Sweet Beauty Hath No Name

 

I regret everything. I regret everything I've ever done. 

A third and final installment to my 2021 April Fool's trilogy--written by yearends and visually put together by me. The previous installments can be found here (part 1) and here (part 2).

This title comes from the seventh line of Shakespeare's Sonnet 127, as a little nod to Her lacking a name.

The image I used is fanart of Saber Alter (left) and Jeanne d'Arc Alter (right) from Fate, done by nipi27 on Twitter.

All persons depicted are fictitious, not owned by me (Fate is owned by Type-Moon), and above the age of 18.

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TRANSCRIPT:
So torture can be fun and all, but eventually it just gets tiresome, tedious and repetitive, even when you've got infinite power, once it becomes apparent that it's getting you nowhere.
We pulled those two assholes into our reality and forced them to write us losing our glowing eyes. It didn't work. Turns out, they can only affect us when they're in their own universe, but if we put them back there, since they're too turned on by said eyes, and we couldn't hurt them as long as they were there, they wouldn't do it.
So eventually we ran out of fun ideas and let them go.
But while we were still keeping an eye on them, my friend picked up on some chatter about the stories they'd written. And that really got me angry about what they'd done.
How could I not have seen it before? I'm fucking omnipotent! It never made any logical sense that I couldn't just will my glowing eyes away. It was just a matter of narrative convenience, for the purposes of their stupid joke, that I would think that even though I knew I was all-powerful, there was something I couldn't do.
And once we realized that it was just a silly mental block, it fell in no time flat.
Of course, it was still a matter of narrative convenience that they could only affect us while in their own world, and we couldn't affect them while they were there. But we'd had our fun with them already and a partial victory's better than none.
With that problem solved, there was no longer any reason for us not to make the rest of our friends omnipotent, too, and let them gallivant about the multiverse and have fun like we have. It's always great to run across their handiwork and see what sorts of ideas they've had that I'd never thought of, like galaxy bubble tea. Of course, regular bubble tea is still extremely delicious, and far more inconspicuous.
So now, instead of blaring our status as omnipotent goddesses to everyone who sees us, we just look like two smoking hot women out for a fun time. We get to fuck with stuff with nobody being the wiser and not get bothered by annoying worshippers. Of course, now we get hit on plenty, but it's a lot easier to say "no" to someone who just wants a threesome than it is to say that to someone whose kid is dying of cancer.
That's not to say that we're averse to a threesome--or a foursome, fivesome, or really any number. After all, omnipotent here, and cloning yourself feels amazing.
Oh, and you're probably wondering, if they said they wouldn't do a piece where we finally lost the glowing eyes, how this happened anyway? Well, only one of them actually really liked glowing eyes, but the other was the writer.
And I've been omnipotent long enough to forget what some people will do for money.