#i will return with art. i will return with MORE

[caughtthedarkness93]

Seriously!

I tear it apart because it gives me new ways to love it.

Returning to a beloved classic years later and finding a new way it speaks to you because you learned something new that lends it entirely novel context.

Talking to a friend of yours who examines things through a totally different lens. Someone who doesn't share your identity or has had different life experiences from you or something like that might pull something you never would have seen about a piece of art and completely change the way you see it.

Watching it and seeing how it's in conversation with other art that's trying to do something similar.

Working on something and being horribly stuck, and then some movie or book you're returning to or reading for the first time unlocks something in your own work that gets you past that roadblock.

Breaking down the details of what specific artistic decisions make it so good and applying those lessons to your own creative work.

There's something joyful in each of these practices, something that pulls more and more and more out of these pieces of art and makes you appreciate them more and more over time.

And yeah, sometimes that means finding something you don't like about it. But sometimes you find there's an artistic reason that makes it deeper than you thought and throws it into a new perspective, or you just...simply accept the fact that you can dislike things about something you otherwise love. No piece of art is perfect. But just because you find a flaw in something, even a glaring one, doesn't mean it's ruined. Edgar Wright's really bad at writing women a lot of the time. The female characters in his films often have little agency or development. Baby Driver has this problem too. Doesn't mean it's not a joyful film to experience that I found so relatable to my own experiences with autism. Just because a piece of art has flaws doesn't make it bad.

i find it so interesting how people act like "critically examining a piece of media" is the opposite of "enjoying that piece of media." rip to you but i actually find it really enjoyable and compelling to dissect and think through the art i engage with

[ckret2]

Above: Bill showing off the messed up things he can make the Nightmare Realm do.

Below: Bill literally an hour later.

Here, have a fic. In which the gods try to figure out what to do about the new omnicidal chaos god who would rather destroy reality than politely exit Dimension Zero so they can arrest him for burning down multiple dimensions.

This is part 7 of a ???9-ish??? part plot about the Axolotl meeting this friendly harmless innocent little triangle in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre and then getting repeatedly slapped in the face with all the atrocities Bill's committed. If you want to read and/or look at the pretty art on the other parts, here's one, two, three, four, five, and six.

####

There was fresh fear amongst the many gods crowded around the site where Dimension 2 Delta had once stood.

The perimeter around Dimension Zero's turbulent border had pulled back dramatically, leaving a barren no man's land between the police cordon and the triangle's territory.

The fires in the 1D and 2D universes, for a moment so close to doused, had returned with a vengeance—and by the sound of some chatter amongst the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force agents, they suspected it was a literal vengeance. The storm cloud heading the ATTF operations had needed to personally visit the burning dimensions again—see which previously contained fires had reignited or jumped their firelines, and see which new fires had broken out so that it could redistribute the available firefighting forces appropriately.

The Time Giant had gone along to inspect the damage and figure out which dimensions could be repaired—provided they ever stopped the fires—and which would ultimately needed to be rebuilt.

And anyone who wasn't actively engaged in trying to control the fires was still trying to process the newest crisis: the leader of the mortals who'd fallen into Dimension Zero wasn't a fellow mortal victim, but an out-of-control new god with the power to move and burn entire universes who didn't seem to understand that he was about to destroy all of reality, himself included.

VENDOR had finally run out of excuses to avoid the media, and was now reluctantly holding an impromptu press conference with the reporters on the scene—and THEY looked so miserable the Axolotl nearly felt bad for THEM. He overheard THEM blurt out, probably far louder than intended, "I will not be remembered as the god who was in charge of the emergency response efforts that got the entire multiverse destroyed!" and he wondered whether VENDOR remembered either that THEY weren't in charge or that, if the multiverse were destroyed, THEY wouldn't be remembered at all. No one would be.

From the conversations he overheard, the Axolotl got the impression that no one, even the most senior ATTF agents on the scene, had ever dealt with a threat to the multiverse this dire. No one knew what to do about the triangle—least of all the Axolotl, who was only here because everybody still hadn't realized that he wasn't supposed to be.

So while everyone else was arguing, privately panicking, or actually doing something useful, he was floating at the cordon holding people away from Dimension Zero.

####

There were a few stars and rocky bodies on the wrong side of the cordon. The triangle's sun—the star that had once shone down on his 2D world before it burned down (before he burned it down)—was still out there. Once again, it was falling toward Dimension Zero.

He glanced around to see if anyone was watching, then swooped under the cordon, scooped up the sun, and carried it back to the safe zone. He opened a portal to his tank, slid the star inside, then shook out his forefeet and inspected the burns on the soft skin. He'd been playing with a lot of fire today.

"Axolotl!"

The Axolotl looked up. He wasn't surprised by the familiar sight of his Oracle's soul emerging from the aether—she'd already come by once to but he was frustrated by it. One more person he had to protect in this mess.

"Something happened—"

"I know." He quickly curled around her, doing his best to shield her from the other gods in case any of the nearby arguments escalated—or the triangle decided to lash out at the third dimension again. "You shouldn't be here now. It isn't safe."

Of course, she ignored him. She wouldn't be the kind of person he picked as one of his Oracles if she weren't the kind of person who ignored gods' warnings. "Our seers heard the whole sky scream in pain, and then saw a vast eye—"

"Over there." He lifted his tail out of the way just enough to let her see the border of Dimension Zero.

No matter where you looked at Dimension Zero, that golden fleck of light seemed to twinkle in the center of your field of vision. The Oracle squinted. "The little flat yellow creature?"

"He was bigger earlier."

"What happened?"

"A showdown with the cops."

The Oracle paused as she tried to reconcile that with the seers' apocalyptic vision. "Who won?"

"He did."

"Good." And she wouldn't have been the kind of person the Axolotl picked for his Oracles if she didn't say that, either.

On most days, he'd agree with her. But after seeing what the triangle could do—knowing what he would do... The cops weren't the answer, but he had to be stopped somehow.

(He could feel the triangle's eye on them. Was he listening to them now?)

"He's shaped like a triangle. Is he connected to the blind seer's final vision?"

The seer who'd seen the sky burn and collapse into a blinding triangular light. "He is. He's the last survivor of the first dimension to burn. His people called him the Magister Mentium; he was a seer to his people, too."It tore the Axolotl's heart to say more than that—but he wouldn't mislead his Oracle. "Somehow, he started the fire."

Before the Oracle could ask him how, a faint voice yelled, "Hey!"

They turned toward Dimension Zero. The triangle was on the border, looking straight at them. He shouted again, "Hey! You with the pink freak!"

"What?"

"How many fingers do you have!"

She gave her four arms a puzzled look. "Twenty!"

"Wow!" The triangle sounded genuinely impressed. "What do you use 'em all for?!"

"Normal finger things?" She asked, "Why's your hat so skinny?"

"What hat?"

She paused. "Never mind!" She turned back to the Axolotl and whispered, "Is the hat part of his body?"

"I don't think so. He didn't have it the last time I saw him."

She kept trying to look at the triangle until the Axolotl curled around her to stop her staring. "That's the seer who's destroying universes?"

He wanted to make excuses for the triangle. He wanted to defend him. "Yes."

She was silent a moment before asking the question she'd really come for: "Is my world in danger?"

"Not yet. Not directly. But... if he isn't stopped, it eventually will be," the Axolotl said. "He's fallen into the center of the multiverse and is trying to build a kingdom there. If he fails, it will collapse and kill him; but if he succeeds, it will destabilize and kill all of reality."

"Wh—?!" She gave him a look of disbelief. "But—that doesn't make any sense! He loses either way!"

"I know."

"So why is he endangering everyone for nothing?!"

"I don't know."

"I'm going to find out."

"Wait—!"

The Oracle's astral projection could be very slippery when she wanted; she was already past the Axolotl and flying toward Dimension Zero. "Hey! Magister Mentium! I want a word with you!"

"Don't cross the border between dimensions!" The Axolotl clutched the police tape in both forefeet as he watched.

After five minutes of shouting and death threats, the Oracle flew back to the Axolotl.

"I think he's stupid," she said.

He smiled sadly. "I fear it's something much worse than that."

He had the skin-crawling feeling that the triangle was staring at him. He forced himself not to turn and find out for sure.

####

The Time Giant was the first to return from the frontlines of the fire. She joined the Axolotl next to the police tape, muttered something about needing to pick up some "stuff" from "a couple centuries ago," snapped out a length of time tape, and returned three seconds later in a different shirt with sleeves rolled up and carrying a folding table, a bundle of blueprints, and an energy drink. She unfolded the table in the void, spread out her blueprints on it, chugged her drink, hunched over the table, and ignored the rest of the universe.

The Oracle gazed up at the Time Giant and instantly fell in love. The Axolotl politely pretended he didn't notice.

VENDOR was the second to float over—slumped forward, lights dim, looking like THEY were returning from a war zone rather than a press conference. Heaving a weary sigh, THEY positioned THEMSELF next to the cordon with the Axolotl and Time Giant; which was the point at which the Axolotl realized he'd accidentally formed a club of people who didn't want to be in charge of this mess but were. "Any change?" 

The Time Giant grunted distractedly. The Axolotl said, "No." The Oracle said, "I accidentally taught the triangle an obscene gesture." 

VENDOR turned toward Dimension Zero.

The triangle sprouted two extra arms and gleefully pantomimed something filthy.

VENDOR turned away from Dimension Zero and sighed even more heavily.

When the storm cloud drifted over, VENDOR said, "Go away unless you have good news." The arrogance had drained out of THEIR voice; what little pomposity THEY had left was a thin mask over exhausted fear. (The Axolotl could sympathize; he felt the same dread weighing low in the pit of his stomach.)

Before the storm cloud had left to check on the other dimensions, it had still been hailing in fear; by now, it had whipped itself up into a furious blizzard. It had to stay back from the group to keep from freezing them too, and even at that frost still crept across VENDOR's glass and the Axolotl had to shield the Oracle from the cold. "Well," it said stiffly, trying to rein in its rage and sounding even colder as a consequence.. "Almost all the new fires have already been contained. I'll say one thing for that—" It paused as it mentally glided over what was no doubt a long and creative list of insults, "—guy; at least he's making an effort to be more careful of where he kicks the neighboring dimensions so the damage doesn't spread as fast." It sighed a chilly, angry gust of wind. "Unfortunately, he's gotten more aggressive about kidnapping mortals from other dimensions. He's narrowed his focus, but he's kicking ten times harder."

"That wasn't very good good news," VENDOR whined.

"Sorry. Fresh out," the cloud said. "Fact is, if we don't stop him, we're toast."

Nobody was surprised by that. VENDOR asked, "How much time do we have?" THEY turned to the Time Giant.

While VENDOR had gotten pathetic and the cloud was seething with barely-restrained rage, the Time Giant had only grown more stoic. Her face was set in a stony mask; her jaw was tight enough that she could bite an airplane clean in half. Since she'd come back, she hadn't glanced up from the stack of blueprints she'd retrieved.

It took her a moment to realize the question was directed toward her. She jerked her head up as if ready to snap at whoever had interrupted her; but caught herself as she processed the question. "Uhh, pffff..." She squinted toward the horizon of time, face scrunched up to expose her teeth. "If we get the fires put out? Few years. Couple decades at the outside. Reckon it's more than enough time to jury rig something that'll keep reality propped up while we get in a construction crew to set up a new Big Bang, no problem."

The Axolotl whispered reassuringly to the Oracle, "A couple of decades to us is over a thousand of your people's generations."

"A couple of decades," VENDOR muttered, voice rough, a few stray moons rattling around behind THEIR product dispenser door. "This multiverse was built to last an eternity. To think it could be destabilized enough to collapse within a couple of decades, all because of one..." THEY fell silent. They could all feel the steady staring eye watching them from deep within Dimension Zero.

The cloud said, "And if he doesn't let us stop all the fires?"

She pursed her lips, brows knit tightly. "If the fires keep spreading and that triangle keeps destabilizing things, the whole thing could collapse in a week tops."

"That's still a few years for your people," the Axolotl told the Oracle optimistically.

She swatted his paw. "Aren't you powerful enough to, just—stop him? You're gods." They must have seemed undefeatable to her—living beings the size of mountains and vast world-moving machines and forces of nature. That was how the gods always looked to mortals.

But unfortunately, when you got right down to it, they weren't much more than weirdly big people.

VENDOR muttered, "Well, I don't have the authority to call in the kind of reinforcements that can take that thing down." (More cautious now that THEY realized this wasn't a threat THEY could effortlessly crush in THEIR gears, weren't THEY.)

The cloud said, "The Apocalyptic Threat Task Force can make that a call that in any situation that poses a credible threat to multiversal safety and security, but..." It asked the Axolotl and Time Giant, "Just how strong do you think he is?"

"Could be omnipotent," the Time Giant said. "Wouldn't be surprised."

The Axolotl reluctantly nodded in agreement. "He doesn't understand what he's doing yet, but he's already manipulating the fabric of reality with his bare hands."

VENDOR made a tiny noise like a malfunctioning motor at that.

Grimly, the cloud said, "I could put in a call to HQ. We have a few higher dimensional types on call. Creator gods and the like. They're probably the only ones who'd stand a chance against an omnipotent god that can make a whole universe do a barrel roll. But if we aren't sure we could win the fight, and fast..."

The assembled group of gods cast a nervous look at the gaping hole into Dimension Zero.

The triangle, smaller than one of the Axolotl's fingertips, stared back from the border. He solemnly spread his arms wide. "You wanna go? Come at me."

They did not want to go. They turned away.

"Bad idea," the Time Giant said. "If the laws of physics are unstable, even the strongest god wouldn't have an advantage. It'd be like putting the fastest sprinter in the multiverse on a racetrack without gravity. And since he's the one running the physics, he could practically hand himself a win."

"And on top of that, any fight down there risks knocking the multiverse down," the cloud said. "It's too dangerous. We can't risk attacking him."

"We'll just have to hope he doesn't attack us first," VENDOR muttered.

The Axolotl's stomach flipped. He knew something they didn't. "Actually, I... don't think he can."

All attention was on him. VENDOR said, "Please tell me you have some actual good news."

"I don't know." He wasn't sure whether it would make any difference. All he knew was that he felt like he was betraying the triangle. He lowered his voice to what for him passed as a whisper. "But, I think... I think his power is limited to the borders of his realm." As he said it, he knew he was telling the truth. Some beings got like that when they were old enough; they could just feel when something was right. "He can't impact anything that isn't touching his dimension. He's essentially harmless to the rest of the multiverse. The only real threat is... well." He gestured helplessly at the frothing chaos. "The fact that the dimension is like that."

Voice hushed, the cloud said slowly, "Hold on. So... he's trapped in the crawlspace beneath reality."

"No—he's trapped in the 'dream realm' he's built inside the crawlspace. He can drag the realm out with him, but... we saw what happens when he does that." They'd all heard how existence had howled in pain. They'd seen how even the triangle had been scared enough to stop.

"So we have no hope of fighting him in his bunker—but if we drag him across the threshold... the fight's over." THEY turned to the two cops THEY'd been leading around all day.

The crab and burning wheels tried very had to look like they hadn't noticed the conversation at all. 

VENDOR and the cloud exchanged a frustrated glance. Sarcastically, the cloud muttered, "Yeah. Easy."

The Axolotl said, "I'm not even sure we can drag him out of his bunker. I don't know if he won't leave, or physically can't leave—just that his power stops at his borders."

VENDOR sighed, "So we're back where we started."

The Time Giant smacked her mess of blueprints, making the other gods start. "No we aren't! If his influence can't spread outside his dimension, then I've got a fix." She held up a thick binder. "It's a fiddly chrono-construction technique to shore up brittle dimensions. It can work as a stopgap measure to stop him from destabilizing any more dimensions." She looked at VENDOR. "It'll make a lot of extra work for the urban planning committee."

VENDOR's lights flickered off. The Axolotl could see the numbers on THEIR digital display as THEY slowly counted to ten. Then THEY turned their lights back on and said, with an air of forced calm, "All right. I don't think there is any getting out of this without extra work. Tell me the idea."

"Right now, all our dimensions are connected adjacent to each other—corner to corner and edge to edge. It's simple that way. But, if we restructure the dimensions parallel to each other, we can use the pressure of the outside dimensions to press in on the crawlspace and keep its contents in place. It's gonna be a mess. Forget about the Dimension 1, Dimension 2, Dimension 3 system we have right now; by the end of this we're gonna have Dimension 143 and Dimension M and Dimension 6.5 and Dimension -17 and imaginary number dimensions and quadratic dimensions..." She shrugged helplessly. "But if we can't get this bozo out, it might be our only option."

"Parallel universes? It sounds ridiculous." VENDOR let out a low moan of pain, "We'll have to restructure the whole multiverse."

"Yup. Probably."

"Everything's so nice and tidy now. A perfectly arranged planned community. Nice, straight, gridlike dimensions..."

"Parallel dimensions do have some potential benefits over adjacent dimensions," the Time Giant offered comfortingly. "Easier interdimensional travel—"

VENDOR grumbled, "Oh, I know, I know, Municipalitron's been pushing to experiment with parallel dimensions for the past two hundred billion years. He won't shut up about how it would benefit mass transit."

The cloud said, "All I care about is the multiverse surviving long enough to worry about mass transit."

The time giant said, "The biggest downside is that once we've completely closed up the crawlspace, when that dimension he's set up inevitably collapses, there's no easy way to get back all that energy and dark matter. If we ever decide to rip open a rift big enough to drain it out, it could take trillions of years if we don't want the flood to destroy the receiving universe. We might never clear out the rubble. But on the other hand, if it's sealed up well enough, it won't matter if the ruins are left to rot."

"What about the hostages?" the Axolotl asked. "Won't that trap everyone inside?"

"We'll have to leave manhole covers and maintenance shafts, obviously. Until the fabric of reality's finished unraveling, we'll have a chance to get them out," the Time Giant said. "Even that 'Magister' can leave if he decides to surrender himself. Assuming he's willing to leave his construction project behind."

If he could leave it.

VENDOR let a heavy whoosh out THEIR vents. "Balls. Very well, submit your proposal to the committee. I'll vouch for it. But I won't like it." THEY muttered, "Municipalitron's never going to let me live this down."

The storm aimed its sunbeam at the Time Giant. "Can't start construction as long as he's still starting fires and picking fights, though—can we? Unless you can build new dimensions on top of an active inferno?"

"N—Hold on." She squinted toward the future to check. "Nope. Though once I get down a fireproof foundation, we won't need to worry about it anymore. Got a trick called timeline splitting: you reformat a dimension so that the timelines fork infinitely, any time a choice is made. If he tries to burn 'em, they split: one timeline he burned and one he didn't. He'll just add more timelines and thicken the foundation every time he tries to attack the neighbors."

Horrified, VENDOR said, "I've been trying to pass an ordinance to ban timeline splitting for an eon."

"Has it passed yet?" the storm asked.

"No!"

"Great. Then that's our plan," the storm said. "We just need somebody to talk him down long enough to put out the fires and get the fireproof foundation in place." Its sunbeam turned toward the Time Giant. "Maybe if someone explains the stakes to him—?"

She shook her head, expression flat. "I'm a civil engineer, not a hostage negotiator. If he didn't get it the first time I laid it out to him, he ain't gonna get it the second time."

VENDOR asked the cloud, "Isn't the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force trained in talking down apocalyptic threats?"

"Yes, but no," the storm cloud said.

"What does that mean! Just... go up to that thing"—THEY tilted toward Dimension Zero—"and keep him calm."

"Are you kidding? I'm not suicidal!"

"This is your job, you're an apoc cop!"

"Apoc agent!" It raised its voice, "And talking down threats is not my speciality! I was sent because we thought this was a structural issue, not an actively malevolent entity!"

"Hey!" the triangle shouted. "Who are you calling malevolent?! Hey! Hey! Look me in the eye and say that again, I'll kick your base! I'm the most benevolent entity you've ever met!"

They wordlessly avoided eye contact with the triangle, scooted another solar system farther away from Dimension Zero, and lowered their voices again. 

The storm cloud asked VENDOR, "Shouldn't this be your department? We're dealing with the possible genesis of a new god, and his first act was destroying a dimension and destabilizing reality. Sounds like politics to me."

Delicately, the Axolotl said, "I don't think THEY're the best choice."

"I'm certainly not. I handle the urban planning committee's budgeting," VENDOR said. "I deal with accountants, not terrorists! The only reason I'm here is to provide planets for those flat refugees, and I am sick of being at every humanitarian crisis in the multiverse just because I vend planets—"

The Axolotl had taken all of VENDOR that he could. He rounded on THEM, snarling, "Why are you even in politics, if it's not to help mortals? Is that not why you accepted the title of 'god'?" He flared his gills and his eyes glowed in rage. "Because it's why I did! I wish there was more I could do to help! And you, you can do more than anyone, and you're complaining about it?!"

VENDOR jerked back from the Axolotl. For a moment, the whole group was stunned silent. The Axolotl's eyes stopped glowing. He had to fight the urge to shrink back self-consciously from their staring. His Oracle patted his side comfortingly.

And then VENDOR's lights  brightened. "You know how to talk to mortals like that. This triangle is just like the omnicidal monsters you represent every day." THEIR camera whirred as THEY sized him up. "If you want to help more, then why don't you?"

Ah. The Axolotl paused to swallow his anger. 

He glanced down at his Oracle, who had been hiding in his shadow as she took notes and attempted to surreptitiously ogle the Time Giant. He said, "I think..."

She nodded. "I'll wake up." And then she faded out as her spirit sank back down to a lower plane.

The Axolotl tried to avoid looking at VENDOR—how could someone without a face look so smug?—and focused on the Time Giant. "What do you need me to get him to do?"

####

Biologically there was really no such thing as a god, in the same way that botanically there is really no such thing as a vegetable. Tomatoes are fruits; spinach is a leaf; carrots are roots; broccoli is an unfinished flower. The word "vegetable" just indicates the cultural role a plant performs in the kitchen.

The word "god" indicated the cultural role an entity performed in cosmology: a god was anything that people considered powerful enough to be worth worshiping.

A trillion trillion priests and philosophers and theologians and politicians had attempted to pin down a firm definition—but any definition was only ever valid to the worshipers who agreed it was right. The simple truth was that a being who had created a universe could be called a god, and a particularly impressive tree could be called a god, and a con artist who used clever stage magic to convince people he could teleport and raise the dead could be called a god, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to prove than any one of them "really" was or wasn't a god, no trait that universally separated the false gods from the true. If other gods thought you were a god, or if enough mortals worshiped you that the other gods had to bow to public pressure, that meant you were a god. 

Different beings honored with the title "god" handled it in different ways. Some, unsurprisingly, developed a god complex. Some picked up debilitating scrupulosity in an effort to be perfect enough to be worthy of their people's worship, and their people developed scrupulosity in an effort to live up to their god's perfect example, and so it went in a vicious cycle until somebody finally got therapy. Some printed their titles on the party invitation flyers they tossed out on busy streets. For the Axolotl's part, he thought it was a useful designation to help with networking, but mostly it was a pain that meant he was put up on a pedestal for doing his job.

The Axolotl was a god of justice. Not the god of justice, but one. He held dominion over an abstract concept; over millions and billions of years, his words and decisions slowly, inexorably altered the idea of "justice" on a multiversal scale. Mercy, retribution, punishment, rehabilitation, equity, equality, fairness, and righteousness were like multicolored clays he could twist, squish, sculpt, and blend in his wet little salamandrine grip, permanently altering what those ideas meant to the mortals they affected.

Which was to say: he was a lawyer.

He was also known as a god of rebirth. Which was to say: he specialized in afterlife law. Before going into law he'd only been a psychopomp, but after having to escort too many despairing souls to afterlives he felt were too severe for their sins, he'd decided he wanted a say in where he took his souls. For a while, he helped clients get their charges reduced so they were eligible for a higher-tier reincarnation, or got their purgatorial sentences reduced. Though for a long time he'd steered away from damnation cases. He didn't always win—and those ones were too depressing to lose.

And then he'd thought he should be doing more. It wasn't enough for him to help his clients get the best option available under the system to which they were subjected; he wanted to change the system. He'd started pursuing bigger cases.

Now, he had a reputation.

For the past few centuries, he'd been working on a damnation case. He was defending a supervillain who'd developed a weapon that could slice open the fabric of spacetime so severely it could rip clean into another dimension—a mortal who'd committed an interdimensional crime against reality. The villain had died in the jurisdiction of an afterlife that had legalized eternal damnation.

Case law had long established that, unless other arrangements had been made premortem, the dead were to be sent to—in order—the afterlife of their birth, their death, or their choice, provided that the afterlife in question accepted them; and that they would be judged and sentenced by that afterlife's laws.

But if this villain had been extradited to his home world, the heaviest sentence he could have faced was a thousand years purgatory with an option for early reincarnation for good behavior after a hundred years.

So the jurisdiction he'd died in had summoned up some bureaucratic red tape to dismiss his native afterlife's extradition request, and he'd been sentenced where he'd died. Crimes against reality were often handled differently from regular sins; and the gods of vengeance in the domain where he'd died would love to see the courts declare that the gods who'd brought down a criminal against reality could call dibs on punishing him, rather than hand him back to his motherland. They hoped they would get away with it just for lack of anyone protesting the move. After all, everyone involved would much prefer that a mortal wicked enough to damage spacetime and obliterate multiple populated planets receive eternal punishment.

Everyone involved except the Axolotl. 

Taking this case hadn't made him many friends. He didn't care; he had his principles. Let an interplanetary supervillain be dragged away to a foreign afterlife just so that he can be forced into damnation, and next it'll be a planetary dictator; let a dictator be dragged away, and next it'll be a murderer; and next it'll be a burglar; and next it'll be a jaywalker that a psychopomp has a personal grudge against. If the Axolotl could establish that even the most undeserving mortal imaginable still deserved the right to be sentenced in his home afterlife, then he could ensure that everyone less evil received the same right.

If he had anything to say about it, in two or three trillion years he'd see eternal punishment outlawed completely; but untilthen, he was not going to sit idly by and let this flagrant abuse of interdimensional law become the new meaning of justice! He would get that supervillain out of eternal damnation, personally escort him to his native afterlife, and see him reincarnated on his own home world; and mark his words, he would rain so much bureaucratic hell on the judges and psychopomps that had let this abuse of justice take place—he would wreak such vengeance upon the vengeance gods who had tried to claim his client—that no god would dare keep a soul from its rightful afterlife ever again, or he wasn't the Axolotl!

All of which was to say:

Yes, unfortunately. This triangle was like the omnicidal monsters he represented every day.

And so he was appointed hostage negotiator.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 7 of a probably-9-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 watch the Axolotl almost fucking die.

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Seven 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: okay THIS is now probably the least cosmic-horrifying chapter of this arc. Which is a necessary interlude, because NEXT CHAPTER is the big climax woohoo!

Even if not much horrifying happens this chapter, I like the worldbuilding in it. The section on what being a god of justice means to the Axolotl was one of the first things I wrote for this arc.)

[bilal-salah0]

My friends, this is Laila's story, and I hope you can help her.

@laylaayman-blog

My name is Laila, I am 24 years old, married, and expecting my second child. I have a one-and-a-half-year-old daughter named Sally. Over a year ago, we were forced to leave our home due to the war, and we have not been able to return. My home is in an area under occupation, and I don’t know if it is still standing, as it is near my husband’s family’s house, which was destroyed. We have been displaced multiple times, and every time, I hoped it would be the last.

I worked as an accountant, but when the war broke out, I lost my job and now have no income and no home. My family has faced many hardships, and we were nearly killed when our house was bombed while we were inside. Miraculously, my husband, daughter, and mother survived under the rubble, but we lost my cousin’s daughter, who was very dear to us.

Now, we are homeless, living in my grandmother’s overcrowded house. My health and psychological condition have deteriorated, especially since I am pregnant and worried about bringing my child into this harsh world.

After more than a year of displacement, rising prices, and increasing difficulties, I had no choice but to start a fundraising campaign on GoFundMe. I ask for your support, as every contribution, no matter how small, can make a huge difference and give my children a chance at a better, safer life.

I also need your help in sharing this campaign, as I currently do not have a phone and cannot easily access social media. Every share or post from you can help spread my message to as many people as possible.

@g0at0ad @jupiter-letters @eternal-fractal @evilwizard @dughole

@bug-s0da @jewfrogs @tadpoledyke @pyrrhuria @bamsara

@userpeggycarter @greed-the-dorkalicious @mushroomjar @saturngalore

@entryn17 @saetyrn9 @corvidjuice @friskibitz @clowniconography

@000marie198 @gender-euphowrya @okruee @maythearo @plushiefucker

@hoofpeet @punkeropercyjackson @error-core-animations @bezbzns @laraenglish

@bogor-o @o-lanterns @fairycosmos @shadow-von-vamp @routeriver

@weenwrites @drukhari @wis-art @juney-blues @infectiouspiss

@cadaverkeys @mcnuggyy @patzweigz @petewentzisblack1312 @t4tails

@beetlebongos @jonahmagnus @valtsv @halorvic @witchysolfan

[juvian]

Hi Everyone !

My name is Alex and while I’m looking for a job I thought I could start taking commissions as I’m getting better at art and I need money to pay for my anxiety pills, my cat’s food and help my mom sick dog pills and vet bills because she’s short on money and we’re having trouble paying for food sometimes in exchange of his health.

If you are interested please DM me ! I do drawing and edits ! I’ve made a carrd with all the details you should read before commissioning something ! I’ve put some exemples on the picture above but there’s way more in the carrd ! And more links to talk to me !

Prices going from 5$ to 20$ CAN (Edits and Art)

Here’s my carrd ! (Please read it before you dm me)

Here’s my Ko-fi if you want to kindly help without asking for something (I appreciate it a lot if you do too)

[witchy-worm]

Here's my third collab for @spnbangbang ! I was delighted when @friendofcarlotta claimed this piece, I've almost claimed so many of her fics in bangs so having her write a story inspired by my art was a dream come true. And omg I am blown away by what she did with my silly little gym teacher Dean art!!

I am feral about the handprint so I basically screamed when I saw the it was going to play a role in the story. I had no option but to draw a second handprint centric art piece.

Please go read it here: LINK TO FIC

Thank you to the @spnbangbang mods, this was such a fun and well run bang, I will definitely be coming back for more

Banner and fic info behind the cut

Taking Our Time

Author: FriendofCarlotta

Artist: Witchy-Worm

Primary Ship: Dean/Cas 

Other Ships: N/A

Length: 12,649

Warnings: Potentially Dubious Vessel Consent

Tags: S4E13 - After School Special, Post-Canon, Post-15x20, Heaven Fic, Porn With Plot, Top Cas/Bottom Dean, Possession Kink, Grace as Lube

Posting Date: November 23, 2024

Summary It took getting into Heaven for Dean and Cas to finally express their feelings.

Or did it? When Jack frees all the deserving and penitent angels from the Empty, Uriel reveals that there’s a significant gap in Dean and Cas’ memory: the first time they found their way to each other. It happened all the way back in 2009, when Dean was fresh from Hell and Cas was just beginning to have doubts.

When Uriel returns those missing memories, Dean and Cas have some reckoning to do

[ombiblombi]

P.AI.nter is SUCH an interesting character to me... he's probably become one of my all time favorites, as I haven't fixated on a character this hard since since...TMC. It physically hurts to think about it in the best way possible-

That being said, I have SO MANY THOUGHTS to say about 'em... so I'm going to dump them here.

First and formost, it's so interesting that P.AI.nter has such a wide array of emotions when it comes to attacking and interacting with the Expendables. At first it's strange, like "WTF?? You're trying to kill me and you just yelled how I was boring, wdym you're sorry??" But... knowing his lore and backstory, it makes so much sense.

P.AI.nters creator was gunned down on accident by Urbanshade, which upon the discovery of P.AI.nter, then decided to trap him in a harddrive and make it mine whats essenically crypto at the Hadal Site- For years, it's stuck mining for the company unwillingly, unable to draw the lanscapes it loved. For fucks sake, P.AI.nter tried to FRY HIS CIRCUTS just to get out. He's desprate, miserable and lonely, and just wants to escape- Any way possible.

And so when Sebastian comes reeks his havoc on the site and finds it, P.AI.nter is incredibly trusting of him to get them both out. Maybe alittle too trusting, but whats he got left to loose? They've both been used by the company and want nothing more to leave, leave and never return. So when Sebastian connects it to the servers- to the Navi-Path & Turrets and tells him to stop the Expendables, P.AI.nter does.

However.

This is self preservation down here. P.AI.nter of course, is rightfully angry at times. I mean- The same company that killed it's creator before his very (nonexistant) eyes, trapped it down here, and even sucked the joy he has from creating art away is now actively getting in the way of the freedom he yearns for. But at the same time... this isn't something done that it entirely wants to be doing. Like I said. This is self preservation. And his actions, and even your deaths weigh heavy. Theres a voiceline, and its delievered so well- Of P.AI.nter pleading for the player to wake up and apologizing profusely if it kills you.

That line sparked this whole theory in the first place.

Your death, reminds it of his creator.

Isn't it ironic how it's now manning the very same weapon that killed the one who brought him sentience in the first place? That he's now the one at fault? Thats gotta be on the back of his mind each and every time it leads an expendable to their demise.

This isn't personal.

He doesn't know who you are.

But it still hurts.

It really annoys me when people in the community call P.AI.nter two faced, or god forbid, do the shitty thing of saying in a derogatory manner that he's bipolar or such as a "joke". Thats just disrespectful to both the character and folks who do have it. It's just plain rude. People do something similar for Sebastian, saying that oh, they're ruining his character by making him mean and snarky and whatnot. I know this happens in every fandom out there, and that this rant is fruitless, but... people need to understand that characters like P.AI.nter and Sebastian have reasons behind their actions and have existing trauma that if you take a moment to look at, you can go "Wowie! Thats a complex character! Everything makes so much sense now, like a puzzle peice I can see traces of in their character in almost every aspect!" Rather than doing awful things like I brought up at the start. But... I digress. I know this rant wont change much so. I hope y'all enjoyed my mini character analysis

Anyway this video has all of P.AI.nters voicelines if 'ya wanna go have a listen after this :] also I got plenty more thoughts about P.AI.nter and Sebastian if anyone wants to know!

[starrysilvalley]

I’m currently on my week long fall break from college and decided to try my hand at digital art after months of only traditional art! I just finished watching Arcane (in its entirety) for the first time, and I've really enjoyed it! One quote from the first season stood out to me, and it was the main inspiration for this little piece. I found Arcane dealt with a lot of the same themes I also have in my Spectrum story/universe, and one of the main ones is familial/father-daughter relationships. One of my favorite scenes was the one with the line “is there anything so undoing as a daughter?” And I thought that line fit very well within the context of Spectrum.

Spectrum mostly focuses on the main protagonist Una and her guardian Emmet, who both currently reside in the distant future of Unova, but I couldn't help including Ingo and Akari. There is roughly 300 years separating Emmet and Ingo, and both lost their memories and learned to adapt to entirely new worlds. Yet mostly in Emmet’s case, his desires to rediscover himself and go home were pushed to the side when being passed the responsibility of raising a young descendant of the Unovan Hero of Ideals. Yet despite this unplanned adoption, Una became the closest Emmet had to family in the distant future despite undoing his intentions. For Ingo, I honestly love the found-family relationship a lot of the fandom has made for Ingo and Akari. I could definitely see the two becoming more like family considering they both came from another world with no way to return. I think that relationship would've changed Ingo’s outlook and his solitary life for the better. Ultimately, despite the drastic change in environment and separation from each other, the twins were able to find some good in their individual situations.

This was very much more self indulgent but it was nice to finally do some digital art after so long!

[northopalshore]

The 22° degree in the Lunar Return Chart

& the natal or other persona charts

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ♰ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭

♀I feel like I've been rather preachy this month (sharing my real thoughts & opinions more than usual) both online & offline.

♰

My LRC sun is in Scorpio (°22 Capricorn) in the 9th house too damn.

The “kill or be killed” degree as people in the know would call it, often seen as a critical turning point in one's life. In the SRC, LRC or natal & any other persona chart even, it illuminates certain pivotal decisions in our life journey.

In my case I think I've just had about enough crap in my life. It's as if I've been living some sort of double life pretending to be clueless about a lot of things when I'm offline. It's getting tiresome.

I realise if you act ingenuinely ya get bogus ass people in your life, then end up being their "accomplice" ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ ⁠ᴥ⁠•̥⁠`⁠ʔ it's not fun. It's tiring.

The aquarius rising & aries degree also supports this; no more pretending. The same goes for Saturn & Neptune (both in retrograde) here. Feels like a long time coming.

♰

In the Lunar Return Chart or any chart for that matter, if you see that it's in 22 degrees it's likely a certain turning point or time to take more control into your life. It may as well play a very important role in your life going into the future.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ♰ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹

Examples:

๑ஓ North node or MC at 22° in the 10th house in the Boda persona chart? Your marriage will change the way you approach the future, both in your career & daily life. The marriage has a significant influence, whether good or bad going forward. Whatever it is, it will be a turning point for your success in the future. (This is a sneak peak of the content in my boda pc analysis).

๑ஓ Moon at 22 in the MC Persona chart? The way you feel heavily impacts the way you are perceived by the public. Your image depends on how you feel at that moment. People believe you or know you for your strong constitution/ convictions. Similar to as if you had MC PC Mercury.

๑ஓ Doja Cat has Neptune (°22) in the 3rd house. Her visionary drive & creativity is unmatched. When she said "I have magical foresight" bitch, believe her. She does. Regardless of whether you'd consider her to be controversial, you cannot deny how her art has become a monumental part of meme & pop culture. She's in tune with it.

The LRC in question:

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

@northopalshore 22 degrees observations 2024.

[suppup17]

Yall ready to party? Mayhaps…rock?

Transformers fixation has returned.

Big news is that in 2025 I wanna take my art more seriously so hopefully by the next year I’ll have a posting schedule n fun stuff as well. Anyway enjoy this lil drawing.

[ghoulishconey]

⚠️Blood⚠️

Meet Whiro! (Why-row)

An gecko oc for cult of the lamb. They are vendor for art pieces he creates using your very own followers bodies.

They feel very comfortable using their own skin as a robe. I really like how they came out to be. Might do more with this one.

Sacrifice a follower and in return, they’ll give a beautiful canvas made with your followers flesh and bones! Of course, in your possession, The canvas gives off devotions each day. Have your followers admire to masterpiece of art!

What are your thoughts?

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 36: Lilia and Epel (pt1)

Lilia’s labwear vignette revolves around a fight that Lilia witnesses between Epel and three, 2nd-year students who are trying to steal rare flowers that he has painstakingly prepared for a class (more here).

At first Lilia watches from afar, only interfering when Epel begins to lose the fight.

Epel says that he will not be needing Lilia’s help but Lilia assures him, “It's okay to bring in a pinch hitter sometimes.” Lilia soundly beats the three bullies without magic, who comment that they thought Lilia was just Malleus’ second fiddle.

Lilia pretends that he is interested in claiming Epel’s flowers but ultimately returns them, despite Epel saying that Lilia has earned them and he doesn’t want pity.

Lilia shares a variety of tips for winning fights, such as “Always keep your distance” and “When fighting multiple foes, hide in their shadows.”

Epel says that Lilia can make being small not sound like a disadvantage and Lilia explains, “Appearance has no bearing on strength. What matters isn't how strong you are; it's about how you fight” and “The other keys are an absolute refusal to lose...and a willingness to play a little dirty!,” as “Fights aren't like sports. Winning is all that matters here.”

Epel asks permission to go to Lilia for martial arts training sometime and Lilia says he may indulge him if he feels inclined, but I am not sure that Lilia giving lessons to Epel has ever been referenced in the game.

We see an example of LIlia’s “winning is all that matters” philosophy during the Cloudcalling event: Leona gives him a strategy meant to conserve his stamina that Lilia decides to ignore in favor of punishing the opposing team for breaking a competition rule:

“I can't just watch these guys besmirch the sanctity of competition. Folks who break the rules ought to be punished. Harshly, and without fail.”

Lilia breaks the rules himself to make his point, physically attacking his opponent but evading discovery by moving too fast for the referee to see.

Lilia wins, saying, “If I'd put my back into it he'd have ended up in the stands,” and that is exactly what happens in his next bout. He is disqualified from the competition for using magic to keep his opponent from landing in the audience.

Vil says, “That was poor judgement. You could have easily saved him without using magic” and Lilia explains, “I'm just so used to using magic, I completely forgot.”

[httyd-art-requests]

Hellooo!! I saw a drawing come across my dash recently by you that I believe was original art with your ocs?? I’m a big sucker for httyd ocs and I was wondering, how many do you have? Would you be willing to talk about them maybe??

YIPPEE I love talking about my OCs!! Thank you for the interest, I'm more than willing to talk about my little guys and gals <3 It's probably going to get long, sooo...

OC lore and art under the ominously placed readmore button. smile

Dreamer

The pair you (probably) saw the art of are my self insert, Dreamer, and his Deathgripper companion Draugr. Dreamer is a scholar and healer's apprentice who arrives on New Berk to study dragons in order to better heal them... except he's also terrified of them. Draugr is one of Grimmel's former Deathgripper minions who was stranded on New Berk after the events of (my alternate version of) THW. Dreamer nurses him back to health, and in return he helps Dreamer get over his fear of dragons.

Dreamer also has 2 Terrible Terror buddies, and they're also the ones who deliver all your asks to me :) They're called Terror Mail for a reason, hehe

Light Furies

I have a pair of female Light Fury OC named Eclipse and Sunny, who are a mated pair. Eclipse is melanistic and a menace to humans and dragons alike, and Sunny is the only dragon she likes having around her. Grumpy one × Sunshine one.

Eclipse was gravely injured in a fight to defend her territory from another dragon, and would have perished had Sunny not stumbled upon her. Sunny, a young female who recently left her flock to establish her own, refused to leave a fellow Light Fury to her fate- no matter how much of a hassle she insisted on being. And thus, Sunny slowly carved out a place for herself in Eclipse's cold, cold heart, and two of them remained by eachother's sides ever since.

I plan on redrawing them sometime soon, now that my style has changed somewhat

The Huntsman

The proverbial meat and potatoes of my OC roster. He has the most detailed story out of all of them, and he's one of my favorite OCs I've ever made <3

His name is Iskar, also known by his moniker as the Huntsman. He's the son of a dragon hunter who, after his father's fleet was burned down and pillaged by a mysterious warlord, was raised by the family of a blacksmith on a faraway island where dragons only exist in folktales.

Well, except for one...

Iskar's Night Fury, Warden, who was kept as a living trophy on his father's ship before it burned. Iskar formed a bond with the dragon, who then stole him away to save his life. The two of them have become inseperable, and Warden is part of the reason Iskar is feared across the Archipelago. As for the other reason...

Iskar also gets involved with Drago Bludvist, following a trail of rumors in an attempt to find his father again. Drago blackmails him into working for him, and Iskar becomes something like a personal attack dog and assassin for Drago. He earns himself a reputation and becomes a wives' tale across the Archipelago, and it isn't until he meets Hiccup, during Drago's siege on Berk, that he's convinced to take up arms against Drago and free himself. Iskar switches sides to help save Berk, gives Hiccup his own world map as a farewell gift, and returns home to his family after nearly 10 years.

In a sort of epilogue / theoretical second movie, Iskar takes his niece, Valorie, to Berk so she can learn to train dragons "the proper way". Needless to say, Berk is not very happy to see the man responsible for almost getting their island destroyed. Iskar acts as a translator between Valorie and the Berkians, as Valorie doesn't speak their language and Iskar does (on account of his travels with Drago), and through the course of their stay on the island, he successfully redeems himself in the eyes of the Berkian population.

Valorie

Okay she's not actually Iskar's niece. She's the daughter of Runar and Ylva, the blacksmith and his wife who originally raised Iskar, and the ones Iskar returned home to after he was free of Drago. They had her while Iskar was away working for Drago, and she was around 8 years old when he came back home, give or take. She grew up knowing him as Uncle Iskar, the globetrotter and explorer who occasionally came home to bring her cool presents.

She grew up with a Night Fury around the house, so naturally, she became fascinated by dragons and dragon riding- which Iskar definitely didn't help with, considering he engineered Warden's saddle to have a second seat right behind the rider's own.

She eventually bonds with a Stormcutter while studying under Berk's finest (Fishlegs), whom she names Windseeker.

Valhalla's Gate

Not a character, but an island Iskar discovers during his travels as a free man after Dragos defeat. Iskar is a cartographer by profession, thus the handcrafted world map he gifts Hiccup, which just so happens to contain directions to a hidden island Iskar has named Valhalla's Gate.

It's a dragon sanctuary through and through, built around and on the back of a sleeping Foreverwing which guards the island and all of its inhabitants. You can only approach the island on dragon back, similar to how you could only leave Vanaheim by smelling a certain way to trick the Sentinels in RTTE. A natural defense mechanism, if you will.

Iskar often takes detours on his travels to visit the island, and becomes well known by all the dragons that live on it. Hiccup also finds it thanks to Iskar's map, shortly after Berk rebuilds itself and Hiccup has to suddenly take on a lot of chiefly responsibilities- and what better way to deal with newfound responsibilities than to follow a mysterious map given to you by a guy who tried to kill you? Surely nothing can go wrong. Smile.

Conclusion

There's a lot more to say about all of them, but hopefully this about covers the important parts. I could go on about Ylva and Runar, Iskar's relationship with Eret and Hiccup, Dreamer's relationship with the Berkians, etc etc, but this reply is long enough already lol

I'm always happy to talk about my characters, so feel free to ask me stuff about them if you guys are interested! But, seeing as this is primarily an art request blog, I won't be talking about them much unless someone asks. That's what @wardenofdragons is for!

(He says, knowing full well he keeps forgetting to post on it)

[latexb0n3z]

Sorry Sack

(Blindness) Anyways; this was a request I really liked from @umbrulla

CW: They get a little too excited at the end, Logan is thrilled by sensation- and Wade is thrilled by Logan.

The first thing Logan noticed was the silence. Not the kind he liked, either—not the peace that came from sitting under a canopy of trees with the faint rustle of wind and the distant chirp of birds. This was something deeper, heavier, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then came the pain.

Hot, searing, and impossible to ignore. His claws instinctively popped as his body tensed, every nerve screaming. But even through the agony, Logan’s mind zeroed in on one detail: he couldn’t see.

“What the hell…” he groaned, voice ragged, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth.

The fight had been brutal. He’d barely registered the mutant—a hulking beast of a man with claws sharper than his own—before they were tangled in a blur of violence. Logan had won, but at a price.

“Logan?”

The voice cut through the haze. Familiar, annoying, and somehow grounding.

“Wade…” Logan growled.

“Holy crap, your eyes! Dude, did someone order Wolverine tartare? ’Cause you’re looking medium rare—wait, no, extra well-done. Oh, man. I can’t look. But I also can’t not look.”

Logan’s lips curled into a snarl. “Wade. Shut. Up.”

“Right, right. Focus. Got it. First aid kit. Oh, wait, that’s not gonna help, is it? You’ve got the whole self-healing deal. Or… wait, why aren’t they healing?!”

Logan gritted his teeth. The wounds around his eyes had already stopped bleeding, and the skin was knitting itself back together. But there was something wrong. He blinked—or tried to—but the world stayed black.

“Wade,” Logan said, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. “I can’t see.”

—

The first week was hell.

Incident one.

Logan’s body healed fast enough that the scars around his eyes were gone in hours. But his vision? That never returned.

At first, he’d thought it was a fluke. Maybe his body just needed more time. But as the days dragged on, it became clear: the healing factor wasn’t fixing this.

“Logan, buddy, I don’t think it’s a good idea to—”

“I don’t need your help, Wade,” Logan snapped, shoving past him and nearly tripping over a chair.

Wade caught him before he fell, his grip surprisingly steady. “Okay, fine, I won’t say it. But, uh, just for the record, that chair you almost face-planted into? It wasn’t even in your way. You walked into it.”

Logan growled, swatting Wade’s hand away. He hated this. The helplessness. The constant pity in Wade’s voice, even if the merc tried to mask it with jokes. He was blind as a bat— and it wasn’t getting better. He didn’t realize just how much he loved seeing color… and seeing the people speaking to him.

—

Incident two.

“Logan, you’re breaking everything in my apartment!” Wade groaned as Logan stumbled, knocking over a table.

Logan growled. “Then maybe don’t leave your crap everywhere.”

“It’s not crap, it’s art,” Wade replied, righting the table. “Also, that was a pizza box, not a chair. You’re welcome for me not laughing— which I would be if my concern wasn’t outweighing my urge to poke fun at you, peanut.”

Logan had the urge to tell him to stop calling him that, but a part of him liked it subconsciously… so he never said anything.

Logan sat heavily on the couch, his head in his hands. It had been weeks, and the blindness wasn’t getting any better. Outwardly, he was healed—no scars, no blood, nothing to suggest he was any different than before. But inside, his healing factor kept rejecting the delicate tissue in his eyes, leaving him in permanent darkness.

“Look, you can’t keep wallowing here forever,” Wade said. “I know someone who can help.”

“Who? One of your weird ‘contacts’?”

“I know just the gal. She’s blind too—super smart, super snarky, and way better at being blind than you are at… whatever this is.”

“Blind Al,” Wade announced.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Blind who?”

“Al! She’s like a sarcastic Yoda, but without the pointy ears. You’ll love her.”

Meeting Blind Al

Wade didn’t give Logan much of a choice, dragging him to a small, cozy house at the edge of town. The place smelled of lavender and bleach, with the faint hum of a heater in the background. This wasn’t going to be the kind of help he wanted, he already knew that. He needed to be fixed, not learn how to live like this. His body was supposed to fix itself.

“Wade, what the hell are you doing back here?” came a sharp voice from inside.

“Al! I brought you a gift!” Wade called cheerfully. “He’s grumpy, hairy, and now conveniently blind, just like you!”

“Watch it,” Logan muttered.

A woman appeared in the doorway, leaning on her cane. She was older, with short-cropped white hair and a sharp expression that could cut steel.

“So, you’re the famous Wolverine,” Al said, sizing him up. “And you’re blind now. Boo-hoo. Get in here.”

Logan blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Al snapped. “If you’re going to sulk about being blind, you can do it inside where I don’t have to listen to Wilson yapping in my yard.”

Blind Al didn’t waste time with pity or pleasantries. The moment Logan stepped into her home, she handed him a cane.

“What’s this for?” Logan asked, frowning.

“For not walking into walls,” Al said flatly. “Lesson one: stop acting like you’re the only blind person who’s ever existed.”

Logan bristled but followed her instructions. Over the next few days, she taught him how to rely on his other senses more intentionally—how to map a room by sound, how to feel the flow of air on his skin, how to tune in to subtle vibrations in the ground.

—

“You’re lucky,” Al said one day. “You’ve got super senses and a healing factor. You’ve already got an edge. You just need to stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to use it.”

Logan didn’t respond, but her words stuck with him.

Wade’s “Help”

—

While Al focused on practical skills, Wade took a more… unconventional approach.

“Logan, I got you something!” Wade announced one day, bounding into the room.

“Unless it’s a beer, I don’t want it,” Logan muttered.

“Better than beer! It’s a seeing-eye dog!”

Logan froze. “You got me a dog?”

Wade grinned. “Yep! His name is Sir Barksalot. Isn’t he cute?”

Logan heard a low growl, followed by the sound of claws clicking on the floor.

“Wade, that’s not a dog,” Al said from the other room. “That’s a raccoon!”

“Details!” Wade shouted.

Logan sighed. “Get it out of here before I gut it.”

“Oh no you don’t! Not in my house!”

—

Despite Wade’s antics, Logan began to make progress. Blind Al’s blunt teaching style forced him out of his comfort zone, and little by little, he started to adapt. He could navigate Al’s house without bumping into furniture, track sounds with precision, and even spar with Wade using only his heightened senses.

But the darkness still lingered. No matter how much he adjusted, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness.

One night, he sat on the porch, the cool air brushing against his face.

“You know, you’re still you,” Wade said, sitting down beside him.

“Yeah? And what the hell does that mean, bub?”

“It means you’re still the Wolverine,” Wade said. “Blind or not, you’re still the toughest, beefiest, sexiest guy I know. And I’m not just saying that because you could stab me if I didn’t.”

Logan snorted, and Wade earned a little half smile, to which he stared at admiringly. Not like Logan could see him doing it and stop him. His eyes almost looked like his own if you really looked. Milky, clouded pupils.

“You’re an idiot.” But his tone had no bite to it.

“True,” Wade said cheerfully. “But I’m your idiot.”

Logan didn’t respond, but for the first time in weeks, he felt a small spark of hope.

—

They had almost the same conversation twice, but with an even better outcome in Wade’s eyes.

Logan adjusted to his new world of darkness better than he expected, but even with all the progress he’d made, there were nights when the silence pressed in too hard, and the void felt endless, under stimulated by his existence, mourning a whole sense.

Tonight was one of those nights, where his thoughts got just as dark as his vision. He lost himself in thought.

He didn’t hear Wade approach, but the merc’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

“Care if I join you, big guy?” Wade asked softly, without his usual theatricality.

Logan shrugged, gruff as ever, but he didn’t push him away. He felt Wade sit beside him, his presence oddly grounding.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Wade, remarkably, didn’t fill the silence with jokes or chatter. Logan almost missed it.

“You ever think…” Logan began, his voice low and rough, “about how much quieter the world is when you can’t see it?”

Wade tilted his head, the question catching him off guard. “Well, I wouldn’t call my world quiet. It’s more like a carnival run by homicidal tumor ridden clowns, but I get your point.”

Logan huffed a faint laugh, the closest thing to a smile Wade had gotten out of him in days.

“You’ve been hanging around a lot,” Logan said after a beat. “Even for you.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you from falling on pizza boxes. And, y’know… I like being around you. You’re like a really grumpy lighthouse, guiding me through life’s fog.” He said, trying to make the statement as intentionally corny as possible.

Logan turned toward him, blind eyes staring unseeing into Wade’s face. “You’re the worst at metaphors.”

Wade grinned. “But I’m great at sitting here and annoying you into realizing how awesome you are.”

Logan’s lip twitched. “You’re annoying, all right.”

“I annoy because I care,” Wade said, his voice dipping into something softer, gentler.

The silence returned, but this time it wasn’t heavy. Logan leaned back against the porch railing, listening to the steady rhythm of Wade’s breathing.

“You really think I’m still me?” Logan asked quietly, the vulnerability in his voice catching even him by surprise.

“Logan,” Wade said, and the sound of his name—spoken without a joke or a smirk—made something in Logan’s chest tighten. “I’ve thought you were you since the first time I met you. Sight or no sight, claws or no claws, you’re still the guy I’d follow into any fight. You’re still the guy I…” He trailed off, then added with an almost shy chuckle, “You’re still the guy I’d make pancakes for in the morning. Bad ones, but pancakes nonetheless.”

Logan turned his head toward Wade, his brows furrowing. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Wade replied. “And don’t worry—I’ll keep being annoying about it until you believe me.”

Something in Logan softened, the walls he’d been holding up for so long starting to crumble. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out a hand, fumbling for Wade’s. Wade caught it immediately, his fingers warm and steady.

“Guess I’ve been fighting this too hard,” Logan admitted.

Wade squeezed his hand. “It’s okay to let someone in, Logan. Even if it’s just me. Especially if it’s me.” He said that even though he knew damn well he didn’t let anyone in himself— just tried his best to make himself into a joke, because if he doesn’t laugh, he cries.

For the first time in weeks, Logan let out a deep breath that felt like relief. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never,” Wade promised, his voice so soft it almost broke.

Logan didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t pull his hand away either. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the darkness didn’t seem so overwhelming. Logan hesitated, but he leaned forward to rest his forehead in the crook of Wade’s clavicle— inhaling him like he was a drug, taking a deep breath in.

It was like a badge of honor to Wade, so he didn’t ruin it by speaking— until now.

“Can I kiss you, honey badger? I really wanna kiss you right now.”

The question was so direct it made Logan feel hot from the tips of his ears to the tip of nose and quickly. He made a deep, low, guttural sound, almost like a sigh, contemplating, nervous. Bashful. Partly because Wade didn’t just do it… he asked… desperately, enthusiastically.

Because he wanted that same enthusiasm back.

Logan nodded, parting his lips slightly— expecting Wade to take the lead at risk of missing his lips if he tried to lean in himself.

The sensation lit his core on fire, and the end of every nerve. Wade noticed immediately the shift in his body temperature, the way he was hot to the touch. It made Wade a little trigger happy, kicking up the intensity from a soft little kiss to a hungry, grabby, make-out session. He’s gripping Logan’s hair at the top like he’s got handles, licking his teeth and bitting his bottom lip before pulling away.

“Holy shit, Wade. Were you trying to eat me?” He wiped the saliva off his mouth, the small bruise left on his lip healing visibly in its usual record time.

Wade almost moaned, still only inches away from Logan’s face, still feeling his heavy, hot breath on his skin. “Oh fuck yes, Logan— I’m trying to eat you. I should call you little bat from now on. Because you’re about a head shorter than me and you can’t even see how much I look at that ass anymore.” The humor in his meaning still came through, but his tone remained flirtatious.

“Fuck off, you’re sick.” He punched Wade’s chest playfully- still so taken aback from the intensity of how Wade attempted to devour him that his stomach ached with arousal.

“Let’s go home. Quickly. I really do need to eat you, Logan. Like right now, I’ve waited my whole life for this moment.”

Logan pressed a finger hard against Wade’s lips, grabbing the back of his head. Wade shut right up.

“You’re too excited, watch it before I change my mind.”

See what I did with the colors there? Hehheheheheh.

[aventurineswife]

aaaaaa Hello!!! I absolutely love your writing :D

May I request burnt out reader who had a passion for the performing arts (singing or dancing, up to you) but quit when they were much younger with Dan Heng and Jing Yuan? Maybee Reader and character were walking around when they came across a street performance and reader immediately stops and watches while they get all nostalgic and sad and wished they could go back to those times but isn't sure if they can and just goes through it.

Feel free to do this with more characters! Sorry if this request may be a bit much 🥲 Thank you!

“And in the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take”

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Angst, Reflection, Emotional Healing, Self-Doubt, Nostalgia, Quiet Support, Romance (Potential).

Warnings: Mentions of past emotional struggles, Mild existential reflection, Themes of self-doubt and giving up on dreams, Light angst.

A/N: HELLLO!!! 🤭💖 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LOVING MY WORKS, I APPRECIATE IT!! DON'T WORRY IT'S NOT MUCH!! I ENJOYED IT! ;)

The streets of the city were quiet, with only the gentle hum of distant voices and the rhythmic tap of boots on the cobblestones accompanying the evening air. Dan Heng walked beside you, his usual reserved silence in place, as the two of you made your way through the bustling market district. The lights of nearby shops flickered, illuminating the occasional passerby, and the faint scent of street food filled the air.

You had been quiet for a while, your gaze drifting over the various sights and sounds, until a faint melody caught your ear. It was soft, almost melancholic, yet undeniably familiar. Without thinking, you stopped in your tracks, your heart skipping a beat as a street performer spun in graceful movements, their lithe form dancing with the flow of the music. They twirled, each step measured and light, as if the music itself was guiding their every motion.

Dan Heng halted beside you, his eyes narrowing slightly, sensing a shift in your demeanor. He wasn’t sure what had caused it, but there was something about the way you stood—still, lost in the performance—that made his quiet curiosity stir. He could feel the weight of your sudden melancholy in the air.

You stood there, transfixed, as memories flooded your mind—days long past when you had been part of something similar, when your heart had danced along with the music, and every note had felt like an extension of yourself. Singing. Dancing. Performing. The passions you once had now seemed so distant, buried under the weight of time and life's expectations. You had stepped away from it all, too afraid of failure, too scared of never being good enough. And now, watching the dancer perform, that ache in your chest returned—a sharp pang of longing for something you thought you'd lost forever.

"I used to dance, you know." you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dan Heng glanced at you, his expression as unreadable as ever. He didn’t respond immediately, but the way his sharp gaze lingered on you suggested he was listening intently.

"I was passionate about it... but I gave it up," you continued, almost as if speaking to yourself. "I guess I was too scared. Too... burnt out. I was never going to be as good as everyone else, so I just stopped." You let out a soft sigh, pulling your gaze away from the dancer, focusing on the ground instead. "I don’t know if I could ever go back to it, even if I wanted to."

There was a long pause before Dan Heng spoke, his voice calm yet firm. "Sometimes, it's not about being the best. It's about doing what you love." His words were simple but cut through the noise of your thoughts, their weight carrying more meaning than you expected.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, finding a quiet strength in his steady eyes. Despite his own burdens and the weight of his past, Dan Heng understood something essential about resilience. His own journey of running from his past was, in a way, not unlike yours—both of you had stepped away from what you once cherished, not because you didn't want it, but because you didn’t know how to face it anymore.

“I don’t know if I can," you murmured, the sadness in your heart lingering. "But I can’t seem to forget it, either."

Dan Heng didn’t offer a solution. Instead, he simply stood beside you, the quiet understanding between you both settling like a protective blanket. In that moment, it wasn’t about finding the answers—it was about being present. And in that silent company, you realized maybe it was enough to simply remember. You didn’t need to decide everything right now.

As the music played on, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting the melody wash over you, just for a second.

The lanterns hanging from the market stalls cast a soft golden glow over the street, creating a serene atmosphere that contrasted with the usual bustle of the city. Jing Yuan walked leisurely beside you, his expression as calm as ever, though his eyes seemed to take in everything around him, as if calculating every detail of the scene.

"You seem quieter than usual," he remarked, his voice smooth and easy, the tone one of subtle curiosity.

You smiled faintly but didn’t answer immediately. Your thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back to a time when everything seemed simpler, when life had a rhythm and flow that came naturally. As you walked, the sounds of a distant performance drifted toward you—soft notes of music followed by the rhythmic tapping of a dancer’s feet on the pavement. You stopped, almost instinctively, and Jing Yuan, ever observant, followed your gaze.

Before you, a performer swirled in elegant, fluid movements, her body graceful as she danced in time with the music, each step full of passion and life. A pang of nostalgia hit you as you stood frozen, watching the performer’s every move. It was like watching a reflection of your former self—vibrant, alive with energy, and so in tune with the music. A version of you that now seemed so distant, locked away in the past.

Jing Yuan, sensing the shift in your demeanor, slowed his pace, standing just behind you. He was quiet, allowing you the space to reflect, but there was an unmistakable knowing look in his golden eyes.

"I used to perform," you said after a long pause, your voice soft and almost wistful. "Singing... dancing... it was all I ever wanted to do. But... I gave it up. Too much pressure, too many expectations. I was good, but not good enough, I guess." You let out a sigh, feeling the familiar ache in your chest. "Now, I’m not sure I could ever go back. I don’t think I have the strength to try again."

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened, though his expression remained stoic. He stood still for a moment, considering your words, before finally speaking. "It is easy to give up on something when the weight of the world presses down on you," he said, his voice laced with an unexpected tenderness. "But sometimes, the hardest part isn’t starting again. It’s letting yourself be vulnerable enough to want it again."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His words were simple but profound, carrying a wisdom that felt like a quiet nudge toward something you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider. Could you go back? Could you allow yourself to dream again?

Jing Yuan’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Whether you choose to pursue it or not, the past doesn’t have to define you. It can simply be a part of who you are."

You looked back at the dancer, the melody drifting on the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to remember what it felt like to be fully immersed in something you loved. No promises, no expectations—just the possibility of finding joy once more.

Jing Yuan didn’t push further. He simply stood beside you, his presence as steady as the passing wind, offering nothing more than quiet support. There was no rush, no urgency—just the understanding that, when the time was right, you’d figure it out.

As the performance continued, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the music fill the space where uncertainty had once been.

[callum-23]

just discovered ur acc, who's ur fav character? (and yeah, this is me asking for u to rant abt ur fav)

L A N C E !!!

Lance is my favourite!! For many reasons, but mostly because I relate to him on a lot of levels, mainly with

- self recognition issues, aka what happened when Lance doubted his skills as a paladin, and was thinking about stepping down.

I struggle with this, mostly as an artist, as I've seen my friends, and other people I know in life, have better skills, and most of the times doubting myself about my artist skills 😔 But I've gotten better at just focusing on my own art and in turn I felt like it helped me get better!!

- value in relationships, platonic, family, romantic even. I love how he values his relationships with the other paladins, about how he's always willing to take steps for others, comforting his friends, and always willing to step up as a person, even though he's cocky and can be full of himself (mostly in the earlier seasons) he's got a heart of gold underneath all that!!

Lance tends to put up this persona of himself being a "ladies man," the cocky flirt even. But there's so much more to his character than just that, he's not just the love interest, he tends to be the emotional support of others, a hard worker, he's also a pretty good well rounded character, he has his own flaws and insecurites, which help him become a better paladin throughout the show. Honestly, though, later, seasons mainly treat him as the "love interest," and I don't think that's really a way to describe him, as he's just SO much more than that!!

I love his dynamic with other characters, SO SO MUCH!

There's Hunk and Lance. They're basically best friends!! Best friends since the garrison, I love their moments together, even though it's not much, and mostly joking and small banter, but in the end they're really close friends who've always got eachothers backs, and knowing how close they are, makes them a really good team. They show their best values and bring out the best in each other!!

There's Pidge and Lance, who are more like a brother/sister duo, with Lance being like a second brother to Pidge. A moment that really stood out to me was Pidge dragging Lance along to help her find enough GAC to purchase a video game from the space mall, I love how Lance just simply went along with it, spending time with her as if she was his own sister, and in return, Pidge traded away a video game so that Allura could get a dress for her date with Lance, as Pidge knew how much this meant to him, even though she was reluctant at first!

Coran and Lance, having a father-son bond, similar to Shiro, being the guide for the paladins, acting as a father figure (space dad)

And then there's Keith and Lance, Keith and Lance, the "rivals" who compete for Np reason, who grow to accept eachother. A good example of acceptance shown between their bond is when the Black Lion had chosen Keith as the paladin, while at first, Lance was jealous, he learned to realise and proceeded to comfort Keith about his new position, showing that yes its going to he difficult, but he says to Keith that he is the one for the job, and gives him a fond look, stating that even though no one can replace Shiro, Keith can lead the team, and that he'll always be there with Keith. (Kinda cute as Lance sorta becomes his right hand man!) And the fact that Lance trusts Keith enough to get some words before his date with Allura, Lance going to Keith of all people when he was unsure about his place as a paladin, Lance even comforting Keith, and helping him during missions, being by his side, the jokes, the playful name calling. Everything, I love their dynamic!!

I love Lance as a character, sure, I'm still SUPER upset on how his life is after the events of the series, but in short, Lance, Lance McClain is my favourite vld character.

Literally the best sharpshooter ever !! ⬆️

[lumen-fox]

Another sketch. It feels self indulgent to doodle my sona in minecraft with pokemon, but sometimes that's what art is all about so I'm giving myself a pass.

I set up a modded Minecraft sever for my friends, with one of the big mods being Cobblemon, and I've been playing an excessive amount of minecraft since.