He was here. After countless blips and many bizarre adventures, far too many to recount here, he'd finally made his way back. Back to the homeworld of that heathenous god. The one true God of Mirror Domain: Meridian.
Atlas had lucked out. After getting himself blown up by a particularly voluptuous space vixen his "curse", if one could even call it that, had brought him right back to Mirror Domain. Generally speaking Atlas had no real goals or directions upon arriving at a new world. There was no way to tell where he'd end up, so he usually just rolled with the punches. Grinch stealing Christmas? Cool, he can play along and save the holidays. Earth getting turned into swiss cheese? How fun! He's always wanted to dig a hole to china. Let's see how deep it really is.
But when Atlas got to Mirror Domain there was one thing on his mind. One thing and one thing only. What is that thing you might ask? That god damned purple shirt. His shirt. The pineapple print Hawaiian shirt that'd been stolen from him time and time again.
Meridian taunted him with it. No matter how much time had passed or what version of his reality Atlas ended up on, Meridian always had the same exact shirt. The very same one. Without fail.
Now that he'd returned, Atlas was immediately on the hunt. Finding Meridian was a feat in and of itself for any average person, but for him it was a piece of cake. Meridian was obsessed with his ability to blip between dimensions. No matter how many times he'd explained it was pure and utter random chance where he'd end up Meridian was convinced there was rhyme to this reason. How very typical of him.
Getting to the elusive god wasn't the issue. It was getting the shirt that was the issue. Meridian knew Atlas wanted it. He knew it was his most coveted item. His holy grail. His fountain of youth. His purple pineapple shirt taken from him by a god of higher power. He wanted it back, and this time he'd come with a plan.
You see, before the voluptuous space vixen had met her untimely death she'd helped Atlas with a whole number of things. One of those things was a much needed upgrade to his patented Swiss Army Penis™. Space vixen often played an amusing game of keepaway with one another's clothing, so the kind woman installed something known as a Shirt Snatcher 602™, allowing Atlas quick and easy access to whatever shirt he pleased: all for the low low price of 69.99 Gerbles. God, the Gerble economy had skyrocketed, but Atlas couldn't complain. With this new tool at his side he'd finally snag that shirt once and for all.
Atlas very quickly found himself wandering the shoreline of whatever unfortunate country he'd landed in. He was on the lookout for someone he couldn't quite make out in his field of vision. Meridian had a spell which cloaked him from the average person's view. A memory blocking spell that'd made it impossible to recall any facial features of the illusive god. The only downside to this spell was once you knew how it worked you'd be able to spot it almost instantly. A single blurry face among hundreds of crystal clear ones? Yeah, no, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
After an hour or so of wandering Atlas found himself on an out of the way alcove past a rocky shoreline. There, laying on a lounge chair soaking up the sun, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar blurry face. Now was his chance. Now he was finally going to get what was rightfully his.
Atlas whipped out his Swiss Army Penis™ and deployed his newfound addition. A single, thin, almost clothes hanger-like object immediately spurted out from it's tip and waved at him with a thin, almost skeletal, wire hand. Atlas swung his tool back and cast it out towards this god like a fishing pole. Success! He'd landed his catch! But a look of sheer and utter horror would spread across Atlas face as he reeled in his prize.
Dangling limply before him was indeed a shirt. A short sleeved Hawaiian style shirt, just as he'd expected it to be. But instead of the brilliant purple fabric dotted with shiny white pineapples as he'd expected Atlas was face to face with a dull black shirt covered in what appeared to be cheeseburgers, hot dogs, and decorative red and yellow polka dots which he could only assume we're ketchup and mustard.
This was not his shirt! This was the wrong shirt!! But there was no way! That glorious bastard lying prone in the sun was Meridian! Wait, but where was he? As Atlas scanned the horizon on the lookout for the now missing god he heard a voice call out behind him which caused him to yelp like a scared puppy.
"Looking for someone?" A familiar monotonous voice sang behind him. Right in his ear, just like the stalker he was.
It was Meridian. That heathen was right behind him; wings outstretched to cast a shadow over Atlas's person. His bare chest was exposed for the world to see as he stood there in only his lab coat and his iconic pair of pants. The purple shirt was nowhere to be seen. The only shirt in sight was the one dangling from the tip of Atlas's device.
"I knew you'd be coming here today, Atlas. I always do. Today I just so happened to have the time to confront you face to face." Meridian said, sounding as cocky and condescending as ever. At least, that's how Atlas interpreted it. "Now, may I please have my shirt back? The sun isn't kind to my blight, you know. Wouldn't want to go through tomorrow with a sunburn the entire loop-"
"This is NOT your shirt, you ignorant slut!" Atlas barked, throwing the shirt to the ground and stomping on it with his foot. "Is this some sort of game to you? You come here and taunt me with this second rate shirt and assault my eyes with your bare nipples! At least buy me dinner first! I bite my thumb at you good sir!"
Atlas attempted to bite his thumb, as the titular Shakespearean insult instructed him to do, but he'd underestimated just how strong his bite force was and promptly cried out in pain as his pointed teeth made contact with his flesh. Any semblance of intimidation was long gone, but Atlas didn't care. The only person more ignorant than the ignorant slut himself was Atlas, and he wore that title as a badge of honor.
"I'm sorry?" Meridian said, perplexed. "If anyone's being assaulted here I believe it's me. I was simply minding my own business when you so rudely tore the shirt off my back."
With a snap of his fingers the shirt Atlas had thrown upon the ground disappeared, only to reappear seconds later back on his person. Any dust or dirt it picked up had been cleared away.
"No, I didn't tear the shirt off your back! I tore a shirt off your back!! Where's the shirt?! What kind of hellish version of Mirror Domain is this where god himself doesn't wear his iconic glorious outfit! It's blasphemy!!" Atlas cried
"Blasphemy is only for followers, dear Atlas. A god can't be blasphemous to himself, especially when that god has no morals holding him back." Meridian responded slyly.
"Why aren't you wearing your shirt! No… wait! Fuck!" Atlas sputtered. "Why aren't you wearing my shirt! Where's my shirt you cancerous slab of melanoma?!"
Meridian just smiled at the misspoken words, knowing deep down Atlas viewed the titular purple shirt as his. As it rightfully was. As it'd always been.
"I am wearing my shirt, Atlas." He responded again.
"No. You're. Not! Where's the shirt?!" Atlas screamed
"This is my shirt, Atlas" he responded again. "What? Did you think I only owned one shirt like some sort of cartoon character?"
Those words broke Atlas. All these years. Years of academy training! Wasted! He'd been shot through the heart, and Meridian was to blame! Faced with the mind boggling knowledge that god himself could own two shirts was too much! Atlas fell to his knees in awe, shock, horror, and arousal.
"Why, god?! Why!! Why have you forsaken me?!?" Atlas cried, his plea echoing out towards the heavens.
"I've forsaken no one, Atlas. But if you really want it that badly, take it. I have more shirts back home"
Meridian patted Atlas on the head gently, and as he did so the shirt on his back disappeared; being replaced by a third and even more different shirt as the black hamburger dotted one appeared on Atlas. Then, in the blink of an eye, Atlas was gone. Whisked away to another word with only the shirt on his back.
The horrible...
Fake…
Hamburger shirt...
Atlas had lucked out. After getting himself blown up by a particularly voluptuous space vixen his "curse", if one could even call it that, had brought him right back to Mirror Domain. Generally speaking Atlas had no real goals or directions upon arriving at a new world. There was no way to tell where he'd end up, so he usually just rolled with the punches. Grinch stealing Christmas? Cool, he can play along and save the holidays. Earth getting turned into swiss cheese? How fun! He's always wanted to dig a hole to china. Let's see how deep it really is.
But when Atlas got to Mirror Domain there was one thing on his mind. One thing and one thing only. What is that thing you might ask? That god damned purple shirt. His shirt. The pineapple print Hawaiian shirt that'd been stolen from him time and time again.
Meridian taunted him with it. No matter how much time had passed or what version of his reality Atlas ended up on, Meridian always had the same exact shirt. The very same one. Without fail.
Now that he'd returned, Atlas was immediately on the hunt. Finding Meridian was a feat in and of itself for any average person, but for him it was a piece of cake. Meridian was obsessed with his ability to blip between dimensions. No matter how many times he'd explained it was pure and utter random chance where he'd end up Meridian was convinced there was rhyme to this reason. How very typical of him.
Getting to the elusive god wasn't the issue. It was getting the shirt that was the issue. Meridian knew Atlas wanted it. He knew it was his most coveted item. His holy grail. His fountain of youth. His purple pineapple shirt taken from him by a god of higher power. He wanted it back, and this time he'd come with a plan.
You see, before the voluptuous space vixen had met her untimely death she'd helped Atlas with a whole number of things. One of those things was a much needed upgrade to his patented Swiss Army Penis™. Space vixen often played an amusing game of keepaway with one another's clothing, so the kind woman installed something known as a Shirt Snatcher 602™, allowing Atlas quick and easy access to whatever shirt he pleased: all for the low low price of 69.99 Gerbles. God, the Gerble economy had skyrocketed, but Atlas couldn't complain. With this new tool at his side he'd finally snag that shirt once and for all.
Atlas very quickly found himself wandering the shoreline of whatever unfortunate country he'd landed in. He was on the lookout for someone he couldn't quite make out in his field of vision. Meridian had a spell which cloaked him from the average person's view. A memory blocking spell that'd made it impossible to recall any facial features of the illusive god. The only downside to this spell was once you knew how it worked you'd be able to spot it almost instantly. A single blurry face among hundreds of crystal clear ones? Yeah, no, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
After an hour or so of wandering Atlas found himself on an out of the way alcove past a rocky shoreline. There, laying on a lounge chair soaking up the sun, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar blurry face. Now was his chance. Now he was finally going to get what was rightfully his.
Atlas whipped out his Swiss Army Penis™ and deployed his newfound addition. A single, thin, almost clothes hanger-like object immediately spurted out from it's tip and waved at him with a thin, almost skeletal, wire hand. Atlas swung his tool back and cast it out towards this god like a fishing pole. Success! He'd landed his catch! But a look of sheer and utter horror would spread across Atlas face as he reeled in his prize.
Dangling limply before him was indeed a shirt. A short sleeved Hawaiian style shirt, just as he'd expected it to be. But instead of the brilliant purple fabric dotted with shiny white pineapples as he'd expected Atlas was face to face with a dull black shirt covered in what appeared to be cheeseburgers, hot dogs, and decorative red and yellow polka dots which he could only assume we're ketchup and mustard.
This was not his shirt! This was the wrong shirt!! But there was no way! That glorious bastard lying prone in the sun was Meridian! Wait, but where was he? As Atlas scanned the horizon on the lookout for the now missing god he heard a voice call out behind him which caused him to yelp like a scared puppy.
"Looking for someone?" A familiar monotonous voice sang behind him. Right in his ear, just like the stalker he was.
It was Meridian. That heathen was right behind him; wings outstretched to cast a shadow over Atlas's person. His bare chest was exposed for the world to see as he stood there in only his lab coat and his iconic pair of pants. The purple shirt was nowhere to be seen. The only shirt in sight was the one dangling from the tip of Atlas's device.
"I knew you'd be coming here today, Atlas. I always do. Today I just so happened to have the time to confront you face to face." Meridian said, sounding as cocky and condescending as ever. At least, that's how Atlas interpreted it. "Now, may I please have my shirt back? The sun isn't kind to my blight, you know. Wouldn't want to go through tomorrow with a sunburn the entire loop-"
"This is NOT your shirt, you ignorant slut!" Atlas barked, throwing the shirt to the ground and stomping on it with his foot. "Is this some sort of game to you? You come here and taunt me with this second rate shirt and assault my eyes with your bare nipples! At least buy me dinner first! I bite my thumb at you good sir!"
Atlas attempted to bite his thumb, as the titular Shakespearean insult instructed him to do, but he'd underestimated just how strong his bite force was and promptly cried out in pain as his pointed teeth made contact with his flesh. Any semblance of intimidation was long gone, but Atlas didn't care. The only person more ignorant than the ignorant slut himself was Atlas, and he wore that title as a badge of honor.
"I'm sorry?" Meridian said, perplexed. "If anyone's being assaulted here I believe it's me. I was simply minding my own business when you so rudely tore the shirt off my back."
With a snap of his fingers the shirt Atlas had thrown upon the ground disappeared, only to reappear seconds later back on his person. Any dust or dirt it picked up had been cleared away.
"No, I didn't tear the shirt off your back! I tore a shirt off your back!! Where's the shirt?! What kind of hellish version of Mirror Domain is this where god himself doesn't wear his iconic glorious outfit! It's blasphemy!!" Atlas cried
"Blasphemy is only for followers, dear Atlas. A god can't be blasphemous to himself, especially when that god has no morals holding him back." Meridian responded slyly.
"Why aren't you wearing your shirt! No… wait! Fuck!" Atlas sputtered. "Why aren't you wearing my shirt! Where's my shirt you cancerous slab of melanoma?!"
Meridian just smiled at the misspoken words, knowing deep down Atlas viewed the titular purple shirt as his. As it rightfully was. As it'd always been.
"I am wearing my shirt, Atlas." He responded again.
"No. You're. Not! Where's the shirt?!" Atlas screamed
"This is my shirt, Atlas" he responded again. "What? Did you think I only owned one shirt like some sort of cartoon character?"
Those words broke Atlas. All these years. Years of academy training! Wasted! He'd been shot through the heart, and Meridian was to blame! Faced with the mind boggling knowledge that god himself could own two shirts was too much! Atlas fell to his knees in awe, shock, horror, and arousal.
"Why, god?! Why!! Why have you forsaken me?!?" Atlas cried, his plea echoing out towards the heavens.
"I've forsaken no one, Atlas. But if you really want it that badly, take it. I have more shirts back home"
Meridian patted Atlas on the head gently, and as he did so the shirt on his back disappeared; being replaced by a third and even more different shirt as the black hamburger dotted one appeared on Atlas. Then, in the blink of an eye, Atlas was gone. Whisked away to another word with only the shirt on his back.
The horrible...
Fake…
Hamburger shirt...
Category Artwork (Digital) / Human
Species Human
Size 3477 x 4500px
File Size 9.49 MB
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