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cultlix · 3 days ago

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𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

pair. soft dom! chris x sub/virgin! fem reader | genre. established relationship, power imbalance, slight angst, smut| warnings. use of pet names, dirty talking, profanity, penetrative/unprotected sex.

synopsis. "You've ruined me, I'm destroyed. How could any other girl be good, be enough for me after you?"

author's note. i wished it was him...

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"Scared?"

"Should I be, oppa?"

He shook his head. "You'll never be in danger with me. Unless you like it."

"I didn't know what I liked until I saw you."

Chris loved the pressure of your body on top of him while you were kissing, on his unmade bed, the silken cascade of your long strands tickling his nose, his cheeks, the delicate perfume of your skin burning everytime you met his faintly elusive gaze, under his daintily skilled touch, and the hesitant swinging of your tiny waist against his prominent lenght, a foretaste of what would have defiled you ceaselessly all night.

"Baby doll, beware, if you let me be the first to fuck you the only way I know how to fuck pretty cunts like yours, I swear, you'll be cursed forever."

He raised his lower back, flaunting his hardness, his thickness, making your mouth hang open when your still coated sex rubbed casually against his stirred, throbbing protuberance.

"Please," you said, voice incredibly clear, limpid to his ears, like a sudden rainfall of crystals shattering on the floor, "d-don't make me w-wait, oppa. C-can't wait to see w-what you'll do o-of me."

Sweet, rotten angel, can't even finish a sentence without miserably stumbling at the thought of getting fucked for the first time ,like she deserves, like the surreal, reckless, unaware temptress she is.

You flipped your hair, the long, disheveled cascade now falling wildly on your naked shoulders as you unhooked the front closure of your bra, taking his hands in yours, quivering, guiding them on your fair, flawless breasts, making him tighten his grasp to indulge in their tempting round shape.

So desirable, and still so inexplicably insecure, he thought, tracing with his thumbs your already turgid nipples, making you close your eyes and call his name like a fervent prayer in breathy sighs, does she even notices, imagines the effect she has on men?

He moistened his full lips, tired of anticipating, and lifted up just enough to put his hungry mouth on your extremely sensitive, rosy nub, sucking avidly on it, making you cry and tilt your head back.

"You want oppa to go slow?"

He pulled up your skirt and pushed aside your panties, circling unhurriedly your clit, making you so pathetically wet that you couldn't help but blush seeing how your honey-like essence irreparably soiled the fabric of his black jeans.

"You need oppa to make sure if you can really take his massive cock inside this untouched, sacred pussy of yours?"

He let two long fingers slid inside your crevice, going so harshly deep that you thought you would pass out. Chris started moving, in and out, carefully at first, then with a certain eagerness when he felt your hips instinctly following the agonizing rhythm of his movements.

"Goddamn, your smell, so intense…You really want me to fuck you so bad, angel? Shit, you look amazing while struggling with all your strenghts to keep my fingers in like this, in this thight, little paradise you call cunt, but will you handle the roughest part of me? Tell me, do you think you can really hold it there? Because once you'll let me penetrate you, deflower you, I know I won't be able to stop. I'll spoil you, baby doll. I'm gonna wreck all your precious doll parts, you know this?"

You whimpered, biting your lower lip, nodding. "The good girl you are," Chris praised you, slithering gently a third digit and curling it languidly, simultaneously with the others, watching you hissing, taking a fistful of his hair to fight the pain. "See, you can barely take another one, and we're not even close to what your body is going to experience."

Teardrops glistening on your eyelashes like morning dew on velvety rose petals.

"Am I not enough for you, Chris?" you asked him, dropping the honorific for the first time since you've met him, holding back the sadness, rejecting the thought of being nothing to him. "Am I not good like the other girls you had before?"

Chris watched your eyes become teary for the first time, and he felt like a part of him died the moment he knew he was somehow responsable for that. He couldn't tolerate it, he won't ever be able to endure it no more. He gently pulled his fingers out of you, letting the rapture wait, his desire arrest a little bit longer.

"Is it me who makes you believe you're not the prettiest I've ever seen? The only purest, perfect creature my tired eyes have truly met? Then punish me baby doll," he whispered sincerely with apprehension, grabbing your tiny wrist and using your clenched fist to attempt hitting his sculpted chest, "hit me. I don't deserve to be your first, to call you mine, if I can't make you see how much of a real man only you can make me feel. Look what you do to me."

He unzipped his jeans, letting his aching erection darting free from any constriction, then guided your hand on it. "Shit, do you even imagine how much self control I needed to forbid my instict to fuck you like an animal to prevail everytime you were sleeping next to me? Every single time you accidentally rubbed against my cock when I cuddled you from behind? You've ruined me, I'm destroyed. How could any other girl be good, be enough for me after you?"

Chris slapped himself aggressively in the face, his cheek turning ruby red. "I'm fucking bad, baby. I've been the worst if I ever made you doubt of me. Hit me."

"Oppa, please."

He took off his shirt and did it again, even more violently then before, then clutched his grasp around your wrist again. Your tears now flowing copiously, blurring your vision, hazing your mind.

"Come on baby, right here, on my heart, do it, hurt me like I've hurt you."

"Oppa, no. I don't want this," you cried frustrated, trying to fight against his will, but he was stronger, so much stronger and determined to suffer.

"Why?" he asked, mad at himself more than ever.

"Chris, stop," you cried, voice breaking and shaking.

"Why?" he insisted, his tone too peremptory to be ignored.

"Because I fucking love you."

You screamed at the top of your lungs, words still floating in the room, echoing in the narcotic stillness of the night, the only remedy to placate his fury, the only antidote to cure his pain, his torn soul.

"Let me be yours. I wanna be the only girl who can have you. I wanna turn into everything you've ever dreamed of, into everything you've ever needed."

He smiled, caressing your chin fondly.

"I didn't know what I needed until I saw you."

You kissed him, and it felt like drifting, like losing a part of yourself forever in that sublime exchange of minds and souls when you captured his lips in yours, stealing his breath, devouring his spirit.

Chris grabbed you firmly and pushed you against the mattress, onto his sheets, pulling down your skirt, making your panties slide down to your ankles, throwing them somewhere at the foot of the bed. He got up, taking off his pants alongside with his underwear. He positioned himself between your legs, unmoving, just admiring how breathtaking you were like this, with nothing on, exposed, frail underneath his ravenous gaze.

You grabbed his cock, so huge in your little palm, and massaged the tip delicately with your thumb, sprinkling it in his white, pearlescent fluid.

"Fuck honey, don't tease if you still want me to be gentle with you," he panted, not doing anything to make you stop though.

You giggled silently, secretly amused by his uncontrolled reaction.

"Does oppa like it like this?" you whispered.

"Oppa loves it."

You pushed the tip against your soft folds, rubbing it against your clit and the edge of your entrance. Chris cursed, shuddering, almost losing his balance, all the weight of his body risking to crash over yours.

"And like this? Does oppa like it better like this?"

"Fuck yes, so much better."

He pulled your body closer to his and spread your legs the widest he could.

"God, you're a fucking vision. So soaking wet, so open. Like this baby, rain for me, I'm so thirsty I'm gonna drain you, I'm gonna suck you dry," he warned, bending down to reach your sex glistening in your arousal, inhaling its forbidden scent deeply, making you flush, making you whine in ecstasy when he rubbed his upper lip against your swollen clit.

"Oppa wants a taste, will you let him?"

You nodded, incapable of articulating anything similar to a consent.

"Let me hear it coming from those lovely lips."

"Oppa?" you said, gulping, his nose already stroking your sensitive slit.

"Yes, baby doll?"

"I need your mouth on me, oppa, wanna feel your tongue, but please, please, let me cum on you, with you, let it happen when you're inside me."

"Is that what you want?"

"More than anything else."

"Then you don't need to ask."

Chris could feel your body writhing convulsively underneath his voracious wet muscle as he licked with extreme accuracy every inch, every soft ripple of your slippery folds, letting your flavor invade his cavity, permeating his palate, and your inebriating perfume dulling his senses like the finest of drugs.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, moaning, as he sucked on your clit, flattening his tongue, using the tip to violate your immaculate fissure. He groaned satisfied, drinking greedily from that inexhaustible source of pleasure, the guttural sounds coming from his throat vibrating against it, sending fiery, violent frissons down your spine.

You arched your back and he helped you raise your waist to have full access on each perfect, most secret part of you, but you suddenly tried to stop him, gripping gently the long strands brushing against the nape of his neck, rebelling to his feral appetite, wanting to escape from that immeasurable delight.

"C-Chris…w-what…" you mumbled, too weak to protest, to withstand any longer.

"Oppa lied, sweetheart. He's such a demanding bastard. How is he even supposed to resist when your cunt tastes like fucking heaven? Tell me. I told you I wouldn't be able to stop, that I would have fucking spoiled you so bad."

His licking, still so precise, became quicker, feverish, his sucking vehement, avid, the tip of his tongue hitting persistently your yielding cleft, going everytime a little bit further.

You whined, cursing, crying desperate at the sensation, every limb spasming. "Y-you p-promised…"

"Never been a man of value," he confessed under his breath, looking at you through his long eyelashes, "I'm a son of a bitch, baby doll, not fucking prince charming."

You pulled his hair, without even noticing that you were rocking your hips towards his mouth to feel it moving again on you, but he stood still, remaining impassive.

"Beg me," he teased provocatively, "do it properly, and I'll stop."

You attempted to speak, to formulate any kind of plea, of request, but your words came out like nothing more but feeble, breathy sounds, confused truncated gasps.

"Fuck, C-Chris…"

His lips still cruelly consuming you, busy torturing you. "You can't do better than this, can you?"

"Please," you implored, breathless, exhausted, but in a surprisingly clear, firm voice.

Chris gazed into your eyes with defiance.

"Sorry honey," he purred, "I can't hear you."

One more deliberate twist, one last measured swirl around your irresistibly slick core, then Chris' tongue flicked inside your inviting slit, repeatedly, obsessively, so in to the hilt that he perceived a storm of irrepressible jolts coming from your body, shaking, screaming to let go. Cum, he finally granted, groaning, cum now, and you did, finally surrendering to him, jerking, cursing, crying, gushing so much, so shamelessly that you painted his chin, his lips, his mouth in your dense, snow-white nectar.

Chris drank every single drop of your orgasm, then got on his knees again on the bed. He lay his body over yours, so willowy, so fragile underneath his imposing one, and tried to kiss you, but you turned the other way.

He smiled, patiently. "You mad at me?"

You did not answer.

He pressed his lips on your temple gently, leaving a long trail of kisses on your cheek, on your neck, on your collarbone, going down to your breast where he sucked on your nipple, biting it, making you moan again, whine like he loved so much.

"I wanted you," you complained.

"And you'll have me," he said, taking your hand to guide it on his bulging, pulsing hardness. "Can't you see how much I want to see you cum with my cock buried inside you? But trust me, you weren't ready. I know what's best, you would have just hurt yourself, and I don't want this."

His hand dangerously slid to your overstimulated sex, fingers slowly sinking in your walls and coming out. "Fuck, still so thight baby, a bundle of nerves down there, and you don't even know you haven't felt anything yet."

You took his face in your hands, your piercing eyes meeting his, blurred by urge and lust.

"Fuck me, oppa. Do it till it pleases you, till it hurts me, till nobody will ever take me, will ever want me again, till I'd be nothing but doll parts scattered on your bed. I'm fucking yours, I don't care about the rest. Fuck me, please, fuck me now, fuck me hard, I need you, I love you."

Chris suddenly wrapped one arm around your hips to pull you closer to his frame, to trap you entirely under his weight, then grabbed your thighs and made your legs clasp around his waist solidly.

"Damn baby, the things you do to me when you talk like this. You're so docile and persuasive. I really wanted to go slow, doing it as it should be done, but God, you make it so difficult, you're not really bringing out the best of me right now."

You caressed his lenght in his entirety, from the head to the base, so rigid, impressive, veins popping out, pre-cum spilling gently in a long, thin stream. "I couldn't agree less," you stated, smiling maliciously.

He suddenly gripped your wrists and pinned both your hands over your head, making you giggle, watching you totally captivated.

"What?" you asked curious.

"I wanna remember you like this forever."

He entered you fully, heatedly, incapable of controlling himself, of resisting you, of waiting any longer and hushing his impatience, his impulsive exigency to fill your cunt for the first time, completely, to the extreme. He stared spellbound at how his huge cock disappeared under your sparkling skin, and how your pussy, so smooth, so delicate, took it in with absolute composure. He bent down, stealing a long, soothing kiss from your parted lips to try softening your pain, to help your body calm, relax, gradually and naturally adjust to his presence.

Chris moaned tilting his head back lost in the rapture of your thightness enwrapping him so hungrily, squeezing him so forcefully, then started moving his hips leisurely, his thrusts rhythmic and regular, constant and sustained. More, harder, please oppa, faster, he heard you crying, so eager, insatiable, desperately raising your waist to try fastening his phlegmatic pace, so his shoves got quicker, wilder, as he shortened the duration of his hammering movements and intensified their force, their steadiness.

He could feel distinctly your legs jerking, your muscles contracting, your walls constricting, fluttering erratically around him, suffocating his shaft in that furious, chaotic whirlwind of tremors and convulsions. He was well aware he was also irrevocably close to his own verge.

"Shit, p-princess, oppa wants to f-fill you with his c-cum, w-will you let him?" he panted, visibly struggling to articulate that coherent phrase as he kept on shoving himself into you relentlessly, hastily, ruthlessly.

"Yes, fuck, yes…" you allowed, and then, there was nothing left to do but abandoning to the gripping power of ecstasy.

You both orgasmed, collapsing enfolded in the warmth of your embrace, blatantly entranced, unbridled, floating blissfully in that heavenly, idyllic vortex of carnal and spiritual junction, ruled by that strong, passionate but contradictory feeling of coming to life and dying at the same time, you coating his golden skin in your honeyed juices and he releasing his hot fluid emprisoned in your trembling body, calling your name, no terms of endearment this time, no nicknames, just your real name forming sensually on his lips as he reached the culmination of his own pleasure, making you feel for once more than just his little girl, but his woman.

Chris fell down on his back, weary, sated, trying hard to catch his breath again as his chest moved up and down rhythmically.

"What?" he asked seeing you smiling.

You shrugged. "Nothing. I just wanna remember you like this forever."

He laughed wholeheartedly. "Come here."

And he kissed you, in the only way he could, he knew, leaving you wishing on bittersweet illusions, on the stupidly romantic dream that he wouldn't be just your first, but maybe even your last.

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan scenarios #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours

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alwek · 2 days ago

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Every job I get, I tell them immediately, "I am disabled. The occomodation I need is the ability to sit when I need for a few minutes." And every time they tell me,"That's good to know! We'll let you sit! As long as you can still get all your work done, it's perfectly fine :)" and then nobody tells me I'm doing bad. Frequently, I get told I should be doing less, in fact. But then every time, within a month or two, I get fired for "taking too many breaks" and "not being productive enough" because I need to sit down every hour or so so that I don't collapse on the floor.

I've been told I should go live in a home if I can't work. But I can work, I literally take care of an entire household on my own. And I can do that because when I'm allowed to sit between tasks, the pain doesn't build nearly as quick. I am a perfectly capabale worker, and every coworker I've ever had has told me I'm the best to work with. But because I need to sit down too much, bosses see me as "lazy and unreliable" even though I was promised the ability to sit when I was first hired.

I don't always need to walk with my cane. In fact, most days I don't need it at all. I only need it really when I'm walking long distances in a day, but employers never want me to have it on the floor. Fuck, I got explicitly told by one job that "I shouldn't be working if I need to use a cane" while they already had a wheelchair bound employee and another with a fake leg. But I guess the 20 year old with the cane is too much for them to handle.

"If I need walking assistance, I shouldn't be working here" okay then WHY do you have several other workers that can't walk on their own working there for longer hours than me and they're allowed to use their aids? The old man with the fake leg can use his crutch. The lady with the fake hip can take a seat whenever she needs. You hired a guy who can't even walk for fucks sake but I can't use my cane on the job? Me with my cane is too much? So the old people and the visibly disabled guy are allowed to have their accommodations, but because I look like I should be fit, it's a "bad look" or some stupid shit, as if young people can't be cripple.

I was literally the second person hired there who walked with a cane, but I'M the one who gets fired. Yeah, okay, fuck you too then.

Anyway, this post struck a nerve on me. I fucking hate employers

Disabled people get criticized and called lazy for being unemployed but nobody wants to discuss how employers won’t hire us because we’re considered a “liability”. Many companies also refuse to accommodate individuals with disabilities. Let’s not talk about how the government takes away our lifesaving healthcare benefits if we make more than $2000 a month and this the reason why most disabled people live in poverty!!!

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niechys · 1 day ago

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I'm sorry. I'm so not sorry but also so so so sorry. But I can't stop thinking about it.

from @keferon tf mecha universe

(Also if you don't want me tagging you please do tell. I didn't want to bother, just want to credit cuz it's glorious)

it's because of this post.

Happened after This event

I'm sorry in advance for all the grammatical errors.

I also don't know wo else would be the science guy to take this position of explaining the thing. I feel like there has to be someone else that's not Shockwave too. Sorry to all of Brainstorm's fans out there. I think he's not a bad guy. Just too excited for the possibilities.

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Something lingers inside that mech. Although there is no hard evidence of a human soul or spirit or ghost haunting it, most people who had anything to do with Vortex agreed that it was best to believe its first pilot never leave the cockpit of his mech. After all, nothing else would explain the freak accidents constantly killing all but the latest pilot.

Human are prone to be superstitious. It's normal to believe in something like ghost in the machine, really.

But one would not think a man of sciences such as Shockwave would take the rumors seriously. No one knows if the scientist really believe it or not. He

Regardless of the rumors' validity, it sure did inspired him.

"You're kidding me" Swindle stood, blinked, looked at the incomplete repair of Blurr's mech then back to the technician in front of him. Brainstorm was prattling on at speed faster than Blurr's F1 record.

"Not kidding. Why would I kid? This is a great breakthrough. Lives can be saved and there are much we could do with the tech, I don't know why it never occurs to me or Shockwave that the neural link tech could have been used in this way---"

Swindle turned his brain off during all the scientific mumbo jumbo all and only really heard him again at "It's nothing all that weird really. Some people disagree, but you can't go against Shockwave when he put his mind to it. If you think about it, it's just like Vortex"

"What?" Swindle blinked again.

"Vortex. That mech, I mean the mech's first pilot, crazy psycho, crazy good at slicing up kaijus"

"I know who Vortex was. I worked here when he started piloting. What did that asshole has to do with this?"

"Oh, everything. If, a big if. If that guy's consciousness was still in the mech like people been saying"

"Haunted" Crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes at Brainstorm. The technician corrected him.

"Lingering consciousness. Either way, Blurr is in much better shape than Vortex. Brain still intact . So is most part of his body. We wired him to the neural link to allow him control of the mech. So when we are ready, he can still go about his task from within that mech"

"What . The . Fuck"

Swindle's eyebrow twitched. No, it's NOTHING like Vortex's case. The asshole died and probably refused to leave this world. Blurr, on the other hand, was still alive. Sure he wouldn't be the same. Maybe he would be scarred for life, paralyzed from the waist down or something. But hardwiring a person to a mech?

"So, you were working with Blurr before now, correct? That's why we would like to bring you in as his handler. Not like you have to do maintenances and stuff, just take care of him and, the publicity and all that. Like being his manager" With that, Brainstorm handed him a folder before excusing himself.

The guy wasn't bad most of the time, Swindle thought. But sometimes, just sometimes, his passion for science overshadowed the moral compass.

Like how he wished that his own greed would take precedented in his state of mind. They must have thought he would jump at the chance to milk more profit from Blurr. Hell, he wouldn't be feeling this bad if that was the case.

He wanted to refuse. Profit be damn, even he didn't feel right. Blurr saved them. He should be allowed to preserved his humanity, his dignity. Not preserving his brain in a jar inside a mech. If the pilot died and the mech is reparable, you find a new pilot. If the pilot lived but can no longer pilot, you also find a new pilot. Not..this.

But refusing means they will bring someone else on board to manage Blurr. He's pretty sure he wouldn't like that.

Fuck

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**note. Blurr is not reduced to brain in a jar. Most of his body is intact, just hard wired to the mech.

I tink they can add robot parts to him later all stuff. But since they probably value Blurr as a money cow pilot first. If they can't use his face, they can still use his mech.

Sorry again ehehehehehehehehehe

#tf mecha universe #tf blurr #tf swindle #should I put some kind of tw?#does it count as body horror?#I'm not sure #by the way this can be blamed on gundum I watched #being iron blooded orphans and thunder bolt #they're brutal af #I'm sorry again #tw body horror

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bonefall · 11 hours ago

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Hi there! I know you've made posts about warriors who have lost their sight and hearing, but would you have any ideas of how losing their sense of smell could affect a cat? I have to imagine it'd be a pretty big deal for a hunter or medicine cat

You know, you'd think it would primarily affect "tracking" skills, since as humans we tend to think of following scent trails and hunting down wild game, but the truth might shock you a little;

The first thing the other cats would notice is that the warrior is getting lost a lot.

When it comes to scents, the most important use that cats have for their sense of smell is navigating their territory. Through scent, they can tell the direction towards camp, exactly where they are in a territory, and if they're getting close to a border.

Most media (including WC itself) tends to depict scent like a floating, colorful "trail." A direct line leading you to the target, like this;

But this is actually not very accurate. You'd have to be dealing with a VERY stinky animal for this to be the case, like boar or elk.

Scent acts more like this;

It "collects" on solid objects the animal brushes past or intentionally marks, sometimes including the ground if they've lingered there. Newer brushes on the object have more of the scent particles present just as a matter of not having enough time for the odor to disperse. Think of it sort of like liquid; a "stale" scent is like an object that was soaked now simply being damp.

A warrior's "scent marking" is like a big stink bomb. It will make the entire area smell. Anyone who has been unfortunate enough to have an intact cat spray their house knows that it's not a dainty little spritz. It's STINKY.

To a cat though, the marks that are placed down by individuals and patrols give the entire area a sort of comforting "aroma." Because of the smell, they can perceive their home territory as if it's a map.

"Hub" areas have a stronger smell than "limnal" zones, and camp has its own unique scent. Just by combining these two things, you will always know EXACTLY where you are and how to find your way back to safety.

(Note; this is a major reason why I assert that blindness should be one of the least debilitating sensory disabilities for a warrior to have. Cats have a built in scratch-n-sniff RPG map.)

I mentioned in passing, earlier, that this is comforting. That's the second thing that would probably start to affect a warrior losing their sense of smell; it would be very common for them to start developing anxiety.

It's VERY unsettling for a cat to be in an unfamiliar place, and this is usually because nothing smells right! Providing the right pheromones is actually a way to treat anxiety, and this is the reason why you can often find a lost cat by putting one of their blankets outside. Pride aside, an elder might request more escorts outside of the camp simply as a matter of comfort once their nose isn't working so good.

For tracking itself, though-- in comparison to their Clanmates, hunters with a bad sense of smell would be bad at finding prey. Being a solitary hunter would become unfeasible.

The simple solution is that they shouldn't hunt alone. Just having one good tracker in the team to bring the party to big game could work fine. In WindClan in particular, they'd get put on lagomorph hunts very often (since 2 average-sized rabbits feeds a Clan for a day, let alone a hare).

For a Cleric, it would force them towards retirement.

Tracking down herbs is one thing; they could still be good at knowing where things grow, even with the added risk of getting lost. More importantly, MOST of a cat's health information is discerned through smelling their scent-- through their glands, their breath, and most importantly their scent marks. A Cleric who can't smell would start making inaccurate diagnoses.

And all of this doesn't even factor in how much communication is done through scent. When a cat bumps you with their head, "kisses" you with their teeth, or runs their side along you, that's them putting a mark on you. It's saying, "I want you to smell like me and I want to smell like you, because we're part of the same group!"

The important thing about that is that it is happening a dozen times a day with different Clanmates.

Rosetail demonstrates the point with some gossip: "Did you notice that Snowfur smells a lot less like Bluefur, lately? Yeah, she totally reeks like Thistleclaw. Since you smell like Thrushpelt, I feel comfortable sharing this with you; I don't think they're a good match at all... don't tell him I said that, though, even though he's my brother he would get really mad if he found out I thought that."

A warrior who can't scent will feel VERY socially isolated. There's an entire social network behind who you're marking, and being marked by.

In summary;

Scent has a massive role in navigation, for cats.

Cats who can't smell are at risk of getting lost easier.

Try not to think of scent like a "floating trail," but more like a series of odor marks on the objects the target has brushed up against.

Scent marks are STINKY, they make a whole area reek.

However, that's comforting to cats. Not being able to smell this has negative impacts on mental health.

It's the "tracking" part of prey and herb hunting that would become difficult.

Clerics who can't smell are liable to start making bad judgements.

Scent marking is part of the social fabric, and there is an important aspect to Clan dynamics that a cat who can't smell would lose out on.

#clan culture #scent #I actually have an even more massive guide on scent in the works with Clanmew terms for certain non-human concepts #Like how the jacobson's organ works #That one is held up because it actually needs technical drawings #Which are beyond my skill level #cw urine

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 23 hours ago

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In The Middle of the Night | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | Drabble 1k

Bucky takes a chance on staying the night at your apartment for the first time. But he wakes with the smell of blood in his nose and a feeling that everything has gone wrong.

Warnings: Nightmare, Bucky has PTSD, descriptions of blood, angst with a fluffy happy ending.

A/N: Maybe I woke up in the night convinced I was having a period so bad it rivals something from a horror movie. And naturally I wrote this to help me go back to sleep.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Hydra had come.

Bucky was half awake, his mind dragging itself back to consciousness with the sure knowledge that spending the night here at your apartment was a terrible idea. Hydra had been watching, they must have been, watching and waiting and now they had hurt you and he would be back in that chair within the hour. He had known it then, protested and put it off and he'd given in and now.

Now.

He could smell blood, it had an iron tang that always lingered in the back of his throat. This was your blood, he had smelt it once before when you had sliced your hand cutting pizza. He'd helped you clean and dress the wound. How could he forget anything about you?

But blood is blood, no matter if it was yours, and it finds its way into his nose and clings there. He could smell it even in his dreams and now, eyes closed but conscious, he can smell it in the room.

Bucky slid his left hand under his pillow, the right was still holding your close. If this was the end, if this was his final moments, he wanted to stretch it out for as long as possible.

You were still warm, so they were close, maybe he had time, maybe -

He sat up with a start, knife in hand and surveyed the room.

Empty, dark, light from between the curtains sliced the carpet it two, but there was no sign of anyone else.

Beside him you sprawled in the sheets, your back to him, but searching for the hand that had been clutched in your own. Movement. You're moving, your hand reaching for his and, not finding it, you roll forwards into your pillow and cuddle that instead.

If you're moving you can't be dead.

Bucky repeats it to himself. If she's moving she can't be dead.

But why is there still that smell. His dreams are vivid but this - it lingers.

He looked down at his hands, reluctant to give up the knife, and there it is smeared all over his right hand.

Your blood.

And his hands and his leg. God it's everywhere and he can't tell now what's real and what's the trick of the light, just a patch a shadow or a pool of blood?

Is this worse than Hydra? This feeling that he's hurt you? Which fear had he ranked at number one? And did it matter now that one of them had happened and he'd done the unthinkable?

Bucky moved backwards, quickly and quietly, he moved away, dropping the knife to the floor and sinking onto the hardwood, wrapping himself in his arms.

"Bucky -" your voice is sleep rough but sweet, shards of handmade toffee, grains of brown sugar at the bottom of his coffee cup, all that's good in his life and he had hurt you. "You okay, Buck?"

There's a rustle as you push back the sheets and then, "oh - shit."

Is that all you can say to the obvious pain he's caused, you're too good. Too good for him, too good for anyone really, who could compare to -

"Baby, why are you on the floor?" Now you're just confused, fully awake and moving in the room.

Your hands cup his cheeks and brush away tears he didn't even know he was shedding.

"Don't, please, I've hurt you, you're bleeding and I thought it was Hydra but it was me-"

"Oh," your laugh is just as wrinkled and sleepy as your voice, "you didn't hurt me Bucky, I - well I'm kinda embarrassed, haven't been caught out since school, but I got my period."

Bucky looks you over now, the flimsy night dress you'd worn to bed only just touches the tops of your thighs, it's white and the satin shines in the moonlight, but all he can see is the rose of blood on the hem, the sticky shimmer between your legs.

"My hands, I woke up and my hands were -"

"Remember how we fell asleep?" You coo and he nods shyly.

He does remember, he remembers kissing and sliding a leg between yours and then his hands and it had been so soft and slow. You'd fallen asleep tangled together.

Bucky's mind is racing but he knows one thing now with clarity, he needs to take care of you.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?" There's a frantic urgency to each movement that he makes, trying to stand and sliding on the floor instead.

You laugh again and kiss him, full and hard, on the mouth. It's easy and loving and there's no anger in it at all.

Because he hasn't hurt you.

"No, but thank you. I'm going to take a quick shower, get myself cleaned up and sorted. Then I'll change the sheets. Are you okay? I'm worried about you. Did you have a nightmare?"

Tears well again, he doesn't deserve this.

"You do."

"What?"

"You do deserve this, me, us and I deserve you. I love you, Bucky Barnes, every little bit of you, even the bits that you don't want me to see."

And you kiss his temple, your hands cupping his stubble rough cheeks.

"I love you too." He says with finality, "and I'll change the sheets for you, please go and get comfortable."

It doesn't take Bucky long to strip and change the bed. He soaks the bottom sheet in the sink the way his Ma showed him, and sets a cup of sweet tea and an iron tablet on the bedside table for after your shower.

Before he knows it he's spent his adrenaline on making you comfortable, his eye lids suddenly heavy as soon as you slip back in to bed.

The light clicks off but he doesn't remember doing it. He does remember wrapping his arms around you and tugging you close.

"I love you so much," he whispers into your hair, kissing the top of your head. He can feel your smile when you tip your chin up and kiss his jaw.

"I love you so much, too."

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paperstarwriters · 1 day ago

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Sorry for the light mode lmao

Anyways I was going to respond to this in a comment saying—and I quote "💕💕💕💕 Idk If I'd be able to actually write a fic from this but it really just scratches the good itch in my brain lmao like—" and then proceeded to basically write TWO small drabbles in the comments lmaooo

anyways it was getting too long for that so I'm just gonna put it into a reblog.

But like imagine you're running away from base—maybe it's to goof off or maybe it's to avoid all the trouble that's going on. Maybe you want to prove yourself capable, or maybe you got into an argument and stormed off believing no one would follow. Whatever the case, you've left the base, and Optimus took notice. He hunts you down, searching for you discretely in his alt-mode in your favorite populated areas, and transforming to get a better view in your favorite but less populated spots. He's doing this to protect you, he argues to himself, turning over every stone, nearly decimating entire buildings as he feverishly looks for you. You could be caught by Decepticons, you could be harassed by some lot of unsavory criminals, it was getting late—where were you???

The moment he finds you of course, he's running over to you, eager to see that you're okay, eager to make sure you're protected and safe. Eager to see you.

It doesn't stop the slight terror he imposes, when his head swivels to turn to you, blue lights gleaming as they've caught their target, and the thundering footsteps of someone approaching breaks your initial silence. Under the shadow, you can't tell if he's mad.

Under the shadow, you can't tell if that's a bad thing.

Oooooorrrr—

maybe this is you goofing off! One of many pictures taken after you had been trying to take a picture of the sunset, and curiously, Optimus peered into the frame, shadowed from the setting sun, but blue eyes still gleaming curiously as he tried to assess what you were doing. It makes him look like some sort of weird cryptid—like one of those shitty pictures of mothman, and all too eagerly you lean into the idea of it. After all, this wasn't tangible evidence of his face and existence in your possession, you could easily pass it off as a collection of weird cryptid sightings you've had should it ever put you or him in any danger, and if you had kiss-marks over the printed pictures, well hey, some people wanted to fuck mothman, why couldn't you simp for your own "freshly discovered" cryptid? So you take more pictures of him, revealing your master plan of pretending he's some janky silly creature of folklore, that few would take seriously just so you could have pictures of him on your person. He's confused but interested, and you vow to find and share stories of the modern folklore of the area, but he agrees to participate in your pictures, letting you snap a few pictures that teeter the line of creepy, and yet look nothing but pretty and adorable on his features.

As the sun sets further, you catch one picture where the dying light paints his face gold as he stares towards it, a beautiful contrast to his blue optics looking almost honey soft, in the orange-y light and for the first time you get a picture that shows his face, distorted only by the glowing light, but identifiable to a keen eye. All too suddenly, you're struck with the urge to find and collect many more pictures of him, to drag him out with you to enjoy the sunset, if only to see that face—that expression again.

And all too soon, the sun sets, and In the darkness of the growing night you can hardly see his silhouette against the surrounding darkness, just two twin spheres of blue, looking almost like some UFO in the sky through the pixelated screen of your camera. You still take the picture, you still giggle at the sight, but you make the mental note to figure out more ways to take and keep pictures of this ever stoic bot.

Optimus, on the other hand, is all to delighted at the attention you douse him in, in the delight you express at the ability to keep a picture of him for yourself. His fingers almost twitch at the urge to do the same, to have you captured in a picture so that he might have your likeness when ever you stray away from him. For work or to return home or whatever, something to ease the ache of your absence. For now though, engraving the image into his processor will be sufficient.

I touched grass a few weeks ago and while aggressively and illegally speeding through highways like Blurr (for legal reasons this is a joke), I snapped an ✨ aesthetic ✨ sunset pic. But the vibes were giving OG Bayverse, heavy 2007 vibes, like BIG TIME, so I edited Optimus in there cuz why the fuck not? 🌚

(Edit: some ppl said it looked creepy and I kinda see it now so I added eyes to make it creepier. I like it the creepiness, it’s a vibe wtf?)

#And I said I might not be able to write a fic about this lmaooooo #Ouagh just finished a long writing assignment and my first course of action was to write ANOTHER long piece of text XD #the topics are different and this requires MUCH LESS research and scientific jargon at least 💀#Paper Tells Tales #transformers #optimus x reader #optimus prime #optimus #optimus prime x reader #reader insert #Tried to keep the version vague because I don't really know bayverse super well sorry!

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coc0amocha · 1 day ago

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🔞 Hate sex || 'Fuck you...Literally.'

you two always argue over random shit..And do random shit while you argue. Like fucking for example ~~requested

College Au - Roomate Sukuna

Word count: 620

★Fem reader - unprotected sex - rough sex - ewb(Enemies with benefits) - degrading★

You never got along with your roommate, Sukuna. Not once. Even on the first day, you two met each other he seemed to already despise you despite not even knowing your name. And you tried to make amends with him on multiple occasions because living with someone you hate and that hates you wasn't exactly on your bucket list.. But your attempts were futile as he didn't even want to try to like you. He hardly knew you but he knew he hated you. And that's all he needed to know.

And you started resenting him too. It got to a point where if one of you breathed too loud the other would get pissed off and a fight would start. Whether it was physical or verbal something would happen and it wasn't pretty. And it's like Sukuna thrived on getting under your skin and provoking you until you laid a hand on him, it's like he was entertained by it...or something more.

The only thing you seemed to like about him was the way he fucked you, and the only thing he liked about you is how you felt when you clenched and came around him. And you two would argue while fucking which is the bad part. You'd mutter breathy curses at him as he fucked you like he was trying to hurt you.

Ff-fuck y-ou–" you exhaled weakly as he pounded into you recklessly, he didn't care if it hurt because he was 'fucking the attitude out of you' as he called it

He scoffed "Nghnn..Still tryna–hnn–argue w'me, huh??" He punctuated his words with a sharp snap of his hips. Watching you writhe and whine beneath him your walls clenching around him "You feel so good darlin' mmnhmm.. it's a shame you're such a brat" He thrust particularly hard causing you to let out a sharp 'ohh!' As your back bowed off the bed and up towards him, he smirked and gripped your waist "Maybe I should put you in your place like this more often"

"Y-you're n-n–ot-" You were cut off by another sharp thrust, your hips jerking involuntarily "Unngh–ffuuckk youu.." despite your constant protests and curses directed at him you sort of liked the treatment despite the fact your inner walls might come out bruised by the end of this "Y-you're not–mmhn!–succeeding.." You muttered weakly, clawing at his shoulders hard. Leaving red lines on his skin as your nails scraped across it

"You sure? 'Cause from the way you're moaning and whining like a bitch I think I am. And by the time I cum inside this pretty pussy of yours I think your attitude will be officially gone." He quirked his lips up into a smirk, his hips stuttering in its motion

"I'm very sure, asshole... You're the one that can't handle me. That's why you're about to finish so qui–" another sharp thrust. "Unnnhh..I hope you hurt yourself."

"You're the one getting hurt, and it's all because of that mouth of yours." He retorted

"Immm..I'm not getting hu-hurt."

"Sounds like it." He raised an eyebrow

"No the fuck it doesn't" you snapped back at him

His heavy breathing turned into pants as his thrusts stuttered further "Just shut the fuck up and take it already" He bit down on his lip hard as he listened to you gasp sharply when his cock pulsed inside you, shooting hot ropes of cum deep inside "ffuuckk.." He groaned as he emptied himself into you like you were a disposal

"You fuckin' minute man." You teased, rolling your eyes

He glared at you as he pulled his softening cock out "That was not less than a minute. Can you tell time??"

"Whatever, Sukuna." You huffed

#jjk #mini fic #drabble #I died while writing this #sighhhh #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #college au #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk fanfic #hate sex #enemies with benefits #Not that I didn't want to write this I just died multiple times while doing so #I didn't know what I was doing ngl 😥😥 I usually write the boys getting dominated this was unusual #a request is a request tho 🤷🏽‍♀️ i tried

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inuxi · 2 days ago

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that ask was rude of me, i should've just blocked you instead of telling you about it, i'm sorry. i'm aroace and sex+romance repulsed, and i guess i thought alastor was gonna be something i could enjoy for once like everyone else gets to without feeling like i'm intruding on a conversation i have no right to be part of. i'm on ios so i can't use browser extensions to actually get rid of all the alastor ship posts like i want, and i'm not sure my problem even has a solution short of just giving up trying, because so far i have found exactly zero blogs that are 1.) still active at all, 2.) still post about Hazbin, 3.) aren't actually 12 years old, and 4.) don't post about fucking Alastor ships. i got so excited seeing such good, recent art i haven't nuked yet considering how old every other post i can still see is, and i'm not kidding when i say i sent that ask through tears. it was rude and unacceptable either way, and i'm sorry.

i've blocked over 200 different people and i'm not exaggerating that number even a little bit. i would rather put a gun to my head and pull the trigger myself than see them so much as breathe next to each other ever again. i am so. so so so so so sick of searching and searching and searching and finding nothing.

the thing i've learned from alastor's aroace representation is that not only is the world as a whole not made to accommodate me, fandom space isn't either. i am an alien on a planet i was never made to fit into, and i don't even get to escape that through fiction like everyone else does. no amount of filtering and blocking and searching will bring into existence a community for me that simply does not exist, and it is futile for me to try. that's what this fandom has taught me.

i think the chances of me sticking around in this fandom are slim, so at least it won't be an issue for anyone else anymore. i think being excluded from conversations about an aroace character sting a lot more than just not being represented at all to be honest.

Okay, listen.

First of all, Alastor is officially an Ace, NOT an aroace. That means he can still be interested in any romantic things or finding a couple. No one is stopping you from seeing him exclusively as an aroace. But shaming people who don't share your point of view is a bad idea.

Secondly, I am an aroace artist myself. Romantic and sexual themes are virtually non-existent in my art. I can joke about it, but almost all of my drawings explore completely different things. And you come to me and try to talk about how hard it is to feel socially comfortable being an aroace? I understand your worries, but, again, trying to shame other people because they don't share your point of view is NOT a healthy coping mechanism.

Third, I have done THREE drawings in all my time that include a romanticized Alastor. Two of them were collabs, and the third was asked to be drawn by people. And these three drawings made you give up on my art, which you said you really liked?

The community is too heavily oriented towards romantic and sexual themes, it's true. People like us are often uncomfortable in that environment, that's also true. But aroace people can't just come in and ban others from having fun just because we don't find that fun or interesting.

Man, I'm not even Alastor's artist! What the kind of Alastor shipper am I? And you picked me out of a thousand people to block? Oh my God, that's as funny as it is sad.

In case you haven't looked at my art, I am a Lucifer artist. I very rarely draw Alastor, simply because I don't find him interesting enough. And because of that, I find it so funny to be labeled an “Alastor shipper”

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hello-gloomy · 3 days ago

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Giant Woman

Rodimus Prime x Female!Human!Reader

(Slight Lost Light crew x reader)

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

Description: An exploration mission gone wrong causes you to test out a new weapon to help your captains out of a tight spot. Chaos ensues.

Warnings: Slightly OOC, Crack taken seriously, Mild violence, slight horniness at the end (my bad).

A/N: I haven't read all of Lost Light or MTMTE. I did read Echo Garden and their Wiki pages, so that'll have to be good enough.

Words: 1,046

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

Megatron navigated the dimly lit passages, his silver frame holding the weight of the injured Rodimus slung across his shoulder. Suddenly, a crash rumbled through the underground tunnels, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling above, and they stopped moving to look up at the giant hole above them. A massive hand reached down and grabbed one of the hostiles as it started screaming in fear while the others began shooting at the hand. There was more thumping and noises above them.

"That's not good," Rodimus joked nervously. He hissed in pain when they started walking again. The screaming behind them suddenly stopped, and a flash of air blew past them. While they continued walking, Rodimus glanced behind them and saw the hand reaching toward them.

"Oh shit." Megatron turned while still walking to look at what made his co-captain panic. "Can't we go any faster?!" He tried to limp faster to keep up better with Megatron, who increased his pace. The hand behind them was about to snatch them when Rodimus started screaming. It finally grabbed them and shot back out the way it came and through the hole. They were back at the surface; they heard screaming and shots being fired. The hand holding kept them shrouded and dark; they were shifted and pressed against something slightly soft, covered in armor and fabric, which let off a slight blue glow. Megatron leaned against the wall and heard a beating noise; the wall rose and fell slightly while it moved. Suddenly, they picked up in speed, and they were squeezed a bit tighter. A light showered over them, and they were set near the landed Lost Light; Rodimus dropped to the ground, relieved and tired, while Megatron looked back to see who had saved them. His optics widened in disbelief at the sight in front of him; it was you, mass-displaced and huge compared to them; you practically on par with the Lost Light. Your mask went back into place, and you ran back to the hostiles approaching the ship and kicked them as far as you could, scooping others up and throwing them while blocking laser blasts.

Megatron shook himself from the surprise and limped Rodimus back onto the ship. A confused Swerve and Velocity rounded the corner to ask what was happening. The hangar door closed, and they all turned around to look. You walked in, and your mask snapped off with a hiss and a shake of your hair. You stopped right next to the group, everyone speechless at the sight of you the exact size of them.

"I'll take him to the med bay, Megs." Megatron lets go, and you scoop Rodimus into a princess carry and strut off with him in your arms.

"Holy Primus," Swerve said while watching you fade down the halls.

" I gotta tell Anode!" She sped off down the hallway giddly. Megatron sighed and walked off as well, much too tired to care.

Your wall down to Med Bay is quiet. Rodimus hasn't said a word, staring in awe at you while holding on to your neck, his head resting against your soft chest, listening to your heartbeat. You look down at him and slow your walk a bit. "You so quiet, Roddy." You tease him gently, but he only gives you a nod and a quiet 'Mhmm.' You enter the med bay and plop him down on a berth. Ratchet doesn't turn around to look at the two of you; he finally stops and starts to lecture.

"Can't you bots try to be caref-Oh, my Primus!?" He looked at you and dropped the instrument he was using, shocked to be face-to-face with you. "Hey, Ratchet, did you look at- Holy Shit!" First Aid walked and stopped in surprise at you as well. You're trying not to laugh at this point, finding the whole ordeal hilarious. You snap them out of their trance and ask them to fix their captain's leg. While working, all three of them steal glances at you, checking the stats on your armor. Brainstorm suddenly bursts in the room.

"IT WORKED!" His smile was huge and practically glowing with pride. You started laughing at his excitement and let him poke at the armor for a little bit, taking notes for him while he prattled on in eagerness. It should wear off in a few hours. Let me know if anything feels off at all, " he said after checking everything out. You gave him a nod, and he walked out, muttering about the suit's statistics. You smile and wave your hand, and the medics finish up on Rodimus's leg. They check the rest of him before giving him a clean bill of health; you help him stand up, and he virtually smooshes himself against your body, almost rubbing you like a cat. You laugh a bit before Megatron and Ultra Magnus walk in. Megatron waves his hand in your direction with a pointed look at Magnus.

"Huh," Magnus says quietly, "Hi Megs, Hi Mags!" Megatron walks right back out, and Magnus stands momentarily before speaking. "Just ensure the two of you finish your battle reports on time." He turns and leaves; following Ultra Magnus's and Megatron's steps, you walk back to your and Rodimus's shared Berthroom. The door to the room shuts behind you, and you set your Sparkmate on the berth, taking a seat beside him. He quietly watches you, taking in all your features. He can see much closer now that you are the same size as him. You gently rub his spoiler while he takes you in. He looks up, and his optics meet your eyes, currently blue to match the chemicals running in your suit that helped you change your size. He grabs one of your hands, and his other servo caresses your face affectionately; you lean in and kiss him, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms. You let go, get up to lock the door, and dim the lights, sauntering over to him in the most seductive way possible.

"We got a few hours before this wears off. Want to try something fun?" You whisper to him while pushing him down on the berth, hovering over him.

"Primus, yes."

#x reader #fanfic ideas #megatron x reader #megatron x human reader #transformers x human #Lost light x reader #tf mtmte #transformers x reader #transformer mtmte x reader #rodimus #rodimus prime x reader #rodimus x reader #idw megatron #transformers idw #idw transformer x reader

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twistedswd · 2 days ago

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i'm choking anyone who comes near me i'm choking you i'm killing you death now

i don't know what. to say. who to side with. i can feel the light inside of me both brightening and dying simultaneously

axolotl you dumbfuck ! you destroyed that triangles world view! no you can't save the victims but you can save the villains BUT THAT LITTLE YELLOW TRIANGLE IS ACTUALLY GOING TO KILL EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE!!!!!! THAT WASN'T A PAST THING THAT WAS 5 MINUTES AGO HE IS STILL AN ACTIVE THREAT HAVE YOU NO SELF PRESERVATIONyou have no regard for the safety of everything! i know you're an empath or whatever the fuck but axolotl please let them bash that triangle with a hammer to death he is the opposite of an invasive species but i need you to kill him anyway do you not feel the hate swimming within your heart?

I'M KILLING YOU RABIES FOAM RABIES FOAM RABIES FOAM bashing my head in with a brick thoughts

oh you silly little triangle don't you know that AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH mm yummy dimension mmmmAGHHHHHHHBHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

i think i've made it clear in my other reblogs that my brain cannot put thoughts into words about this fic because it is so yay and interesting

rattle rattle oh what's that sound oh it's the sound of my one singular bit of sanity rattling around in my skull

why is he defending someone who is actively trying to kill him and the entire everything? is he stupid? am i stupid? am i looking too deep into this? am i not looking deep enough? am i simply unable to fathom the reasons why someone would not hate those who have wronged them unless i specifically am the one who has wronged them? do i need to take a break? am i a bad person? am i a good person? do need to take a break? what are morals anyway if they don't benefit me specifically? am i losing my marbles? am i trying to be reasonable about a fanfiction that probably is trying to make us sympathise with bill because he's a cool character while also telling us he's a monster?

i know how to perform a lobotomy! did you know the tool used for lobotomies, an 'ice-pick' is actually called an orbitoclast? i'm gonna perform one right now! here i go! here i

It's fic time. The Axolotl tries to persuade Bill to face what happened to his dimension while Bill tries to avoid that literally any way possible.

This is part 8 of a 9 part plot about the Axolotl meeting this friendly harmless innocent little triangle in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre and gradually learning he's literally the worst person ever. If you want to read and/or look at the pretty art on the other parts, here's one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.

(WARNING in this one for nonspecific but pretty obvious suicidal ideation)

####

The triangle whirled around as a milky white void closed in around him. "Whoa whoa hey! What is this? How'd I get here?"

"Welcome to my office. You're in a time and space outside time and space," the Axolotl said. "Take a seat. I have a very comfortable bean bag chair."

The triangle did not take a seat. He pointed at the Axolotl like an angry arrow. "What did you do! If you don't put me back now—"

"Don't worry. When we leave this space, you will be where and when you were. Think of this like a dream."

Furiously, the triangle burst into a ball of bright blue flame. It reeked of burning hydrogen—the stench of the fabric of reality itself burning away to nothing. But he, himself, didn't burn. What was fueling his flames? "Yeah?! Well, dreams are my business!" A wave of blue flames surged toward the Axolotl.

And dissipated without touching him. The Axolotl's eyes glowed white. "THIS IS MY DREAM, TRIANGLE—NOT YOURS!"

The triangle shrank down. He squeaked, "Got it." He quietly perched one edge on the Axolotl's bean bag chair. He didn't look at the Axolotl. He was staring up around them at the Axolotl's tank.

The Axolotl's eyes dimmed again to black voids. He settled back, trying to look unthreatening now that the triangle wasn't fighting him. "Do you see something?"

The triangle laughed uneasily. "Not aside from a whole lot of white."

"You keep looking up," the Axolotl said.

"Up?" the triangle said, confused; then apparently figured out what the Axolotl meant and snapped his gaze down to meet his again. "I never—haven't been able to see the stars before," he said, trying not to sound self-conscious even as he slowly tinted red again. "I've never seen anything that could block them. Except you."

Except him. The guy who passed the wall every day on his way to work; the eclipse that blocked out the sun once a year. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize." The walls of the tank seemingly dissolved, letting the triangle see the scene beyond: the glittery cotton candy celestial clouds of his home.

"Hey, I wasn't complaining! You're the one who asked." But the triangle had already visibly relaxed. He still wasn't looking at the Axolotl; but now, he was staring around at the unfamiliar new constellations with wonder.

It was the most unguarded the Axolotl had ever seen him. They didn't have much spare time; but the Axolotl couldn't bring himself to interrupt this brief peace.

After a moment, the triangle gestured toward the sky and said, "So, you—call that direction 'up.'"

"Yes?" the Axolotl said. "Is that strange?"

"No! Nooo no no. Just seems like it might be confusing, trying to tell apart north-up from star-up."

How odd. "We don't usually call north 'up'."

"Oh," the triangle said, voice small and sheepish.

"Some planetbound mortals do. But usually only when they're—" Oh. "... looking at maps." The world printed on a paper 2D plane. Like the plane the triangle had come from.

For all his power, his charisma, his bravado—the triangle was still just a lost little refugee from a flat little world. He held a whole universe in his hand, and he didn't even know up from down. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him.

"Listen to me," the Axolotl said. "You're in a lot of trouble. I'm sure you know that."

The triangle scoffed. "Tell me something new."

"How much of our discussion did you hear?"

"Just something about rebuilding the higher dimensions' foundations. Which is exactly what I told you to do! You mind your business, I'll mind mine!"

He suspected the triangle had heard more than that. "It's not that simple. They can't rebuild the foundation until the fires are out. So, as long as your actions keep setting new ones..."

"A-ha. So that's why you're here," the triangle said. "They sent you to intimidate me into letting 'em condemn my dimension."

"No." It was true enough that they had sent the Axolotl to try to talk the triangle down. And yes, he would if he could—he certainly didn't want to see all of reality destroyed—but he wasn't primarily here to help the other gods. "I'm here to help you."

The Axolotl had watched how this triangle puppeted corpses and terrified the barely-living into dancing along to his tune. He had seen the dying and dead melted together into oversized composite corpses at the triangle's party; and he'd seen how the triangle's unhappy victims tumbled down into his hell. He'd seen how blue flames flared around the triangle in his anger, and how his lines of fire warped, melted, and consumed whole universes, and how he burned mortals down to the soul with his mere gaze. He'd felt how all of Dimension Zero moved when the triangle moved.

This triangle, this poor child, was a monster.

The Axolotl wore many faces. He'd been a psychopomp, a god of death. He'd changed roles so he could help the dead he escorted reach better futures—now he was a god of rebirth, a god of second chances, a god of justice.

And in his capacity as a god of justice, he'd proudly defended the villains that no one else would defend. He did not believe in punishment. It was too late to save the villains' victims, and no amount of punishment would ever change that; but it was not too late to save the villains.

He was god of death, god of rebirth, god of second chances, god of justice—and also a god of monsters. And he'd decided this monster was under his protection.

Dubiously, the triangle said, "So they sent you as my legal counsel."

Oh, for— "No. I'm just trying to give you advice."

"Even better—pro bono legal counsel!"

"You're not my client," the Axolotl said. "But I'll advise you as a friend. I can tell you your options as I see them. We can discuss them if you'd like. You may ask me one question, and no more."

"What? Why—" The triangle caught himself and struggled to rephrase. "That's a—stupid rule—that I want an explanation for!"

"Because I'm the Axolotl."

"What does that have t— I don't know what that has to do with anything!"

"I'm the only one who gets to ax a lotl questions."

The triangle stared at him. He burst out laughing. "I think I hate you!"

The Axolotl gave him a wide, gummy grin.

"St—stop that! It makes you even more ugly, ugh. I thought you were here to give me advice, not bad jokes." The triangle made a show of leaning back as though getting comfortable, although it was clear he was uneasy touching the bean bag chair. "So advise me, pink stuff."

"I preferred 'frills.'" Gently, the Axolotl said, "I think it's in your best interests to give yourself up to the divine authorities."

The triangle laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding. Hey, I heard your pals talking about how they can't fight me without knocking the multiverse down—"

"And once they've put up a fireproof foundation you can't burn your way through, there will no longer be any risk to the multiverse if they come after you."

"Sounds to me like a good reason to make sure they don't get that foundation in place!"

"For you to do enough damage to ensure they can't construct a foundation, you'd probably knock the multiverse down yourself," the Axolotl said. "And if that's the case, they'll have nothing to lose by trying to stop you anyway, and everything to lose by not trying."

The belligerence leeched out of the triangle's face by the word. "Oh. Yeah. I guess that's... yeah," he said. "Okay." His expression was faraway for a moment, as he tried to wrap his mind around the magnitude of the situation. "Okay. That's okay, it's fine, it's fine." Could he feel the walls closing in on him? Did he see the stars being blocked out? "I've... got a way out of this."

"What?"

He didn't meet the Axolotl's gaze. He pulled off his hat to worry at it in his hands. "I have a way."

Bluffing. Or wishful thinking. "No. This is trouble you can't get out of. There's no greater crime against reality than the destruction of an entire dimension," the Axolotl said. "Right now, the gods think you're an active, divine threat to all of existence. That's what this is about. They're not after you because you broke a couple of rules—they're afraid of you." (The triangle lit up at that. Not quite the reaction the Axolotl had been going for, but at least he had his attention.) "And that means they won't stop until they're sure you're no longer a threat. As long as they're pursuing you, your best case scenario is getting buried alive beneath the multiverse's foundation where they can forget about you until your dream realm unravels."

"So what g—I don't see what good giving myself up would do! My best move is putting off the inevitable as long as possible! Just let 'em try to bury me!"

"But it's not inevitable," the Axolotl said. "They fear you as a divine threat. If you prove you're neither divine nor a threat—"

"No."

"Mortals can't be charged the same way as gods can. If we convince the court that you didn't have your current powers at the time of the inferno—"

"I don't know why you're so convinced I didn't have powers at the time!"

"I'm not. That doesn't mean I can't convince a judge," the Axolotl said, which surprised the triangle enough that he actually shut up for a moment. "If you're charged as a god, you face eternal imprisonment or oblivion. If you're charged as a mortal, you'll be sentenced to a regular afterlife. If you give up your power—I'm not sure where yours come from, but there are ways it can be done—" (the triangle was already raising a finger to protest) "—and it can be temporary! But if you don't have divine power when you're taken in, it will be that much easier to convince the judge that you didn't have any when your wall burned. On top of that, if you surrender yourself willingly and admit that destroying Dimension 2 Delta was an accident, that alone can knock off half your charges."

"Next you'll ask me to give up my eye! No!" He was clenching his fist around his hat so tightly that it shook; but that was the only sign of anxiety he betrayed. His gaze was as intense as the stare of a sun. "I told you: me, my power, and my people are a package deal. We stay together. We're staying right here. I don't care how much it inconveniences you."

"It's not about how much it inconveniences us," the Axolotl said. "I'm here for you—you and your people."

"They don't need you or any of your stupid 'gods.' I can take care of them!"

"Then take care of them," the Axolotl said. "You understand that, no matter how this ends, your dream realm will be destroyed and you'll have to leave or perish—don't you?"

"No." That stubborn little glitter fleck. "I can patch up this dump and repair the wall by myself. Once the wall's back, you don't have to worry about your stupid multiverse destabilizing, right?! I'll stabilize my realm before you get your stupid impenetrable foundation in place! Maybe I'll put a roof on top of it that you can't get through!"

"You haven't done it yet! What do you think you can do that you haven't already done?"

"You don't need to know," the triangle snarled.

He had to be mad, bluffing, or in denial. But he didn't look it—eye narrowed in determination, flames smoldering around his edges, fist clenched around his hat—

And then it clicked.

He hadn't said he would replace his wall. He said he'd repair it.

The Time Giant had said there was no way the little speck of matter that the triangle kept in his hat could be all the matter from his universe; no mortal could handle it without its gravity crushing them, nor would they have the energy to move it.

But she'd also said that gravity was turned off in Dimension Zero. And the triangle had proven he did have the power to move an entire universe—so why should a universe the size of a grain of sand be any more difficult?

And anyway—what did restrictions like that mean in a place where dreams and reality overlap?

"The Time Giant was wrong, wasn't she," the Axolotl said. "You don't have a dark matter problem. You're carrying around the rubble of your universe. All of it. All the matter she sensed but couldn't find."

The triangle gave him a resentful look; but then sighed in defeat. He loosened his fist, reached into his hat, and plucked up the speck of what remained of his universe. The black pinprick of white light. "You're not as dumb as you look," he said wryly. "Yep. The whole thing's right here—all but a city or two. I figured out how to catch it pretty fast."

Catch it? "What... happened to your dimension?"

A faint uneasiness itched at the back of his mind; a sound, right at the edge of his hearing, that he couldn't quite identify but knew shouldn't be here.

"It doesn't matter," the triangle said. "It's about to un-happen."

"You're thinking about setting off a big bang, aren't you?"

The triangle said nothing. He just rolled his universe between his thumb and forefinger contemplatively.

"You are," the Axolotl said. "You want to replace your universe."

Coolly, the triangle said, "You're sounding kinda scared, frills."

"I am," the Axolotl admitted. "Of all your options, that's the most dangerous thing you could possibly do."

"Hey, the dangerous choices have turned out pretty well for me so far!"

The Axolotl really didn't think they had. "You know you can't get your old universe back, don't you? It will only make a new universe."

The triangle didn't say anything—but he went still, holding the tiny glowing pearl between his fingers rather than rolling it back and forth.

"It will have similar physical properties—it will be 2D, gravity and light will probably work the same way, all the laws of physics will be what you expect... but it will be a new universe. New stars and worlds will form. New species will evolve. Your people will never return."

The triangle squeezed the pearl in his hand. "You don't know that," he said harshly. "Everything that ever existed is right in here." He shook his fist at the Axolotl. He could see the light shining out between the triangle's fingers. "It has to have some sort of memory! There's gotta be traces of it left in there!"

"It can't remember. It doesn't have a soul to remember with."

"I'm a soul!" The triangle pointed at himself with a hundred arms. "Me! I remember! The whole dimension remembers!"

There was the hiss. The ever-present hiss that the Axolotl heard any time he was inside Dimension Zero, the static in the speakers, the last gasp of a dying big bang, the whisper murmur scream battering against the walls. Fear shivered up his spine. How was it audible from within his tank?

He tried to push down his fear. "You're not the whole dimension."

The triangle laughed. It was a chilling sound.

"Just—consider how much more you'd lose if it doesn't work the way you want it to. What will you do if you can't fix your dimension?"

"I can," he said. "If I can't fix it, no one can."

Why did he think he was more capable than gods who'd maintained the multiverse for trillions of years? "What if you're wrong?"

"I will fix it," the triangle said stubbornly.

"TELL ME WHAT YOU'LL DO IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT!"

The triangle literally shrank back, growing smaller as he sank into the Axolotl's beanbag. "Keep doing what I'm doing now! Partying!" He let out a half hysterical giggle. "I'll party til I die!"

"Set off a big bang in an unstable pseudo-dimension, and you will die! The kind of death no one comes back from!"

"Great!"

They both froze. Neither one of them had expected him to say that.

"Kidding," the triangle croaked. "I just—I just—I'm trying to get under your skin, pinky, that's all. Is it working? Don't answer that, that wasn't my question, that was—rhetorical. I'm assuming that stuff you've got is skin, anyway." The prattle was hollow and meaningless. "The point is, I'm the dream realm's eternal party host, and I'm not stopping this party for anything, no matter what you say, and—and that's it. That's all there is to it!"

He must have witnessed so many horrors, in so little time—his universe incinerating, his people dying, Dimension Zero constantly collapsing even as he attempted to prop it up, the dimensions above him twisting and warping as their people fell into his nightmarish realm...

The Axolotl slowly flew closer to the triangle.

"Oh, come on— don't," the triangle whined. "Whatever little speech you're about to make, don't, I don't wanna hear it—"

Gently, the Axolotl said, "I know you've lost your home."

The word "home" struck a note with the triangle. He didn't flinch, his expression didn't change; but he went still. He looked down at the compacted ruin of what used to be his whole universe.

"But it's not too late for you to find a new home," the Axolotl said. "You can still move on and rebuild. There's a future for you. If you come out, I'll help you navigate the afterlife system. If you're stuck in this dimension, we'll find a way to free you."

The triangle's face darkened.

"You can be reincarnated, or resurrected, or—just set free to be an energy being if you want. You can settle down in a neighboring dimension, join a new people—"

"No. I'm not about to be a couch surfer in someone else's universe." He glowered up at the Axolotl. "Those people will join me. Everyone can either join me, or—or get out of my way! I finally made my kingdom, I'm not giving up my crown now!"

"If you keep your crown, you'll kill your kingdom! You know that if you stay here you'll destroy everything, I know you know it!"

"It's the best option I have! Better than your plan, anyway! Surrender to the cops and let my world fall apart?" He laughed harshly. "No way, Buster! I told my people I'd liberate them from our flat, oppressive little world and take them to a party paradise, and that's exactly what I'm gonna make for them!" He held out his little pearl of a universe again, the paradise-to-be.

Before, he'd said that the dream realm was his paradise. He'd also said that he'd remake his destroyed universe exactly as it had been. How could the "oppressive" world they'd left be their paradise? Nevermind the fact that none of "his people" were from his world. Which of the stories he'd invented was the truth? Which did the triangle think was the truth? Did he even know?

"If all of this is for your people—would you risk them? If trying to build a paradise kills the very people you made it for—"

"They'd never know."

The Axolotl's blood ran cold. It took a moment for him to find his voice. "What?"

"I can keep the party going until the end. They'd never find out what's coming. If the dream realm collapses, it'll be too fast for them to tell what's happening," the triangle said. "In their final moments, they'll still remember me as a hero."

The Axolotl hadn't realized until that moment just how cold the triangle's expression was.

His mind flashed to seeing VENDOR earlier that day, hustling the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force to clean up this mess faster because THEY didn't want the journalists to claim THEY had mishandled the situation during an election season.

Was that all the triangle was?

Another politician more concerned with how his constituents saw him than with what he could do for them?

"But," the Axolotl said weakly, "I've watched how you rescue the mortals from the fires. I've seen how you're struggling to keep this dimension from collapsing on them. I've seen how much you're suffering. You're running yourself ragged to protect them. You want so badly for them to be safe."

The triangle seemed to brighten at the Axolotl's words, as though he was soaking in the high praise. "Well, sure! And they love me for it! Would any god do less for his worshipers? Would you?" His voice took on a bitter tone. "But I don't know of any god who'd stick his corner out for a nonbeliever—and that's what they'll be if I don't deliver on the paradise I promised. I take my party hosting seriously. I'll give them their paradise if it kills me. Or them. Or everyone, if that's what it takes."

He was no hero. He never had been. He didn't care about the countless souls he'd collected, only their worship.

He didn't want his people to be safe; he just wanted to be his people's savior.

If I can't fix it, no one can. The triangle hadn't meant no one else was able to. He'd meant no one else was allowed to. He'd rather die than let someone else fix his mistakes.

And he would. This was a mass suicide.

No. Worse than that—it was a mass murder-suicide.

"You already lost your world once," the Axolotl said desperately, "don't you remember what that was like?"

The triangle flinched back like the Axolotl had slapped him. The tank rumbled around them; the hissing whispers grew louder. "That's... none of your business! Stop talking about my world, you don't know the first thing about it—"

"I know how much you must miss it. I know how deeply losing your people must hurt." It must have hurt, why would he have clung to what was left of his world if it didn't, why would he be so determined to rebuild it exactly as it had been?

"My—my people are fine." His voice was choked. He squeezed his eye shut. "They're... all out at the party. Waiting for me. Don't talk about—"

"The people at the party are shapes you kidnapped from other dimensions." He was so stubbornly loyal to his chosen delusions. "Your people are dead. You know they are!"

"No!"

His scream was answered by howls outside the Axolotl's tank. Through the static, the Axolotl could pick up a sound repeated over and over. A word. Murderer, murderer, murderer.

"No! They aren't dead! I saved them!" He curled in on himself, hands pressed to his sides like it could block out the sounds. "I liberated them from their shallow lives! I gave them their freedom—"

"Then give them their freedom now!"

The triangle's breath hitched.

"If you want to die, you can die. There are ways to break a soul. I can help. But do it alone," the Axolotl pled. "I know you care about these people!" He had to believe it, he had to believe it, he had to. In spite of the evidence to the contrary, he had to. "If you won't let us help you, at least let us help them go home. Please. You need to let them go."

He clenched his tiny hands into fists; he looked so pained the Axolotl thought he might shatter.

In another timeline, a better timeline, he whispered, "How?" The word he should have said echoed around them, blending into the static whispers. It would be so easy to say.

But in this timeline, he asked, "You're some kind of lawyer or something, right?"

The Axolotl paused uneasily. "By... way of metaphor," he said. "We have trials and courts, but not the way mortals understand—"

"There are no laws in my kingdom," the king growled. "Get out of here. Now."

"But—"

"I said OUT!"

A force crashed into the time and space between time and space, shattering the Axolotl's tank, the glittery cotton candy nebulas' pinks and blues disrupted by a twisted geyser of colors—raw frothing stuff somewhere between matter and energy—and it flung the Axolotl away from the triangle like a wave flinging a fish from the ocean. The anxious background static whispers grew to a buzzing roar, 1000 decibel white noise. He spun dizzily through the cosmic miasma.

The first time he'd come in here—the first time the triangle had chased him out—he'd felt instinctively that he'd been in danger. He'd felt flames licking at his heels.

He knew now that that had been a mere warning.

"I might be in your dream, but your dream is in MY dream realm!" The triangle seemed to get larger without his size changing. Maybe it was the universe around him that was contracting. "And you've overstayed your welcome, Axolotl!"

The Axolotl had tumbled into the nightmarish eternal dance party. Shrieking overlapping music drowned out the buzzing whispers. Thousands of eyes stared at him in horror and thousands of voices gasped in disgust; and he realized that as many times as he'd seen them, he had never been in their two-dimensional field of view.

For all the thousands that stared at him, millions of corpses never stopped dancing.

One last time, the Axolotl turned to the triangle and pled, "Just give the hostages the option to leave if they want!"

"My people aren't hostages!"

"Then give them a choice!" He could feel dead hands grabbing at his skin and fins. He wasn't sure if they were trying to restrain him for their Magister Mentium, or cling to him for escape. He wasn't even sure whether they were the dead who still had their own souls, or the triangle's corpse puppets. "Anyone who wants to stay with you can!"

"Shut up!" The triangle boomed louder and louder and he grew larger and larger, until his voice and his eye seemed to fill the universe. He was shuddering with rage (with regret?)—it threatened to shake him apart, and the universe with him. "All of this is your fault! I'm—sick because of you!" In another reality he said insane; but the realities where he didn't closed up around the word and crushed it into silence. "You made me like this! You infected me!"

"With what?" He'd only spoken to the triangle once before today. He hadn't even entered his dimension.

"This—idea!" He didn't say what idea, not in this reality; but the words echoed in from another reality where he did. He screamed to drown the echoes out. "I was fine until I met you and you ruined everything!" Regret spilled out of his eye so thick it was almost palpable, energy like a river. It threatened to fill the interdimensional in-between space and drown them all. The Axolotl could taste the idea that had poisoned the triangle: the idea that everyone mattered. That everyone was worthy of a god's attention. And now, everyone was gone.

Bewildered, the Axolotl said, "You're not 'sick' to think that. It's the sanest idea you could have—"

"Get out!" The shriek echoed through infinity. "Get out! The dream realm is my domain and I am its king! I told you last time, I won't let you threaten my people!"

"I would never—"

"GET OUT!" Blue flames exploded out of the triangle; some of his nearest prisoners were incinerated as easily as tissue paper.

The Axolotl tried to shield himself; the flames consumed one of his forelegs and ate away at his dorsal fin.

He tore himself free of the desperate grasping shapes and swam from the triangle as fast as he could.

The triangle chased him; and, to the Axolotl's despair, as the center of Dimension Zero followed the triangle, the edge of reality pulled ever further away.

His flames licked at the Axolotl's tail, consuming the fin; he swam slower and slower.

As the triangle pursued the Axolotl, his attacks further destabilized the volatile dimension; wormholes formed where the fabric of reality folded and bunched in on itself and was pierced through. Light shot through the holes like a million disembodied sunbeams.

He saw one that led straight to the edge of Dimension Zero. He wriggled through.

"Where did you—?! HEY!" The dimension whirled dizzyingly as the triangle refocused on his evasive prey. "You think you can get away from me in my own realm?"

"Do you want me to get out or not?!"

"I want you DEAD!"

The Axolotl shouldn't have asked.

With a roar, the triangle clawed at him. A thick, sucking wave of gravity as dense as a black hole tore through the unstable miasma toward him. The triangle laughed sadistically.

With one last surge of energy, he paddled his tail hard enough to outpace the triangle and burst free of the dimension.

The ragged edges of Dimension Zero ripped further under the triangle's attack, but it dissipated in the third dimension.

The Axolotl sighed in relief—then flinched when the triangle crashed into the invisible barrier holding the cosmic foam in the space-between-space where Dimension Zero should have been. Like a piece of glitter sticking to a bubble, if glitter sticking to a bubble were the most violent force in the universe. "Get back here! I'll skin your freakish hide and make a tent outta it—!" He strained toward the Axolotl, threatening to drag the bubble along with him, like a particularly determined sled dog trying to pull a trailer home.

The Axolotl hastily backed out of range as nauseating plumes of color stretched outside their bounds again. Blue fire danced over the thin membrane between dimensions like a burning oil spill on an ocean. The plumes twisted into shapes almost like arms, hundreds of them, reaching toward him—

And froze. The triangle was staring past the Axolotl.

The Axolotl turned to look.

It was the most sublimely awful sight he'd ever seen. An impenetrable wall made up of gods, angels, sentient forces of nature—there were things here so transcendentally powerful that the Axolotl couldn't even see them; he only knew they were present by the perimeters of the space he couldn't bring his eyes to gaze upon and the terrifying awe he felt when he tried.

They were all armed.

All their weapons were pointed at the triangle.

Apparently, the ATTF had called in reinforcements.

A god that looked like a hologram projection, the light of its projector shining down on it from a higher dimension like a halo, thundered, "ADVANCE ANY FURTHER INTO REALITY, AND WE WILL BE FORCED TO SUBDUE YOU."

"You can't afford to!" the triangle crowed. "You'll knock your own universes down!"

"NOT ANYMORE."

The triangle's eye widened. The thousand arms of raw reality seized the jagged edges of the dimensions bordering the hole left when Dimension 2 Delta burned down, trying to crush them—and nothing happened. He slammed Dimension Zero against the bordering dimension, trying to crack open a larger opening, and then trying to simply shove the bordering dimensions aside—and nothing happened. Dimension Zero burned; but the surrounding first and second dimensions remained still. There was no creak and crack of snapping lines and shattering planes as the triangle tried to squeeze his bloated universe free. There was no glowing line of fire on the distant horizon.

The neighboring dimensions burned and blackened under the thousand hands; but they didn't dissolve to ash. The cinders got caught between the layers together as the dimensions splintered into layers, then multiplied—splintered and multiplied—splintered and multiplied—thicker and denser and harder—

Parallel universes. Every time the triangle touched them, they split into more timelines, reinforcing themselves. The Time Giant already reformatted the universes most closely adjacent to Dimension Zero. Not every universe—but just enough to form a cage.

The triangle gave up with a grunt of pain. He laughed in disbelief—and then anger. "You were the distraction?"

"No! I was supposed to talk you into cooperating with building the fireproof foundation! We agreed to only call in reinforcements if I couldn't persuade you!" He looked around for the Time Giant, but couldn't find her—nor any of the other gods he'd spoken to while dealing with this mess. Everyone, apparently, had been cleared out of the vicinity to make way for the god militia.

The only civilian left on the 3D side of the missing wall was the Axolotl—once again, stuck in the middle of a situation he had no business being involved in.

The triangle's eye widened further, further, white hot with fury. "Nothing's ever your fault, is it, frills?! Every time you ruin my life, it's all a big misunderstanding! You just keep talking your way out of trouble!" His eye opened wider and wider still. His eyelid unhinged. His mandibles split open and at the back of his eye socket was an infinitely dark esophagus. Sprouting in a ring around the triangle's eye like the petals of a grisly flower, piercing the membrane between the zeroth dimension and the third, were millions and millions of—

—teeth. Teeth longer than the spaces between stars and sharp enough to split an atom.

The Axolotl only barely managed to paddle back out of their range before they snapped at where he had been. A couple of the higher gods caught him, holding his sides protectively. His skin sizzled with holy electricity.

The god militia drew back from the gnashing fangs, then readied their own weapons: spears, guns, swords, a wider array of divine and holy weaponry than the Axolotl had ever seen. The projection leading the militia called, "DON'T LET HIM MAKE IT PAST THE FIREPROOF BARRIER."

"Afraid I'll start breaking things again?" The fangs snapped tauntingly. "Hey—how fast do you think I can find the load-bearing dimensions?"

The Axolotl shook off the gods and swam back toward Dimension Zero. "Stop!"

"HOLD FIRE!" The projected god commanded, "OUT OF THE WAY, AXOLOTL. THE MULTIVERSE'S SAFETY IS WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE."

He knew it was. The leader of the militia was so powerful that resisting a direct order made the Axolotl dizzy—but he did resist. He shouted at the triangle, "You can't fight off every god in the multiverse! This is suicide!" He realized too late that that probably wasn't as discouraging as he'd intended it to be.

"So what?! There's no way for me to win! Get executed for god crimes or get erased when the dimension collapses—"

"Those aren't your only choices!" The Axolotl could see the fangs slowly, slowly curling up in his peripheral vision, and pretended he didn't. "It's not too late for you to stand down—!"

"I can't!" A wave of fire blazed up the teeth of the Dream Realm. He held up a fist, and it was far too small for any of the gods, so mighty and large, to see what he held; but the Axolotl knew. "If I don't get a happy ending, why shouldn't I burn the rest of you down with me?! At least I'll accomplish one thing before I go!" His hand began glowing as energy began gathering around the tiny seed of a big bang.

"Do you want your worshipers to remember you as a monster in their last moments?!"

"Better a monster than a LOSER!" His laugh was a strained subsonic roar. "Are fame and infamy really that different?! At least they'll be thinking about me at the end!"

"It would make you a terrible party host!"

The Axolotl didn't know what had possessed him to say that. Apparently the triangle didn't know what to make of it either, because he froze, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare.

But it worked. He snapped out of his rage. The light gathering around the remains of Dimension 2 Delta went dark. For a moment, he was frozen, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare; and then he laughed again, just as strained, much weaker. The borders of Dimension Zero shuddered with his laughter. "Fair enough!" The appendages stretching out into the third dimension lost definition. "Fair enough." He glowered tiredly at the god militia—but raised his hands in surrender. Both his palms were empty.

The trembling fangs dissolved as they retracted. The whole paradoxical mass sagged sluggishly back into the crawlspace underneath reality.

One by one, the god militia slowly lowered their weapons.

The Axolotl's heart was still hammering in his chest; and only then did it register that he'd nearly been eaten by an entire dimension.

Where had his power come from? How had the triangle done all this—made his whole dimension vanish without a trace, shoved an entire plane inside a point, gained complete control over it all...

He really did have complete control over the entire universe that had formed inside Dimension Zero—didn't he?

And to control an entire universe, he needed to have an entire universe's worth of energy.

Dimension 2 Delta had been an entire universe. And now—all of its energy was in Dimension Zero.

With the triangle.

As he watched the triangle wincing in pain as the Dream Realm sank back into place, as though the triangle could feel the way the edges of the neighboring dimensions dug into the frothing chaos, the Axolotl whispered, "Oh, no. What have you done?"

His power had come from his own universe. He had devoured it. He'd made it part of him.

All that energy wasn't stored inside the triangle's body—but the Axolotl had been wrong to think that the triangle was the body in the first place. The triangle was only the face: the eye, the mouth, the mind. The part of the Dream Realm that could speak.

The Dream Realm was the anglerfish—and the triangle was its pretty golden glowing lure. They were all one monster.

The triangle was slumped in defeat, but still he shot the Axolotl a tired glare. The hissing static whispers rose up around him again, spilling out of the Dream Realm. (The whispers, too, were a part of the triangle.) "Who are you to judge," he muttered. "You weren't there."

No, he wasn't. He'd gotten here too late.

Behind the Axolotl, the god projection said curtly, "APPREHEND THE TRIANGLE WHILE HE'S COMPLIANT."

The Axolotl whirled around, eyes glowing with rage. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" The gods who had started moving toward Dimension Zero froze again.

"HE'S A THREAT TO THE MULTIVERSE!"

"He stood down!"

"HE'S PROVEN WILLING TO DESTROY REALITY. HE COULD EASILY CHOOSE TO AGAIN." The higher dimensional projector turned to project straight at the Axolotl, dazzling him even through his shut eyes, shining straight into his brain. "STAND. ASIDE."

"No." The Axolotl tensed his muscles against the compulsion to obey. "He was a threat to the multiverse. Once the last walls are closed over the crawlspace, he won't be anymore. If he doesn't make a move between now and then, you have no grounds to pursue him." It was a little easier the second time to resist the higher god's command. "So if you do follow him out of the third dimension to capture him, you're trespassing in a new god's sovereign territory to make an illegal arrest outside your jurisdiction!"

"HE'S MASSACRED TEN DIMENSIONS AND TRIED TO DESTROY MORE. THERE ISN'T A COURT IN REALITY THAT WOULD CONSIDER PURSUING HIM UNJUSTIFIED."

"I know a few."

"YOU'RE DEFENDING A DIVINE MENACE. WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

He quietly kissed his career prospects goodbye as he watched himself do the stupidest thing he'd ever done. "I'm the Axolotl," said the Axolotl, "and I'm his lawyer!"

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 8 of a 9 part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting the last chapter next week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl deal with having gotten his heart broken by this sweet little triangle who actually isn't sweet.

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Eight 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: this was The Big One, gang. And now I expect for the next several months I'm gonna get comments from y'all rereading earlier chapters going HOLD ON WAS THIS LINE FORESHADOWING THAT LITERALLY THE ENTIRE NIGHTMARE REALM IS PART OF BILL? And the answer is: yes. yes it was. Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!! 💕

also this was THE absolute hardest chapter to write, goddamn.)

#reblog #long post #fave ever

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howlingday · 23 hours ago

Text

Pop Off

Jaune: (Walks in) Oh! Hey, guys! What's up?

Yang/Pyrrha/Oscar: (Standing around)

Ozpin: Have a seat, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Uh, sure... What's going on? Did I go rogue again?! I'm so sorry! I promise not to do again! Don't throw the book at me! I was young and needed the money and-

Yang: Alright, this is already off to a bad start.

Jaune: Huh? Oh, did I insult someone's favorite kid's show again?

Oscar: No, this isn't another Goof Troop situation.

Pyrrha: It's more serious than that.

Oscar: Slightly more serious.

Jaune: Um... Okay? So, what is this?

Yang: THIS is an intervention! Your dad jokes are out of control, Jaune! You have a problem!

Jaune: Dad jokes?

Yang: You know, like, "Can a kangaroo jump higher than a house?"

Jaune: Ha! Of course not! Because houses-

Yang/Pyrrha/Oscar: CAN'T JUMP.

Jaune: Y-Yeah... Alright, point taken. I'll, uh... just get some new material.

Yang: OR you could just stop! They're super lame!

Jaune: Yeah, but like, lame in a funny way?

Oscar: Eh... Not really...

Ozpin: I have to say, they're lame even by lame dad standards.

Pyrrha: I don't really see how they're funny.

Oscar: I think it's supposed to be ironic. Like, they're so not funny that they're actually funny.

Pyrrha: I don't think that's how it works.

Yang: Yeah, not to mention they're so ANNOYING when they're coming from you! I know when my dad came around and started spouting off dad jokes, it was cool or whatever, but he's not here and there's no need for another dad joke teller! We're doing this for your own good. Please, just stop...

Jaune: Wow, I... I had no idea you guys felt this way. But, if I can ask, what makes you guys the arbiters of comedy? Like, when does a joke become a dad joke anyways?

Pyrrha: Hm... I never considered that.

Oscar: Oh, actually, I do have an idea-

Yang: WAIT!

Jaune: (Grins) When it becomes...

Yang: STOP HIM!

Jaune: APPARENT! (Drops smokebomb, Runs)

Ozpin: GRAB HIM!

Pyrrha: (Catches Jaune, Holds him) Jaune! You need to stop! You're addicted to dad jokes!

Jaune: I used to be addicted to the hokey-pokey, too! But then I (Judo flips Pyrrha) TURNED MYSELF AROUND! (Runs)

Pyrrha: (Gets up) What does that even mean?

Oscar: That was pretty clever, but the punchline kind of falls flat. See, he didn't actually turn HIMSELF around and-

Yang: HE'S GETTING AWAY! (Chases)

Ozpin: (Enters warehouse) Ready yourselves, everyone... There's no telling what he has planned.

Jaune: (Echoing through the warehouse) YOU GUYS WANNA HEAR A JOKE ABOUT CONSTRUCTION?

Yang/Pyrrha/Oscar: NO!

Jaune: THAT'S FINE. I'M STILL... WORKING ON IT~!

Yang: Oh, that son of a...!

Oscar: I didn't think it could get this bad! How did this even happen?

Jaune: YOU COULD CALL IT A CHICKEN AND EGG SITUATION...

Pyrrha: As in... which came first?

Jaune: I'LL LET YOU KNOW; I JUST ORDERED BOTH FOR DINNER~!

Yang/Pyrrha/Oscar: (Groan)

Ozpin: YOU SUCK!

Oscar: We need to stop him! If we don't, then the dad jokes will spread to the rest of us! It's the most widely believed fact in history!

Ozpin: We can't let that happen...

Pyrrha: Should I use lethal force?

Oscar: Only if you have to-

Ozpin: Yes. Absolutely.

Yang: Hang on. What if... What if we lure him out by fighting fire with fire? Kill the dad joke by ruining the punchline. Follow my lead.

Yang: What do you call cheese you don't own?

Yang: NOT! YOUR! CHEESE!

Jaune: UUUGH...

Pyrrha: Oh, uh, I had a pencil with two erasers! It... didn't write very good.

Jaune: (Drops down) It was pointless! POINTLESS! COME ON!

Ozpin: GRAB HIM!

Jaune: (Tackled by Oscar and Yang) Rgh! Did- Did you know I could cut down a tree with only my vision? It's true! I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES! I tried to catch the fog, BUT I MIST! I used to hate facial hair, BUT THEN IT GREW ON ME!

Oscar: Don't listen to him! It'll spread!

Jaune: Can one bird make a pun? No, BUT TOUCAN~! HAHAHAHAHA~! (Dragged away by Oscar)

Pyrrha: ...

Yang: This... This is for the best, Pyrrha. (Pats, Walks away)

Pyrrha: ...

Pyrrha: Heh... Toucan~.

#rwby #red vs blue #family shatters #jaune arc #yang xiao long #pyrrha nikos #ozpin #oscar pine

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blueishspace · 2 days ago

Text

Hero, Villain God 19

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

The final interview ends up being really boring and long, even more then the literal test, you might have lived for billions of years but you have not felt such levels of unfun ever before... You have to give it to them, this is definitely impressive.

All about law and respectability and rules, things you understand are important for an hero to know but are so uninteresting to you...

... In contrast the questions created by Hotguy are a shift in tone that's for you, you don't even need the interviewer to tell you Hotguy wrote these because It's so blatantly obvious to you... They are also somehow much more thought invoking then the previous ones... Less...cut and dry...they are also phrased in a way that's not just prose and proper nouns and all that stuff.

You can tell that Hotguy really cares about this, you suppose he has every reason to... Then is another complete vibe chance as the last question comes, this one has Hero Association written all over it so much that it might as well count as an autograph.

"Do you believe you can fit in with the Hotguy brand?"

You know the god of heroes, you have talked once or twice or maybe a few hundred times, he would absolutely cringe at the thought of the profession being considered a brand. From what you have seen of HotGuy he probably does the same.

"Yes."

"How?"

You would make a joke about being very hpr but that would be equivalent to shooting yourself in the foot...Well, you have planned the perfect twist for this.

"Hotguy is the first hero with two powers."

"Indeed"

The interviewer is clearly not getting what you are trying to say, good. Surprises are always welcome.

You generate an arrow in your hand while spreading your wings.

"Hopefully, I'll be the second"

The interviewer is shocked, you tend to have that effect on people it seems... You silently say goodbye, now you just need to wait for an answer.

*Scar's pov*

You are called by the council, you don't really know why. You are sure you sent your questions, were they bad or something?

"We have found the perfect candidate."

Oh!...Wait, what?

"A-Already? It's been less then-"

"Yes, this one is special"

That's uh... Usually not good when they are the one to say it. Who did they pick?

"Special...? How?"

"He's like you."

Like... You...??

"... Uh?"

"Two powers. Wings like that of Sheriff and an ability to summon weapons at will... Has a fascination with arrows much like you."

"Oh...oh! . . . Oh I didn't expect that to ever happen... heh"

... You aren't the only one anymore...if he's better will you be replaced? ... No, no! They wouldn't...they wouldn't.

You should meet him then, if he's going to work with you then you are going to have to get along.

Well, if he answered your question at least mostly correctly then you are sure you are going to get along well... You'll have to ask Cub for his score.

"HE GOT ALL MY QUESTIONS WRONG!?!"

"Don't shout in my lab Scar"

"... Sorry Cub... I just... I just can't believe he got all my questions wrong and still got a 98% in the interview."

"I can, your questions were the last ten out of five hundred made by the association. You should have really written more."

"Oh...well maybe they should have written less... five hundred questions for an interview is insane."

"Can't argue with that"

Ok, so maybe you and the sidekick think nothing alike, that's fine, you can still be friendly... You are sure you can trust the association... It's not like they have ever...well, not too often... not always.

You open the door and-

"Coffee guy???"

#trafficblr #traffic smp #hermitblr #hermitcraft #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hotguy #cubfan135 #hero villain god au

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mc-lukanette · 3 days ago

Text

Thanks. I should be there in five minutes.

The reply came a few seconds later.

Okay! I'll keep an ear out for you!

Near the end of those five minutes, Luka was still dashing down the sidewalk, mentally cursing himself for daring to almost be late. They didn't have any particular plans and he'd only really said it as a guess that didn't mean much, but he could just imagine Marinette standing by the door with her hearing trained intensely on it.

It would've been cute if he wouldn't have felt bad for it.

He knew it wasn't technically his fault. He'd nearly been recognized and she tended to be his safe place to go to, but then most of the detours he knew of had him running into more risk. Hiding his hair and the lower half of his face apparently weren't enough anymore to stop people from doing a double take at him.

Maybe he'd been in this place for too long on his break, but she was there. He simply didn't want to leave, not if it meant losing the "rock star's safe haven," as he called it in his head.

Footsteps still pounding as he ran, he was within arm's reach of the door when it flew open. Without a word, he slipped inside and Marinette shut it behind him. He let himself breathe, pushing his hood up and pulling his face mask down.

Sighing in relief, he said, “You're a lifesaver, as always,”

She laughed him off. “You don't have to go that far.”

“But I do,” he replied. “You're risking a lot letting me hide here. If anyone finds out you're doing it—”

“Stop.“ She raised a hand, turning her face away from him with a faint blush. “It's really not a big deal.”

He pouted a bit, but let the praise go for the time being. He understood, on some level, that she'd done it before for other famous people she knew (the people he'd have to thank if he ever met them, since it led to him meeting her), but it didn't make it any less special.

Not to him, anyway.

Marinette, strolling across the room and waving a hand at all the seating in the living room, asked without looking back at him, “You want any snacks?”

Any kind of food sounded good after the running he did. “Please. Anything's fine.”

As she left the room, he went and plopped himself down on the recliner, going about removing the hoodie he'd been using to keep himself hidden. He also took off the face mask entirely and set them both neatly on the table.

She returned from the kitchen a moment later, tossing a bag of chips at him and sitting down on the couch with one of her own. She popped it open, then hesitated before asking him, “Do you like soup?”

He nodded impulsively, though he honestly was neutral to it overall. “Why?”

“I was gonna make some later, and I—” She made an unreadable gesture. “—I bought too many ingredients when I was at the store, so there'd be leftovers if you didn't have any.”

Huh. Luka didn't doubt that she could've made a mistake on her mental shopping list, but more of all of her ingredients sounded too odd to be a mistake. He could've sworn as well that she'd told him how much she didn't like leftovers, back when she'd ramble about her creative process and forcing herself to take a break by cooking or baking something everyday.

Unless, of course, Marinette had intentionally prepared to make more because of him, in which case he wasn't lying anymore about liking soup.; it just so happened to have shot up on his list of appealing foods all of a sudden.

“We can't have that,” he said with a grin, opening the chip bag in his hands. “Do you mind me staying that long?”

“Not at all!” she insisted. She dug into her own bag and pulled out a single chip, telling him before she put it in her mouth, “Besides, I want to catch up. Have you come up with any new music?”

“No—” He caught himself, realizing it was the instinctive answer he'd been giving to anyone involved with his rock star life, then corrected to, “Nothing I want out there.”

“Oh.” She leaned back, thoughtful. “I get it. Sometimes I make something just for me without wanting to put it out there. I didn't know it worked the same for music.”

He tried not to be obvious about the hearts in his eyes he was throwing her way. She just got him so easily and he did the same for her. He didn't have that many creative people in his life, but even those he did have saw creativity as something so casual. He cared dearly for his sister's wife, for example, yet knew that the finer nuances of creating things went over her head.

Marinette hummed, somewhat disconcerted. “You're not in any... trouble, are you?” She pouted, twisting a corner of the chip bag to the point it formed wrinkles. “I know how much people think we can just rush the process.”

He smiled, appreciating the concern, and shrugged at her. ”They do want me to get back out there, but I'm not going to force it.”

There was a flicker of what he was fairly sure was disappointment in her eyes when he mentioned touring again. He didn't comment on it, but silently hoped he'd caught it correctly and it wasn't just him.

Reaching into his bag for a few chips, he took one between his lips and tipped his head back, opening his mouth to send the chip fully in from the momentum. He chewed, swallowed, then gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Or maybe I'll just retire.”

“Wha—?” Marinette was so shocked that her tightened grip on the bag audibly crushed a couple of poor chips. “Retire?”

Luka had never said it aloud to anyone before, but he had been thinking about it for a few months now. At first, it was more like a joke to himself, an amusing musing on if he did quit and how much chaos that would've spread across the world from the suddenness of it. Then, it became more serious the more he joked about it, thinking about how free he would be and how much he wouldn't have to wither away like whenever he was forced to make something he genuinely wasn't invested in. He thought it would be easier when he initially started out, that he could just create and wouldn't have to bear witness to parts of himself he didn't like.

In what should've been obvious to him, it hadn't ended up that way. He glanced over to check Marinette's reaction and, rather than any displeasure with the idea, she appeared sad for him.

“I didn't know it was that bad,” she admitted. “I thought you just didn't like people recognizing you in your off time.”

“I don't, but it's everything else too,” he explained. Giving her a reassuring smile, he added, “And you couldn't have known. I've never told anyone else before.”

Her cheeks turned to his favorite shade of pink. She averted her eyes to her chips, taking another couple into her mouth and chewing them as she thought over what he'd said. Letting out a small, puzzled noise in the back of her throat, she finally asked the obvious, “Why haven't you yet? Retired, I mean.”

He'd finished the other chips in his hand by then and set the bag aside to focus fully on her. “I... don't have that many places to go. I live on my own, so it'd be hard to not go out. I'd just get recognized all over again, and my sister's famous and married, so I can't stay with her while I wait for everything to die down.”

As much as he would've liked it to be simple, it wasn't. Also, while he wouldn't have told Marinette as much directly, he wouldn't have wanted to give up on their time together. It might've been a little selfish of him, but—

“What if you stayed with me?” she blurted out, turning her body and leaning onto the arm of the couch to face him.

He opened his mouth, almost instantly saying “yes,” but stopped himself to ask, “...What?”

She pushed against the couch with the hand not holding her bag of chips, straightening herself back up and awkwardly elaborating, “Because—well, you already come here? It's already safe, and if you were okay with it then why not, right? I won't bring anyone here either, so...”

“Wait,” he interrupted because, as fast as his heart was pounding at the opportunity, he wouldn't dare risk holding her back in any way. “I don't want you to stop yourself from bringing someone home just for my sake.”

“Huh?” She blinked at him, as if he'd somehow misunderstood whatever she'd been trying to say. Then, wide-eyed and blushing deeper, she shook her head. “No, it's—I meant... I'm not going to bring anyone anyway. That's why it's alright.”

A beat of silence passed between the both of them. Luka knew from all the little moments when Marinette had spoken about romance that she wasn't aromantic, nor had she ever talked about giving up on love entirely, yet she seemed certain that he wasn't going to end up as a third wheel in her house.

He considered asking, considered multiple possibilities without assuming anything specifically, but she bounced up from the couch before he could get anything out.

“O-oh wow! I should really get started on that soup and, ah—don't worry, you don't have to give me an answer right now!” She turned away swiftly, took a few steps, then paused and looked at the chip bag in her hand. Without glancing back, she tossed the bag towards him and offered, “You can finish that if you want.”

He caught it with both hands and watched her go. After she'd disappeared from his view and into the kitchen, he let his eyes drop to the bag, seeing the chips and the crumbled pieces from when she'd gripped it earlier.

Despite that, his own bag didn't look as appetizing anymore, so he plucked a single, broken chip and slipped it between his lips. His mind was already conjuring scenarios in his head without any effort on his part, imagining what it might be like if he actually lived with her instead of just visiting.

He could still make money with music so long as he could do it without showing his face, thus there wasn't much worry about not being able to pay for his staying there. He was certain that Marinette would give him the guest room, and then they'd end up spending their mornings together. He could find ways to lessen her stress or help out around the house, and he would be there whenever she came home after going out.

To say it was tempting was an understatement. Even the clamor of pots, pans, and the openings of the fridge and cupboards as she shuffled about for her ingredients was like music to his ears.

Swallowing the half chip and finding that it suddenly tasted sweet going down, he thought to himself, No excuse anymore, Couffaine.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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