yet."
And suddenly, Tommy was right back at his side - trademarked giant, gap-toothed grin directly in his face.

"Really???"

"Yeah. Really."

Tommy lit up even more, if that was even possible - starting to bounce on his heels a bit.
The poor boy probably thought he was about to get something cool, didn't he? Really, Tommy should know his teacher better than that by now.

"...Quackity. What am I looking at??"

"Attachments," he stated with complete nonchalance, "comes with being a God of Love. You can see what everybody cares about."
Which was part of why Quackity didn't get attached to anything. Or maybe couldn't? It would probably be overwhelming to see those strings flowing out of his own soul everywhere he looked, after all. It made perfect sense that he'd lost the ability to love or be loved when he'd ascended.
"Now go. Do crime."

Tommy just... Squinted at him. Fair enough - he'd probably expected something he could do far more damage with. Though, Quackity had no doubt that the godlings would find many ways to cause mayhem with those strings. At least he wasn't letting Tommy lose onto The Underworld or anything - this was probably the best way that Quackity could get Tommy used to his divine abilities and duties with minimal casualties.

"...Right. I'll go do that."

---

Sometimes, Tommy and Tubbo would follow Quackity to the café. This was the first time that Sapnap had seen them come here on their own, and frankly, he wasn't sure he liked that. Sure, the two were clearly old enough to be out on their own, but they were still a bit sheltered, and he just... Worried about them, was all.
Hence why, while they ate the cookies that they'd paid for with Quackity's - likely stolen - credit card, he'd decided to text the man.

Sapnap: hey, the boys are at the café. should i be worried?
Quackity: are they physically attacking anybody?
Sapnap: ??? no??? should i be expecting them to???
Quackity: then it's probably fine

...That managed to both calm him down and stress him out at the same time. He actually didn't like that the two kids who had spontaneously wandered into his workplace and kept looking at him were potentially capable of violence! Sapnap really didn't like that, actually!! That was kinda scary!!!
Dream didn't seem to like this situation any more than he did, but Dream notoriously hated pretty much everything that involved leaving the apartment, so Sapnap wasn't quite sure if that was because of the situation itself or just because he'd been forced to touch grass for the first time all month. It could really go either way, since he was kind of a disaster - that was why he worked from home, after all.
Tommy looked at him again, and then the two got up. And... Left. Which was a bit worrying, but he was choosing to not focus on it. They were, what, sixteen? They'd probably be fine. Probably.

---

Whatever they'd been up to at the café, the two godlings were home now. And they kept... Looking at him. Silently. And frankly, Quackity really didn't like that! Those two were up to something, and he wasn't going to let himself get got. No way, he knew what scheming looked like by now and he was not getting blown up again.
This was why Quackity had decided to go bug Karl. Because Karl, as reckless as he could be, wouldn't blow him up just to feel something - and even though Quackity couldn't die, he didn't want to deal with trying to get soot out of his shirt again! That shit sucked, actually.

Hence why he was now sitting on Karl's couch, watching some TV show - it was apparently one of Karl's favourites, but the man had never mentioned it before. Karl had a lot of favourite things, he'd learned. - and eating popcorn. Which he'd brought, because he was ever-so-slightly less broke than Karl, so it was really only fair that he supplied their snacks.
One of Karl's roommates - George, the one who Quackity had yet to ever see conscious - was apparently home, but had yet to actually show up yet. Karl had said that he might wander out to steal some of their popcorn at some point, but so far, it had just been the two of them. And it was... Nice. Quackity enjoyed spending time with Karl. The guy was funny, and bright, and probably the closest thing to a friend that Quackity was actually capable of making at this point. And it was nice, to just hang out like this for once. The only other person he could just hang out with was Charlie - but Charlie had been by his side since the two had been formed out of stardust and soil, so really, Charlie was just kind of stuck with him at this point. Karl wasn't. Karl could kick him out at any point, but he didn't. That... It meant something to him. It meant a lot, actually.

...why the fuck was someone knocking at the door?
Karl seemed just as confused - which made sense, because his roommates had never heard of privacy in their damn lives and would burst into any room they saw fit unless the door was barricaded from the other side. Which was just how roommates were in his experience, but the point still stood.
If someone was knocking... Well, Karl seemed to find it concerning, since he got up to answer. And-

"How the honk did you find my address?"

"HEY BIG Q!!!"

oh what in his name was happening

Quackity, rightfully fucking baffled, headed over to the door - where Tubbo & Tommy were grinning up at him, as if they hadn't casually followed him to his worshipper's apartment out of nowhere. Which, given how unhinged they were, Quackity was entirely certain had not been a mistake in any capacity.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Exploring!"
Tubbo stated, as if it were a totally normal fucking answer to that question.
"What're you doing here???"

...Yeah, he wasn't dealing with this.
Quackity reached past Karl, and shut the door - ignoring the way that Tommy shouted at him to let them in.

"They'll give up eventually," he lied, "just ignore them."

"...I don't think they're-"

"-ignore. Them."
Karl just nodded, and the two headed back to his room - because it was further from the front door, and thus had better insulation from the gremlins at the door. If George woke up because of those two, that was a George problem.
"Fuuuck, those two are so annoying. Fuckin hate godlings, man."

"I think it's kinda cute."
Not helping, Karl.
"They're like your little baby ducklings!"
Not helping, Karl.

"Ew. No. Those are not my kids."
Karl just chuckled quietly. Which, how dare he laugh at Quackity's struggle??
"Don't let 'em catch you saying that. Don't want those fuckheads imprinting."
Well, any more than they already had, at least.

"...Imprinting?"
oh no.
"They- oh my gosh they really are little baby ducklings, aren't they???"
Karl looked like he was about to cry, and Quackity... Fuck, what the hell gave this mortal the right to be so adorable???

"They're- yes, godlings do imprint on whichever god raises them. But that does not make those two babies, let alone MY babies! They're- I'm just their mentor, okay?"

"you're a mama duck..."
Okay, so Karl was just straight-up not listening to him.
"Oh my gosh, that's so sweet!!!"

...there was no coming back from this, was there?

"Is there anything I could say to-"

"-Nope!"
Ah. Okay. So Karl was just going to see him as those two's mom forever now.
Cool. Great. Fun. He totally didn't want to rip out his flight feathers.
"You're their mom now. I don't make the rules."
He literally just did, but okay.

"Well, if I'm their mom now, then I'm gonna go ground them both for following me here."

He'd meant that as a joke. But that, much to the dismay of the two godlings, had ended up being exactly what he did. Followed shortly by calling Charlie to come collect them, and going back to watching TV with Karl.

And it was nice.

...

"...Hey, where do godlings come from, anyway?"

him fucking damn it Karl-

Chapter Text

Ever since the godlings had gotten here, Quackity's life had been utter chaos - though, he had to admit, it was an oddly fun type of chaos. Like running around the palace halls as a godling, playing a game not too dissimilar from tag and gossiping about the various petty dramas that their mentors were getting involved in. Something which Tommy and Tubbo, thankfully, were not doing - though, he had a feeling that their lack of gossip had far more to do with the fact that Quackity wasn't exactly getting into as much drama as his own mentor had than it did with a lack of interest in the drama he was getting himself into. At the very least, he was quite proud to announce that he had yet to ever rip off another god's arm in a fit of rage - and had no intention to change that any time soon.

"Quackityyyyy, can we go to the arcade???"
He wasn't entirely sure why Tommy was asking, since he and Tubbo tended to just do whatever they wanted - so he only answered by narrowing his eyes a bit.
"Tubbs n' I got kicked out last time, so we're not allowed back in until a grown-up agrees to fuckin,,, soup-or-vise us or whatever."
Ah. So that was why he was asking. That made sense, he figured - and it wasn't like Quackity had anything else to do today.

"I don't know what an arcade is, but if you get banned from it in front of me, I will laugh at you. And I will also bring it up every single day for the rest of your lives."

The little terrors agreed to his terms far too quickly for it to be honest, and within a moment, the three of them were pulling on their shoes and making their way down the street.

Now, Quackity wasn't sure what he had expected - but it very much had not been a giant cartoonish rat man. That was... Upsetting, actually - though, for whatever reason, the mortals all seemed fond of him. Tommy and Tubbo, however, were seemingly unbothered with the venue's live entertainment - instead making a beeline for a machine with a bunch of holes and a large mallet the moment that they had been allowed to. Were he a mortal, the visual of Tubbo with any form of weapon would most likely give him heart palpitations - but he was not a mortal, so the sinking terror remained solely within the ichor in his veins, vibrating under his skin. Which may very well be worse, but he'd never actually experienced the heart thing, so he wasn't about to discount Karl's experience like that.
...Whatever. Not his problem. As long as nobody got killed, it would be fine - and Quackity trusted the boys to control their impulses at least that much. Even if he knew, logically, that he probably shouldn't.

"Q? What're you doing here?"
Ah. Dream.
Quackity had really only met the man once or twice, but from those interactions, the guy didn't seem like the type to willingly go... Anywhere, actually - so this had been pretty unexpected.

"Watching my gremlins," he gestured to the hammer-wielding boys as he spoke, "what about you?"

"Watching my gremlins."
Dream also gestured to two people as he replied - a man in a shark hoodie who looked to be about Dream's age, or maybe a bit older, and a lanky teenager who was currently trying to stick their arm into the slot at the bottom of a vending machine. Classy.
"Our mom was gonna come with them, but something came up. So she dragged me into it."

Our mom was... Interesting. These were Dream's siblings, then? He hadn't known that the man even had siblings - but, to be fair, he didn't know much else about the man either.

"Are yours only allowed in with supervision too?"

"Yeah, they- oh fuck, what is he doing?"
It seemed that Dream had only just noticed the antics of the younger of his two siblings - which, to Quackity, implied that he really shouldn't be in charge of them. But he shouldn't be in charge of anybody either, so he couldn't judge.
"...Ya'know what? I don't see it. I do not see it."

"Probably a good call, yeah."
He couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"Does this place have food? I'm starving."

"I mean, depends what you count as food."
Very reassuring.
"If it has to be healthy? Not at all. If it just has to be edible? Sometimes."

"Edible's good enough for me."

For the first time in the very few weeks since he'd met the man, Dream laughed at that - before gesturing to a table, where Quackity could see both a small bag and an unconscious George. So that was probably the table that Dream had been sitting at before he'd decided that questioning Quackity was a good use of his time.

The two ended up chatting for a while, with occasional breaks to shout at their respective idiots to stop doing something they knew damn-well they shouldn't be doing in the first place - but only happening when it was something serious, like actively fighting each other with the Whack-A-Mole hammer. Which was apparently what the weapon that Tommy had acquired was actually for. Now that they'd actually talked, though, Quackity had come to a conclusion: He did not fucking like this guy.
Dream was a jackass, frankly. This guy was clearly manipulative, not that it was working - and he was clearly very determined to make Quackity like him. Which, on its own, would already be enough for him to decide that he didn't like someone - but that, combined with the fact that Quackity was now stuck with him due to mutual friends and societal expectations for dining etiquette, made for a truly insufferable bastard.

"-anyway. What about you?"
Dream, who had been talking about his current life situation while saying absolutely nothing of value for the past ten minutes, seemed to have finally remembered that he wasn't the only person at this table. He'd been talking for so long that George had woken up, and was casually eating some - likely cold - pizza.
"What's your life like?"

"Look around, Dream. I've been dragged to a grease factory run by a singing rat. How does my life look?"
George laughed at that, seemingly just as thrilled about their current location as he was. Then again, Quackity wouldn't be surprised if Dream had just carried his unconscious body here, so he might just now be processing where they were.
"Those kids are gonna kill me one of these days..."

Dream nodded sympathetically - the most honesty that Quackity had witnessed from the man - while George, taking a break from his lunch, spoke up.

"I think I saw Tommy try to eat a plate once. Saps nearly called an ambulance."
Yeah, that sure sounded like Tommy.
"Those three'd probably get along, actually."

"George, don't you dare speak that into existence."
Quackity could only assume that 'those three' had been referring to Tommy, Tubbo, and the feral child that Dream had come here with - who was apparently named Ranboo, and was allegedly on their best behaviour today. If narrowly being stopped from trying to use their older brother's phone as a skee ball was their best behaviour, Quackity had a sinking feeling that George was correct - and that Dream, loathe as he was to agree with this man on anything ever after their conversation, was actually completely valid in not wanting that friend group unleashed upon the world.
Unfortunately, though, it was a bit late for that. Quackity could already see the strings starting to form, growing more solid and saturated each time they passed one another while switching games. Right now, directly behind Dream and George, the trio were huddled around the prize counter with a stack of tickets so large that he highly doubted they had all been earned the fair way. Which, given the people who were carrying them, was a very fair assumption for him to make. Menaces, the lot of 'em...
Speaking of menaces, here they came now - Tubbo holding a large stuffed toy behind his back, with only the smallest tuft of fluffy pink fabric visible over his shoulder.

"BIG Q!"
The trio reached the table, Tommy announcing their presence with great glee - much to Dream's horror when he processed that Ranboo was with them, and thus, that it was far too late to save the world from this threat.
"Big Q, guess what?? Guess what!!"

"...You and Tubbo made a friend?"
Tubbo cackled happily, before pulling the toy out from behind his back - revealing a large pig plushie that appeared to have been absolutely mangled. One ear was hanging off, an eye hastily re-attached with what seemed to be dark green embroidery thread, patches stained with what he was choosing to believe was pizza sauce solely because the alternative was utterly mortifying.

"Look at my son!"
Tubbo announced at a volume that had heads turning from a few nearby tables - only looking away when they realized that it was just an excited kid with a brand new toy.
"His name is Micheal, and he's me and Ranboo's son, and I would die for him."

"We're currently getting divorced, so custody is under negotiation."
Ranboo stated in a monotone, betrayed only by their large grin.
"Dream, will you be my divorce lawyer?"

"...no."
An understandable stance to take, given the absurdity of this situation and also the fact that Dream was very much not a lawyer.

"I'll be your lawyer."

"No way! You'll sleep through the trial."
Ranboo was right, of course - and so George only shrugged.
"Maybe Foolish could be my lawyer? I think he's busy trying to steal Chuck right now, but-"

"-our brother is WHAT??"
Without waiting for an answer, Dream leapt up from the table - making a mad dash towards the nearest employee, much to Ranboo's apparent amusement.

...Quackity had a feeling he was stuck with this kid now, just like he was stuck with the godlings. And, a few weeks ago, that would have infuriated him. Now, though...

Well, the kid seemed harmless enough - and they clearly made Tubbo and Tommy happy. The fact that they were temporary would be a very hard lesson for the two, as it was for all godlings - but it was a lesson they all must be taught eventually. And, as upsetting as he knew it would be for the two when their new friend eventually left for the Underworld as all mortals do, for the time being... He could let them have this, he supposed.
Besides. Tubbo and Ranboo were still discussing the terms of their divorce right now. It would be rather rude to interrupt that, he figured.

The terms of the divorce, it seemed, had included some form of split custody - seemingly 50/50, based on how they were discussing it. And so, after exchanging numbers, Ranboo and Tubbo had played a game of rock paper scissors to decide which one of them would be taking Michael home today. He didn't think that was how family court actually worked, but he didn't care to correct them - even when it had resulted in Tubbo spending their entire walk home animatedly insisting that Ranboo had somehow cheated. As the God of Tricks and Lies, Quackity was entirely certain that the taller teen had not actually cheated - but Tubbo, usually far more rational than this, refused to hear it.
Fatherhood had made him emotional, it seemed.

"-and Tommy kept his prize!"

"Yeah, cuz I won 'im myself."
Tommy proclaimed with pride, holding his small cow close to his chest.
"You 'n Boob Boy pooled your tickets - 's in your divorce papers."

"You know I can't read those!"

"Then why'd you get me to write 'em??"

The divorce papers in question, of course, were actually a small stack of napkins that Tommy had hastily scribbled notes onto with a red glitter gel pen during the negotiation process - which now were being kept in the boy's pocket, alongside the small bouncy ball he'd spent the lasts of his tickets on after acquiring Henry The Cow. Tommy had said that he wanted to hang them up on the fridge 'for safe-keeping' when they got back to the apartment, and Quackity saw no reason to say no to him on this one. It seemed logical enough, given the people that they were.

"I bet I'd've gotten full custody if I'd had a better lawyer..."
Considering the fact that he had been Tubbo's lawyer, Quackity could say with absolute confidence that the godling was entirely correct. He hadn't really been trying that hard, because frankly, it just was not that serious.

"Yeah, well, I'm not a lawyer."
Tubbo grumbled incoherently at that, but it was pretty clear that he was just being a dramatic little dude. As he often did.
"Call a professional next time. This has been your life lesson of the day."