#i spent all day writing this

[dirtytransmasc]

mama Neytiri au: Jake and Spider father and son moments plzz

👉👈🥹

when jake first met the boy, he never expected him to become family, let alone a son. he knew it had been wrong to be so bitter towards the boy, he was barely a few months old, the only thing he had in common with his father was a bit of blood. but when he saw his mate light up at the mere sight of the child, taking him into her arms as if he was meant to be there, hearing her speak of him being willed to them by Eywa herself; he started to look past his own bias.

spider quickly wormed his way into jake's heart, becoming one of the few things that really mattered. it had been months at this point, spider was getting real good at walking, running laps around both him and neytiri; both parents had found themselves spending a lot of their time in the lab with spider. but now he was starting to talk, it was still close to babbling, but he had managed some simple words; mainly mama, he'd attempted a few na'vi words but hadn't gotten them quite yet, even tried his soon-to-be little brother's name, but not dad or dada. jake tried not to be upset, knew it would come in time, but he was longing to hear his son call for him.

he couldn't blame the kid, he didn't get to see him often as chief, but neytiri needed a day with her mother as she was coming close to the end of her pregnancy, giving jake a way out of his duties to go up to the lab with his boy.

spider was fully of energy as usual, running to greet his dad as soon as he heard the airlock, norm tailing after him desperately. upon seeing jake, currently scooping the little dude up, he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Jake, on time next time, he's learning his way around a clock and fast. he knows what a clock looks like at 9 o'clock, when neytiri comes, and now he gets all types of pepped up whenever that little red hand is sitting on the nine, meaning I've dealt with 2 hours of this Jake, 2 hours. your kid is wicked smart, which is great, except when he's excelling at symbol and pattern recognition, not to mention his ability at evading his caregivers." Norm was ranting and raving, if jake had actually been listening and not focused on his kid, then he probably brought up scientific jargon or some sort of statistics about how baby's can start pattern and symbol recognition right around their 2nd birthday.

jake however is not listening and he's rolling his eyes, getting the kid to giggle, earning another scornful look from norm.

"Jake?"

"yeah yeah, on time, I'll try not to get caught up in being chief again. now what should we do little man?" he ask, poking the baby earning a shrill laugh, "bother norm some more, rub our grubby hands all over his delicate and expensive machines?"

"Jake please, just keep him out of the lab, take him back to the nursery, neytiri has been practicing letters lately, don't let him fall behind or she'll have my head, not yours." he spoke with a huff before shoving the co2 pack in his hands and walking off to do whatever he had going on in the lab. neytiri had thought it important he knew his mother tongue, just as much as he knew na'vi. she said that Eywa forbid something happened to them, spider should know the language of the people who would most likely take custody of them.

"you hear that? you and mama been working on your letter's? well lets get to it little man, or you might not see me and norm around anymore," he cooed at the boy while slinging the pack over his shoulder and sliding the mask over her face and around his neck.

"mama, mama, mama," the little one babbled over and over again, bopping his head with each syllable.

"that's right, mama, but now dada is gonna teach you, can you say dada?" it was desperate, he knew that, but sue him, he was getting jealous.

the kid didn't in fact say mama, instead he hummed to himself as he played with his dads cummerbund, a few months earlier and he would have been running his gums over the cool edged, but the teething had just come to a standstill, most of his teeth had come in by then and spider was more interested in running his fingers over the thread work as jake walked the two back to the nursery.

spider was growing out of the place, but was too young to have his own room and still too little to move in with the family. it pained jake to have to leave the boy there day in and day out, unable to even bring him out to feel the breeze in his hair or the sun on his skin, to let him be one with Eywa. no, he had to leave him in this sterile lab devoid of color outside of the little makeshift nursery. but it was the place spider called home, and would call home until he fit an exo- pack. he shared the room with a few kids, but they all had some sort of foster parents within the compound so they rarely stayed in here other than to play. jake and neytiri made do with the space they had to raise spider bringing na'vi toys, blankets, even furniture to make the room feel a little more lived in, not so sterile; plus, neytiri seemed to have a vendetta against the blankets in the compound.

"alright spi, show me what you and mama have been working on," he directed, putting the boy down. spider took off to his little corner, where he kept all of his things; books, toys, whatever else the little bugger wanted. bringing back a book, just me and my dad, an earth classic, almost 200 years old, and damn was it pulling on jakes heartstrings.

"this one bud? mama's been reading you this" he asked, not knowing which answer he wanted more. yes, meaning neytiri had been trying to get him to say some variation of dad, no meaning spider, in his little child mind, was potentially communicating to jake. one was more likely than the other, but jake was gonna ignore that fact like the plague.

spider all but shoved the book into jakes hands before toddling over the pallet against the wall. he was a little spitfire alright, even if he could barely talk, he found ways to make it know what he wanted and when he wanted it.

jake wasn't unfamiliar with reading to the little thing, despite being a little ball of energy, he liked to just sit close and listen to the calm cadence of his parents reading to him. so when he sat down, spider climbed into his lap, curling against jake until his was comfortable, and waiting for him to start.

"just me and my dad" jake read "we went camping, just me and my dad, dad drove the car because I'm too little,"

"remember, a car is the thing they had on earth, that went broom broom, you have a toy car in your little chest over there." jake pointed, spider's eyes followed. jake was almost surprised when he didn;t get up to grab it, but then in the middle of his imitation of pushing the little toy car around, he yawned a big yawn, tailing a little broom broom of his own to the end of his little display. jake was a little late, and norm had said he'd been at it since 9, which meant nap time was coming soon.

he held the book in one hand so he could reach for the blanket tossed on the edge of spider's bed, draping it over the boy where he had settled back down, being lolled by each breath jake took. he wasn't dozing just yet, so jake kept reading past the smile that graced his lips.

"I picked the campsite, but someone was already living there, so I gave it back. we found another nearby. my dad was tired so I pitched the tent."

"we made a camp fire, I found the wood, and my dad lit the fire. I wanted to take my dad for a ride in our canoe, but I launched it too hard,"

"looked, spi, see the bear across the lake," he said, pointing at the colorfully illustrated page, tapping a big blue finger, on the little brown bear, spiders fingers following.

"we went fishing instead,"

"and theres a fish, and a frog, and a turtle, and a bug. can you sound those out for me, F like in fish and frog, fff." he sounded out the letter, making sure to put in a little work before the boy took his nap, hoping it would put him out deeper, as the kid was starting to give up his naps and it wasn't doing any good for him.

"ffff" spider copied.

"good boy, that's really good. what about B like bug, b b b."

"b b b" he copied again, before yawning and bring a hand up to rub his eyes. jake felt his heart swell, sleepy babies were like cryptonite to him, always had been, but now he was a father, and damn did it double him over.

"ok, lessons over, lets finish this, and you young man, can go down for your nap."

"no" the little one whined, all while burrowing his head into jakes side, eyes seemingly weighed down by rocks.

"oh yes, but I'll cut you a deal squirt, if you can finish this book without falling asleep, you can stay up," it was a good trick, it almost always promised a fast asleep kid. he felt spider nod against him, so he continued.

"my dad took a snapshot of the fish we caught and then I made dinner for me and my dad."

"look, see the bear is back and he's stealing the fish," jake spoke softer, brushing fingers through his hair and over his forehead.

"we had eggs. after dinner I told my dad a ghost. boy he got scared." I gave my dad a big hug, that made him feel better, then we went to bed."

that line reminded him of spider; he would often do for others what he needed himself. if he needed attention, he gave others attention. if he needed a hug, he hugged others. when it came to the scientists, that didn't always pan out well for him, but he and neytiri always made sure to reflect those actions with 110%.

"I stayed up with my dad and let him read a story to me. we slept in our tent all night long- just me and my dad."

before jake could even put the book down he heard soft babbles against his skin.

"dada" over and over, barely whispered as his son fell into sleep.

he felt his heart swoon and his stomach do a backflip. he said it, his son had called him dad, he finally said it. jake wanted to celebrate, to praise his son, to hear it over and over, but he knew he couldn't. spider had just fallen asleep, and jake really needed to keep him down, so he opted to very slowly and very gently pull spider up to his chest, to kiss his brow softly, before resting his head against the wall and giving in to the peaceful space between awake and asleep, blissfully directing all his sense towards the boy sleeping on his chest; his breath, his skin, his smell, it was all he could focus on.

he loved this boy and he thanked Eywa that she gave him this boy.

~~~

https://youtu.be/zHeLkoYw2ks - this is a video with the pages of the book, for anyone who hasn't seen/read it before.

[ckret2]

At some point, the Axolotl must've witnessed the aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre.

As you can see, Bill is very happy and definitely not at all traumatized and doing great and look at all these followers he's found who are definitely alive.

Here, have a fic about the Axolotl, the birth of the Nightmare Realm, and Bill trying so so hard to convince himself that he's the hero.

####

To the mortals he swam past, with their different calendars and their different ways of perceiving time, the great Axolotl's migration through space and between dimensions was an event of great note: his passing marked eclipses, tsunamis, festivals, omens, meteor showers; his migration was studied by astronomers and his position was marked in astrological birth charts.

To the Axolotl, he was on his daily commute home. He could take an interdimensional portal, but swimming was better for the environment and he could use the exercise.

He passed by the same two dimensional wall every day. It was covered with many little worlds, and so many of them populated with little mortals, and he'd never paid any particular attention to the wall—until yesterday. A bold little triangle had shouted at him as he passed. It had been an amusing conversation—first contact was always fun—but he'd been busy and couldn't talk more than a moment, just long enough for the Axolotl to be charmed that a lower-dimensional creature had yelled at him and for the triangle to be shocked that a higher-dimensional creature had answered. The triangle had told him that, to his two-dimensional people, these shadows on the wall, the Axolotl was an eclipse: they marked the time by the shadow he cast on their flat world during his commute.

He hadn't even learned the triangle's real name. The triangle had refused to tell him, instead introducing himself as the "Magister Mentium." Teacher of minds? Maybe it was a job title.

Between the nightmare of a case the Axolotl was currently handling and the fact that he'd had to stay late working, he'd nearly forgotten about yesterday's fascinating little meeting until he was leaving on his nightly commute. He didn't know how long the tiny shapes' life cycles were; he hoped the little triangle was still alive today. If not, maybe he'd left behind descendants.

But when he came up to the wall, it was gone.

The vacuum reeked of burning hydrogen.

The Axolotl stopped, puzzled. The wall wasn't empty, wasn't damaged, wasn't going through heat death—the entire thing was missing. No rubble. Surely it hadn't been demolished for some new construction? It had been in good condition. It was a fairly new plane of reality, likely under fifty billion years old. And it had admittedly been a few eons since the Axolotl had studied dimension use & zoning law, but last he checked it was unlawful to demolish a populated dimension without transplanting the growths first—which took much longer than a day. So what could possibly have done this? And what he saw behind the wall...

Something was very wrong. He started moving again, faster, looking for someone who could tell him what was happening. He kept the ragged rip in reality left by the missing wall in his peripheral vision. Stars and stardust slowly fell in, sucked through the tear. The wall must have come down by accident.

Nobody would have knowingly left behind such a large hole to Dimension Zero.

Assuming he was looking at Dimension Zero; he wasn't sure he was. Beneath all other dimensions was supposed to be a void, an empty in-between space. The zeroth "dimension" was simply reality's center point, the not-dimension between all dimensions; it wasn't a place. But with the two dimensional wall gone, he didn't see reality bending in toward a point like he should. He saw a roiling, nauseating mass of blinding colors, thrashing around each other like a frightened pile of injured worms.

Far in the distance, a full reality away, he saw a faint line of blue light.

It was several minutes before he began to run into other people. He passed a crew of cosmic firefighters and their ships, spread out over a span of space wider than an asteroid belt. The fact that they didn't appear to currently be fighting any fires was more disconcerting than a full blaze would have been. An eerie tension hung thick over the scene like invisible smoke. As the Axolotl swam by a couple of firefighters, he overheard them saying, "... orders of magnitude higher than anything we've been trained to handle. An entire reality catching fire is one thing, but the concept of realitycatching fire...?"

"And the speed it's moving..."

"Excuse me," the Axolotl said, trying to keep the edge of fear out of his voice. (Why was he so afraid? He was barely acquaintances with one resident on the wall.) "Can you tell me what happened to the wall? It was just here yesterday."

Rather than explain, one of them pointed in the direction he'd been going. "Sorry, we don't know any more than you do. Look for the storm. You can't miss it."

The other asked, "Are you one of the guys with the apoc cops?"

His fear leaped higher. The "apoc cops" were members of the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force. "No. Sorry, I have to go." He swam onward toward the blue line of light.

The stench of burning hydrogen grew stronger. He smelled something else acrid underneath.

####

To his slight relief, the "storm" wasn't the disaster that had brought down this wall. Rather, it was a person: a lightly raining storm cloud with a gray rain-soaked fedora perched on top, hovering in space.

It was talking to a hapless-looking furred serpent twice the Axolotl's length with four mismatched limbs: she clutched a can of spray paint in her claws, and was so nervous he could hear the marble in the can rattling. A disembodied sunbeam pierced the eye of the storm cloud to shine in the serpent's face as she spoke, and a tornado swirled beneath its cloud, carrying all its personal effects—including a tumbling badge from the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force, its logo of a mushroom cloud struck out with the "no" symbol still visible through a thin glaze of sleet. A chill ran through the Axolotl at the sight of that badge.

The cloud wasn't the only one with the apoc cops on the scene. There were several other investigators nearby, taking readings where the wall used to be. The Axolotl didn't like just how many were buzzing around. They seemed far too busy for far too empty a space, and they steered far too clear of the thrashing, multicolored miasma covering the emptiness that should contain Dimension Zero.

There were several stars in the area that the investigators had to work around. Between the crowds and the missing wall, it took the Axolotl a moment to realize where they were: this was the spot he'd met the triangle yesterday. He was sure of it. He recognized the star right next to the missing wall, the one the triangle had told him he eclipsed during his commute. He'd passed it millions of times.

Why had the apoc cops set up here?

The star was slowly falling toward the roiling miasma where Dimension Zero should have been. He nudged it back into place as he passed.

As the Axolotl approached the duo, the serpent was saying, "I told you, I don't know how it caught fire! I was just passing by..." The storm cloud's sunbeam dropped from her face to point skeptically at her spray paint. She hid it behind her back and quickly went on, "I was just passing by, minding my own business and not doing anything illegal, and suddenly the whole wall went up in flames!"

The cloud said, "The whole wall? Simultaneously?"

"The whole thing! I mean... it kind of rolled across the dimension, but—it took less than ten seconds to cover everything I saw!"

"Which direction did the fire travel?"

While the serpent tried to remember, the Axolotl swam up to the storm cloud. "Excuse me, the firefighters said you're in charge of the investigation?"

"Currently," the cloud said, in a tone that suggested it very much wished it wasn't. It looked over the Axolotl, then turned back to the serpent—she flinched when its sunbeam hit her face again—and it asked gruffly, "Is this your lawyer?"

The serpent looked hopeful. "Are you my lawyer?"

"No, I'm not," the Axolotl said, perturbed. Potential defendants aside, nobody ever insinuated he was somebody's lawyer and meant it in a nice way—and he was on the receiving end of such accusations more and more often lately. His reputation was beginning to precede him. "We've never met. I'm trying to find out what happened to this wall. I know a—friend in there. You said something about a fire?"

An active ATTF investigation was in no way the Axolotl's business. But people had a tendency to cooperate with professionals, whether or not their profession had anything to do with the situation at hand. The ATTF agent turned to the Axolotl and said, "You had a friend in there. The wall that used to be here, Dimension 2 Delta, has been completely incinerated."

The Axolotl stared at the cloud, trying to process that. But the whole wall had been there yesterday. Billions of galaxies, each with trillions of stars, each capable of supporting trillions of species—never mind lives. "You can't mean completely. Surely there are some survivors?"

"Not a single one," the cloud said. "Not even gods and ghosts made it out."

"How?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," the storm said. "Right now, the only witness we've found was the person who called in the emergency." A branch of lightning pointed toward the serpent. "And she doesn't know a damn thing." The serpent nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"But that's... How does an entire dimension disappear with only one witness?"

"Very quickly," the storm said. "The apocalypse Origin & Cause investigation can't make heads or tails of the scene—" a gust of wind swept demonstratively toward the other apoc cops taking readings near the missing wall, "but far as we can tell, the damn thing spontaneously combusted—somewhere near here."

The Axolotl stared helplessly between the serpent and the storm. "Dimensions aren't supposed to spontaneously combust," he said, very reasonably and very unnecessarily.

"Tell 2Δ that," the storm said. "Only time a dimension moves that fast is during a Big Bang explosion or a Big Crunch implosion—and 2Δ wasn't undergoing a Big Crunch. No natural one, anyway. In all my eons with ATTF, I've never seen anything like it."

The Axolotl had been around enough eons himself to know that, after a certain point, novelty became very, very scary—because things working like they should shouldn't do anything you'd never seen before. He worriedly searched the roiling chaos exposed by Dimension 2 Delta's collapse for any sign of what had happened.

The chaos simply thrashed. It moved like it was in pain.

"Did that..." the Axolotl gestured vaguely toward the chaotic foam, "have anything to do with the wall's combustion?"

The serpent shrugged. "I didn't see it until after the fire went by."

The storm grunted uncertainly, a low, thunderous grumble. "Heck if we know. It's connected, no doubt about that—but we haven't even figured out what it is yet. All we know is, it shouldn't have been behind the wall."

The Axolotl stared into the roiling colors, looking for anything visible through the thrashing kaleidoscopic colors.  "If you don't know what it is yet—then, how do you know there aren't survivors in there?" The Axolotl couldn't stop seeing that poor, frightened, awed triangle he'd met yesterday. All the people who'd once been in Dimension 2 Delta mattered—of course they did, those billions of trillions of trillions of billions of lives; he wanted any of them to survive—but that triangle was the one he knew, the one he saw in his mind's eye now. The whole dimension was contained inside that triangle. He had to hope. "I'm going to check."

"What—? You're crazy! Don't you know falling into Dimension Zero will destroy you?!"

"I know falling into Dimension Zero destroys you; I don't know what falling into that thing will do." He squared up with the chaos and steeled his nerves. "Besides, I can regenerate. I'm an axolotl."

"But—!"

"Sorry, there isn't time for more questions." He swam into the maelstrom.

####

Dimension Zero was supposed to be a singularity. Like a black hole, but even smaller—a point so dense it broke physics. If you fell in you'd be crushed into that point by the weight of all realities, a point so small it had no volume.

But whatever was behind where the wall had been, it was certainly no point.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he was barraged with a psychic hurricane. Reality frothed and foamed like a flood spilling from a burst dam. Distant baby stars were born and popped like bubbles, and old stars fell in and were gloriously reignited. His every sense was bombarded with infinite sensations—every color and image in this dimension all at once; every song that had ever been played playing in the same instant and the instant extended indefinitely; strobe lights that were both flashing on and flashing off at the exact same moment. Beneath the music was a constant hiss like the background radiation of reality, the static echo of a universe's birth, but much too loud; he could swear it sounded like gibbering, babbling voices, their desperate messages unintelligible. He smelled every scent, including the lingering smell of burning hydrogen that he'd noticed outside; but above and beyond all that, he smelled the stench of burning life.

He knew now, this was Dimension Zero: it was as if all of spacetime had been crushed into a singularity, but then the singularity was bloated up to the size of an entire universe. Dimension Zero was never supposed to be this bloated.

And the most terrifying part: there were people in this bizarre ruin of a dimension. Millions of them. (Just as horrifying: there were only millions of them.) He was sure he must have been hallucinating—here, dreams and reality swirled around each other like a bottle of water and oil shaken until they were forced to mix—but the longer he looked, the more sure he was that the people were a part of reality. They were, perhaps, the most real thing in the entire dimension.

They were all dancing.

They were all dead.

"Heeey, look who's here!" Suddenly, in front of the Axolotl, there he was—as if he'd always been in front of the Axolotl, as if he were always everywhere at once. The ghost of the little triangle he'd seen yesterday, neon incorporeal. "Happy New Year, everybody!" He laughed. "Get it? That—that's a joke, time doesn't pass in the dream realm, so..." The triangle waved off the Axolotl. "Oh, you wouldn't get it. Screw you. Anyway, introductions! I should do that." 

The triangle was extremely inebriated. He was blinking blearily, floating crookedly, moving in odd uncoordinated jerks, his pupil expanding and contracting with no correlation to the light it was taking in. He seemed to flicker across multiple timelines that had been collapsed into one, like a drunk that couldn't walk a straight line: appearing here then there, then multiple places at once, then everywhere; and then became everywhere, and then collapsed again to a single triangular point. The Axolotl had the worrying impression that the triangle hadn't been sober for a long time.

"So! These are my people!" He gestured with a flourish to the dancing corpse puppets. The strobe lights—which, the Axolotl only now realized, didn't actually have a source, but were rather disembodied rays of light emanating from nothing—turned to highlight them from every angle. It was like a cloud of glitter, all these tiny, flat, jewel-tone flecks, emerald and citrine and ruby and sapphire, triangles and squares and pentagons and hexagons. Each with two spindly arms; some with legs and some without; a single dull eye or a slack mouth; some of them cracked and chipped like broken glass, some of them crushed and melted together into multi-corpsed horrors, some of them fraying and peeling apart around the edges like fabric; so much silvery blood dripping and floating around them. Such beautiful, colorful dancing gore. "All my followers and friends! They love me! They couldn't see you last time you flew by, but thanks to me, they sure can now! Say hellooo!"

It took the Axolotl a moment to realize that the triangle's eye was boring into him and the instruction was for him. "Hello," he said weakly. 

"Very nice." The triangle turned without turning to the millions lost inside Dimension Zero, reality shifting around him to put all of the dimension's prisoners in front of his eye. The Axolotl reeled from existential vertigo. "Now check this out!" The triangle gestured at the Axolotl for his people's benefit. "Behold! Your Magister Mentium presents to you: the eclipse! In the horrifying pink flesh! Quite a sight, huh?"

Many of the dancers turned toward him. Some aimed their dull, dead eyes in his direction. He shivered under their chill stares.

Heedless of the Axolotl's horror, the triangle elbowed him. "I didn't peg you for a party crasher, pinky!" (The triangle's touch was so cold.) "But hey, the more the merrier. Welcome to the dream realm, have a drink!"

A 2D cup manifested in front of the Axolotl that, based on its smooth, featureless yellow surface and its glow, appeared to be made from the triangle's own ghostly flesh. It seemed to be filled with watered-down raw existence. He didn't touch the cup. "What's the dream realm?" He couldn't stop staring at the dancers macabre.

"This is!" The triangle stretched out his arms—and stretched them, and stretched them, seeming to embrace all of reality at once. The Axolotl got the terrifying impression he was within the embrace too. "The realm of dreams! My realm! Paradise of color and light! Realm of spirits and muses!"

"It looks more like a nightmare."

"Do I come to your house and insult your wallpaper? Buzz off."

When the triangle dismissively floated away from him, the Axolotl again got the dizzying sensation that he was the one moving. The truth finally dawned on him:

The triangle, somehow, was literally the center of this universe. Point 0,0,0 on the cartesian plane of reality. Whenever he moved, Dimension Zero moved with him. When he backed away from the Axolotl, Dimension Zero backed with him, rushing past while the Axolotl held still.

And not once during their conversation did any of the millions of dead shapes stop dancing. 

"What are you doing?" the Axolotl asked, voice hushed.

"Partying," the triangle said. "We're having a party."

The Axolotl couldn't tear his eyes from the choreomaniacs' forced revelry. "How long have you been partying?"

"Uhh... pfff... I dunno, hard to keep track. A few months?" The triangle turned toward his tortured people. "Hey! How long have we been partying?"

One of the bodies mixed in amongst the dead, boogying deliriously, faintly cried back, "Time has no meaning and eternity has collapsed into a single unending moment of bliss!" (The Axolotl shuddered at the grotesque ventriloquism act.)

"Oh, yeah, right, forgot I decreed that. Thanks, pal!"

"You're welcome, oh wise and glorious Magister Mentium!"

The triangle turned back to the Axolotl. "An eternity."

The Axolotl tore his horrified eyes away from the dancers. "What about all the others?"

The triangle paused. "I don't know who you're talking about." The background radiation hissed in agitation.

The Axolotl very much suspected he did. "Your other people."

"There aren't any others," the triangle said defensively.

"There were! All of the other shapes around your world! All of the lives on other worlds! Where are all those people?!" He hoped that they might have gotten evacuated to a neighboring wall, or that they'd been concealed somehow, or even that they'd been collapsed together into the shapes he saw before him and could still be separated—

"It's fine," the triangle said stiffly. "Nothing important was lost."

"Nothing important?" the Axolotl repeated, shocked. "This was an entire dimension—!"

"A wall," the triangle said.

"A wall with lives on it—"

"Shadows."

"And do shadows not deserve to live?!"

The triangle flinched at the question as his good cheer crumbled. He didn't answer, but he gave the Axolotl a heavy, hard, emotionless look—a wretched, empty look—and the Axolotl knew he knew they did deserve to live.

"They don't matter," the triangle lied. "Nothing important was lost. Only the true believers and the worthy remain."

"Your dimension had billions of trillions of stars alone. All the people surrounding them—"

"I didn't see any stars!" He said it so vehemently—as though, if he didn't see them, they must not have existed. As though he refused to acknowledge their existence. "I told everyone about the third dimension, I told them we were going, they had their chance to join me!" His voice was shaking. As he spoke he grew larger, until he was as large as the Axolotl—or perhaps the universe had contracted around him. "And if they refused to join the liberation, then they are what we liberated ourselves from!" Distant bolts of lights flashed through Dimension Zero, responding to the triangle's outrage; the nearest stars blazed brighter for him. His dead people screamed in terror. They didn't stop dancing.

"You... tried to leave your dimension before the fire reached them?" Had he tried too late?

The triangle flinched again; his appearance flickered, like a TV that for a moment had picked up a pirate station broadcasting on the same frequency. The whispers hissing beneath the music grew more excited again, but the Axolotl still couldn't make out what they said beneath the party music.

The triangle said, "The... the fire came second."

"What came first?"

But he didn't answer. "Yeah, I brought them here." He spread his arms again, gesturing at the other shapes. "They followed me, and I freed them from our flat, restrictive dimension. They're all fine. And they all love me for saving them."

"Saving them?" he echoed. He wanted to laugh in disbelief, but it felt too much like laughing at a stranger's funeral. Laughing at an open mass grave. "But—everyone here is already dead. Even you." The triangle should be in an afterlife. Whatever afterlives his dimension once had, they were gone now. The Axolotl would have to help the triangle find one in another dimension—the paperwork alone would take time he didn't have to spare; he'd probably have to split off a timeline or two to squeeze it in...

The triangle snapped, "Whoa, hey, hey! Watch who you call dead, buddy! Look at me!" He stretched out his limbs, glowing dazzlingly bright. Brighter than a star. Even the Axolotl had to turn away from the blinding light. "I transcended my body! I'm made of pure energy! This is the most alive I've ever been!" A being of pure energy that had lost its physical form was the very definition of a ghost; but the Axolotl didn't have a chance to argue before the triangle went on, "And does anyone here look dead? Everyone's dancing! We're all having a great time, aren't we?" A few corpses groaned and gurgled in response.

If the triangle wanted to be a wandering ghost, fine. That was his prerogative. But he had no right to force the remains of his followers to deny their death with him. "Look—look at your people," the Axolotl commanded. "You're making them dance! You must know what state they're in!"

Without actually moving, the triangle had somehow become the space in between the Axolotl and his choreomaniacs, forming a sharp shield in between them. "You don't know what you're talking about. They're fine. They're immortal!"

The Axolotl gestured furiously past the triangle. "LOOK AT THEM!"

The triangle's gaze flickered toward them for a split second. The Axolotl saw guilt flashing in his eye; but then he squeezed his eye shut. "No, you look at them. Maybe it took me a little bit to get it right, but they're all great now."

To get it right? The Axolotl peered around the triangle at the shapes again, and only now saw that he was right.

Not all of them were dead.

Some were trapped in ecstatic trances; some were numb with terror; some were already long dead, and yet the corpses weren't being puppeted like he'd assumed—they danced under their own power. There were amalgams of a dozen, a hundred bodies fused together into shambling, gyrating horrors—but there was still life in their horrified eyes and their limbs twitched independently. The ones that were bleeding just kept bleeding and bleeding and bleeding, unending, blood never clotting nor running dry. The corpses and the comatose and the ailing and the bleeding dancing with the living that craved death.

The triangle was responsible for their condition?

He glided between the corpses, sliding his arms around a few of them. They kept dancing.  "I didn't quite get to a few of them in time, so I took the empty space where their souls used to be and filled them with an insatiable hunger to party," he said. "And look, they're good as new! Probably better than they were before, even!"

"These bodies should be laid to rest," the Axolotl said heatedly, "and the rest of you should be dead."

The triangle went still.

The Axolotl remembered, a second too late, that that was a perfectly normal thing to say to deceased clients and other gods in his line of work, but the kind of thing that scared the living daylights out of mortals.

"So that's a threat." His arms slid off the shapes; his fingers were stained with silvery blood that shimmered like static noise.

"No! No. But the condition that you're all in..."

"You'd better check yourself, frills," the triangle snapped. "You crash our party, in our eternal paradise, and start threatening us! Who the hell do you think you are, telling us we should be dead?!"

The Axolotl paused uneasily. "A fully licensed psychopomp...?"

"Well you'd better keep your psycho, pompous paws off my people!" The triangle blazed bright red, literally incandescent with rage. Some of his "people" slowly stopped dancing and turned their hollow eyes toward the Axolotl.

And the Axolotl couldn't say why, but he was suddenly sure he was in very grave danger.

He backed up from the triangle, moving in the direction that the edge of Dimension Zero should have been, although he was no longer sure whether it was still behind him. "I... think I should leave."

"I think you'd better."

He turned and fled. He couldn't explain his panic, but he felt in his bones like something was chasing him. He had to spend longer than he wanted searching for the edge of this bizarre reality—the triangle had turned and twisted and moved the borders so many times that he'd completely lost his bearings—spied the nearest exit, and darted for it between two unfinished planes of reality.

He thought he felt flames at his back.

The triangle's voice followed him out: "Next time, poop on somebody else's party!"

He tumbled through the membrane between the overbloated Dimension Zero and the higher dimensions with the relief of a suffocating fish escaping its net to plummet back into the water. He had to take a moment to reorient himself to his surroundings—time passing so that each moment took its turn and ended when it was over, space that felt like space rather than all distances collapsed in on themselves—and looked back at Dimension Zero.

The longer he stared into the kaleidoscopic miasma, the more sure he was that, no matter where he looked, right at the center of his field of view, he could always see a shining yellow fleck of triangular glitter.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I spoke out of emotion. I am glad that you—" well, "survived" wasn't the right word, "—still exist. And it was heroic of you to save as many people as you did. I shouldn't have said they shouldn't be alive; just..."

He felt like he could still see the shapes dancing in the corners of his eyes.

"... Just not alive like that."

####

Who was the triangle?

At their first meeting yesterday, it had been clear to the Axolotl that the triangle could see and perceive things off his wall while the rest of his people could not; he'd identified himself as "Magister Mentium" rather than by name; and he'd been surrounded by shapes, all turned toward him, listening: so perhaps he was a leader of some kind? He must have seen whatever destroyed their dimension coming and been able to use his position to evacuate a few people. The true believers and the worthy, he'd said—maybe his... congregation? Maybe he was a religious leader? At any rate, it was a miracle he'd saved as many people as he had with what must have been very short notice.

But... their forced dance... the bodies fused together... the living-who-should-be-dead bleeding and bleeding and bleeding without end...

The Axolotl didn't want to believe the triangle had any ill will. He reminded himself that he didn't know anything about his people or their culture. These shapes had been through something unimaginably traumatic. They'd watched an entire reality die; many of them were stuck in the process of dying in a place where they couldn't complete it. Any mortal would be insane with grief. Perhaps their magister was just leading them in some sort of cathartic dancing mania; perhaps this was how the shapes processed their grief. He hoped that was what it was. He hadn't gotten a chance to speak to the others—he didn't know how many could speak—but he had seen, for just a moment, how survivor's guilt ate at the triangle.

The storm cloud with the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force had said that every single living being from Dimension 2 Delta had been killed. Even the gods and the ghosts. So how had the triangle and his people survived?

And what were they doing here, in the singular heart of all reality?

And what had happened to their world?

####

(Hello, thanks for reading!! If you were lured in by the colorful art I laid out as bait and this is your first time here, welcome!! This is part 1 of a 5-or-6 part fic 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 read more and learn the exciting answers to exciting questions like "Bill where in the good goddamn did you find a bunch of half-dead shapes??"

It's ALSO chapter 61 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 here. 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: hey y'all remember when we had to skip over chapter 61 because it would've been posted like four days after TBOB came out and it needed MAJOR revisions? Well, here it is!! And also it's currently like six times longer than it was originally. We're gonna be hanging out with the Ax for like a month and a half, buckle up. 

Let me know what y'all think so far!!)

[rendevok]

“Take my hand” pages 5-11

1 - day 2 - truth - 3

[seiwas]

everytime i think about ex!bakugo, i get so emotional thinking about how he carries on with his day-to-day like the breakup didn’t happen.

he doesn’t even give himself time to mourn the relationship, to process the loss of you. he throws himself into work, practically drowning in it because he can’t bear staying idle.

you’re everywhere, still—

in the picture frames scattered around his home, in the decorative pieces that each hold their own memory. some of the clothes you returned to him smell like you.

when kirishima asks him how he is, he never answers, always redirecting the subject back to work. deku notices longer bouts of silence during joint patrols, and when he pries, bakugo’s only reply is, “s’not a concern.”

it’s unusual, because bakugo is loud and rough, he barks and barks and barks, but with this, he stays quiet.

[deoidesign]

I spent months prepping books and running a Kickstarter, and it's going great! But...

I just got 300 books with the wrong type of cover. They're glossy!!!

There's nothing else wrong with them! I'll be getting the matte covered books that match the set soon, but in the meantime I have 300 extra glossy books.

SO!!!

If you would like a book, the glossy covered copies are going to be $15 instead of $25!!!

If you're okay with the book cover not matching the set, or you're interested in trying the series out, then this is the best place to start! Each book is self contained, so you won't be missing out by starting with the second book.

This is the fan favorite book from the series, so it's a great one to pick up.

Time and Time Again: Summer Camp Cowabummer Volunteering as counselors at a summer camp facing closure, Adam and Steve must manage their campers and the mysterious problems at the camp.

You can buy it here!

[myokk]

fast sketch of my one-shot with Ominis💓

legilimency

Word count: 1.700

Rating: M (language)

Ominis Gaunt is a lost case - lost to the whims of one very determined Gryffindor sitting at his side.

They sit in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the only two students not lulled to somnolence by their professor. He: trying his hardest to focus on Professor Binns’ droning (easier said than done). She: trying her hardest to distract Ominis while not being entirely sure of being successful or not (easier attempted than understood).

Professor Binns is completely insufferable, of course. Ominis wonders if the ghost is as blind as he is: Binns willfully ignores the fact that all of his students use his class as an excuse to get a nap in (maybe he simply doesn’t see them sleeping - only one of many reasons why Ominis has decided he could never be a professor), rambling on and on in the most boring way possible. As if he were trying to be as dull as possible (maybe he does it to avoid interacting with the students which…can’t be to blame). In a different life, Ominis could see himself quite liking the subject, but as things stand he despises it.

Especially now.

Ominis fervently wishes that he could fall asleep.

Then, he might avoid hearing her thoughts - they’re consuming him and he can’t ignore them as much as he would like to.

Normally, he loves this class - not the subject, obviously - but the class itself, for the sheer fact that it is the only time where he gets some peace and quiet. Everyone’s minds nice and quiet and shut off for the time being while they sleep. Although he has gotten used to ignoring the thoughts of everyone around him, their various voices mixing and mingling with each other into a dull thrum in the back of his mind, it is nice to have some quiet once in a while.

But right now, with everyone asleep except for the Gryffindor at his side, her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming at him.

So here he is, wishing he could fall asleep, leave the class, maybe turn off the infernal legilimency that has haunted him his whole life.

(His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

He is stuck listening to her.

It doesn’t help that she seems to have caught on to him - something he had managed to avoid until now. Nobody else, not even Sebastian or Anne, has ever suspected a thing. But, in all fairness, those two are extremely loud and say every single thought that passes through their minds out loud even when they should remain quiet, and nobody else has had the opportunity to spend enough time with Ominis to begin to suspect anything.

Until her.

He had to go and let that blasted girl worm her way into his life, not leaving him alone ever, always looking for excuses to talk and ask his opinion, and being so intelligent that he wanted to invite her to study with him and talk with him and…

Since it happened a few nights ago, he hasn’t stopped cursing himself for that stupid offhand comment he made. They had been studying in silence in the library together, by the history books where nobody else ever ventures (thank you, Professor Binns), and he could have sworn that she asked him if he was finally going to walk her back to her common room (he blames a lack of sleep and wishful thinking for this mishap). His traitorous face had flushed and he had jumped at the chance to escort her - maybe she would let him carry her bag, or… - only to feel his whole body go cold and his stomach drop when her response wasn’t what he’d expected.

A pause: then: a confused voice: ‘Ominis, I didn’t say anything.’

His Gryffindor wasn’t stupid like Gryffindors were normally wont to be. He knew her, and he knew that after his monumental mistake, the gears in her brain were turning and he was terrified that somehow she had figured it out.

(His Gryffindor?)

She had been unusually quiet around him since then, although he bitterly noticed that she was still acting normally with everyone else. Still finding every opportunity to punch Sebastian in the shoulder and laugh with Anne, still whispering with Natsai about Merlin knows what, still…

But she had been avoiding Ominis. He couldn’t stand it.

Well, avoiding him right until this stupid class, when she had to go and sit right next to him (ignoring the fact that she always sits next to him in History of Magic, that everyone already has and adheres to their unofficial seats), and he can’t ignore her.

She’s pretending to take studious notes, but he knows better. The scratching of her quill blending with the droning of Professor Binns’ voice but not drowning out her thoughts. They float above the other noises, her voice sweet and piercing. Ominis wonders vaguely what she’s actually writing, because he’s positive it isn’t notes.

Professor Binns looks so sexy right now with his medieval hat, talking about…whatever it is he’s passionate about. I wonder if he would let me talk to him after class without floating through me like he normally does…

Ominis is determined not to react. She’s obviously trying to bait him. But…what if she is attracted to Professor Binns? Is he an attractive man? At the thought, the fist that’s resting on top of his desk clenches, but he works to make sure his face remains impassive. Apart from a twitch of his lips, he thinks he’s been quite successful.

She: huffing and shifting in her chair, her robes rustling as she crosses her legs. He: keeping his head facing forward, steadfastly ignoring her.

She changes tactics.

Maybe she’s just as insufferable as the other Gryffindors, after all.

I wonder what Ominis would say if he knew I woke up moaning today after a dream about him -

He shifts slightly in his seat, hoping that she’s so busy taking notes (who’s he kidding) that she won’t notice his discomfort as his trousers tighten -

…the girls in my dorm have been bothering me nonstop about who I’ve been mooning over but I don’t want them to…

His hand is in such a tight fist it’s a wonder he’s not breaking any fingers as he tries to remain as still as possible, but his traitorous arousal is making her thoughts harder and harder to ignore. Had he ever been able to ignore her?

…his tongue was deep inside me as I screamed his name…

He feels his face heat up at the thought - where had she learned such vulgar language? - and his whole body stiffens. He’s sure that she can feel the tension and warmth radiating off of him in waves but that…she…his insane little lion keeps shouting at him in the silence of the classroom. She’s now stopped all pretense of taking notes and is sitting stock still.

…his cock deep inside of me as…wait…what else did I hear Garreth say to Leander that night?…um… She shifts uncomfortably, her knee grazing Ominis’s as she moves to squeeze her legs together. It’s all he can do to not groan and remain impassive. Oh god…I…what’s that feeling? This was just supposed to get back at him for probably - maybe - reading my thoughts and I’m officially insane because how would he even be able to do that?…his ears turning red from embarrassment are so adorable and I can’t stand this anymore and…

Ominis tries his hardest not to move his head in her direction. His jaw flexes. Maybe he can drown her out if he starts reciting potions ingredients, or if he focuses on what Professor Binns is saying, but even he knows its futile. He’s hanging on to her every word - thought? - and his head slowly turns in her direction as she keeps going.

…does he know how much I think about him? Oh god, what if he dreams of me the same way I…

He slams the open book in front of him shut, the loud noise causing Sebastian to jerk awake and babble incoherently for a moment before slumping back over his desk, drooling and snoring lightly. Nobody else in the class seems to notice except her of course. Blissfully, she has stopped talking - thinking - and he can finally -

It’s no use. He needs to get out of there. She has invaded his mind and…What if she starts up again with her filthy thoughts that are bleeding into his own and -

Did he hear me? I didn’t actually think…oh god, can he hear me now? What have I done?

Ominis very slowly brings his hand over to where he knows hers is. The quill falls out of her hand and he hears a sharp intake of breath at their contact. His fingers trace her knuckles and then he slowly trails them up her arm. His fingertips are so sensitive that he could swear that he feels every thread that he passes, her skin warm and alive underneath the fabric. Then to her neck, her throat bobs and he feels her erratic heartbeat. Finally, he reaches her face. She remains very, very still as his fingers brush over her features for the first time.

He has never touched someone like this before.

Her skin is like velvet, soft everywhere he touches. Now that he knows what it feels like he’s not sure he can go back to before. His fingers trace the curve of her eyebrows - he finds that her nose is straight before it flares up a tiny bit at the tip - his fingers ghost over her impossibly soft lips. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip as her tongue darts out to wet them. It’s impossibly intimate and the world has melted away and it’s just the two of them in that moment.

He leans forward.

“Ominis, I…” she whispers, stricken.

His hand moves to tuck some of her loose hair away from her face - does she always wear it like this? - and his lips brush against her ear. He inhales deeply, her sweet smell invading his senses. She shivers under his touch and he breathes, “I heard everything.”

[luckycharms1701]

Oh, please, I must know now… Donnie during mating season??? :D I’m loving ur writings about this :)

alright you thirsty purple fans, it’s time!

sidenote: i am. so glad. that people are enjoying these. they’re a lot of fun to write!

double sidenote: i have added a link to my masterpost to all my bayverse mating season headcanons! you can also find them here

sooooo donnie. he's a freak in the sheets, you cannot change my mind. so especially strong spicy warning for this one 🌶️

Donnie is extremely matter of fact about mating season. The first time he brings it up with you, he’s more nervous about your answer than he is shy about explaining what it entails. (You couldn’t hear the words, but you did hear him muttering to himself before he came up to ask you. You suspect it was a pep talk.) He is very thorough when explaining mating season in general and how it affects him in particular. You are grateful and also a little turned on by the time he’s done.

Before you were in the picture, Donnie used to work himself until his system overloaded and he passed out during this time. Now he finds himself working a lot less, because he has you to focus on. He appreciates that you make him spend more time on leisure and don’t let him overwork himself. He also appreciates that you do let him work at least a little when the desire hits. Getting to cuddle with you is a surefire way to get him to rest when he needs it though. As long as you’re nearby, he’s happy to do whatever.

Donnie is a talker in general, but it gets ramped up to 100 when it’s his season. Unless his mouth is busy doing… other things… it’s basically a 24/7 stream of consciousness fest. Mostly it’s about you. How much he loves you, what in particular he loves about you, how exactly he wants to make love to you. His morning star, his starlight, his celestial beauty. Sometimes, though, he’ll interrupt himself to talk about something that just occurred to him about one of his projects. It never fails to pull a laugh out of you and make him rub the back of his neck in (adorable) embarrassment.

He enjoys physical affection and often seeks it out from you, and this holds true during his season. He won’t whine or get grumpy if you don’t want to be touching him all the time (*cough* like his brothers will *cough*), but he does prefer if you’re in contact with him somehow. He enjoys watching movies with your head on his lap and your hand in his. He especially likes it when you're on top of him.

Donnie is used to just taking care of himself whenever necessary, AND he is used to handling delicate things during his season. So there is a lot of gentle manhandling when the time comes. You can't do anything particularly engaging because he will come up and interrupt you whenever to have sex. IF you are wearing clothes at all (not often), you cannot wear underwear or pants, at most a skirt. That way he can just lift it up and enter you whenever the urge hits. He is especially fond of doing this when you're sitting on his lap while he's working (... "daddy's little cockwarmer").

Having you around does not mean that all of his toys go unused, oh no. He is very considerate, and would rather resort to them when you're getting rest. (He got your permission to stare at you while you slept and he used his toys. So considerate.) He also came up with some new toys that the two of you can use together. Having toys custom designed for your pleasure? Well. It really adds to the experience of mating season.

He likes to take his time and study you. He is always coming to you with a new experience he wants to try. He does get a lot of pleasure out of trying new things, but he mostly just wants to know how you'll react. He is intimately familiar with your body and how it reacts, and he wants to see if those reactions hold true when different stimuli are applied. His prodigious brain is always working. He particularly likes when something catches you off guard and a surprised gasp comes out of your mouth.

Donnie is not overtly possessive, even in his season. But there is always one hickey very carefully placed somewhere noticeable that you can't cover easily. He knows just how much force to use to leave an imprint of his hands without hurting you more than you enjoy. And if he catches someone looking at you? You will probably be walking a little funny the next day. When he ties you up (he enjoys tying you up. a lot.), he'll take a minute to sit back and observe you, pleasuring himself to thoughts of how you belong to him the same way he belongs to you.

When his season is over, his favorite thing to do is cuddle with you while the both of you sleep it off. He won't leave the bed, not even to work, until he deems you fully rested. (He will work in bed while you sleep on his plastron though.) His second favorite thing to do is bathe you. He takes his time to make sure every inch of you is clean and cared for. It's a lot like going to a spa, because Donnie did a lot of research into spas so that he could replicate that experience for you. And if you give him a little pampering in return? You'll get to hear him chirp and churr in complete satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic

[dootznbootz]

You can horny post and thirst for Circe and Calypso without making fun of Odysseus, a victim of both, btw. 👍

[overtake]

9 or 77 for the prompts?

9: a broken cocktail glass

I really have no words to explain what it is that I did here. Just .... prepare for an onslaught of terrible photoshop.

JUNE 1, 2023

Transcript of the important pieces of That Video™️:

[Cutting out all the basic introduction of how an escape room works, but please note that Max is staring the escape room guy down as if he'll disappear if he looks away for a single second.]

DANIEL: You’re allowed as many hints as you’d like, but when you take a photo at the end, we will publicly shame you by writing how many you used on the whiteboard. MAX: Do you come in if we need hints? DANIEL: Normally we tell you over a loudspeaker, but ours is actually broken, so yeah. Just press that button and I’ll come in. MAX: I think we’ll need a lot of hints. LIAM: I think we’re a decently smart group. We can do it without hints.

[Max turned around and kind of glared at Liam??]

MAX: No, I think we’ll need a lot of hints.

[He stared at Daniel VERY intensely. Better men have crumbled beneath that stare. Daniel just laughed and bent over a little and clapped his hands together all giddy? Max met his match fr.]

____

[Literally TWO MINUTES into the escape room, Checo found a key that obviously unlocked a chest. Max took the key from him, claimed the key didn’t fit - the camera zoom shows he didn’t even try btw - and put the key in his pocket.]

MAX: I think we need to call Daniel in for help.

[He hit the button before anyone could disagree.]

DANIEL: What’s the problem? MAX: We can’t open the chest.

[Daniel looked REALLY amused. He pointed at Max’s skinny jeans.]

DANIEL: Did you try the key? MAX: What key?

[He covered the pocket of his pants, but not before the camera clearly showed the outline of a key in those skin-tight jeans he always wears. His beloved skinny jeans …. they betrayed him …]

DANIEL: The key in your pocket. MAX: It didn’t work. DANIEL: It usually works better when you actually put the key in the hole. MAX: Put it in the hole. I’ll try that, thank you.

[Daniel rolled his eyes when he left the room, but NOT in a ‘harangued underpaid employee being sexually harassed at work’ way. He was very clearly trying not to smile.]

____

[It’s five minutes into this escape room. May I remind you that they have a full hour to complete this thing? Max looked at a broken cocktail glass, which is clearly intentionally broken. It’s only in two pieces. It’s glued down. The edges are completely dull. He still hit the button].

YUKI: Oh my god, Max. MAX: That could be dangerous!

[Daniel entered the room and walked straight over to Max.]

DANIEL: Yes, Max? MAX: There’s broken glass. DANIEL: It’s decor and entirely made of plastic. MAX: I had to be sure. Safety first.

[Daniel started to walk back out of the room.]

DANIEL: I’m counting this in your hint count, by the way. YUKI: Fuck you, Max.

[The swear words are obviously all censored, but we can all tell what the word is when they’re swearing at Max, which happens quite a lot in this video. Max just shrugged at him. Unbothered king.]

____

[I cannot make this up - he calls Daniel in one minute later.]

CHECO: There’s numbers circled on this poster. LIAM: There’s five numbers and this lock over here needs five. We just have to figure out the order. YUKI: Max, don’t hit the fucking button.

[Max has already hit the fucking button.]

MAX: What order do these go in?

[Daniel rubbed a hand over his beard while he searched for a way to explain to Max that he can’t just give him the answers.]

DANIEL: Do those numbers maybe relate to something else in the room? For example, those books over there? MAX: I don’t know. We could go look together. LIAM: Sorry, do you two just want the room to yourselves? MAX: Yes.

[Daniel just laughed again. He is absolutely immune to Max’s intense flirtatious weirdness. It’s incredible to watch.]

DANIEL: How about you all take a look and see how you go?

[If you’re wondering, the others do figure it out after eight minutes. You put the books in alphabetical order, and the colour of their cover relates to the colour of the number. This was something actually worthy of a hint, but Yuki physically guarded the button so Max couldn’t hit it].

____

[Twenty minutes in. Max is trying and failing to figure out a riddle.]

MAX: I think this must only make sense if you speak English. This game isn’t designed for us. LIAM: Do you want me to look?

[Liam didn’t even finish his sentence before Max hit the button, by the way.]

DANIEL: Having some riddle trouble? MAX: Your game is biased.

[Max started wagging his finger, and Yuki looked like he was contemplating snapping it off. Checo was staring blankly at the corner and seemed to be wishing he were anywhere else.]

DANIEL: Mate, I’m pretty sure you speak better English than me. YUKI: We don’t want the hint. MAX: We want the hint. DANIEL: How about I whisper a hint to Max, and he only gives it to you guys if the rest of you can’t figure it out?

[Max looks absolutely delighted with this turn of events. Daniel cups his hands around his mouth and whispers it into Max’s ear.]

MAX: Sorry, say that again?

[He got away with that two more times, by the way. I actually can’t believe Red Bull left this footage in. Max looked smug as hell.]

____

[After four minutes of the group trying and failing to figure out the riddle, they finally give up and ask Max for the hint. I don’t know why they wasted their time. Max hit that fucking button.]

MAX: I forgot the hint. Sorry. DANIEL: I mean, you only heard it three times. How could you remember?

____

[When Max hits the button again, 27 minutes in, there are audible sighs from even the cameramen in the room.]

DANIEL: Max, would you just like to sit in the observation room with me give out hints? YUKI: Please! LIAM: Yes, he would.

[There are no words in any language to succinctly or accurately describe the pleased expression on Max’s face. The best comparison I have is a cat rolling in a field of catnip.]

NOTE: There’s no footage of what went down in the room. Red Bull included a little pop-up explaining that the cameraman couldn’t fit in the room with them. I think that room could have been the size of the entire paddock and Max would’ve found an excuse to have just himself and Daniel in there.

[The others ask for a hint at the 48 minute mark. Suddenly, magically, the loudspeaker works. No one has to enter. It’s just Max’s bossy voice telling them what to do, in detail, to solve the room, and Daniel giggling and protesting in the background, saying he can’t tell them that. It sounds like there’s a scuffle for the mic after Max drops approximately six instructions, and then it cuts off.]

____

[During the photo of everyone holding the sign at the end, Daniel tries to write a 9 in the “clues used” section. Max keeps erasing it and writing 0 with his own marker, produced from seemingly nowhere. Eventually, everyone takes a photo without the sign and they let Max and Daniel continue their little play fight in the corner.]

____

[Post-escape interviews. They all seem to be in a van on the way back from this adventure. Max is giddy and giggling.]

MAX: That was a lot of fun. I think it went well. I was very good at giving clues. I think I found my job for after retirement. YUKI: It was good when Max left. LIAM: To be fair, mate, we would have lost if Max didn’t give us all the answers at the end. YUKI: I was figuring it out!

[The camera captures Checo for only a second. He’s staring longingly out the window... probably contemplating jumping out of the moving vehicle.]

TLDR: Max is definitely fucking this escape room guy and if Red Bull never does a repeat of this video, I’m joining Max’s agenda against marketing activities.

AUG 5, 2024

[rosesofenvy]

How Far We’ve Come - Music Theory Analysis

[Disclaimer: I went to university for music as a violin primary and have the most confidence with classical strings. I passed my piano proficiency courses, but that is the extent of my piano knowledge. It has been a few years since I have done an in-depth composition analysis of any piece, let alone transcribing a piece by ear and then analyzing it. Music theory has never been my strong suit! Please excuse any mistakes in notation, and any inaccuracies in my transcription or analysis. I did my best and this was purely for fun *shaky thumbs up*]

----------------------

'How Far We’ve Come' by Harlan Guthrie is a duet between Grand Piano and Cello. This piece opens with solo piano, either in a pickup measure or in a single measure of 2/4 before transitioning to 4/4 time in measure 2. Throughout its entirety there are many moments of rubato which have been notated as ritardando and a subsequent a tempo. To most accurately follow the phrasing, listening to the recording is highly recommended.

This piece begins in the key of F#M or the enharmonic spelling of GbM. Although unpleasant to look at with either 6 sharps or 6 flats, depending on which spelling is followed, this key is often used by composers to invoke emotions of a conquest story, evoking relief, triumph, victory, and clarity. As we know from our story in Malevolent so far, this meaning is not lost on us. I have chosen to keep this piece as F#M since that is how I originally began transcribing it. I have also attached the GbM version at the end of the post, however all the analysis follows F#M spelling.

The lone piano begins on the third of our I chord with a hesitant, heavily rubato 8th note pickup into measure 1. The transition from measure to measure in this first phrase gains little confidence, especially with the transition from the pickup into m. 1 as this is the only instance in the piece where the set of 8th notes in the left hand do not lend itself into the next right hand pickup (four 8th notes instead of five). Each lead-in to the downbeat is stretched, pedal held throughout the measure to allow the sound to linger. Each press of the keys is deliberate, yet maintains a mezzo dynamic as the sound fades. m.2 is introduced with a vi chord, creating a hint of unease before resolving in m.3 to a IV(add7). We end our first phrase with a half cadence to a V chord, leading into a V7 as our next phrase begins with a B. 

As we enter our second phrase it is similar to our first with  m.5 beginning with a I chord, m.6 expands our vi chord compared to its first iteration, resulting in a more confident feel as we continue into m.7 with yet another expansion to our IV(add7). M.8 ends this phrase as we reach another half cadence V chord almost V7. 

Beginning m.9 the piece has a few possible paths of analysis, we arrive on a vi chord if we are remaining in F#M, which unlike our other initial starting phrases this throws us into a melancholic mood. There is a possibility of modulation to the relative minor (D#m), however I believe it remains in F#M and utilizes inversions of our chords and will continue with this assumption for the next phrase.

Remaining in F#M, m.10 could be a vi(4/2) inversion, or a I(6/4) inversion. Because Measure 11 moves to a ii chord, I believe it makes more harmonic sense for m.10 to be a vi(4/2) inversion as moving from a I(6/4) - ii is less common than a vi(6/4) to a ii. 

M.11 into m.12 is a fascinating progression. We have a V with the (g) in m.11, then we are descending to a Dnat, A#, E# progression. The Dnat is what has thrown me off the most, as it is a minor chord of sorts but doesn’t exist within our key of F#M, or relative D#m. The E# A# progression I believe is a I(4/2) chord, as it is leading us back into the next phrase. Even spelling enharmonically as a A#, Cx, E# chord it does not naturally occur within our existing key. After many hours of checking theory textbooks, writing out possible modulations, and playthroughs of the chords, I’m choosing to leave this as a V-I(4/2) progression and accepting my loss that I do not know what chord exists in the downbeat of m.12. However, I can say that resolving to something that is not a root tonic further creates this sense of melancholy.

Bringing us to our next phrase at m.13, similar to our previous phrase a vi chord but instead of resolving to an A# it resolves to the root D#. M.14 is identical to m.10 with the exception of the lower octave A#3 before resolving in m.15 to a ii chord until the fourth beat of the measure which leads us into measure 16 - resolving to a IV-V half cadence by the end of the measure. 

Reaching m.18 we are returning to our original phrase. This is where our cello enters for the duet, in which I have some observations about musicality first. As the piano is using a significant amount of pedal to sustain the sound, the cello utilizes a wide vibrato to create a warm sound. Notably, this doesn’t occur as significantly when entering with the lower notes. The cello is confident, encouraging the piano forward and maintaining a solid momentum even with the hesitance the piano has shown. 

M.18 we begin on a I chord, supported by the cello playing a low F# as the root. In the pause between phrases, it's as if you can feel the performers breathing together before they move to m.19, our vi(add7) chord. 

Measure 20 I have quite a bit to talk about. Stacked chord analysis is not my forte (pun intended). From what I could hear, there is a B1, F#2, B2, F#3 in the cello, while the piano continues with a IV(add7) chord. B1 is impossible to play on a cello with traditional tuning, in order to achieve this note they would have to tune their lowest string - their C string - down a half step. The chord B1/F#2/B2/F#3 is also impossible to play on a single instrument. If one cello tuned their C down to a B, then they could feasibly play the bottom chord, possibly the two B’s in octaves. It is possible for a cellist to play an F#/B/F# chord, however it would be uncomfortable and not result in a good tonality with it being a triple stop - but, the second cello could split the chord and play a different combination (F#2,B2 or B2,F#) with success. Other solutions to this could be having a double bass play the pedal B, as it would be within their ability on and remain in the correct octave, or having the piano cover the pedal B. This massive chord then resolves simply to a half cadence V chord in measure 21. 

Entering our last section, m.22, we return to a phrase similar to the beginning, with a confident I chord. With each measure we go to a more traditional chord progression to a V-IV-V in measures 23, 24, and 25 respectively. In an exciting turn of events, we land on a I chord in our final measure. The first PAC in the entire piece, and yet, it doesn’t sound as if the piece is finished. Throughout its entirety, all the phrases have been a form of inauthentic cadence. We end on a Perfect Authentic Cadence, a V-I, it should sound resolved. And yet, it continues on. The notes ring, and if left on repeat (as I have done for this analysis), it makes sense for it to continue. 

In conclusion, I believe this duet is in an general AABBAA format, with A being Major key tonality and B encompassing a minor key tonality. This piece is a conversation, it’s full of emotion and hesitance and is a fantastic representation of everything we’ve seen Arthur and John go through so far in the podcast. I can’t help but think of “I’ve come so far…and I have miles to go before I sleep” with this piece as a reflection of that. This composition is saying “Look, see how far we’ve come, what we’ve done to get here. How we’ve changed and grown.” All this to say, it’s an amazing story and an amazing composition. If you made it this far, I’m glad you came along in this musical journey with me and feel free to add anything I may have missed (or possibly mistaken). 

[god-syndicate-if]

Thanks to everyone for a good "opening" week lol. I'm going to step away from responding to asks and stuff for a bit and give periodic updates. Feel free to keep sending asks though i will slow down on responding to them. Stay tuned! 💖

I'll also be doing the final update on the prologue tomorrow or saturday, i'll make a post when I do that to warn you that you'll have to restart your saves. But all the bugs and grammar errors should be fixed by then.

[ubejamjar]

day 5 - safe harbor

Lucia is Ajisai's closest friend, the only one she goes to when she falls apart.

[thedeadthree]

-ˋˏ .·:·. ⊱ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐛𝐲 @pavus — day one: 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

— 𝐈𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐑 . 𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐃𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀 . 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐒. 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐒.

— 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (mutuals can opt in/out via 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 <3):

@loriane-elmuerto, @carrionsflower, @auricfog, @girliefailure, @sunsofdawn

@risingsh0t, @griffin-wood, @lilywatt, @full---ofstarlight, @grapecaseschoices

@tommyarashikage, @shadowsofrose, @shadowglens, @weisshaupts, @queennymeria

@deadrlngers, @d-esmond, @courtana, @gothimp, @wlwaerith

@unholymilf, @aezyrraeshh, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @shellibisshe, @florbelles

@celticwoman, @neonshrike, @cloudofbutterflies92, @adelaidedrubman, @carlosoliveiraa

@pinkfey, @spookyrares, @yharnams, @aceghosts, @confidentandgood

@theelderhazelnut, @leviiackrman, @ellierenae, @anoras, @lavampira

@dialdrunk, @full---ofstarlight, @imogenkol

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Not to be a total asshole here but if I get one more "I need more! give me more!" comment on my Platonic Sugar Baby Buddie AU, it's going away. It has literally been two weeks since my last update, during which time I've been working on another fanfic, finishing up my second part-time job, working a full-time job, and being an adult with a full life.

I have never experienced this amount of whining in my entire time in this fandom and I can only presume that it's new people to the fandom who have an appalling lack of etiquette.

It's literally people just saying "give me more! I want more! hurry up!" And while none of you are at all entitled to my personal business, it sure doesn't help the depressive episode I'm in that y'all are doing this.

I love sharing my fics with you guys, and I love the enthusiasm and joy that you have for my writing. But the sudden influx of demands for sequels, for specific scenes in fics, unprompted fic, smut, and chapter suggestions, and now just outright demanding like a toddler for an update is disheartening, annoying, and the opposite of encouraging.

Please stop. Please. Please stop.

[becca-e-barnes]

I think too much in real life to fully let myself enjoy some activities so I'm going to live vicariously through the characters I write 🙃

He's here for pleasure. You're not under any illusion about his intentions. Sure, he'll let you snuggle up beside him afterwards, playing with the little soft curls on his chest. He'll kiss your forehead and smooth your hair and you'll laugh together about the silliest things but it's no secret that it's the sex that keeps him coming back.

Secretly, it's exactly what you need too. It works well for both of you. You get someone who has the confidence and experience to show you things you didn't even think you'd be into and you get to simply enjoy the way he gets off on pleasuring you. There's no need to feel shy around a man who's told you his secret filthy fantasies.

"What's one thing you've always wanted to do but have never had a chance to?" You probe one evening, taking your necklace off and placing it on the bedside table, well aware he's probably wearing more of your lipgloss that you are after the way he greeted you at the hotel room door.

You hop onto the bed to take your shoes off, enjoying how the mattress bounces you slightly.

He doesn't answer right away, pouring two glasses of a sweet, chilled Riesling before handing one to you. You take a sip, trying not to put him under pressure but the time he's taking to consider your question makes you even more curious.

"If I tell you, I'd like you to try it with me. So how badly do you want to know?" He stands in front of you and places the glass to his lips and in that moment, you couldn't want anything more than you want to fulfil a fantasy for him. You want to be something he's never had and offer him opportunities to enjoy your body that he might never have again.

"Tell me. We'll do it." You hardly even have to think about it.

"I'd like to lick you. All of you. Run my tongue all over your body. Find what makes you shiver. Find what makes you moan. Find the places that are so ticklish you need me to stop. I want to lick all the places you've never been licked before. If you'll let me." He really could make anything sound appealing.

Excitement fizzles in your core and a real desperation begins to build. Just being around this man makes you wet so you can't help the fact you're ready for him already.

"If that's what you want to do, I'll let you." If you're honest with yourself, you'd probably agree no matter what he asked for. You trust him enough to know he won't take you further than you're comfortable with.

~~~

You knew what you were signing up for but you didn't think it'd feel like this. Why the hell haven't you tried this before?

He's kneeling at the end of the bed, stroking his cock while his hot, wet, stiff tongue flicks gently against your asshole and there's no denying how much you're enjoying the pressure there. You couldn't hide it if you tried. You're so wet, you're practically dripping and it only spurs him on. It's intimate in a way you don't think you'll ever recover from while being one of the most erotic things you think he's ever done. There's nothing to be embarrassed about it when it's clear he's enjoying it just as much as you are. Maybe more.

The way you're gripping his hair has you wondering whether the strain on his tongue or his neck will overwhelm him first but he shows no signs of relenting. That is until he stands up, already looking delightfully over-pleasured and sinks his cock into your fluttering, neglected cunt without a word.

If he goes too fast it's all over and he knows it but he can't resist holding both of your ankles, watching you while he places open mouthed kisses to the soles of your feet, thrusting into you with slow, calculated strokes.

[wizisbored]

🎁

🎁 i hear cowboy au is yours now lets see some progress bro

fuck you im making your cowboys have a playdate with my cowboys

It's already been a long, hard ride through the desert without sight of another soul - live or dead - by the time Beetlejuice spots a figure on horseback. Of course, the immediate suggestion is to rob him blind.

"Suppose he's got just as much concern for others as you do, and he shoots back?" Lydia asks, petting Emily's neck as they watch the man. They've managed to find themselves a vantage point where they can look down on him, but so long as they're not too loud and he doesn't randomly decide to look up they're out of sight.

"He's an idiot," Beetlejuice says. "He's on a draft horse, dressed in black, in a desert."

Lydia looks down at her own black vest. "That felt targeted."

"Dunno what you're talking about." He pauses to tug his bandanna up over his nose. "Anyway, you take the back and I'll go in front."

With that, he goes charging down towards the stranger, Lydia covering her own face and following a second behind. That huge red draft horse stops short as Beetlejuice cuts it off, and both it and the rider turn their heads as Lydia and Emily come in behind them. The horse's ears flick back and it paws at the ground, and the man sets a hand on its shoulder to steady it - the only hand he's got, Lydia realises with a slight pang of guilt.

"Do we have a problem here?" the man asks, his voice tight.

"We won't, if you don't cause any," Lydia says - she figures it should be her turn by now. The horse turns slightly towards her, looking almost like it's listening too. "It's just that my friend and I are a little low on cash, so if you could give us some help there we'll all be on our way."

The man responds calmly, hand still on his horse. "I don't think you want to do this."

"Don't get cocky with us," Beetlejuice growls. "It's a simple puzzle."

But there's something else growling as well. It takes Lydia a moment to realise that it's the horse. It's got its ears pinned back, forelegs splayed slightly, teeth bared and snarling like a dog.

"...The fuck's wrong with that horse?" Beetlejuice apparently can't help but ask.

"Your guess is as good as mine," the man says, and Lydia notices him slowly pulling one foot from the stirup. "But if you make her any angrier than you already have, I won't be able to stop her."

Emily shifts nervously, trying to back away. Lydia rubs his neck. The red horse turns further, almost sideways between her and Beetlejuice now, glaring from one to the other of them as the man shifts his weight, ready to jump off. Lydia wouldn't be too opposed to cutting their losses and getting the hell out of here at this point, but Beetlejuice is showing no sign of backing down. She's not going to be the one to chicken out first. After all, whatever that horse might be, she's got whatever Beetlejuice is on her side.

"We'll take those odds."

She reaches for the gun at her side. It's supposed to just be a threat. Mostly empty. But that threat is what makes everything explode.

There's a white flash, forcing Lydia to throw an arm up over her eyes as Emily stumbles backwards, shrieking in alarm. She uncovers her face just long enough to see the man on the ground beside his saddle, going for his gun, and then Emily's front legs lift of the ground and something takes advantage of that moment of unbalance to barrel into Lydia's side.

Her stomach flips, there's a brief pain in her leg from a boot caught in a stirup, and then for one awful moment she's falling. It's a short shot of fear, just enough time for an alarmed yelp before she's caught. The immediate assumption is that it's Beetlejuice, somehow, but this thing isn't cold.

A split-second later she's on her back in the dirt, a huge, snarling red dog on her chest.

"Hey, no, get off her!" someone yells. Not Beetlejuice, the stranger. And he sounds desperate. "That's just a kid, get off!"

The dog looks up. And it replies.

"Kid with a fancy accent. That loses her points."

Flooded as she already is with adrenaline, Lydia doesn't have the time to be shocked by the talking dog. She rides with a dead man, talking dogs that might have been horses a minute ago are not the priority here. Instead she focuses on finding an awkward angle she can twist her neck into so she can see the two men. And she finds it, just in time to witness Beetlejuice pointing his gun at the stranger, who responds with a hand in the air.

"Get that fucking dog," he spits, "off her."

"I'm trying! Kid, leave her alone!"

"And then what, he shoots you?!"

For a long moment, the dog and the demon glare at each other. Lydia tries to focus on breathing with two huge paws on her chest. And then the dog cocks her head. She looks from Beetlejuice to Lydia and back again, and in a wink of light it's not a dog crushing Lydia's ribcage, it's a redheaded girl about her age. She's got a knife in one hand, keeping the threat alive, but with the other she reaches down to tug Lydia's bandana down. A grubby mit grabs her by the chin, turning her head with suprising strength to meet the pinkish-brown eyes of the girl sat on her chest.

"Don't I know your face, fancy kid?"

"I get that a lot," Lydia wheezes back, seeing an oppurtunity to keep her distracted.

"You've been in the paper, haven't you?"

"Doubt I'm interesting enough for that."

"You-"

The distraction's served its purpose. The girl is grabbed roughly by the bandana, Beetlejuice lifting her clear off his partner and holding her off the ground at arm's length. Lydia scrambles to her feet, gasping for breath. Beetlejuice looks her up and down briefly, quickly taking stock of her condition, before turning his attention back to the squirming girl he's holding.

"Okay, what the fuck is this little gremlin?" he asks. "Some sorta-"

It's not a girl anymore. It's a coyote, and it's flying teeth-first into Beetlejuice's throat. Lydia goes for her gun. And knowing what she does about demons, she only feels a little bad about putting a bullet through the animal's shoulder and into Beetlejuice's. Both of them pause their fight to look at her.

"Fancy kid's got a gun?"

"Yeah, what the fuck, Lyds?"

He grabs the again distracted creature by the scruff and tosses her off him. The stranger immediately gathers her up, fussing over her until he looks up at Beetlejuice, and freezes. The demon flicks curiously at his newly-shredded neck meat.

"Huh. That's a new one."

Lydia looks from her demon to the stranger cradling a bloodied shapeshifter, and grips her gun a little tighter.

"You explain first."