#I don't know how much I've said about it here

[jellybeanium124]

if you'll allow me to flaunt my psych minor for a second, I'd like to talk about epigenetics. there's studies that show that if you shock a rat when you let them taste a certain flavor, they will immediately become averse to that flavor. not surprising. what is surprising is that the rat's grandchildren, who have never been shocked when given that flavor, will also be averse to it and afraid of it and avoid it. there's also correlational evidence to suggest that the descendants of people who suffered through famine are more likely to put on weight and keep it on easier, even if they have never been through a famine themself.

trauma gets passed down. the kinds of trauma your parents, grandparents, and so-on lived through is still living in you. even if your parents were the most well-off, loving, best parents in the world, their trauma is still in you.

now if you'll allow me to take a slight turn here: there's a wild rabbit inside every jew.

my dad grew up being called "jew-boy." my mother had a coworker throw pennies at her at her job in the 2010s. and that's just two examples. they both grew up being harassed for being jewish. I wasn't. I'm incredibly lucky. the amount of antisemitism I've experienced in real life has been incredibly minimal. I didn't even hear anyone make an antisemitic joke in front of me until college.

and none of us were seriously persecuted. none of my grandparents were seriously persecuted. but even though nobody's broken my windows, nobody's beaten me in the streets, and I haven't been at any of those horrible protests in person, the fear is there. this deep seated, blood-pumping fear of the ancient jewish rabbit in me telling me to run. to run for dear life, to run as far as my legs can get me, as long as my heart keeps pumping and my lungs keep breathing.

we all feel this.

everyone feels this.

I called my mother yesterday. when I brought up this feeling she paused, and the silence said everything. she told me I wasn't alone. she feels it. my dad feels it. my brother feels it. my nana and grampa feel it. every jew you know, online, in real life, hell, even the famous ones, they feel it. the rabbit is inside us all, and the rabbit knows, because its brothers who didn't flee in the past were slaughtered.

the rabbit is leaping around my chest, all of our chests, chanting run run run run run run run.

I don't know if I can explain it to gentiles. I don't know if this makes sense to you. I don't know how to get across how crystal clear and deep and primal this fear is, and how much all of us are feeling the exact same fear, despite our different lives and different histories and the fact we're different people.

part of me wishes it didn't matter. that I didn't feel like I needed to get goyim to understand my specific cultural and ethnic experiences. because I don't feel like I need to deeply understand everyone else's. I am a white passing ashkenazi american jew, and I will never fully understand what it is like to be anything else. that doesn't dissolve my responsibility to educate myself and practice empathy, but it's ok. idk, maybe other people do desperately wish they could get people not in their specific group to deeply understand what it's like to be them. I imagine that feeling is universal. I guess, it's just like, the left is unified that everyone is a person, everyone is equal, everyone is human, except the jews. nobody is left out but the jews. everyone's word is believed, but the jews. and it makes me feel like I have to beg and plead with people to understand what being jewish means, because we're not included with everyone else. we're the enemy. and I want people to see we're not the enemy.

epigenetics.

[ckret2]

Pictured above: a shape's eye view of the end of the world.

The second dimension has burned; and Bill's been accidentally setting the second dimension's neighbors on fire. At the moment, the Axolotl is trying really, really hard to convince himself that these two facts are unrelated. Here, have a fic.

This is chapter 5 of an ongoing fic about the Axolotl in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre as Bill just keeps on committing atrocities. If you wanna read the earlier chapters (and/or look at more pretty art of Bill committing horrors and the Ax witnessing horrors), here's chapters one, two, three, and four.

####

As soon as the Axolotl and the Time Giant exited Dimension Zero, they were greeted with a faceful of rain. Apparently the storm cloud with the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force had been waiting for them. "The fires in the remaining dimensions around 2Δ are finally acting like normal fires," it said. "No teleporting around, no more targeting the mortals. We've got the worst ones under control. Think we'll save about 40% of Dimension 2 Zeta and 30% of Dimension 2 Epsilon. Whatever you two did in there, it helped."

"Yeah, well." The Time Giant shrugged, nearly dislodging the Axolotl from his perch draped over her shoulder. "It was one of those problems that fixes itself once you figure out what it is."

So the Time Giant had been right. The triangle's attempts to rescue "his" "people" and to stabilize his strange underworld in Dimension Zero had been what was destabilizing all the other dimensions. As much of a relief as it was to hear the situation was improving... part of the Axolotl had hoped that the fires were still as untamed as ever—because that would have meant the triangle wasn't guilty of perpetuating the blaze.

(If the triangle wasn't actively working to keep Dimension Zero stable, how much longer until it collapsed and erased all its imprisoned souls from existence? Would it be long enough to get them all out?)

The cloud asked, "So, did you find out what destroyed 2Δ?" Right. The Axolotl had almost forgotten that was what they'd originally been looking for.

The Time Giant shook her head grimly. "Didn't see any sign of it. But I've got a suspicion who did it."

The Axolotl said sharply, "All we have is circumstantial evidence." And he'd ripped into more than one god who'd tried to damn a mortal based on circumstantial evidence. 

The cloud's sunbeam darted between their faces. Slowly, it said, "I take it you mean our triangular friend. I don't have any proof yet about the original fire; but he's been spreading the fire, I know that much."

"How did you know?" the Axolotl asked. He and the Time Giant had only just learned it themselves inside Dimension Zero.

"We've been interviewing some refugees while you were out. I—think you'll want to speak to them." The cloud directed this statement to the Axolotl.

The Time Giant said, "Later. The triangle says he's willing to move his people to another dimension." She gestured toward VENDOR, flanked by the two cops THEY'd apparently adopted as THEIR personal escorts. THEY were ranting into a phone that the crab-looking cop was holding up for them. "So we've gotta go discuss refugee stuff with Vendy McVendface."

"VENDOR," the cloud corrected.

"Vend 'er? I hardly even know 'er!"

The gods turned to stare at the border of Dimension Zero as the triangle laughed at his own joke until he wheezed. "I had to. It was sitting right there! It woulda been a crime not to pick it up!" His cackles slowly petered out. "What, no laughs? Maybe the joke doesn't translate."

The Time Giant shrugged. "I kinda thought it was funny."

"Ah, whatever."

"Have you been listening the whole time?" the Axolotl asked, not sure whether to be amused or mortified.

"Don't worry about it, I've got something more important to say." He zipped up along the surface of Dimension Zero's border until he was eye level with the Time Giant. "Hey, Hourglass. I didn't say I'm ready to move my people. I said I'm ready to talk about moving. Your guy better sell me on it. If your offer isn't worth it, we're not leaving."

"Are you serious?" She screwed up her face. "Ain't not being erased from existence worth it?"

"I have very high standards. And there are fates worse than death."

"Name one."

The triangle only thought about it a second before he answered, "Captivity."

####

It wasn't until the Axolotl and the Time Giant left the border of Dimension Zero that the Axolotl realized, the moment the triangle had shown up, the storm cloud had disappeared. It was now drizzling surreptitiously near VENDOR, waiting for them to catch up.

As they approached VENDOR, the Time Giant said, "You should give VENDOR the news."

The Axolotl gave her an affronted look. "Why me?" This wasn't his responsibility. He hadn't been hired to do a job here. He shouldn't even be here; he was essentially an over-involved lookie-loo.

"You'd be better at talking to 'em. You move in the same circles."

"I'm not a politician, I'm a lawyer."

"I'm an engineer." She took the Axolotl off her shoulder and nudged his butt to set him gently floating in VENDOR's direction.

The Axolotl twisted around to give her a resentful look, but swam toward the vending machine.

THEY ignored the Axolotl until THEY finished THEIR current call, at which point THEY snapped, "What?" and he explained the situation. Blessedly, THEY didn't ask any further questions or give him any instructions; THEY just grumbled, "Finally," and told the crab cop, "Call the Vitruvian Mandala—we'll need to find places for another ten million 2D refugees."

"And 1D," the Axolotl said.

"Yes, yes." THEY muttered under THEIR fan, "And hopefully we'll get that triangle to the afterlife he deserves and be done with him."

The Axolotl doubted THEY meant a serene eternal paradise. Pointedly, he said, "Which afterlife he goes to is his choice."

Afterlife law was his speciality. Not cases like "based on this mortal's good and bad deeds, which form has she earned for her next reincarnation?" or "has this soul earned entry into his religion's realm of the wicked, the good, or the heroic?" Those were decided on the local level.

Rather, he tended to handle inter-pantheon, sometimes even interdimensional, cases—like, "if a mortal born on one planet lives and dies on another planet, which world's afterlife has claim to his soul?" "Is a soul's right to return to her native afterlife forfeit if she's apprehended in another god's jurisdiction for crimes against reality?" "Can a death god in a dimension where wandering ghosts are banned incarcerate a ghost from a dimension where wandering is legal?" "How does a soul's right to claim an afterlife weigh against an afterlife's right to claim a soul?" "Who has the right to judge a deceased mortal in the first place?"

The Axolotl personally thought that mortals deserved to be treated as mercifully as possible—starting with respecting the dead's own choice of afterlife above all others, and ending with outlawing damnation at the interdimensional level.

The rest of the multiverse... didn't agree with him yet. He didn't intend to stop until they did.

He went on, "Case law has long established that unless the dead made other arrangements premortem, they will be taken to—in order—the afterlife of their birth, their death, or their choice. The afterlife under whose jurisdiction the triangle lived and died has been destroyed, so he can go to any afterlife that says they're willing to take him, whether or not you think it's what he deserves—"

VENDOR's camera rolled and THEY impatiently beeped acknowledgment. "Do you mind, I'm on the phone." THEY turned THEIR back on the Axolotl to focus on THEIR next call. Yeah, most gods didn't like being told they couldn't just smite and damn whoever they felt like.

The storm cloud called the Axolotl's attention with a fork of lightning. It said, "I'll need to help coordinate the rescue efforts with VENDOR. I can get the report on what you learned in there from the engineering inspector; but you need to go talk to some of the witnesses of the fire. Maybe you should ask the Vitruvian Mandala when He's free."

That was the second time it had told him to talk to the refugees. "Why?"

"You said that yellow triangle's your friend, right?"

"I... did, yes."

The cloud didn't explain any further. It only said, "Be careful around him."

####

VENDOR bustled around making preparations to receive ten million new refugees with absolutely no input from anyone else on the scene; the cloud's time was split between coordinating with the ATTF and getting a full debrief from the Time Giant on the conditions inside Dimension Zero; and left alone, the Axolotl found himself staring into the roiling barrier around the bloated singularity.

He swore, no matter where he looked, in the center of his view he could see a tiny, yellow, triangular pinprick of light, like an afterimage burned into his retina. No matter how deeply he looked into Dimension Zero, somehow his eyes always seemed focused on the triangle, making it appear nearer and then farther, like an optical illusion.

Be careful around him. He wished his Oracle were here to ask him questions. Helping her mortal mind make sense of this whole affair might help him make sense of it himself.

He'd seen the horror in the triangle's eye when he realized that he was the one incinerating the dimensions that had once bordered his own. He'd heard the sincerity in the triangle's voice when he said he could feel the deaths of every life that fell into his dream realm—the deaths that he himself was causing. He'd felt the guilt pouring from the triangle when he realized his efforts to save "his people" from being killed were what was killing them. Whatever else the Axolotl knew, he was sure the triangle hadn't meant to cause anyone harm. He hadn't started the fires on purpose. He just... didn't know what he was doing.

And "his people"—what did that mean?

Maybe some of the people in the triangle's dance party were from his dimension. The Axolotl couldn't totally confirm that they weren't; if the triangle had somehow survived, then why not others?

But it was undeniable that the triangle had been "rescuing"/kidnapping people from other dimensions, and he talked about the people he'd rescued no differently from the people from his own dimension.

Why? Had members of his species spread to neighboring dimensions? Or had his species come from another? Had his people established diplomatic relationships with cultures in neighboring universes, enough for them to consider themselves one people?

"Certainly not," said the Vitruvian Mandala.

He was a god from one of the worlds in Dimension 2 Gamma that the ATTF had managed to evacuate before the dimension was fully incinerated. Now, He was just another refugee, huddled with His confused, terrified people on one of the temporary worlds provided by VENDOR, curved uncomfortably atop the spherical planet. He had to be reeling from the loss of His home just as much as His people were—if not more, since He had known and seen and done and loved much more that any single mortal could. But nevertheless, He'd immediately stepped up to assist with organizing the rescue services, acting as a liaison between VENDOR and the 2D mortals to find new homes for them. 

And some of His people had been among the ones dragged into Dimension Zero—which was no doubt why the cloud had suggested the Axolotl speak to Him.

The Vitruvian Mandala may have been a minor creation god (He'd only created a galaxy) but He was more than powerful enough to know whether any of His people had ever made interdimensional contact. The Axolotl had waited until He had a moment to spare from assisting VENDOR, and then asked Him about their relationship with Dimension 2 Delta.

"I seeded life on all the populated worlds in My galaxy. None of My worlds have ever so much as been colonized by another galaxy in Our own dimension, much less people from another dimension," He said. "And We're a young galaxy—the most advanced starfarers have hardly ventured beyond their own solar systems; none have left Our dimension."

"And they've never spoken to other dimensions...?"

"No. The first contact We ever had with 'Dimension 2 Delta'—or what was left of it—was when the Magister Mentium began dragging My people into his underworld. The leaders I've had a chance to speak to from Dimension 2 Epsilon and Dimension 2 Zeta have told Me the same. " He called the triangle 'Magister Mentium' without any of the halting awkwardness the Axolotl did, or even the self-consciousness the triangle himself did. The Vitruvian Mandala had never known the triangle as anything but the Magister Mentium—and in His voice, it sounded not like an oversized title for a tiny triangle, but like the name of a fellow god.

But—the Axolotl had only asked the Vitruvian Mandala about Dimension 2 Delta. He hadn't brought up the Magister Mentium, nor mentioned that he was asking about the kidnapped people. "How did you know about the Magister Mentium?"

The Vitruvian Mandala said simply, "Because he introduced himself to My people before he started stealing them."

At the Axolotl's shocked silence, He said, "Do you want to see what they saw?"

####

When the agents with the ATTF had started interviewing survivors about the cosmic fire, naturally, they'd first approached the other gods for information. And then the gods had approached the mortals under their charge to get their testimonies and pass them on to the apoc agents.

The Vitruvian Mandala had telepathically extracted His people's memories and copied them into tiny glassy discs with brass rims. He sifted through dozens of discs before offering the memory of a narrow rhombus from one of His most technologically advance worlds; and the Axolotl stared through the disk to experience the mortal's memory.

The memory started with a sight that had become all too familiar to the Axolotl: a distant line of burning blue fire. It took a moment for the Axolotl to orient himself to the mortal's razor-thin two-dimensional view of her world; but once he did, he realized that, from her perspective, it wasn't a line of light. To her, it was the entire sky. The constellations of faraway flat stars had vanished, and their place was taken by an inferno.

The whole world reeked of a stench that the rhombus didn't recognize, but that the Axolotl did: burning hydrogen. In most dimensions, three-fourths of all the matter in the entire universe—including the very stars themselves—consisted of hydrogen molecules. Hydrogen burned a pale blue. The stench in the air, the pale blue light filling the sky, was the smell and sight of the raw materials of reality itself burning away.

The nearby buildings had emptied into the city streets as people abandoned their work to coming outside and stare at the burning sky. Somewhere—it seemed very far away—people were screaming, sirens were wailing, government proclamations were issuing out of radios and loudspeakers; but on these streets, on the border of the city where the sky was most visible, everyone was horribly silent. 

An eerie feeling of unreality hung over the world. It felt like a scene out of a dream. The rhombus's heart filled with dread. She didn't understand why or how the sky was burning, but she felt in her bones that it must mean the end of the world.

She never imagined that it was the end of the entire universe.

And then, more real than reality itself, bright enough to blind, a radioactive-yellow shape appeared in the middle of the crowd. Over the gasps of shock, a voice that echoed between the buildings proclaimed, "Gooood evening! Lines, bis, and tris; quads, quints, and more—my beloved believers and my new friends—I'm sure you all recognize my voice from the news, but it's a pleasure to finally meet you all in the flesh!"

She wasn't sure he had any flesh to meet. He was ghostlike, as insubstantial as smoke—and just as formless as smoke, too: his shape constantly shimmered and shifted and distorted, his skin appearing and disappearing as his internal organs were exposed; one moment a leg visible, the next a hand, then no limbs at all, just his blindingly bright body. His organs were all wrong. When she could stand to squint at the specter's light, in the split seconds that his ghostly form was properly visible, she thought he looked like a triangle.

(She'd never seen the third dimension, never even attempted to imagine what a 3D shape might look like. She didn't realize his appearance shifted because he was a 2D shape tilting in 3D directions trying to lay flat on the 2D plane of Dimension 2 Gamma, and not quite succeeding. )

"Allow me to introduce myself properly: I'm the Magister Mentium, seer of the third dimension! Your gateway to the stars and stardom, your guide to prophets and profits, your mastermind and master of minds; and, if you're lucky, your new eternal party host! I'm sure the honor's all yours—but please, resist the urge to swoon! I have a limited time offer that you cannot afford to miss."

For all his self-aggrandizing, the triangle was still completely unfamiliar. She didn't see recognition in the eyes of any of the shapes around them, either. She doubted he'd ever actually been on the news at all, unless it was in one of those dubious programs about ghost hunting or UFOs. 

But the triangle charged on regardless: "I'm here to bring you salvation from— Whoops! We've got a crying baby over here. Sorry junior, I'm on stage right now." She hadn't even noticed the crying until the triangle pointed it out; the whole world seemed dull and muffled and gray except for the triangle. One of his arms stretched in the child's direction and disappeared; there was a split-second flash of black fingers where the baby used to be; and then both hand and baby vanished, the baby's cries morphing into a shriek of terror that slowly faded into the unseeable distance.

"My baby!" a rectangle wailed. She rushed up to the alien triangle. "What did you do to my baby, you—" She tried to seize his arm, and let out a howl of pain as her hands burst into flame.

"Calm down, Mama, your little brat's okay!" He reached out and flicked the rectangle back. His finger hit her with the force of a catapult. She tumbled away from him through dimensions unknown, skins and bone and organs turning inside-out over each other; and slammed into a nearby building, fusing with the wall. All that was visible of her was a thin cross section of meat. The rhombus couldn't imagine where the rest of her had gone—but she could smell the burning flesh.

"Too bad I can't say the same of you." The triangle turned to stare them all down, gaze darting restlessly from face to face. His pupil was bizarrely long, animal-like; and his gaze burned. She was sure that, if his gaze had lingered on her a moment longer, she would have caught fire, too. "We're burning time, people! Would anyone else like to be excused? Last call!"

There were a few whispers, but no one moved. The crowd was petrified with fear.

"Terrrrific! Then you'd better listen close, because I only have time to say this once," the triangle said. "Here's the deal! There's only two kinds of people: the ones who hate captivity, and the ones who love it. Oh yeah, there are people who love it! Some of 'em like inflicting it, some of 'em are too stupid to think for themselves, and some of 'em just want to do terrible things and pretend they had no choice!

"But I'm here to help the rest of you—you know who you are! You're the ones who never quite tessellated with the other kids! The ones who are sick and tired of your family saying you had so much potential and asking where it's all gone! You can feel the barbs of social obligation hooking into your flesh—yeah, you there, you know what I'm talking about, I see you!—and you'd rip your own skin off if you thought it would set you free! It won't, by the way—take it from a guy who knows! Luckily for you, my way's more effective and less painful! Probably!"

In spite of their fear, more than a few shapes had started pushing closer to the triangle. He was speaking to them.

"So if you crave freedom—from work, laws, morality, physics... death..."

More than a few shapes glanced fearfully toward the sky.

"...if you want to see the stars with me—then raise your hand! Reach out to me! Watch your enemies burn and escape to a realm of dreams with no rules and no responsibilities! That's right, this way!"

As soon as he said raise your hand, it seemed like half the crowd stretched their hands out to him —and the longer he spoke, the more reached out.

She recognized some of the people reaching out—some of them were her neighbors and friends. Here was a beaten-down pentagon who'd spent his whole life being controlled, and just wanted freedom from the ruthless monsters who used and abused him. There was a controlling circle who'd spent her whole life using and abusing others, and wanted freedom to be an even more ruthless monster. They all reached toward the triangle just the same—as if they'd been waiting their whole lives for an opportunity to escape. The desperate, the downtrodden, the dastardly, the barely daring to hope. If the whole burning world felt like a bizarre dream, then this must have felt like a dream come true to them.

But to the rhombus, it felt like a nightmare. She had to fight through the crowd to back away from him. 

"No need to push! If you can't see me, just hold your hand toward my voice, I can see you!"

The smell of burning existence was growing stronger.

Was this a test? An approaching apocalypse and a shapeshifting god of light and fire offering a last-minute rapture. The sky was burning—what hope did they have if they didn't go with him? More of the crowd was reaching for him now—terrified of him, but more terrified of their fate if they didn't. The rhombus reluctantly stretched out a hand.

"Thaaat's right, this way! I've got all of you!" His voice was taking on an edge of impatience. "Just—come on already! Hurry up!"

She was at just the right angle to catch a split second glimpse of the triangle through the crowd. She saw as the person closest to him reached out and grasped his hand. She saw as the first of the triangle's new followers burst into flames. The unlucky soul crumbled to ash before they had a chance to scream.

"I said no pushing."

The rhombus jerked her hand back and hoped the triangle hadn't seen her through the crowd. He wasn't offering salvation.

Most of the crowd wasn't lucky enough to get a view of the unfortunate shapes at the front who were already learning what a deal with the triangle entailed. The rhombus could hear people, as though from a vast distance, calling out to the triangle: "Take me, take me!" "I'll do anything!" It seemed like the whole world was trying to get closer to him; she thought she was the only one trying to move away, until she made it as far back as she could, where the crowd was thinning out, and caught a few other shapes in her peripheral vision who'd moved the same way. More than half the crowd was rushing in toward the triangle.

But apparently, it wasn't enough to satisfy him. "Come on, people!" That enthusiastic voice, halfway between a salesman and a camp counselor, was gone now. His voice went shrill with anxiety. "What's it gonna take?! I'm offering you idiots paradise, why won't you listen? Why don't you ever LISTEN TO ME?!"

For a moment, even though the triangle was completely hidden by the crowd, the rhombus could feel his fiery gaze sweep over her. She felt the way her skin threatened to burst into flames, and she knew he saw her.

She backed away until her rear angle bumped into the nearest building.

"Fine! You've had your chance! I've found my people!" The triangle's voice dropped to an angry snarl. "For all I care, the rest of you can burn."

For every hand that stretched out to the triangle, a black hand reached back toward them—dozens and dozens of hands. "Let's blow up this popsicle stand!"

He seized his new believers' hands.

Most of them instantly burst into flames.

Most of the rest were either jerked away into some unseeable direction like the baby had been, or else the burning ghost hand they were shaking yanked something out of them, leaving behind a dry corpse.

Reality warped and distorted in ways her eye couldn't make sense of: buildings wobbling and spilling apart like they were made of liquid; people twisting together with the buildings in sickening multi-corpsed abominations.

"Whoopsie!" The triangle let out a shrill, tittering laugh. It sounded pained. "S-still gotta get the hang of that. Oh well!" He spoke louder and faster. "I saved as many of you as I could, doing the best I can here, the rest of you don't matter, anyway byyye!"

And then he was gone.

And then they were all awake. She hadn't known they were asleep. Whatever happened hadn't been a mere shared nightmare; it was as though the layer of existence that dreams happened on had been pressed into the layer of existence where reality happened, and she hadn't even noticed until the pressure applied by the triangle lifted and the layers popped apart again.

The layers had popped apart too hard. Several of the shapes nearest the triangle that he hadn't taken with him instantly died—the tether between their souls on the plane of dreams and their bodies on the plane of reality snapped like overstretched rubber bands.

The fused corpse abominations had been left behind, still tangled and mangled with the architecture. The buildings were charred. The survivors were covered in burns they hadn't noticed—everywhere the triangle had looked was burned. Anything the triangle looked through was burned.

She was covered in burns. She could feel the burning inside her body. She raised her hands to her face and felt it peeling off.

She couldn't even feel the bright blue fires roaring down from the heavens.

And then something else lifted her out of the world, just before the reality around them began to burn.

She didn't know where all the people the triangle had taken had gone. But as she blacked out, of one thing she was sure: this higher dimension he'd claimed to see, this realm of stars and dreams? They weren't there.

Wherever they were, they'd gone down.

####

When the Axolotl emerged from the recorded memory, he was dizzy with horror. He had to lay down on the prefab planet next to the Vitruvian Mandala while he reeled.

"Are you all right?" the Vitruvian Mandala asked.

Broken, the Axolotl said, "he threw a baby."

"I know."

"Is the baby alright?"

Delicately, He said, "It's beyond the dimensions I'm able to sense."

The Axolotl curled his gills. Not the baby. "What about the rhombus?"

"Her body was too burned; she died shortly after this memory," the Vitruvian Mandala said. "But fortunately, only a small part of her ghost suffered third degree burns. With an ectoplasm graft she's expected to recovery enough to have a fairly normal afterlife. Inasmuch as any afterlife can be considered 'normal' for My people now."

The Axolotl had noted how many ghosts were mingling with the living mortals when he arrived on this planet. He hadn't wanted to say anything; he didn't know whether that was normal for their people. "I can give you the contact rituals of some interdimensional psychopomps I respect. Very professional and compassionate gods." Although they'd be cursing the Axolotl's name for millennia for throwing so much work on their desks.

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

The Axolotl returned the memory disc to the Vitruvian Mandala; He momentarily stared into it Himself before returning it to His collection. "He gave speeches like this all across My populated worlds. I've retrieved thousands of memories like this from My people." His voice shook; the Axolotl couldn't tell if it was with anger or grief. "There would have been more—if more had survived."

"I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else he could do for the poor god but be sorry. All the senseless, slapdash slaughter. All of it so casual and accidental.

"Why?" the Vitruvian Mandala demanded. "He didn't speak like he meant My people harm, but he couldn't have done them more harm if he'd tried! I've never heard of him before—what is he, some malevolent trickster god? Why did he do it"

"Because... he thought he was saving them." That was the only thing the Axolotl could cling to.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 5 of a 7-or-8-or-9 part fic that keeps getting more parts, about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl run out of ways to pretend Bill didn't destroy his own dimension.

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Five of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: Bill got SO CLOSE to looking like a misguided good guy last chapter, and that's why he had to throw a baby.

No actually it was because it seemed really really funny. Flipped that flat little thing like a pancake.

Due to real-world reasons, this is another chapter that isn't as edited & polished as usual, so let me know if you noticed any rough spots that need buffing. And let me know what you think! Bill with his cult leader persona cranked up to 100% is probably the hardest Bill to write.)

[tan1shere]

Passion Painting

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: Was watching my show when I got a little inspired by an episode :D kinda quoted a line from it too because it was fitting. I'll make it bold so you guys know ! - I literally need this woman rn (or even a dom in my asks that'll be great too.)

Summary: you get a gift so you and Billie spice things up a bit ;)

Warnings: smut ! Scissoring 🥰 bills being a bit rough 😫 (i personally love how this turned out)

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @iluvapplesxh @chrissv4mp @n0vabug

masterlist

The door opens, hearing keys jingle. Billie was finally home and you had missed her all day. But she doesn't come empty handed. You had just come into the room, greeting her. "Hey baby, what's that?" She sets it down. "Well, it's an early Christmas gift from Claudia. She said we can open it whenever? Whatever that means." You tilt your head. "Do we open it now?" She takes her shoes off, looking at you. "I mean if you want to, she didn't say otherwise. So I'd say its fine." She smiles at you, going over to give you a kiss.

"Good day?" - "It was ok, bit slow work wise but apart from that it was good." You say, going to pick up the box wrapped with festive paper. Bringing it over to the dining table. "How's Finn and Claudia? Did you get much done today?" She nods. "They're good, and yeah a little bit thank goodness. Glad to be home, missed you." You go to kiss her again. "I missed you. Right lets see what we have here." You say, ripping the thin material. Reading the box outloud.

Confusion strikes you. "What is it?" Billie asks. You turn it around so she can see, reading out the words to her. "Passion Painting Erotic Art Kit." She makes a face of realization. "So that's why she said to do it at night time and maybe after a date. I was so confused." You look at her. "You wanna do it?" She thinks for a moment, smirking to herself. "What? Slather you in paint and fuck you? Without a doubt babe." You grin widely. "Sounds like a plan then."

Giggles echoed though the house as you open the front door and speed over to the kit. Billie close behind. "I've actually been thinking about this all day." You admit. "Oh yeah?" She comes close to you. "Sitting in your desk at work, clenching your thighs as I smear paint all over your body. Over your curves." Your faces were close to one another, inches away. You bite your lip, averting your eyes to look at hers. They were natural apart from a little liner making them look plump and inviting. You lean in to kiss her but she pulls back.

Causing an annoyed groan to leave you. "Billie." You whine. She chuckles. That fucking chuckle. It was menacing. "Why don't we make this a little challenge." Your head tilts with intrigue. "I'm listening." She goes to unbox it, waiting a moment before she speaks again. "Let's see how long we can go without kissing one another." - "What-?" She turns around. "Don't think you can?" You think for a second. "Fine, let's see who looses." She smirks. "I think we both know who that's going to be." Your eyes roll. "Yeah yeah." But her hand grabs your jaw.

"Such an attitude for someone whos about to get fucked on the floor." Your throat closes up finding breathing to be the last thing on your mind currently. You both spread the canvas out. But in reality, you're going to be the canvas spread out at the end of the night. She'd make sure of it. You pick up the paints. Gold and blue. "Which?" She looks at them. "Hmm blue." You hand her the blue. "Right well I better get out of this." You began, back facing her. Slightly bent over as you stand back up. She smirks to herself grabbing the zip at the top of your dress. And swiftly pulling it down.

You gasp as the air hits your nipples. Since the dress had no straps you went against wearing a bra. Now standing almost fully naked in your kitchen, you two had moved some furniture around so you'd have the right space. "Oops, well I mean now all you need to take off is that tiny. Tiny. Pair of underwear." You had to process how fast she was with the dress you almost didn't register her hands pulling the thin material of your underwear off. It was only then when you realized how cool everything got. A shiver running down your spine. You wanted to kiss that smirk right off her face.

But you couldn't, you had to remember the game. "Your turn." Her smirk stays, grabbing her shirt from the back with one hand, lifting it off her head. Hair becoming messy. She takes off her pants next because she too, didn't put a bra on. There was no need. But you definitely weren't complaining. Your eyes stare for a moment. Maybe if you focused on that and not her really, inviting lips you'd be fine. But God were you wrong. You just wanted to grab her and kiss her. You both stand fully naked infront of one another.

Your nerves getting the better of you as she stalks closer to you. The lid pops off the paint. As she hands you the blue one. "We have to put it on one another." But her words went out one ear and out the other. "Hey." She says getting your attention. "Focus baby." Your eyes meet hers, handing her the gold. There was still some plastic on it so she brings it up to her mouth, getting ahold of it and ripping it off. All while keeping intense eye contact. You were going to be dripping soon. And not with paint. Her lips come to the cap, popping that off and out of her mouth. She squeezes a good amount into her hand. "You're going to be so gold you'll look like one of my Oscar's."

You gulp back saliva, you were almost drooling. Even more so when her hand makes contact with your skin. The paint was a little cold, but her burning hands soon get rid of that. Your body starts to become hot. Nerves coming back more prominent. She rubs it all over your chest, moving down to your tits, having it around most but leaving your nipples free. She had plans. Her movements were incredibly slow, making you more needy. She made sure she got your whole body, minus the places she needed access to. Standing back and letting you take over on hers.

Your shakey hand comes in contact with her neck. "Nervous?" You shake your head. "That's not really an answer huh?" You couldn't look at her, you just couldn't. You were close to giving into everything how was she so God damn calm? Your mind races as you come to her breats, you were hesitant but eager to touch them. "Why so Nervous huh? It's as if you haven't touched them before, when we both know that's not true." She was getting you to break, to give up on the game. "You're making this harder.." You whisper out. "Is that so? Darn, I didn't even realize." You pout slightly. "Can't go on?"

You think for a second, shaking your head. "Im fine." You say as your hands move over the rest of her body. "So shy, sweetheart." You swallow. "N-no I'm not." Her brow raises. "Don't lie." But she softly grabs your hand, moving them over her body. "See like that, not hard is it?" You whimper. "You're making it hard Bills." Your eyes look at her with a pleading glint. "Shame." Her eyes look down at your body. "Think its time we have our fun." She says, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you down on the paper. Letting her hands move to your breasts. She had the left a part of your neck blank, bringing her lips to it and kissing.

"Billie.." You breathe out, but she moves her hands and grabs your ass tightly. "Uh uh, say it correct." Your head spins. "Mommy." - "Good girl." Your eyes shut. Trying so hard to resist the urge to kiss her. "Mommy please." You say, grabbing her arms and moving them down to her waist as she begins to move her cunt on your own. Your first moan of the night slips out. "What? Are you all sad you can't kiss me darling girl? You agreed to the challenge no?" You zip it. Hating that you did agree to it, you didn't care anymore. You go to switch positions getting ontop.

"Please let me kiss you please." Her hands rest on your lower back as you desperately move your pussy on hers. "Please Mommy, need it so bad." She smirks. "I can see angel. You've never done that before I guess you truly mean it." You pout again at her, she was playing with you and it was driving you mental. Moving down to attatch your lips to her own. But she serves, loving the little frustrated whines you let out. "You're so mean." Her hand instantly wraps around your throat and in the blink of and eye she was back ontop.

"What was that princess?" Her grip tightens making your words float away. "Hm??" You try to talk but it's no use. "Exactly what I thought." Her hand grips your thigh, hoisting it up to dangle on her shoulder. Her hand remains around your throat while the other is on the paper, close to your head and surely leaving a handprint on the almost covered paper. Your body's making art. Surely a night to remember. Her movements become harsh making your mind race, your mouth hangs open at the feeling of both of your wetness together. She watches your eyes roll back, and slowly seeing your lids drooping.

"there you go, fall into subspace that's it. You beautiful being." You had no thought other than her, the way she was fucking against you. Absolutely no words left. Her hand stays firmly around your throat. Your bodys soon come close together. Your breasts touching, nipples grazing one another and that was it. That was all it took for you two to gush against the other. Her lips come crashing down onto your own, loosening her grip to hear your sinful moans travel into her mouth. She groans as she rides out both of your orgasmns. Flopping on you to catch her breath. "Wow." You say. "Wow indeed."

You had a nice soothing shower together, getting comfortable in your bed. Snuggling up close. Until you grab your phone. "What're you doing?" She asks. "Thanking that amazing woman for even thinking of this for us." She smiles, letting out a laugh. "Thank her for me too." You then smile to yourself. "You do know you lost your own game right?"

"A wins a win when you get to fuck your girlfriend and showcase it on a wall for everyone to see and know that you're all. Mine."

[madlori]

Sometimes the delulu IS the solulu.

After some thought, and reading a lot of really insightful thoughts here and on Discord, I think I've reached a conclusion.

I'm going full tinhat. Not in an unhinged way, though.

I don't think this is the end.

I'm not going to count on it. I'm barely going to hope for it. But I am going to...keep an eye out for it.

The one common refrain we've heard from each other is that this did not feel like a permanent breakup. It felt so obviously and blatantly like a setup for Buck to fight for the relationship. It was that "one partner freaks out a bit and the other has to show their commitment" relationship hurdle which is so common it's a trope. In fact, most of us assumed that's just what it was...until those interviews

Now, I do not put Tim Minear up on some kind of pedestal of writerly greatness - far from it. And he did not write this episode, but the plotlines all go through him.

BUT.

He has always been very attached to Tommy as a character and to this relationship. He loves it. He loved red string theory so much that he wrote it into this episode. And I'm about halfway convinced he's in love with Lou but that's beside the point. (I mean, we get it, Tim.)

Tommy's what he always said he wanted to get for Buck. Firefighter, integrated into the 118, yadda yadda, we've been over this a lot. Someone he chooses, someone he works to build something with. Someone who shows up for him. He had Buck SAY in this episode that he'd never felt like this since Abby.

The thread of Tommy wanting a found family like Buck's. The intense settled/caregiving vibe of 8x05. It all felt so...purposeful. And yes, I agree that this could have been done just to punch up the angst for Buck when it ends. But that's not the only explanation.

The many, many comments of wanting to move Buck along in his personal life. Oliver wanting to do settled, domestic storylines with him. Giving Tommy the big hero romcom entrance in that hospital.

And what now? Cycle Buck through another love interest? It's hard to imagine recapturing what he had with Tommy with anybody else, or for the GA to embrace it as much as they did. What little we can see of the GA reaction (because the official socials are weirdly quiet and have not posted) is that they're not happy about this. Tim knows this.

I can buy Tim making some dumb writing decisions but he's not stupid. I find it very hard to swallow that he'd voluntarily toss away all this, and this potential, and what they'd already established, and a pairing/character/actor he loves, for what? For nothing.

So I think that it's not for nothing.

I think the plan IS to reunite them...

...they just don't know when, or how.

For some reason he wants to give it a break for awhile. I don't know why. There could be off-camera reasons. But I think it happened recently. Two weeks ago we got interviews talking about hurdles being overcome, relationships deepening, etc etc. It's a great episode for them, came out of Oliver's mouth. Not important, not consequential - great. And hey, what happened to that very important Bobby conversation where he gave Buck important advice? It wasn't there.

I think a change was made in the last two weeks. And yes, I know the loft stills were dated 9/17.

Two weeks is plenty of time to reshoot one scene, between when those interviews came out and last night. The stills could be from the first time it was shot, in September. Put the guys in the same wardrobe, we'd never know the difference, or that those stills weren't from the scene we actually saw.

OR

The scene was always the one we saw, but was always meant to be temporary, and the change was in how they talked about it in the interviews from last night. That is a simpler explanation, as it doesn't involve reshoots, but it doesn't explain those very incongruous interviews we got two weeks ago that do not match the scene we saw. Now, they have always vagued it up, and talked around things in interviews, but this was an entirely new level of misdirection and outright lying that isn't typical.

I'm really tinhatting it up now, but hey, what have I got to lose? I'm not investing anything in this. It's just...a thought.

If you think the network interfered (I don't, at least not for plot-related reasons, see below) or Oliver demanded the relationship be cut (I don't - I know lots of you are mad at him but I'm not), whatever it was...I just get a vibe. It could be as simple as money. It could be a ratings thing. Honestly? It could be that they've found out they're getting cancelled, and were ordered to cut bait on guest stars. They could be kicking the can down the road to goose ratings for spring when they do bring it back. There are lots of reasons I can think of and probably more that I can't.

I read a thoughtful and reasonable post about how it was more or less a mercy killing to post those interviews - most showrunners like to keep viewers guessing and coming back, so for them to say definitely BT was dead meant it's really, really dead (although how definitive they actually were is another question).

They might be right about that. I don't know.

Or they just might not know themselves. Even if the plan IS to reunite them eventually - if they don't have a plan for how or when, the safest course is to shut it down. No guarantees they can make it work, so play it safe. Oliver and Lou might not be looped in on this.

It's pretty thin. They probably would be, although we have ample evidence of actors not knowing stuff until the last minute. The other option is that they are looped in and are intentionally lying but I think that's very unlikely - although Lou has demonstrated a keen skill in keeping his mouth shut when necessary.

I'm not going to get nuts about this and neither should anybody else. I'm not going to be scouring socials or the internet looking for support or clues. I'm not going to be holding my breath waiting for a sign.

The only thing I'll keep an eye on is how they handle any flirtation or dating Buck does in the near future. How they handle it might be telling.

This is ALL very unlikely, let's be real.

I'm still tinhatting, though. Why not? What have we got to lose?

But if I'm right, I expect that red dodgeball in my inbox toot sweet.

(And Buddie still isn't going canon, btw.)

[forgettable-au]

What was Wingdings and Sans’ school life like? especially early on when Wingdings couldn't talk without some sort of translation. Did they ever get bullied?

Not too important for the story, i'd assume, but you just gotta love the little things-

Yeah... this is probably not gonna matter to the story a lot...

BUT I ALSO LIKE THE LITTLE THINGS SO I'LL ANSWER!!

I'm gonna add a keep reading here because I'll probably yap a lot

Okay, so you would assume they would have been bullied... But they weren't!! not really?

Probably in a more realistic world they would have been, but usually, monsters are pretty nice!! (with some exceptions)

SO! I'm gonna talk about how I think it would have gone

Monsters were nice to Dings, friendly! But there was always the inconvenience of not being understood. And Sans was there to help him but I don't think Wingdings liked that, he wanted to do so himself or not at all And as I've said before, at some point, Wingdings gave up on making friendships work, he isolated himself and focused and what really mattered!!

Sans did have friends! But his first priority was his brother, if he had to skip friend time to be with Wingdings he would do that

So he never really made close friends, just friends

Going back to Wingdings, there were probably some mean monsters that did bother him about the dingbat font at some point, but that wasn't a usual thing! Usually, monsters were nice! And though there was definitely a barrier, they didn't care all that much? BUT WINGDINGS DID CARE, HE KNEW HE WAS DIFFERENT TO EVERYONE ELSE AND WHAT THAT COULD MEAN, so why even bother?

When I was thinking about this I remembered that one scene from Meet the Robinsons:

AND JFKFJKDCJDSK

Small Dings was kinda like that

He was usually outcasted, but no one really disliked him?? They just didn't know him at all because he didn't even try talking to anyone

So no one approached or talked to him, if anything they found him intimidating

Sans was there with him the whole time! So it's not like he had no one at all, but uh,,,, yeah

[ephie-om]

Simeon trudges along the soft carpet to answer Purgatory Hall's door. He vaguely remembers someone was supposed to visit, but in his mind's haze he can't seem to recall who. Between the endless explosions from Solomon's room and late nights comforting Luke after a long day, the angel was exhausted.

The front door creaks open to reveal your smiling face. Your smile quickly drops as you take in Simeon's state. He realizes how he must look. Disheveled clothes, oily skin, probably several stains on his robes. He's fairly sure he should be ashamed, but he's too tired. "I apologize, I'm not exactly... put together." He flashes you a quick smile, hoping to dispel your worries.

You tsk at him and gently push past him into the house. An alarm goes off in his mind, a bit too late, that he should be a gracious host and invite you in. But since it's you, he supposes, there's not much point in telling you to make yourself at home. He watches you drop your bag on the floor and shove it out of the way with your foot. You're looking at him, he realizes. Expectantly. "Um... I'm sorry. What?" Your lips twist (in what? Worry? Disappointment? Has he done something wrong?) and you let out a breath.

"I said, I know your roommates have been getting to you." He nods quickly, eager to show he's listening this time. "So I took the liberty of finding them excuses to not be here tonight. They're safe and in good company, but that leaves you here. Alone, with no distractions." You grin at him, almost evilly. "Which means you don't have any excuse to refuse my help."

You make quick work of boiling water for tea and running a bath. Simeon, having been sternly commanded to not help in any way, is perched awkwardly on a stool in the kitchen. He watches you rush back and forth between rooms, making sure neither the kettle nor the tub can overflow. It's almost amusing, watching you run about like this all for him. Yes, he thinks, it's amusing, and endearing, but if he thinks too long about that he might really say something he shouldn't.

You push a mug full of hot tea towards him from across the counter and stare him down until he drinks. It's warm, the warmest, sweetest thing he's tasted for weeks. He didn't even think he liked this blend. There must be something about your fingers making it that dripped pure nectar into it. He sips slowly, letting his tongue wrap around every drop. He wouldn't dare waste a bit of the liquid gold you'd given him. The silence stretches over the kitchen like a warm blanket and he closes his eyes as he drinks. Your footsteps fade as you go to check the bathroom and he finds himself missing the sound of your breathing.

He drains his mug and heaves himself to his feet. You meet him midway to the bathroom and place a warm hand on his shoulder, guiding him down the hall. Only his angel sensibilities stop him from stripping down as soon as he sees the tub. He sees a thick layer of tiny bubbles floating over the water's surface, and a gentle floral scent rises up to greet him. He swears he could kiss you here and now.

You face him, hand on his arm, and he finds every detail of your lips as you speak. "I don't mean for this to be awkward or anything, but I've been tired like this before and I know how hard simple things can be. So I wanted to tell you if you need any help with this, I'll be right here." You turn to walk out, but he catches hold of your hand.

"Please. It's..." He trails off, embarrassed. "My hair. I don't even know how long it's been since I've washed it." You nod and respectfully face the wall as he disrobes. The noise that leaves his mouth as he lowers himself into the water would be sinful anywhere else. He feels the tension is his back loosen as the warm ripples lap against his skin. When did he get so tired? When had moving a single muscle become such a chore?

You settle on the edge of the tub and gently tilt his head back. He hears you rummage around for his shampoo and finally smells that familiar teakwood scent that drifts down from your fingers. You work his hair into a lather, so slowly he thinks you must be trying to put him to sleep. He doesn't even want to look at what color the bubbles must be coming off his hair, so he shuts his eyes and leans back into your hands. You chuckle softly and rinse his head ever so carefully, making sure to shield his eyes. He hears a generous amount of conditioner plop into your palm and you indulge him in what's practically a scalp massage, going over his head with your fingertips again and again.

You gasp softly and your fingers stop. Simeon's eyes snap open in fear, imagining what horrors you could've found in his hair. "I'm so sorry, I knew it was dirty, I shouldn't have-"

"You're glowing."

"Sorry?"

"Simeon, you're glowing."

His arm sloshes up from the depths of the tub as he checks for himself, and sure enough, an ochre glow emanates from under his skin. "Ah. That must be a quirk specific to angels. It's entirely subconscious, because it only happens in times of utmost happiness." You smile wide, fascinated as he explains.

"So that means..." You trail off expectantly.

He blushes and settles back under the water, an excuse to tear himself away from that blinding smile. "It means you make me happy." he says simply. You're silent for a moment as you work and he wonders if that was too much. Your fingers caress the hinge of his jaw and tilt his head back again, and he opens his eyes just in time to be met with your lips pressed to his forehead. It only lasts for a brief moment, but he thinks he could live like this for eternity.

Neither of you say anything as Simeon finally stands and dries off. Neither of you need to. Your hand wraps around his arm and he finds himself not caring the least but about where you're taking him. The two of you end up on the living room couch as you painstakingly detangle his hair while a late-night reality show plays softly in the background. The manners that the Celestial Realm has taught him over centuries remind him he ought to say thank you. He takes a breath, opens his mouth and shuts it again, silently. The silence is comfortable. In a world where everyone talks and no one ever listens, silence is trust. And right now he trusts you more than anything else in the three realms.

[rekino2114]

Cute ways the jjk girls (+ genderbends) use jujutsu in your relationship

A/n:I initially had this ideal with fem!gojo, but then it expanded to other characters. Let me know if you have any ideas for a part 2 or something with other characters

Also I kinda did something similar with fem!inumaki here if you're interested

Fem! Gojo

Lapse blue

Y/n:Hey babe, do you mind grabbing me that glass of water?

Fem!gojo:sure thing sweetie

[She uses blue to make the glass float toward you, but the water splashes on your face]

Y/n:......

Fem!gojo:s-sorry

Infinity

Y/n:Come on, tori, I already told you I'm sorry

[You try to hug her, but infinity stops you]

Y/n:Can you please deactivate your technique?

Fem!gojo:No way! You ate my last mochi. That's basically the same as cheating. I'm not letting you hug me

Y/n:[sighs] I'll buy you some other ones ok? And some more cakes

[Gojo immediately turns off infinity and hugs you]

Fem!gojo:Thanks, y/nnnnn! I knew you loved me

Six eyes

Fem!gojo:Hey y/n, what happened?

Y/n:what do you mean?

Fem!gojo:Your shoulder, it's all hurt and purple

Y/n:.....how did you know? I'm wearing a sweater

Fem!gojo:I have really good eyes remember?

Y/n:oh yeah, I forgot about the six eyes, sorry I got hurt during a mission and just didn't wanna bother you

Fem!gojo:it's never a bother for me, I'll just call shoko and bring you an ice pack

Fem!sukuna

Heian era form

Y/n:Kuna.....is this really necessary?

[It shows you being carried by 2 of sukuna's arms while an other one is stroking your hair]

Fem!sukuna:Of course, are you saying you don't like this?

Y/n:No, I do it's just......why?

Fem!sukuna:uraume said I should try being more affectionate with you. This is how I do it.

Y/n:I guess your arms are pretty comfy

Fem!sukuna:good, I don't want to hear you complain

[She kisses you while you blush harder]

Yuki tsukumo

Star rage

(Tbh I forgot if this is exactly how the technique works)

[You're trying to open a jar, but it's too tight]

Yuki:Do you need some help, baby?

Y/n:Yeah thanks

[You give her the jar, and she opens it without problems]

Yuki:here you go

Y/n:Thanks

Yuki:could I get a kiss for that~?

Y/n:[giggle] sure

[You kiss her cheek, and she smiles brightly]

Yuki[talking to herself] yes! I know using my technique was worth it

Y/n:......what do you mean using your technique?

Yuki:o-oh nothing

Y/n:Wait, did you put mass in the lid so I couldn't open and jar and you'd get a kiss?

Yuki:..........noooooo what are you talking about? Hehe

Y/n:If you wanted a kiss you could have just asked for one you know?

Garuda

Y/n:...........yuki, can you tell your shikigami to stop following me?

Yuki:Why? It's not that bad

Y/n:it wasn't but I think it's taking it a bit too far

[Garuda completely wraps itself around you]

Y/n:see

Yuki:that just means it likes you, just like me

Y/n:....I guess that's nice then, but it's still kinda uncomfortable

Yuki:ok, I'll tell it to stop, we both know you very much prefer my hugs anyway

Yorozu

(I've decided i wanna write for her too, I'll add her to the masterlist now and I chose her instead of mai not only because her creation is better but also just because I kinda like her more)

Creation

Yorozu:y/n! Look what I made for us

[She shows you two rings with your names engraved on them]

Yorozu:it took me a while, but I finally did it! Now we will be bound together even more than we already are

Y/n:Oh thanks, that's so sweet....even if we aren't married yet

Yorozu: Those are just details. What's wrong with thinking ahead

Y/n:hehe, alright

[You start to take the ring with your name on it but she stops you]

Yorozu:Oh no, darling, you'll be wearing the one with my name so that everyone knows you're mine, and I'll wear the other one so that everyone knows I'm yours

Y/n:Oh, that's....sweet

Yorozu:I'm glad you think that, I can't have anyone thinking my darling is free to take, here I'll even put it on you myself

Fem!megumi

Ten shadows:divine dogs (and mahoraga)

Y/n:Please, gumi, I swear I won't ask you anything else ever

Fem!megumi:[sighs] you're really like I love you.....alright

[She does the hand sign and summons the dogs]

Fem!megumi:Go smell y/n and find their hoodie

[The shikigami do what she said and start searching for it]

Y/n:Thanks, you're a lifesaver megumi

Fem!megumi:you're welcome just don't get used to it

[The dogs eventually find the hoodie and give it to you]

Y/n:Oh, thanks so much to you two too. You're such good boys

[You start petting them while megumi gets closer to you]

Fem!megumi:wait minute.....that hoodie isn't it nobara's? Why does it have your smell on it

Y/n:oh no I can explain she just gave-

Fem!megumi:I don't need any explanation. With this treasure I summon

Y/n:wait no stop it!

Fem!geto

Cursed spirit manipulation

Gojo:Hey, geto, what are you waiting for? We're gonna be late for the mission

Fem!geto:don't be so impatient satoru, I'm just waiting for y/n

Gojo:Come on! Your partner can wait, I just wanna get this over with

Fem!geto:if they don't come, I'm not going either

Gojo:fiiiine, you're the only thing that makes missions interesting anyway

[After waiting for a bit geto looks at the sky]

Fem!geto:oh looks like they arrived

Gojo:hm?

[They look up to see you riding rainbow dragon]

Gojo:You made them ride on your curse?

Fem!geto:they were gonna be late and asked me

Gojo:that's so cool you have to make me ride on it too sometimes

Fem!geto:[sighs] I suppose one time is ok

[buckleybltch]

A (long) interpretation of the 8x06 BuckTommy ending

I've been trying to make sense of why Tommy responded to Buck's monologue by breaking up and here are my thoughts. This is all my interpretation and my interpretation only. I'm choosing to believe it because it's the only way the scene makes sense to me. Pls dont get mad about it.

Please feel free to add on and discuss.

I think Tommy was completely ready to overlook the Abby connection until Buck started talking about his relationship with her. I don't think it's the relationship that changed Tommy's mind, but how Buck applied it to their relationship.

Buck said "My relationship with Abby was the most transformative of my life... until now" and I think that's what the nail in the coffin was. While it's incredibly sweet was he was trying to say, what he essentially actually said was "this relationship is another transformation point in my life".

Then when talking about Tommy being confident with himself, Buck says "honestly, it just makes me admire you more". If this weren't a breakup scene, Buck should have said "makes me love you more" here. Again, what he's essentially actually said is "I'm looking up to you and admiring you and learning how to be that way".

While Buck has the absolute best intentions with what he's saying, he's trying to convey to Tommy how much he likes him and appreciates him and wants to be with him (hence why he follows it up by asking Tommy to move in with him), I think Tommy took this as Buck seeing him as a guide.

With the way Buck phrased things, and the things I interpreted from it, it does come off as "you're guiding me through my first gay relationship". Again, I absolutely don't think this is what Buck meant, but I wonder if this is what we were meant to see.

Tommy knew he was Buck's first boyfriend, they'd gotten over this hurdle in 7x05 when Tommy leaves Buck as the restaurant and says he's not ready. Buck proved he was ready by coming out and calling Tommy and announcing their relationship publicly.

But here we are, six months later, and instead of Buck telling Tommy he loves him, he's telling him their relationship is transformative for Buck and he admires Tommy. He said the wrong things with good intentions. I think Tommy thought Buck was ready for this, especially after all the progress they made and Buck saying "im ready to take the next step" and move in together, but Buck's monologue comes off as maybe he isn't ready. Whether he is or isn't, I suppose, is up to further interpretation entirely. I think Buck is just Bad with words. If Buck really thinks what he's said and implied, maybe he isn't ready in Tommy's mind.

Now this is where I divert into two points:

I think Tommy was somewhat justified in not wanting to be Buck's gay guide. Tommy says "no matter how bad I want it to be... I'm not your last". He's falling for Buck, he wants a forever with Buck. But here Buck is telling him, six months into their relationship, that their relationship is just transformative for him. Or at least that's how it's coming across. At 40 years old, Tommy doesn't need to be someones gay Yoda, and if that's what he's being led to believe he is to Buck, I do think he's justified in breaking up. Nevermind the horrendous miscommunication of this conversation, they should've talked more in-depth and avoided this. Tommy knows, possibly from experience, that relationships like that don't last, and it's in that moment he thinks that's what their relationship is. I dont wholly blame him for ending it if this was his thought process.

The writing. Oh boy. Even Lou in interviews is interpreting the scene and I think when you have actors interpreting a scene they were in, it hasn't been particularly well written. This is the only instance we get where it's implied Tommy is Buck's guide. In every other episode he appears in, their relationship is completely normal and healthy. It seems to be in 8x06 he has been pivoted to act as an Abby 2.0, just a moving point for Buck. Obviously this links back to my points above. They've had to outright spell it to Buck and the audience that Tommy is Buck's first, not his last, and that Buck is still figuring himself out. Now to me, that reads as "we haven't displayed this well enough" which is again poor writing and borderline backtracking on 8x05. If it has to be explicitly said, then they haven't done a good job at showing it, which they haven't. Like I said, their relationship was perfectly normal and healthy up until this point, and it wasn't explicit or even hinted that this was Buck's 'starter relationship'. Buck, Tommy, and the audience were blindsided.

Knowing this still, the breakup still feels like it came out of nowhere. No foreshadowing, no hints. Even the characters dont see it coming (and apparently Lou didnt either). I don't like how it was written, and I believe the reason they gave for the breakup (first not last) is a bit of a cop out. That's not a valid reason. Buck didn't want to breakup, Tommy didn't want to break-up... Both characters were left unhappy. They have every reason to go back to one another.

Buck and Tommy should have been able to talk through it, work through it. This was all a miscommunication because Buck has never exactly had a way with words... There was no reason for it to go down this way and it feels out of character and abrupt. This should have been the hurdle. Instead, the show chose the easy way out to break them up and that sucks because it feels unfinished.

Ironically, because it feels unfinished, it also feels open. There's already fix-it fics that are completely logical. There are so many ways Buck and Tommy can reconcile following this that will be satisfying and beautiful. They can absolutely find their way back to each other and it won't feel forced.

[whineandcheese24]

what I truly don't understand about this episode is what did they gain from doing this? they took a huge risk with bucktommy and were rewarded with not only a large portion of the fandom getting interested and involved with the ship, but also the GA being more invested in this ship than any of buck's other relationships (from what I could tell). Tommy was the perfect character to fill the requirements of being easily integrateable to both the plot and the prexisting firefam dynamic, and what little characterization he had in season 2 was prime angsty backstory. Oliver, Lou, and even Kenny talked about how excited they were to be working with this storyline and these characters, and we all know how much Tim loves Lou and Tommy. The show was not only accepted for its representation, but lauded for how much care they put into this story and how much it meant to queer men, bisexuals, and just queer people in general. They took all this potential, and completely turned it on it's head, and for what? a gotcha moment?

In isolation, the writing could make sense. This would create tension in the relationship that they can then overcome. It would be a great way for tommy to learn how to love and be in a long term relationship (which it seems he hasn't been) and deconstruct the stereotype that bisexual people, and any newly awakened queer person doesn't know themselves well enough to know what love feels like. But then the interviews make it sound final? I haven't read the interviews because I just watched the episode a few hours ago and I've been busy since (plus I stopped reading interviews after all the interesting plot points from last season finale got dropped), but from what y'all are saying the interviews make it sound like this is the end. Not only that, but Oliver, the guy who said he didn't want to fall into stereotypes like "newly awakened man falls in love with his best friend" way back in April/May, is apparently saying offensive things about Buck needing to explore?

I just genuinely have no idea what there is to gain with this. They completely lucked themselves into an amazing love interest, and even if they found another love interest with the same benefits, hell even if they do get bucktommy back together (here's to hoping) no one is going to trust them again.

congratulations 911, you done fucked up

[toxicanonymity]

Hey Boo,

I've been seeing Joelkemons making the rounds being the best kind of dude to have around when you're crying.

Is Stepdad is having very strong feelings about all of this too? I imagine of Raider (LOML) and NW are being so soft with us, something in stepdad might respond to our hopelessly impotent rage.

I'd love to see how he reacts.

Boy howdy, tho, if I could slip into the brothel and have a big ol' Joel-pile, that shit would fix me all the way.

Thank you so much for everything you do and are.

I hope you're taking care of yourself too.

-- Cupquake <3

black tuesday

JOEL x f!READER | 1000 words

WARNINGS: 18+. Election Night. ANGST. Tears. Fears. This is intended to be a cathartic fic with some comfort but please don't read if it could be traumatic. Allusions to reproductive rights, etc. Reader is angry, esp. at men, takes it out on joel a little. Joel is supportive. Reader dacryphilia, brief smut. STEPDAD AU but you don't need to know it, and the stepcest doesn't come up.

NOTES: Sweet Cupquake, you're welcome and thank you for always being so supportive. Poor stepdad, he's normally the one needing comforting, isn't he? Yes, he has strong feelings about all this. This doesn't fit neatly in the AU timeline just roll with it. My brief post on the election is here. This will most likely be my only fic that overtly acknowledges the u.s. election. DO NOT INTERACT: TRUMP VOTERS, ANTI-CHOICE PEOPLE, MINORS.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment watching the news while Joel makes dinner and a huge mess in the kitchen. When the early votes are counted, we’ll see a lot more blue, they said. No, actually. Not really. You turn the volume way down so you can barely hear it. 

“Pasta’s ready,” Joel announces in a weak, sing-song voice. 

You remain on the floor. Your breathing is shallow, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Joel comes into the living room but doesn’t sit down. He stands with his arms crossed. His neck veins are bulging, his biceps are tense, his jaw clenches as he watches the screen. He’s pissed, he’s so angry watching this happen. He’s embarrassed to be a Texan. He thinks about all the women he knows. Embarrassed to be a man. 

He looks back and forth between the tv and you, and he sees your eyes are watery. He brings your glass of water from the kitchen, but you refuse it. He puts it down on the coffee table. Then, he picks up the remote control and turns off the tv. 

“Why’d you do that?” you snap. 

“It’s only makin’ ya sad,” Joel replies. “It’s still early, there’s time.” 

“Sad?? You think I’m sad?” Heat rises to your face. Your chest tightens.  

“Okay,” Joel acknowledges softly. “I can see you’re not just sad.” 

He sits down and tries to put his arm around you but you scoot over to face him. 

“All you men just go around blowing your loads everywhere and we’re the ones who have to deal with it, and you have the nerve to tell us how.” 

“I’d never tell you how to--you know that.”

“--I am so fucking tired of men talking.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and sits quietly next to you for a minute. It’s hard knowing there’s nothing he can do or say, but he’s not going to leave you unless you tell him to. 

He clears his throat and asks softly, “Would anything make ya feel better?”

“Only waking up from this nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. 

“I don’t wanna feel better,” you begin to cry. “I want it to not happen….Like, is this real life?” 

None of it feels real. Months ago, people in stupid red hats were carrying around actual sperm cups. The highest-profile rapist in the country called himself the father of fertility, and crowds of people cheered. He said “mass deportation” and people cheered more. And then half the country voted for these sick, twisted buffoons. 

“You want some space?” Joel asks. 

“No,” you protest tearfully.

He hesitantly brushes the back of your neck with his thumb. This time, you let him put his arm around you. 

You whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Sweetheart, it ain’t over. We got time.” 

You shake your head no, ‘cause you can feel it in your gut. 

Joel sits in silence for a moment, and you can’t see it, but he’s tearing up because he can feel you burning and he’s powerless. 

He holds you and strokes your back while you bury your face in his chest. He discreetly checks his new york times app and tries not to react out loud- it’s only getting worse. 

After a few minutes of silence, he whispers your name, and you respond, “mm?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look up to see his cheeks wet, his hair messy. Your heart swells with affection. Affection and… gratitude? God, the bar is in hell. But to be fair, you really love him. You’re grateful for the man he is, not the one he isn’t. 

Desire begins to stir in your chest.

Joel presses a kiss onto your forehead, then lifts your chin, and you look at each other. He brushes away a tear from your cheek. With his own cheeks still wet, he swallows, and the emotional bob of his Adam’s apple sends a rush of arousal to your core. You put your hand on the back of his neck and pull him toward you for a kiss. 

Affection and relief floods your body. It’s temporary, of course, but you let yourself have this. You let the nightmare fade into a spicy dream. 

You straddle him and he pulls you close and moans into your mouth. You kiss him desperately and feel him harden under you. He hesitates and mutters, “sorry,” trying to read the room. He pushes your thighs back, trying to put some distance between you and his hard-on. 

“Stop,” you reply, then latch onto his mouth again. He breaks away and says, “Just don’t want ya to feel like I–” 

“Shut up,” you tell him, then scoot yourself closer, your crotch firmly planted on the warm, stiffening shape in his sweatpants. You grind your hips into him. He kisses you back with increased fervor, and moans into your mouth. Kissing passionately, your loins throb warmly together and your hips move in rhythm. 

You reach between the two of you and slide your hand down his sweatpants. You palm his leaking manhood. Pressing it against his tummy, you gently move the skin on his shaft, and  He groans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and thrusts against your hand. 

You stand up to urgently take off your pj pants. 

His man-guilt is still eating at him. Squeezing his aching hard shaft, he lets out a moan, then weakly offers, “Are you sure you wanna…”

In response, you straddle him, hot and dripping against his bare arousal.  You slide against him, throbbing and ready. Then, as you slide his tip to your entrance, you warn him, “Get it while it’s on the table.” You sink down on him and he shudders. Then he thrusts upward and moans as he bottoms out.  

“My legs’ll be closed for business soon,”  you explain. 

He closes his eyes and breathes deep as your body accommodates his.  “Fair enough,” he answers thoughtfully, then opens his eyes. “Wait. Even if my face is the customer?” 

------

------

-----

NOTES: I actually wrote three Stepdad things, and chronologically, this is no. 2 of 3. The others aren't posted yet. The first one is a standalone pregnancy scare, nothing about the election (would've been before it). And the second one is a post-election talk about contraception.

My brief post on the election is here.

Thank you for reading. Please remember to take care of yourselves <33

[thebreakfastgenie]

This is hilarious, because most of the leftists on this site hate me and would be outraged that @takashi0 labelled me one.

But you're the real charmer here. OP took a screen shot of my vent post, probably because I turned reblogs off, but you had to tag me in.

This was a vent post that I made because I was stunned by the audacity of the post I was referencing to imply that white men being hated by the left for their "immutable traits" have some kind of unique experience and other people just don't understand.

And I'm not talking about being hated by society in general I am talking about being hated by the left for immutable traits.

Do any of you have any idea how much the left hates women? I've received fairly graphic hate and suicide baiting from the left. I can't tell you the number of women I've talked to who've gotten that and worse. And all of us are women who have had contact with the left because we share some beliefs and values.

I'm also Jewish. Do you really want to talk about how the left feels about Jews? I'm also a lesbian and I've been made to feel unwelcome as a result so many times. I was hated for being a lesbian in a queer, leftist fandom space. I don't know a day without being hated for immutable traits. So excuse me if I struggle to feel sympathy for a white man complaining about it. That's what I meant by world's smallest violin.

The reason I made my own post to vent my frustration with that specific idea and didn't confront the poster is I do believe there was value in his overall point. I was actually incredibly disappointed to find this part in the post, because I think "people who feel alienated sometimes find community on the right" is a pattern worth talking about and trying to address. But this last week men have just been completely unable to read the room.

Within days of the second election in eight years that showed women just how much our country hates us, men were posting about how we need to reach out to men, to men support or have supported right wing ideas, and be nicer to them or else they'll do worse. I guarantee you there are a lot of women who share this goal and are even willing to help (although it's my belief that it's largely men who need to be doing this work, because the men they're trying to reach don't listen to women and women don't need to put themselves in danger) but we couldn't even have a few days to grieve. Women are expected to be 24/7 empathy machines, even at our lowest point.

And you know what the real kicker is? I never said I hated this man. Nothing in this post suggests I hate men. A woman venting about struggling to feel sympathy for a white man who feels hated for things he can't control is what you consider hateful.

You don't know me, and you have no idea how much time and energy I've spent practicing empathy, engaging with people in good faith even when they expressed views I didn't agree with, trying to inform people I felt were well-intentioned but simply misinformed... and Donald Trump won anyway. So why should I care if complaining about men will supposedly make him win? I've mostly gotten the nihilism out of my system at this point, but come on.

I turned off reblogs on my post for a reason, I would like this to be the last time I address this publicly.

Lefists: "How could we have possibly lost to Trump?!" Leftists, every single waking second since 2015:

[butch-reidentified]

This is in reference to this post

She didn't laugh at me, she was being entirely serious when she said that (1)

I have spent a decade working in medicine and am published in a peer reviewed neuroscience journal (2)

This was SO long ago, before tiktok EXISTED etc, this was before POTS was heard of online or even by most doctors etc. It wasn't taught in med school for most current doctors of the time. This online illness faker shit was not even a kmown phenomenon over a decade ago when this occurred, ESPECIALLY not with POTS. Which, yes, means "munchausen POTS" was simply not even a thing then (nor am I remotely convinced it is now). Can you even imagine how that shit has impacted people like me because of people like you?? (3)

I never said "I think I have POTS" bc I know most doctors' egos all too well and I'm not that stupid. I just told her my symptoms and what I had tried. Nothing more. She had never seen me before as my insurance had been changed so I had to switch, and spent mere minutes with me and refused to order any tests. I got my TTT with a competent doctor a month later. (4)

You are also pushing misinformation:

POTS is not easy to fake unless you (as the doctor) are a complete and total fucking moron. My TTT showed a >ONE HUNDRED BPM increase in heart rate. >100!!! you cannot simply fake that, and if your doctor has any doubts, it is very very easy to repeat the test - or the "poor man's tilt" version which any idiot can do with a simple BP cuff and chair & you can repeat that hundreds of times if you like. Good luck faking it every time. I've never once in my life, without medication, had a result under a 50bpm increase (those were my absolute best days). And I was a competitive rock climber and healthy, active, hydrated, well-rested person. To this day, my results are the same if there's a gap in my medication coverage (thank you USA healthcare!). But overall I don't think about it much anymore because ivabradine is so good at treating it for me.

POTS is *treated* not cured, and mine is pretty well treated will ivabradine (the changes you listed did not help much, I even had a personal trainer who was educated on POTS and related conditions & was drinking Normalyte all the time). *You* sound like a fraud, tbqh, as someone who is actually published and actually has devoted her life to medicine. You don't sound like you know fuckall, yet you poise yourself as if you were a medical professional here. I deeply hope that's not true.

You also, quite frankly, sound like a piece of shit, tbh. I know I am very lucky in terms of my POTS (and even my vEDS symptoms thus far), but the girl I knew whose nurse mother first tested me has not been so lucky. Both she and her sister have (genetically tested and confirmed) EDS from their father's side, and POTS as a byproduct. Her sister is a tough kid and doing alright for herself all things considered. But she is on disability and living at home, not able to work, because of the severity of her illnesses. If you were a real medical professional, you'd understand what a massive spectrum these conditions exist on.

If you ARE a real medical professional and are this ignorant and show this little compassion, I am begging you to either reup on your studies or quit. Someone should report you to the board xx

[violetmuses]

Angel - T. Richmond ❤️‍🩹

Title: Angel - T. Richmond ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Rebel Ridge” Film Universe

Character: Terry Richmond

Pairing: Terry Richmond + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Facing one nightmare could lead to unexpected joy.

@episodes-ff @diaries-of-me @blackgurlnhermoods @liquorlaughslove @babybratzmaraj @cloveroctobers @becauseimswagman1 🏷

=====

2024

“Excuse me?” Grounded in the rural town of Shelby Springs, veteran Terry Richmond noticed your own steps moving down this federal corridor.

“Yes?” You've turned around mid-stride when someone catches your attention.

Goodness gracious.

Towering this muscular build as he chose one fitted shirt, veteran Terry Richmond offered unexpected height as his striking gaze reached your direction.

“I left the police station this morning and I don't have representation yet. Do you know anyone available?” His deep yet gentle voice nearly shook up your presence.

“Depending on your case, finding assistance could be difficult. Most of us scramble here with many circumstances.” Clearing your throat, an explanation offered the truth.

“Are you swamped?” Richmond handed out the question for obvious reasons.

“I might as well be.” You sighed while holding this briefcase. “This town is so small that you'll cough and everyone will know about it.”

“I just need help if something goes wrong.” Terry knew better.

“Follow me. Let's speak in private.” You offered this path while heading elsewhere.

______

“I'm sorry if there's too much going on, but how can I move forward?” Richmond sat across from you while placed in this cramped office.

“No chance in hell.” Struggling with advice, you shook your head after learning Terry Richmond's case. "Just show up on Monday like the Chief said or you've lost an opportunity.”

“He's not very nice.” Richmond settled his frustration regarding Sandy Burne, the arrogant Chief of Police.

“Burne is only tolerable if folks put up with his nonsense.” You say. “Defiance gets your ass kicked out.”

“I'll be gone if everything stays in order.” Terry just wanted to leave this place with his cousin Mike alive.

“Be careful out here.” Your voice cautioned. “The police department has more resources than everyone else.”

“Does Burne know who you are?” Terry still looked out.

“Enough to keep me working.” You almost scoffed behind the desk. “Tight skirts always make money. There's so many perverts that I even collected wedding rings for this side of town.”

Damn. Richmond thought.

“Apologies for wasting time.” Terry stood from the chair and gathered his backpack, ready to go.

“Here's my contact info as a safeguard.” You exchanged phone numbers.

“Thank you, Ma'am.” Terry nodded, leaving this establishment.

******

“Terry! I heard the news. Where are you?” You picked up this phone in broad daylight.

Reports explained drama that bled from the corrupt police station.

“At the hospital. Medics started helping Summer McBride.” Richmond acknowledged one of the other legal assistants.

“What's the next plan? You can't stay here forever.” Your voice warned again.

“I've figured out a settlement.” Terry explained further. “We locked enough proof to shut everything down.”

“What should I do?” You didn't even know what to think. “Summer's probably knocked off from ailments.”

“Please pick me up from the lobby.” Richmond continued speaking. “I lost my bike and just gave back one of their police cruisers.”

“Okay. Stay there.” You snatched car keys without thinking twice and rushed out of work.

******

“Terry!” You honked while staying in that driver's seat and Terry jogged outdoors, circled around to meet the passenger side.

“Thank you.” Despite expressing gratitude, Richmond couldn't smile when you punched the gas to avoid more problems.

______

“Where should we go, Terry?“ Given no other choice, you kept driving. “With Burne still mad, you're better off leaving this place.”

“Come with me.” Richmond pulled his deep voice again.

“What?” Squinting, you nearly pulled the car over right now.

“If I couldn't help Mike and Summer get out of here, maybe there's a chance with us.” Terry offered.

“I….” You've made one turn and led Richmond near the airport.

“No matter what happens, we'll keep looking out for each other. Deal?” His words revealed this vow.

“Deal.” You hurried to park the car before gas would run out and reached Terry's hand while entering that larger terminal.

*****

Scoring this new home, you joined Richmond and practically lived together now.

“No luck?” Terry snuck from behind as you work with your laptop by the kitchen table.

“Stop it!” Laughing, you almost swatted him away as this rare yet adorable smile brightened his face.

“I'm asking.” Richmond pointed to the main screen.

“Working soon.” You grinned while confirming another placement.

“Aight, c'mon…” Hardly responding, Terry lifted your weight and carried you over his shoulder, leading this moment upstairs.

“Wait, put me down!” Your laugh would echo straight through his mind forever.

[honorhearted]

Rebekah hummed under her breath, not seeming satisfied with their results. “What about this time around, we try another room, rather than the bed again?" she suggested. "Maybe the shower, or your office?” 

Ben smirked. "Call it the teacher in me, but shower sex is dangerous...I'll consider it if the non-slip mat stays on the floor."

God, was it any wonder he was still single? It wasn't exactly sexy to fall into "safety first!" mode, nor was it appealing to be so logical about something that was decidedly all instinct.

Rebekah hesitated. “Or…even here, on the kitchen counter…”

Ben's eyes snapped up to her face. "Unsanitary, but intriguing. Just make sure my arse stays away from the butter dish, and I might be amenable."

Appearing discomfited, Rebekah said in a rush, “We have to go again at least once tonight and twice tomorrow, so we might as well keep things…interesting?” 

"Three times," Ben echoed, though more to himself than to her. Cheeks pinkening, he rolled his lips inward and nodded, trying not to think too much about her gasps and the feel of her tongue in his mouth. "Yeah, uh...you're right that repetition is key, but the same positions and process aren't. Laying out precisely what we want might actually make this a little less awkward too, because I'll know I have your explicit permission with every touch."

Rebekah nodded. Her hands twisted the pen in between her fingers, and then she blurted, "W-where do you like to be touched? Your weak spots, I mean..."

Ben exhaled, shifting in his seat. "Um...the usual spots, I'd say. The neck and below the belt are always winners, but I guess that's a given with just about every guy." Here, he hesitated, then added, "What you did earlier was really nice, too...when you were kissing along my...ah..." Awkwardly, he gestured to his midriff. "The whole touching everywhere but there angle is always a little maddening."

Leaning toward her, Ben's face grew impossibly hotter. "Is it bad that this is kind of turning me on?" He ducked his head into his hands, laughing self-consciously. "God, I don't know if I can take much more of this, Beks...our list is like a submission to Penthouse." Quickly, he flung up a hand. "Er...not that I've ever read that, of course, but...there's only so much a guy can listen to before he starts getting unraveled. Alas, it would seem all men truly are the same."

Lowering his hands into his lap, Ben clasped them and watched Rebekah's eyes, fully aware of how indecently close they'd become throughout all this. "What about you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Where do you want to be touched?"

He’d agreed to her suggestions with little hesitation, so why did Bekah still feel so tense? It wasn’t as though they hadn’t already done it once. Why was it so awkward to talk about it now? Was she honestly so hopelessly into him that she couldn’t even discuss something that’d already happened between them? 

Maybe it was because their coupling was more of a means to an end. It was for both of them to have a chance at parenthood, not because Ben personally wanted to sleep with her. That was something she didn’t want to have to think about, lest she completely ruin the vibe. For Pete’s sake, maybe she needed another beer…

Busying herself, she scribbled down their current ideas. Under Ben’s name was “Shakespeare,” and “outdoors,” while under hers was “Mirror,” and a capital “M.”

Bekah didn’t feel right writing the entire word out at that moment. As she glanced up cautiously at him, she wondered who was sporting pinker cheeks. 

"That seem like a good enough starting point?" he asked. 

“Hmmm…” 

She wanted to say yes, but staring down at the short, sad list, she knew they should at least try to think of a couple more ideas, but rather than say that out loud, she opted to continue with another suggestion of her own. 

“What about this time around, we try another room, rather than the bed again? Maybe the shower, or your office?” 

What was the state of his office anyway? Was it even usable? 

“Or…even here, on the kitchen counter…”

The last part had sort of tumbled from her mouth in a slow, last minute thought as she shrugged through an uncertain wince, “We have to go again at least once tonight and twice tomorrow, so we might as well keep things…interesting?” 

Could she be any more awkward? The whole purpose of this conversation was to make things less so!

With a quiet sigh, she asked, "W-where do you like to be touched?" She suddenly felt dreadfully small, "Your weak spots, I mean..."

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 9

“Leo”

Author’s note: And we've made it to the end! Thank you very much to everyone who has read this story, supported it, for all your nice words and messages (they mean a lot) and of course, thank you to the anon who inspired it all! 💜 Hope you like this last chapter, and hopefully seen you soon with more Pedri 😊

Chapter 8

Masterlist

“Fuck the protocol”

“What did it do to you know?” I laugh.

“Making me wear this stupid suit and this stupid bow tie” Pedri says, struggling to tie it. “I hate it.”

“Then let me help… Shit.”

“Sofía, are you ok?” he says, quickly showing up at my side.

“I'm fine, don't worry. It's just that standing up at almost nine months pregnant isn't as easy as some people may think.”

“Ok, come here” he says, putting his arm around my waist and helping me get up from my chair.

“Thank you, Pedri.”

“Anything for you, my lady” he smiles.

“Now, let me see that bow tie.”

“It is a pain in the ass” he sighs. 

“A pain in the ass is having to wear high heels for hours. Or having to wear high heels while carrying a child inside you that is pushing against your bladder and making you want to pee every five minutes.”

“This is nothing compared to all that, true” he chuckles. “You women are amazing, you know? The world would go to hell without you.”

“Oh, we are very aware of that, trust me. Why are you smiling like that?” I say while struggling to make his bow tie look good.

“I was just thinking about something you said the day we met.”

“That I like men with interesting noses?”

“Nope, something else. It has to do with this thing in your head.”

“What?” 

“Your tiara. The day we met I asked you if didn't all princesses wear crowns, and you told me that if you were lucky maybe one day you would get to wear a tiara for a royal wedding or something like that, and here you are now. This is the first time I'm seeing you wearing one.”

“And probably the last since I only have one sister and this will hopefully be the only time she gets married.”

“What if I buy you one?”

“What?” I chuckle.

“I like the way it looks on you. It really suits you.”

“Because I am the queen of your heart?” I tease him.

“That too” he winks. “But I could get you a simple one that isn't one hundred years old and a family heirloom. Something you could wear if I organised you a fancy dinner at home or something like that.”

“Oh, it would look so nice with my pjs.”

“Of course it would. You can make anything look good, my lady” he smirks.

“You are such a flatterer, Pedri González” I laugh.

“And you love it.”

“A bit, yes. And this is done” I say when I finish with his bow tie. 

“How do I look?” he says, taking a step back and doing a twirl.

“Gorg… fuck!”

“Sofía! Sofía, are you ok? What is it? Is it the baby?” he says as he helps me sit down. 

“It was something like a cramp, but it has passed, I'm fine.”

“Sofia, you were in pain. What if something happened? What if…”

“What if what?”

“What if the baby is coming?” Pedri says.

“That's not possible. It is too soon and…”

“Let me go call Carlos.”

“No!” 

“Sofía, you are hurting. I can see it in your face and feel it on the way your nails are digging in my arm.”

“Sorry. I'm sorry” I say, letting go of him. “But I'm fine, don't call anyone.”

“Sofía, you may be in labour.”

“May be, exactly. We don't know for sure, and I'm actually starting to feel better.”

“Sofía…”

“It was a false alarm, Pedri. I'm feeling much better, I…”

“Sofía!” he says, catching me when I try to get up and suddenly start feeling dizzy. “That's it, I'm calling Carlos.”

“Pedri, I told you I'm fine.”

“You are not, Sofía. Stay there and don't move.”

“I can't! My sister is about to get married, I can't miss her wedding!” I say, trying to get up again.

“Sit down, Sofía” Pedri says, looking the most serious I've ever seen him.

“Urgh” I groan, doing as he asks. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“The doctor is here, ma'am” Carlos says.

“You've called him for nothing, Pedri. I'm fine.”

“Sofía, can you please stop being so stubborn?” he says, rolling his eyes.

“It's the truth! I'm… I'm fine.”

“Of course you are.”

“Your royal highness” the doctor says when he walks into the room. “What happened?”

“Sofía may be in labour.”

“I'm not, Pedri. I'm fine. We should be on our way to the cathedral to see my sister get married instead of being here wasting everyone's time” I say, struggling to get up from the bed where Pedri had forced me to move after I got another really bad cramp.

“Doctor, can you please help me here?” Pedri sighs.

“Ma’am, you are almost nine months pregnant, you could be in labour. And your husband only worries about you and the baby, he wants you both to be safe.”

“I know.”

“Then let the doctor check you, Sofía” Pedri says, sitting on the bed next to me. “Please.”

“I… fine” I say, finally giving up. “I can't never say no to you when you are looking at me with those big brown eyes of yours and then add a pout.”

“A pout with my lips made to kiss and be kissed?” he smirks.

“And now you add that smile! You are using all my weaknesses against me, Pedri. That's cheating!”

“Sorry” he shrugs. “I just worry about you, Sofía. About both of you” he says, caressing my bump. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Sofía!” my mum says, storming into the room. “Sofía, are you alright? And the baby?”

“We are fine, mum.”

“But they told me the doctor came to check on you!”

“He did.”

“And?”

“And looks like the little one didn't want to miss auntie Leonor's wedding” I chuckle.

“What?”

“I'm labour, mum.”

“Already? And what are you doing here? Why aren't you in the hospital?”

“Because it still is too soon.”

“Is it?” she asks, looking at Pedri.

“It…”

“Sofía!” Leonor says, coming into the room just as my mum just did. “Oh my God, Sofía. Are you ok? And the baby?”

“We both are fine. But wow, Leonor. You look…. Wow” I say. Because she's showed up wearing her wedding dress, her tiara and everything else. “Max’s jaw is gonna be on the floor the moment he sees you” I smile, remembering what she and Irene had said about Pedri before our wedding.

“I hope so” she replies, also smiling. “But are you sure you are ok?”

“I'm fine. For now.”

“What?”

“She's in labour” my mum says.

“Already? Isn't it too early?”

“My due date is in a couple of weeks, but the doctor said that there is no need to worry and that it can happen. I'm just so sad I'm gonna miss your wedding… I wanted to be there with you.”

“Don't worry about that now, you can always watch it on tv. What matters is that you both are ok.”

“We are. We will be.”

“I'll make sure of it” Pedri says.

“You both look so calm” Leonor laughs.

“We look calm now. Twenty minutes ago we were yelling at each other because your sister here is the most stubborn person I've ever met.”

“Yet you love me” I smile.

“With all my heart” he smiles back.

“Aww… cute” Leonor says. 

“Very cute, but you and mum should get going. I know it is usual for the bride to be late, but not this late, and I don't want poor Max thinking that you are leaving him standing in the altar.”

“She's right” our mum says. “I left your dad alone with your grandmother and he must be driving her crazy. Or vice versa. But Sofía, I can stay with you if you want.”

“Pedri's mum already is on her way, don't worry. I'll be in good hands until you can free yourself from your queen and mother of the bride duties.”

“I know you will, but... Are you sure?”

“I am. Now go, c'mon.”

“Ok, ok. No need to kick us like that” Leonor chuckles. “I love you, little sis” she says while hugging me. “You can do this.”

“Love you too, big sis. And you can also do this. Getting married in front of the whole world, I mean.”

“No pressure there, uh?” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“Keep us updated on everything, ok?” my mum says when it is her turn to hug me. “I'll leave as soon as I'm allowed to, and if the baby can't wait, I'll run away, I don't care.”

“Fuck the protocol?” I laugh.

“That wording is a bit offensive, but yes, that's basically it” she smiles. “I love you, Sofía.”

“Love you too, mum.”

“Well…” Pedri says, sitting down on the bed next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders while I rest my head on his. “It is happening.”

“It is, yes.”

“Are you scared?” he asks, kissing my head.

“A bit, yes. You?”

“I'm shitting myself.”

“Please tell me this time you aren't being literal like at our wedding” I laugh.

“Not yet.”

“Eww, Pedri!” I laugh again. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry. But even if I'm scared, I know you can do this, Sofía. I believe in you.”

“Thank… you.”

“Another contraction?”

“Yes” I nod. “And this one hurt a lot more than the last one.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe one of those massages they taught us?”

“That may be useful later. For now being like this is just enough” I say, curling up against him. 

“I can't believe we will be becoming parents in hopefully just a few hours” he says, his fingers caressing my arm, making me relax. “It feels like yesterday when we were talking in that corridor in Germany, shamelessly flirting with each other.”

“It does feel like it, doesn't it? But you know, if I got to relieve that moment, I would always choose to follow you outside the party.” 

“Because you couldn't wait to get rid of your dad and his friends telling the same anecdotes all over again?”

“That too” I chuckle. “But also because maybe, just maybe…” I say, lifting my head from his shoulder and looking at him. “I also had a little crush on you.”

“Wait, really? It wasn't just me?”

“I mean, you had a proper crush on me, Pedri. Mine was starting after watching you at the Euros, and it didn't stop until I fell head over heels in love with you. It hasn't stopped, to be honest.”

“Do I still make you feel butterflies in your stomach?” he smiles.

“Every single day. And I hope it never stops. I love you, Pedri.”

“I love you too… my lady” he says before kissing me. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Knock, knock. Can we come in?”

“Leonor?” I say when I see her at the door of my hospital room, Max standing behind her. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be resting after yesterday?”

“I should, yes. But turns out that my little sister also gave birth, and I couldn't wait to see her and meet my nephew” she says, coming to my bed and hugging me. “How are you, Sofía?”

“Good. Sore and tired, but good. And really happy. You?”

“Extremely hungover” she chuckles. “But tell me, how did it go? Is what mum told me true and he let you watch the wedding?”

“Yep” I nod. “During the ceremony everything was pretty smooth, but once it ended, he said: auntie Leonor already had her moment, now is my turn.”

After she and my mum left, things had been quite calm. Both Pedri and I had had time to get changed, eat something, chat, and in my case, bawl my eyes out while watching the wedding on tv. But the moment Max and Leonor got into the car and started saying hello to all the people gathered on the streets, everything changed. My contractions started to become more painful and frequent, and when the doctor came to check me again, he said it was time to go to the hospital, the little one joining us just a couple of hours later.

“How did he do?” Leonor asks me, nodding towards Pedri. He is standing next to the window, the baby in his arms. 

“He started crying the moment the doctor said the head was out, and then didn't stop. At one point his mum even worried he was going to end up dehydrated” I chuckle.

“I didn't cry that much, don't listen to her” he says.

“He did” I whisper. “But other than that, he's been amazing” I smile while looking at him caressing the baby's cheek and whispering something to him. 

I thought I couldn't love Pedri more than I already did, that it was impossible to fall in love with him more than I already was. But every time I see him with the baby, with our son, I actually do it. I fall even more in love with him, my heart feeling like it is about to burst out of happiness and love.

“You are the one who is amazing, Sofía. Look at him” he says, kissing the baby's head. “I can't believe he is real. That he is my son.”

“Can't you? Haven't you seen all that hair?” Max chuckles. 

“I haven't” Leonor says, getting up from my bed and moving to where they are standing. “Oh my God, Sofía. He is perfect! And definitely Pedri's son, yes” she smiles, caressing his head. 

“Do you want to hold him?” Pedri tells her. 

“I… I don't know. Babies aren't my thing.”

“C'mon, Leonor. You are his auntie and godmother, you have to get used to it” I say.

“Wait, his godmother? Me?”

“Yeah. Who else?” 

“I don't know… Irene, perhaps? You've always been super close.”

“We have. But she isn't my sister, you are. And since Fer is going to be his godfather…” I shrug.

“I… I don't know what to say, guys. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Now put your hand here” Pedri says, helping her hold the baby. “There, perfect. Little one, meet your auntie Leonor. Leonor, meet your nephew Leo.”

“Wait, Leo? Aren't you naming him Carlos?” she says.

“That was a little white lie” I smile. “We wanted to surprise you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because we've named him after you.”

“What?” she says, looking from me to Pedri, then at the baby in her arms, and then back at me.

“I mean, if you don't like it, we can always say we named him after Messi since he is my idol” Pedri shrugs.

“No, we won't!” I say.

“I was just teasing you, my lady” he winks. “That story we told everyone about naming the baby Carlos as some kind of homage to him because he had been key in our love story and we wouldn't be here without him, was just a lie because we wanted to surprise you and we didn't want anyone ruining it” Pedro smiles.

“But… but…” Leonor mumbles. “What about Fer? You could have named him after him too.”

“We already have two in the family, we don't need another one. Besides, how would we call him? F?” he chuckles. “Leo is perfect. And not because that's Messi’s name” he says, looking at me.

“I… I don't know what to say, I… Thank you, guys.”

“Aww, Leonor” Max says, wiping away her tears since her hands are busy holding Leo.

“This is the best wedding gift ever, guys. Thank you” she says, managing to free one arm to hug Pedri. “Thank you, Sofía” she says, coming to the bed to also hug me. “I love you.”

“I love you too” I reply, hugging her back.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Ready, my lady?” Pedri says, giving my hand an encouraging squeeze. 

“Ready” I say, taking a deep breath before the hospital doors open and we walk outside, the reporters and photographers waiting for us already shouting.

“Your royal highness, how are you?” one of them asks me when we stop in front of them.

“I'm well, very happy. Thank you for asking” I smile.

“And the father? How is he feeling?”

“Also very happy” Pedri says.

“Why Leo?” another reporter asks.”It isn't a very royal name.”

“He is named after my sister Leonor” I explain. “So it is a royal name.”

“Awww…” a bunch of them say. 

“Who does he look like?”

“Everyone says he is a mini me” Pedri chuckles, moving the blanket I have wrapped around Leo so they can see him better.

“Oh, he definitely has your hair” the reporter says.

“He does, yes” he says, caressing Leo's head. “Though I think he's gotten his mother's character.”

“How so?”

“Well, he is just a couple of days old, and he is quite stubborn already. Like his mum.”

“Pedri!” I say, elbowing in the ribs while the reporters just laugh. 

“Do you think he may have gotten your talent? That we may have the first royal football player in history?”

“We actually do. You should have seen the way he kicked me before he was born” I laugh. 

“We should start getting his room ready at La Masía, then” one of the reporters says.

“He may already have it” Pedri smirks, making them all laugh again.

“Ma'am, we should get going” Carlos says behind me.

“Oh, yes. Thank you very much for coming, guys. And for all your good wishes too, it means a lot.”

“One last photo, ma'am. Ma'am!” the photographers say as we move towards our car, both Pedri and Carlos escorting me.

“We did it” Pedri says once we are inside the car.

“We did it, yes.”

“Ready for what is ahead, my lady?” he says, taking my hand on his and kissing it. “Now the hard work begins.”

“I know. But I also know I can do it. That we can do it. As long as we are together, we can do anything.”

“I mean, I managed to teach you how to dance without injuring me, didn't I? After that, everything is possible” he smirks.

“You are such an idiot, Pedri González” I say, hitting his arm.

“Yet you love me, my lady” he replies.

“More and more every day” I smile before resting my head on his shoulder as the car starts moving, the new chapter of our lives ahead of us. 

━━━━❃━━━━ FIN ━━━━❃━━━━

[hyenafu]

I know this might seem like a bit of a random question, but what are some criticisms of Slightly Damned you can't stand, and what are some you think are at least somewhat valid? I only ask because I do have a few problems with the comic (not really gonna go into here because I don't want to come off as too critical obviously) but I feel like some of the more noteworthy ones have been too long established to just change it altogether, and the best one can do is make something better from its foundation (which I must say, you've done a really good job at ^^)

The complaints that I think are the most unfair are by bigots who think my comic is only getting more inclusive because I'm pandering to wokeness or whatever. These people are also the most likely to misgender me and have no idea what they're talking about. They just can't stand the bare minimum of gay and are often hypocritical, using fallacies as the basis of their arguments. It's tempting to want to argue back, but when has that ever worked on the internet? I think the most valid complaint is that the pacing of the comic is too slow. Sure. Not much I can do about that one. My comic alone doesn't pay all my bills. If I focus exclusively on work, I get depressed, so I have to goof off sometimes. I'm just one person. I don't have a team. I'm doing the best I can already. Another valid complaint is that people don't like my blend of humor and drama. Sometimes readers find it inappropriate or jarring. It's valid because I recognize it as a difference of opinion and understand why they feel that way. But I don't care. I like my weird mix of goofy faces and drama. I sometimes make jokes during periods of great stress in real life. I love all the wacky faces and over-the-top cartoon action among dire circumstances in comics like One Piece and Usagi Yojimbo. Like, it's just my style, man I don't seek out unsolicited advice about my comic. Some people may think that's snobbish of me, but the truth is, very little of what you find that way is actually valuable.

"And as to those critics, she said that she’s managed to do something that might make us all better off- she doesn’t read the comment sections. In perhaps the most roundabout poignant part of the talk, she likened receiving feedback about her work as being like consuming food. She would take a pie from someone she knew and trusted but compared taking unsolicited barbs from strangers as “licking a handle on the subway.” She used to pay very close attention to that kind of critique because she felt that it somehow would make her a better creator but ultimately decided that it was only toxic." - I HAVE SEEN OLIVIA JAIMES, THE CARTOONIST BEHIND THE NEW NANCY, by Rocko Jerome (2018)

Besides the outright hateful sentiments, a lot of unsolicited criticism can be categorized as "I don't like this story because it didn't do what I wanted it to do." Which is fine. I do the same thing when I try to process stories and talk to my friends about them.

But I don't get in the author's face to tell them I think they did a bad job. At the end of the day, no matter how crap I think someone's story might be, I'm not psychic. I don't really know if they did exactly what they set out to do. For example, people have never stopped giving me crap about the death of certain characters. But their whining has only made my convictions stronger. I don't like when other stories don't take deaths seriously, with a real sense of permanence and grief that is not easily solved. To someone else, seeing that character be alive might have solved all sorts of problems they had-- but that's not my story. I've had someone tell me that the focus on Buwaro and Kieri's mushy romance is too distracting to the main story. I don't think that person knew that a large part of why I started making this comic in the first place was as a vehicle for my OTP. I also want to make said vehicle entertaining and worthwhile. If I didn't succeed for that person, that's fine. But don't tell me that half the reason I made the comic is distracting from it. What do they know about what I want? What do you really know about what the author wanted to achieve? That isn't to say that my comic is immune to scrutiny. Of course it has problems; every story has problems, depending on your perspective and the basis by which it's getting judged. I've solicited and received thoughtful criticism and helpful advice from teachers, my advisor, my friends, and from reading/watching tutorials. Some I agreed with, others I chose to ignore. Sometimes it just took a while for me to come around. I hope I never stop learning and improving. Like you said, I have to keep working with the foundation I already set. But I don't feel trapped by it; my creativity is being challenged in new ways. I have a lot of playing pieces and now I get to see what kinds of connections I can make between them with my older, more experienced (both good and bad) mind. Since Slightly Damned is a story serialized over a long period of time, a certain amount of it is made up as I go along. I do have plans and goals, of course, but I'm also discovering this world alongside my readers.