#what emerges on the border between two things

[blood-orange-juice]

Accidentally deleted an ask instead of replying, so I'll just make a post. The ask was about how me valuing Traveler and Childe's friendship makes my view of the character biased.

Idk, mate, I think it's impossible to separate a person from their system of relationships. Would Childe be the same character without his love for his family, his loyalty to the Tsaritsa, his fawning over Skirk and his strange obsession with the whale? I don't think so.

Maniacs and blood knights are found in media in abundance, it's his attachments that make him unique.

So why should we make his interactions with Zhongli or the Traveler an exception? Just because they can also be shipped and there have been bad OOC takes? Please.

What matters is not their *relationship* (whether the Traveler reciprocates and how exactly the result looks is left to the player), but rather Childe's ability to offer this relationship to an enemy. The strange amount of trust he shows, the reason he picks this person specifically, the way it ties into deep lore. Attachments and sympathies add depth to characters and this one adds a particularly rare kind of depth.

He saw someone who is trying to transcend their limits and possibly reality itself (someone like him) and offered his trust and admiration with no questions asked. That's incredibly beautiful and it tells us so much about him. He wouldn't be the same character without an ability to do that.

I don't think it shows my bias, I think it shows good writing on Hoyo's part. Characters sharing a story should interact and have synergy, it's not much of a story otherwise.

[ckret2]

Bill hates it when people mention Euclydia. Everyone thinks it's because he doesn't want to hear his home's real name; it's actually the opposite.

Here, have some fic. The naming of Euclydia (among other things), the birth of the Nightmare Realm, and the Axolotl planting the seeds of a trillion-year-long plan to keep Bill from the death penalty.

This is the 🎉FINAL PART🎉 of a 9-part plot about the Axolotl in the aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. If you wanna read the others (or look at the art), here's one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight.

####

With the immediate crisis averted and the triangle, for the moment, not attempting to invade and/or demolish the multiverse, most of the god militia pulled back. A group remained stationed near the unstable border between dimensions to watch the triangle; but the less powerful gods could trickle back in to get back to their own work, first and foremost the construction workers doing emergency repairs to reformat and stabilize the neighboring dimensions.

The Axolotl—who, he suspected, would have been arrested himself for interfering if they weren't still focused on the triangle—wove through the crowd until he found the Time Giant; and then swam angrily up to her and demanded, "You used me as a distraction?"

She turned a stone-hard look on him. "That was the agreement."

"No! The agreement was that I'd try to talk him down! We'd only resort to distracting him if I couldn't get through to him!"

"Ya didn't get through to him." The Time Giant nodded at the Axolotl's burned side. "Look at you. Your leg's off."

He looked down at his missing foreleg. He'd been so distracted by the near end of the multiverse, he'd barely noticed the pain. "It's just a flesh wound," he insisted. "I'm an axolotl, it'll grow back!"

She shook her head.

"I would have gotten through to him! You saw me talk him down after an entire army threatened him!" the Axolotl said. "What if I had succeeded, and when we left my tank he found out you already wrote him off?! You never gave me a chance—"

"We did give you a chance," she said testily, "and I saw that you weren't gonna succeed." She hooked a thumb over her belt and tapped a finger on her time tape; the stylized symbol of the Time Giants glowed on the side, an unsubtle reminder that she knew what was coming far better than he did. "So I did my damn job."

So she'd sent him in already knowing that he would fail. The Axolotl was speechless for a second. "But—you couldn't know—I got so close, if I'd had just one more try to talk to him..."

"If I'd let you, I'm sure you woulda kept trying until the end of time," she said. "You seem like a good guy, Ax—but you can't save everyone." She pushed past him to get to work. "There's first aid near where Dimension 2 Gamma was. Get those burns looked at."

"They're fine."

She was wrong. He could save everyone. Because he wouldn't stop until he did.

####

"You're replacing it?" the triangle asked petulantly.

"I'm not talking to you," VENDOR said, turned away from the triangle. "You had your chance at diplomacy and you blew it." The crablike cop was holding up a clipboard with some paperwork for VENDOR to review, and didn't look pleased to have been temporarily reduced to a secretary.

"I'm just asking a question!"

"We're not speaking."

At the top of his lungs—which was, it turned out, very loud and very shrill—the triangle said in the direction of the reporters, "Oh wow, that's a crazy thing to say about Lady Morgenstern! And talk about obscene! She'd be furious if she could hear that—!"

"Shhhhh!" VENDOR rounded angrily on the triangle. "You don't even know who she is!"

"I know her name and I'm not afraid to use it," the triangle said. "You're really replacing my dimension?"

"If I can be left alone long enough to finish signing the authorization paperwork," VENDOR muttered. "The construction crew's already out here and waiting, so if you don't mind..."

"It just seems pretty tacky, replacing a universe just like that." The triangle spoke like dimension he was talking about was just a pawn to be used in a trivial argument about etiquette, rather than everyone and everything he'd ever known. "No memorial or anything? Yeesh."

"So hold a memorial for it," VENDOR said. "We don't have any choice, we have to repair all the fallen walls to keep reality stable. If you'd let us into your hovel to sweep up what's left of your old dimension, it could have at least been incorporated into the new one."

The triangle half reached for his hat, stopped himself, and curled his hand into a fist and thrust it down at his side. "Over my dead body," he said. "Which I'm pretty sure got incinerated! So that means never!"

"You're pretty sure?" VENDOR asked archly.

"It... I had more important stuff to take care of, okay? I'm a busy guy!"

"I'm sure," VENDOR said. "Well, it's too late for any cleanup operations anyway. Enjoy rotting away in your landfill."

"Wow, that's how you talk to a refugee from the biggest disaster ever?" The triangle laughed. "Hey, bet the muckrakers over there would love to hear how sympathetic you are to the—what'd you say I am—the 'last surviving soul from my dimension'—?"

"Let's find somewhere quieter to work," VENDOR said to the cop.

He looked relieved "You got it."

As VENDOR and THEIR impromptu secretary moved away from Dimension Zero, the triangle shouted after THEM, "Hey! How do I vote for Municipalitron!"

Volcanoes on several of VENDOR's planets erupted. THEY whipped around to face the triangle. "You don't! You aren't in my district!"

"Well, whose district am I in? This Morgenstern creep you keep bringing up?" the triangle asked. "How's voting work, do you toss a ballot across the border and I toss it back—?"

"You're not in anyone's district! If you were, you'd have been arrested already!"

The triangle stared in dumb shock. "Wait, so I don't get to vote for which of you idiots I have to deal with?" He hollered at VENDOR's retreating back, "That's fascism!"

Fuming, VENDOR passed the Axolotl muttering under THEIR breath about showing the triangle fascism; then stopped, abruptly turned to face him, and snapped, "You."

"You," the Axolotl agreed.

"You're an optimistic fool."

Yes, well, he knew that already. He'd been voted Most Adorably Idealistic in his law school yearbook for a reason. "I don't think I like you, either."

"No one does." THEIR camera whirred irritably as they looked the Axolotl up and down. "What are you doing here, anyway? I assumed you'd been sent to figure out who's liable for this whole mess—but no, you only handle afterlife cases, don't you? Who sent you?"

The Axolotl was silent.

Furiously, VENDOR said, "Are you serious?! We could have avoided half this mess if it weren't for you!"

"If it weren't for me, he'd have knocked down the multiverse before anyone realized he's setting the fires," the Axolotl snapped. "And if you had figured that much out, you'd have gotten your cops killed before anyone realized he's a god."

"The professionals here to handle the situation could have figured it out faster if you weren't derailing their investigations," VENDOR snarled. "And arguing about jurisdiction! We could have arrested that that little troublemaker the moment we figured out just what he's done—"

"Right after you arrested that kid with the spray can who didn't have anything to do with this?"

THEY growled in frustration. "Forget it! I hope you're happy with your genocidal pal over there—you seem about as concerned with public safety as he is." THEY stormed off, the cop with THEIR paperwork chasing after THEM.

The Axolotl watched VENDOR go; then turned to look ruefully toward Dimension Zero.

When the triangle caught his gaze, he formed a heart with his fingers over his top point and called out, gleefully singsong, "Genocide paaals!"

It wasn't exactly the reaction he'd hoped for.

####

The Axolotl was attempting to distract himself from scratching his itchy leg while it regrew by eavesdropping on the triangle. It seemed like the triangle was entertaining himself by darting around the border of Dimension Zero to start arguments with anybody he happened to recognize (except the Axolotl, whom he seemed to be trying to ignore outside of throwing a few odd quips at him.) At the moment, the triangle and the Time Giant were hollering at each other about her decision to reinforce the second dimensions by making them splinter into multiple timelines.

"So you're really willing to sacrifice zillions of lives by letting me incinerate all their parallel timelines?" The triangle laughed in disbelief. "And everyone here thinks I'm the killer! That's not a good look for you, buddy!"

She glanced up from a table full of paperwork to give him a totally neutral look. "You're the one who's willing to incinerate them. You could not do that."

"When I do it, it's justified."

The Axolotl was distracted from the argument as the storm cloud with the apoc agents gloomily blew past him. It was talking into a walkie-talkie as it went: "Yeah, I know he's a nut. But he's a nut that can't throw fireballs outside the border of his dimension, and I've got to finish this report before we can get outta here." He sighed at whatever the walkie-talkie said in response, and said, "Yeah. We'll rendezvous after I have his testimony." It let its tornado suck the walkie-talkie back in and drifted to the Time Giant. "Mind if I steal your conversation partner for a minute? ATTF business."

She grabbed a binder to try to shield her papers from the worst of the storm's rain. "Please. Take him."

"Thanks." It floated closer to Dimension Zero and raised its voice to bark, "Hey! Magister Mentium!"

The triangle looked over mistrustfully. "What?" As he'd talked to the Time Giant, he'd been playing with the fabric of reality, creating a circle out of raw... stuff. The Axolotl couldn't tell what the stuff was, but it looked like it was some sort of animal tissue, except far too uncannily homogeneous to be natural, disturbing in its uniformity. Like a slice of baloney. When he saw who'd called out to him, he rolled his eye and turned his attention to extruding the circle into a baloney cylinder. "Heeey, Officer Fun Police! Here to rain on my parade again?"

"Rain jokes aren't as funny as you think they are," it said. "No, this is Apocalyptic Threat Task Force business."

The triangle's eye narrowed. "What business? Are you gonna complain about my renovations again?"

"No. If you're not about to knock reality down, I don't care what you do anymore," the cloud said. "It's not my business to punish anybody for previous apocalypses, I just want to prevent future ones. Answer a few questions for our incident report and I'll be out of your life." There was an implicit and you'll be out of mine in its tone.

"All right," the triangle said dubiously. "Fffine. Then we're on the same side. I'm not fond of apocalypses either."

It paused like it wanted to argue with that claim, but said, "Good enough for me." It pulled out the soggy notepad it had been using all day, flipped through it, couldn't find a free page, and with a sigh pulled out a tape recorder instead. "You're from Dimension 2 Delta, right?"

"If you say so," the triangle said, lifting his hands in a shrug. "You guys are the ones who named my dimension."

"Uh-huh." Under its breath, the cloud muttered, "Not exactly a name, but... If you're from 2Δ, that makes you the only direct witness to how your universe was destroyed."

The triangle paused. "Mm."

"Can you explain what happened, exactly?" When the triangle didn't respond, the cloud added, "I'm not gonna arrest you for it. If we want to have a chance of stopping something like this from happening in the future, we need to know what happened here."

"Uhhh, yyyeah. Suuure," the triangle said.  It wasn't clear exactly how Dimension Zero rearranged, but the view of the eternal dance party simply vanished. There was no sign of the millions of shapes. The music had fallen near silent, just a constant distant low thumping noise, like your heartbeat in your ears; quiet enough that it couldn't drown out the whispery hiss leaking out of Dimension Zero. "It's not like I have anything to hide." Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like he wanted to hide it from his party prisoners, at least.

A bolt of lightning shot through the storm's recorder, turning it on. "You said you were an active participant in the end of the world, right?"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" He eyed the recorder suspiciously. "What is this, some trick to try to get a confession out of me?"

"Again, I'm not a cop. And you already confessed in front of a thousand reporters," the storm said. "If you were involved, you've got a different perspective than some guy ten superclusters away who only witnessed it, that's the only reason it matters."

"Oh," the triangle said. "Then—yeah, I was there for the whole thing. Start to finish."

"Great," the storm said gruffly. "Then could you explain in your own words what happened when the universe ended and, to the best of your knowledge, what caused it."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. The cause," the triangle said. "It... it was a—monster."

"I thought you said you—"

"It was a monster," the triangle said, more confidently now.

The cloud hesitated. "All right," it said. "Tell me what happened."

The triangle took a deep breath. "Okay. So. It uh—started with the third dimension."

"The monster came from the third dimension?"

"No, we were going to the third dimension. But we needed—"

The hissing background static exploded into a roar.

The void filled with the staticky screams of countless dead voices, pleading for mercy, pleading for it to stop. Death rattles, howls of agony, wails of terror. Most of the crowd of gods outside Dimension Zero fell silent, turning to stare at the disembodied hysterical shrieks.

One voice, strained with pain, rose above the cacophony, crackling, "Emergency services! We need medical assistance! Ambulances, or—please—I don't know what happened—it's like everyone's internal organs spontaneously ruptured, there's—there's hundreds of people here! Some of them are missing parts of their body, they just—disappeared! I'm hurt too, I don't know what it is—I can feel it inside me—"

A second voice replied, "We can't send assistance. Everyone's bleeding, the whole city's dying! We can't help you!"

Whatever the triangle said was lost beneath the roar. He didn't even seem to notice it. His eye was filled with static. The word "blood" was just barely audible. The word "mandibles."

Another voice, trying to sound professional, trying to sound authoritative, but trembling with fear, "This is an emergency announcement! This announcement will not repeat! The fire can transmit over radio waves and sound waves! Turn off all radios and TVs! Turn off all radios and TVs and destroy any wireless phones and pagers! Do NOT listen to the screams! Again, the fire is transmitting over radio waves, this message will not repeat, destroy your radio and warn your neighbors!"

The Axolotl saw images flash in the triangle's eye, too fast for him to mentally process one before another ten had gone by: a plane like infinitely thin glass with tiny delicate shapes painted on its surface shattering in a rolling wave; a bleeding body reduced to shards and then the shards reduced to chips and then chips reduced to dust; fire spitting and crackling into every crack split in existence; a light shaped like a triangle. (Was that the light that had blinded the Oracle's seer?)

Another voice gasping, "It's doing something to the gravity, I-I don't understand—we don't even have the equipment to read... it's like gravity's turned in a direction that doesn't exist! Does anyone know how to stop it?! Our universe is tearing ap—" and the words were cut off with a scream; and the scream was cut off with a sudden silence that was swallowed whole by the other voices.

The triangle had peeled open, shining golden panels stretching out like petals, his mandibles unhinged and curling around his eye in a ring of teeth, like a blooming carnivorous flower, sun-soaked and mesmerizing. God, he was so bright. He shot light in every direction like an explosion that never ended. Like a star trapped in the moment of supernova.

Another voice, shaking with rage, "Did you hear that, you monster?! I told you we weren't ready yet! Why didn't you listen?! I can see the destruction from here—the sky's on fire, everything is burning. How could this happen?! YOU killed them all—" and the rage cracked, revealing the fear and grief just barely hidden underneath, "Remember us. If you're the only one left, you have to remember us. Please—"

The static snapped off; the triangle's body snapped back into place; his eye snapped back into focus; "—and then they appointed me their god," he said cheerfully, "and here we are!"

And with only a couple more dying cries of pain and pleas for help, the voices fell back to their constant background whisper.

The storm cloud had started sleeting.

The Axolotl had stopped breathing. Just the sound of the carnage was enough to make him sick.

But the triangle sounded perfectly at ease—more than he had before he'd answered the cloud's question. "So is that all you needed?" He'd resumed playing with the cylinder of meat he'd been constructing—extruding it further, and then, dissatisfied with the results, collapsing it back into a circle.

His hands were trembling as he messed with the cylinder. There was a tightness around his eye.

"What..." The storm cloud let out a low rumble of thunder, ahem, "what... did you say about blood? I didn't catch it."

The triangle blinked blankly at the storm. "I didn't say anything about blood."

It paused.  "All right, then—what about the other voices? Who were they?"

"What voices?"

The storm stared at the triangle, baffled sunbeam fixed on him; then swung the sunbeam over to the Axolotl. "You heard—?"

So his eavesdropping had been noticed. He nodded. Oh, he heard, all right.

The triangle glanced between them. "I think you guys are hearing voices," he said. "The only one talking here is me."

He said it like he meant it. The Axolotl was sure he did. Had he not heard the voices?

"Never mind, forget it," the cloud said uneasily. "You said someone... Who appointed you their god?"

"Uhhh..." the triangle tilted to the side as he tried to think. "Pretty much all my people? Yeah. It was everyone!"

"Your people? From your universe?"

"Yup!"

"They didn't appoint you their god," the cloud said. "They're all dead."

The triangle scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. They're all in here with me!"

"You mean the mortals from the other universes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the triangle repeated, a little slower, warningly. "They're all from my universe."

For a moment, the cloud just stared at him, at a loss. It glanced again toward the Axolotl. The Axolotl had nothing to offer it.

"Is that everything?" The triangle tried to keep his voice peppy, but there was an edge of exhaustion that hadn't been there earlier. (Yeah, him and everyone else here.)

"I guess that wraps up that part of the questionnaire," the cloud muttered uneasily, trying to recover its professional tone. "Just a couple more questions. I need your name. For the report."

Dimension Zero's hissing background static rose again: "The murderer... The name of the murderer... is—"

"NOBODY ASKED YOU!" The triangle turned and chucked the cylinder he'd been working on into the Dream Realm. He grumbled under his breath, created another circle, and started stretching it out again.

The triangle could hear the voices. Then why hadn't he been able to hear them earlier? Unless he had been able to hear them—and he just... couldn't remember that he'd heard them?

Even if the Axolotl hadn't known about the incomparable trauma the triangle had survived/caused, it would be pretty obvious by now that something was going terribly wrong inside his head. Contradictory stories about his own reality, memories he refused to remember, facts he simply set aside as not relevant. Was he refusing to face them, or was he unable?

From their conversation in the Axolotl's tank, he thought the triangle understood more than he was willing to admit. But the Axolotl might be the only one who knew that.

And that was beginning to give the Axolotl an idea.

"Just—put me down as the Magister Mentium, okay?" the triangle told the cloud. "Everyone'll know who you're talking about."

"If you say so," said the cloud. "What was your universe's name?"

"Its name?" The triangle glanced up from his new cylinder and gave the cloud a perplexed look. "You asked already. You said it's Dimension 2 Delta."

"That's its serial number. Every dimension's assigned one at its Big Bang. But it's standard to let a dimension's own residents choose its name. It makes it more personal." The cloud sounded as though it had memorized this explanation. The Axolotl wondered how many times it had had to take statements from a destroyed dimension's grieving survivors. He hoped it usually got to give this spiel to witnesses of a narrowly averted apocalypse. "Typically the first explorers to leave their dimension get to name it; but the only person ever known to leave 2Δ is... you."

"Oh," he said. "Right."

"So, what did your people name your universe?"

He stared at the storm like it was stupid. "We called it... the universe?"

"Everyone calls their universe The Universe," the cloud said. "Followed by The World, The Dimension, Reality, and Home. They're all taken, come up with something else."

"Seriously? You're making me name my whole universe and now you're telling me how to name it?"

"They're not my rules," the cloud said. "If you don't have a native name, we usually name a dimension after the first known explorer to leave it. Was that you?"

The triangle was quiet for an uncomfortably long moment. His gaze twitched away; and for a moment the Axolotl thought he saw another image flash in his eye: a triangle floating in space, eerily serene, dead. His voice was small when he said, "No."

Surprised lightning quietly flashed in the storm's cloud. "Oh. Do you know the name of the first?"

"Of course I do. He's my..." He stopped himself. He said, too evenly, "His name is Euclid."

Obviously, the triangle wasn't speaking a language that can be spoken with human mouths or written with human symbols. "Euclid" is a stand-in word for an unpronounceable name; trying to say the name without the right anatomy—without even the right laws of physics and sound waves—would only mangle it.

But the rest of the multiverse didn't have the right physics or anatomy either. "Euclid," the cloud repeated, mangling it. The triangle winced. "Fine. How's Euclydia sound?"

"It sounds stupid," the triangle said.

"Well, it's your dimension. Do you have a better suggestion?"

"I..." The triangle floundered helplessly. "That... Okay hold on, I've had a very long..." He floundered again as he tried to figure exactly what kind of time span he'd been having a long one of.

"If you want me to come back later..." said the cloud, who very obviously did not want to have to come back later.

"I don't knowww, gimme a second," the triangle whined. "I've never thought about a universe having a name! It's—it's fine. Euclydia's fine."

"If you're sure—?"

"Of course I'm sure," the triangle snapped. "Euclydia. Yeah. Great. Fine."

"All right." The cloud zapped its tape recorder, turning it off. "Thanks for your time."

As it started to hover off, the triangle said, "Hold on! I answered your questions, you owe me some."

The eye of the storm reluctantly swung back toward the triangle. "What?"

He held up the shape he'd been extruding. "What do you call this... 3D circle thing?"

The sunbeam swept over it. "A cylinder?"

The triangle pointed toward VENDOR, who was out at the edge of the crowd answering the questions of some reporters who'd caught THEM attempting to slink away from the scene. "And what are the 3D circle things Coin Slot over there is hauling around?"

It glanced at VENDOR's stock of planets. "Spheres."

The triangle shook his cylinder. "Well, what am I doing wrong, then!"

"I don't know, math's not my thing," the cloud said. "Try rotating it."

The triangle waited until the cloud had moved on; then created another circle, extruded it again, but curled the extrusion around into a circle. He ended up with a shape like a donut. He said, quietly, "Oo-oo-ooh." He sounded impressed.

The Axolotl swam up alongside the storm cloud as it left. "So. Find out what you wanted to know?"

The cloud laughed ruefully.

That was what he thought. "Are the interviews you've been taking classified?"

"No, our reports are open to the public. Anyone can request copies. The database is a nightmare to navigate, though."

"Let me know who to contact for the records on this incident. Especially the witness testimonies."

"I take it you're also planning to go through that noise we just heard with a fine-tooth comb?"

"That's hardly the start of it."

If the Axolotl had been convinced of anything during all his conversations with the triangle today, it was that the triangle could barely begin to grasp just what it was he'd done to his dimension and all the dimensions around it—and he did a very poor job of communicating what he did grasp.

And if the Axolotl could prove that—if he could build a convincing argument that the triangle hadn't understood what he'd done, psychologically couldn't understand, that even now he only had the fuzziest comprehension of what he was involved in...

Someday, that triangle's sins would catch up to him. Someday, he would be in the hands of the gods of death and justice, and they would have to decide what fate his actions had earned. And when that day came, it would be the Axolotl's job to ensure that the triangle didn't end up damned or erased from existence.

As it was now, that triangle didn't stand a chance in the multiverse of being found innocent. But there was more than one way to avoid a "guilty" verdict.

By the time the triangle stood before a judge, the Axolotl would make sure that the right laws were in place for him to do what he wanted to do.

####

Where there had been swarms of firefighters earlier, now the scene swarmed with construction workers, working on the emergency genesis of over half a dozen replacement universes—carefully, so that the big bangs didn't do any further damage to an already unstable situation; but quickly. Already every destroyed one-dimensional universe had been replaced. Several half-burned dimensions had been supplanted with oddly-shaped undersized universes that met at the older universes' burned edges; jagged 1D dimensions sealed the gaps between these dimensions like a line of solder between two panes of stained glass.

By now, the flat planes and edges surrounded the zeroth dimension like the sleek shifting surfaces of an infinity-sided die; all except for one last missing wall in the middle of the damage.

Dimension 2 Delta. "Euclydia."

The construction workers were already setting up the scaffolding and equipment to set off another big bang.

As the Axolotl looked at the copious warning signs around the construction site—"DANGER! COSMIC EXPLOSIVES" "GENESIS IN PROGRESS"—the specialized equipment, the veritable army of workers, the mountain of papers the Time Giant had been reviewing earlier to ensure that everything was up to code and nothing would go wrong... he couldn't help but think of the triangle holding the seed of a big bang in his bare glowing hand, threatening to set it off right there. The Axolotl had known it was foolish, but seeing all the workers' preparations put just how reckless it was into perspective. Like a toddler holding a stick of TNT over a campfire.

He spotted the Time Giant among the workers, flickering back and forth across the scene as she tried to literally be multiple places at the same time. When she settled down for a moment over a worktable to double check a pile of blueprints and forms and calculations and even more paperwork, she caught sight of the Axolotl passing by, and tipped her chin up at him in greeting.

He paused, then nodded back to her. No hard feelings. He was just following his principles; and she was just doing her job. They'd each found their own way to help hold up the multiverse.

"Hey," she called out, and gestured for him to come over. As he did, she said, "Your leg's healing nicely."

He glanced down at it. His new toes were stubby, but at least they were back. "I don't like being uneven." He'd take a few more days on his tail. "I'll probably pay for it tomorrow, though." When he finally got home, he'd have to see if he could cancel his morning appointments.

"Reckon we'll all be feeling this tomorrow." She tilted her head toward Dimension Zero. "I've got a message for the god of DIY over there. I think you're the only one he likes—you mind carrying it over?"

####

It wasn't hard to find the triangle; he was leaning against the membrane around the zeroth dimension, moodily staring out at the third. He seemed to be gazing past all the gods, unfazed by their hubbub. The Axolotl tried to see what he was looking at, and didn't spot anything of note. As far as he could tell, the triangle might as well just be stargazing.

Along with the police tape and the ATTF barrier and the long-forgotten cordons to hold off the reporters, there was now an additional grid of orange cones set up blocking anyone from getting too close to the destroyed wall and the construction site. The Axolotl glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention before he slipped past the cones and swam up to the triangle.

When he approached, the triangle was muttering under his breath: "Stupid, now it sounds like an STD. I should've named it something cooler. Like... Triangletopia. Or the Party Plane. Or Margaritaville—I bet no one's ever used that one before..."

"Magister," the Axolotl said.

The triangle's eye snapped to him. "Hey, look at that! The pompous psycho is back! If you're even thinking about sticking me back in your 'office'—"

The Axolotl held up his forelegs appeasingly. "I'm not." He wasn't even crossing the threshold into the triangle's turf. "This is the last time I'll speak to you today."

"Finally, some good news," the triangle grumbled. "What do you w—ha! Ah-haha! I caught myself, that one didn't count."

The Axolotl decided not to count it. "The Time Giant wanted you to know they're about to set off the big bang where Dimension 2 Delta used to be. You probably don't want to be too close to the wall when it goes up."

The triangle's expression darkened; but he just said, "All right. Fine. Have fun. Not my problem! Just keep the construction noises down."

That was all he'd been sent to tell the triangle; but he added, "If you ever want to leave your dream realm, this is your last chance."

The triangle groaned. "This again? Listen, frills, I already told you I'm not interested! And you don't have the right to drag me out, this is my sovereign god territory—"

"I'm not threatening to," the Axolotl said gently. "I just—wanted to make sure you know. If you change your mind later, you physically won't be able to leave."

That gave the triangle pause. "I... don't see why not."

"For something to pass from one dimension to another, it needs a large enough hole to pass through," the Axolotl said. "For a person carrying the mass and energy of an entire universe to cross from one dimension to another... they need a hole the size of a universe. The missing wall where 2Δ was is the size your universe used to be. And now... it's the only exit big enough for you to pass through. Do you understand?"

The triangle stared at him silently. There was that hard, heavy look in his eye. It was awful to see. He did understand.

"If you don't come now..."

"We came up with a way to fit my entire universe into this one," the triangle said. "If I ever want to leave, we'll invent a way to get it back out."

"Your universe didn't fit in without incinerating it."

The triangle tapped the side of his hat with a finger; somewhere inside it was the speck that used to be his universe—the seed of a big bang. "It's travel-sized now. The next time will be easier."

For the first time since seeing the awful ruin of Dimension 2 Delta, the Axolotl forced himself to turn his fearful gaze chronologically forward. He squinted toward the hazy, far-flung future; and then he gave the triangle, in the present, a sorrowful look. "No, it won't," he said. "But I'll do what I can for you."

The triangle stared sullenly at him, unmoved by the offer. "I don't see what you're getting out of helping me. Everyone else is dying to send me to ghost jail or however things work around here."

"Isn't it enough to help you just because you exist and that makes you worth it?"

"If you ever, ever say something like that again, I'll kill you. I will find a way."

He wasn't particularly surprised. But that was truly what the Axolotl believed—and believed strongly enough to guide everything else he did. 

The things this triangle had done were too ghastly for even an ancient, experienced god to fully wrap his head around. Without exaggeration, he might have done the worst thing anyone anywhere in the multiverse had ever done.

But.

But if the Axolotl could prove that he, the worst person ever, was worth giving a second chance—that he could change, that he could show remorse for what he'd done, that he could be a force for good in the multiverse... then he would have proven that everyone, no matter what, was worth it.

The Axolotl had been voted Most Adorably Idealistic, but he'd never been called soft. His ideals were harder than diamond and sharper than obsidian. He hadn't decided to protect the triangle in spite of the impact that might have on the multiverse; he was protecting him because of the impact it could have. 

The Axolotl was a god of justice, of monsters, of second chances, and through his actions he could shape what justice meant throughout the multiverse as if he were sculpting clay; and he thought a small, sharp little equilateral triangle would make a perfect sculpting tool.

"In truth, I just don't believe in punishment. Not even for you." The Axolotl lay a forefoot on Dimension Zero's bubble. "But I don't see why you trust me." Because it was clear the triangle did. He'd trusted the Axolotl to judge the character of the other gods. He'd kept looking toward him like he was trying to gauge his own situation based on the Axolotl's reaction to it. He'd admitted the truth about the remains of his universe and his plans for it. It seemed like the Axolotl was the only one the triangle trusted in all this mess.

The triangle thought that over; then said, "You seem like a grade-A sucker."

He laughed. "I'll try to live up to your opinion of me." He had a guess what kind of people this triangle thought were suckers. The charitable; the caring. The people who didn't think that seeing the worth in everyone was a kind of illness.

"You should know, I intend to legally register my tank as a purgatory. I'll probably submit my application before the end of the week. If you claim it as your afterlife, you'll be transferred to my tank for holding while awaiting trial to decide your final afterlife."

"Ugh, now it all makes sense: you're starting a cult! I don't wanna join your cult, frills—I've got my own."

"But you do want to go straight to your lawyer's office if you're about to go on trial for your sins," the Axolotl said pointedly. "I don't intend to house anyone in my tank permanently. It will just be a transfer place for clients preparing for trial or figuring out where they want to go next—another afterlife, reincarnation... You're already technically dead; you can request at any time to come to my tank, and you'll be there."

"Sounds great for your other clients! But I'm not planning to go on trial and I don't want to be in an afterlife," the triangle said testily. "I'm pretty sure we've been over this!"

"I know you don't. I wish you didn't have to face it. But when you have no choice," the Axolotl said. "When you need it. When your time comes to burn like your people—" (the triangle flinched) "—call me. I'll offer you a second chance at any time."

"Low blow," the triangle muttered. "Don't put yourself out on my account. I'll be fine by myself."

"I'm sure." The Axolotl suspected he'd be putting himself out on the triangle's account for a long time. "What's your name? Your real name."

The background hiss of cosmic noise roared louder. The echoes of billions of erased ghosts said, "THE NAME OF THE MURDERER IS—"

With a flinch, the triangle cranked the distant dance music louder so it spilled cacophonously out of Dimension Zero again. It was too late, though. The Axolotl had heard the triangle's real name.

He pretended he hadn't. He waited.

The triangle didn't answer for a long moment. "You probably wouldn't be able to pronounce it."

"Maybe not." He'd seen how the triangle had winced hearing the cloud try to pronounce the name of some other shape. "I still want to know who you are."

He wrestled with his words; then finally gave up and asked his question. "What... is this place? We're not in the third dimension. When I—freed my dimension, I expected to go up; but we went... down. I didn't know there was a down." He confessed his ignorance in a near whisper, almost drowned out by his own music.

"You're in Dimension Zero." But that wasn't right. Dimension Zero was—should be—a point, and it's impossible to be "in" a point. A point simply is. "You are Dimension Zero."

The triangle said, "Then call me King Zero."

The Axolotl considered that. "Yes," he said. "I think that is your name."

Someone shouted, "Clear the way!" One worker at the construction site was looking directly at the Axolotl. "That means you! Unless you wanna be boiled frog legs!"

"I'm not a frog," the Axolotl muttered; but, he turned one last time to newly-crowned King Zero, said, "Call me," then hastily swam to the safe side of the orange cone barricade.

"Five, four, three..."

The Axolotl watched the triangle—and the triangle watched him—until the detonation. The big bang went off in a flash of light bright enough it would have incinerated anyone in the vicinity had it not been contained to a flat plane.

When the Axolotl looked away from the light, the afterimage of a triangle was burned into the center of his vision.

Dimension Zero was sealed off from the rest of reality—locking its king in for the next trillion years.

####

When the triangle said his name was "King Zero," of course, he wasn't speaking English. English wouldn't exist for a long time. The name King Zero is simply a convenient translation.

The English word "zero" comes from the French zéro. Zéro comes from Italian zefiro. Zefiro comes from Medieval Latin zephirum. And zephirum comes from the Arabic صِفْر—ṣifr.

####

Centuries ago, in the dream of a naive, trusting human, the human asked in Arabic, "What should I call you?" And King Zero responded, "Call me Ṣifr."

And years later, a dreaming human asked in Medieval Latin, "What should I call you, o muse of mathematics?" And of the two Latin words descended from his current Arabic nickname, Ṣifr responded with the one he thought was closer: "Call me Cifra."

A dreaming human asked in Old French, "What's your name?" And he replied, "My name's Cyffre."

Speaking Middle English, he told a dreaming human, "My name's Siphre."

And in Modern English, he told Edward Bishop Bishop, "The name's Cipher. But you can call me Bill."

In a year's time, and two years before his death from sleep deprivation, Edward would write Flatworld, a book about a 2D shape and his Muse journeying up to the highest dimensions; and also all the way down, below the spaces and planes and lines, to the self-absorbed King Zero, buried in the point-sized zeroth dimension, who thought a whole universe was contained inside him.

####

(It's FINISHED. 🎉🎉🎉

Hi y'all, if you just joined us for this Axolotl plot arc, usually this is a post-canon human Bill fic. I took a break from the main plot for one week to post a one-chapter flashback and then it was nine chapters. This bitch is 50k words. It's a novel unto itself.

Anyway if you only showed up for this story about the Ax, it only exists in service of a much longer story; so if you enjoyed this check out the rest of the fic. This is technically chapter 69 (lol). (If human Bill isn't usually your thing, I've been told that this is The Human Bill Fic For People Who Don't Like Human Bills because Bill is clearly very much a triangle unhappily trapped in a human body, rather than just chill with being human—so you might wanna give it a shot.)

And for the regulars who are already reading the whole fic: OH MY GOD IT'S FINALLY FINISHED, WE'RE FREE, WE CAN RETURN TO THE PRESENT. Listen I love the Ax and his bizarre but unbending morality, but guys. Guys. I miss Mabel so much.

Pre-warning that I may end up needing to skip a chapter or two before the end of the year, because work's piling a LOTTA extra work on me this month and I might just flat out not have time to edit & do art. I'm up at 3 a.m. editing & queueing this post and I was up til 3 a.m. another night doing the art because I HAVE NOT HAD TIME this week to do it any earlier. I did this because I love y'all.

No that's a lie, I did this because I want to FINISH this DANG ARC. That's my birthday gift to me.

Anyway lemme know what y'all think!! 💕)

[weaselle]

You came face to face with a wolf in the woods? What’s the story in that

ok ok so i'm driving through the woods down from Oregon to visit the fam in California, right? And right as i'm about to cross the border from OR to CA i'm like, oh shit, pops is the only one i don't have a christmas present for.

So i see this big weird log-cabin-ass liquor store and i'm all, he loves a unique bottle of wine, gotta be something in there he can't get back home so i pull in.

It's a building made of logs all by itself on the edge of the woods in the hills along the N. border of California. While i'm in there i ask to use the bathroom and they tell me sure, it's a small separate building behind the store

just walk down the foot path into the woods a few yards until you get to the fork and take the right side path to the little bathroom hut. Don't take the left side path unless you want to disappear all the way into the woods. Cool.

So i walk into the woods on the little trail, and i get to the fork in the path, and i can see the little bathroom hut off to the right. Before i take the right, as i'm standing there, i look down the left side path that trails off into the woods.

And right then this full grown wolf steps out onto the trail, about 15 feet from me.

it was in fact, this exact wolf. Altho he is older in this picture than when i met him. When he stepped out to come face to face with me that day, he was quite a bit thinner.

Now at 15 feet, i instantly knew he was a wolf. Not a coyote, certainly not a dog, when you're close and you look in their face it's just different in the snout and eyes.

So i freeze, and i'm looking at him but i'm not making any sustained eye-contact and i'm feeling that weird calm feeling i get when shit is too serious to panic. And i'm trying to look bored because that's the safest middle ground between acting like prey and acting like a threat and i'm like, shit. Shit. Okay. This is a wolf. This is a whole ass wild wolf in the woods, only about 3 body lengths from me. What is about to happen here. One of us is going to do something soon and it better not be the wrong thing.

Wolf is just standing there the same as me. Wouldn't surprise me if it was having basically the exact same thoughts

i wasn't working professionally with dogs yet, but even then i knew canines real well, and as i'm standing there getting a real good look i realize, fuck, this wolf is like, just under 2 years old.

This is very bad news for me.

See, an experienced adult wolf knows things. For instance, an experienced adult wolf knows exactly what it prefers to hunt (not humans) and has probably gotten good at hunting those things (and is therefor not desperate for food) and an older experienced wolf knows that it really can't afford to get injured in a fight if it can avoid one, and probably has figured out that humans are to be left alone.

But a wolf between a year and a half and two years? Is just becoming an adult. This is a wolf that meets an animal the same size as it and has questions.

Questions like "Is this a creature i want to eat?" or "maybe this is a creature that wants to eat me?" and the problem with both of those questions is the answer can easily wind up being "i should probably try to kill it"

Because a mature wolf will assess a threat for the safest way to deal with it, but, like a twenty year old person, a young inexperienced wolf is more prone to brash actions, such as preemptively attacking something it perceives as a threat.

I'm checking his body language and it is reading as uncertain, patient, fairly relaxed but ready for explosive action. Not great, but could be a lot worse.

All this is going through my calm calm head. Like of course i am frightened, but in emergencies my heart like, actually seems to slow a bit? and i get this weird calm clear feeling.

Anyway i'm standing there looking at this wolf, and this wolf is looking at me, and i start to realize... i'm the mature adult in this situation. I have to be the one to decide how this encounter goes.

It was at this point i recalled something i read in a book about cats.

In this book, the author goes to visit her father who is studying lions in Africa. He's staying in a village and when she gets there she is told she might stumble across a lion in the brush if she goes walking around outside the village for any reason (which is why her father is there) and that if she DOES come across a lion, for generations the locals have had a little social exchange worked out with the lions, so she should speak loudly but politely to the lion, and then walk purposefully away at an oblique angle to the lion.

So of course she's on a walk one day and a lion suddenly stands up not far from her. She freezes, unable to do the thing she had been told to do. After waiting and waiting, finally the lion makes a series of loud grunts, and then walks off at an oblique angle, as if to show her how it was done.

I remembered how much sense that made to me when i read it. An oblique angle is like, not straight ahead of you and not straight to the side of you, but sort of halfway between, like one of the branches on a "Y". An oblique angle is more toward than away, so it cannot be mistaken for any kind of running away, but it isn't directly toward the animal enough to be threatening. it is the physical communication equivalent of "You're in my way, but i'll be polite and go around you".

At an oblique angle to my right was the bathroom. So trying to seem like i didn't care about the wolf at all while simultaneously keeping very close track of its reactions, I walked kind of toward him, but way off to one side.

He relaxed more as i did so, watching me go. Then i was inside the little bathroom with the door shut and all my calm went away.

I didn't have my phone on me, and i was in a tiny room in the woods, and all i could think was, jesus christ that was a wolf. A fucking wolf. I just like, walked right by a wolf. A wolf, dude. What if I open the door and the wolf is RIGHT there on the other side? Can i get the door shut fast enough or will he be able to force its way into this cramped space with me? Have i just trapped myself in the woods with this wolf?

Since i was in there anyway, i peed and washed my hands... and then i cracked the door open with my heart in my throat. But that wolf was long gone -- probably melted back into the woods the instant my eyes were all the way off it.

I went back into the liquor store and told the lady in there that there was a wolf nearby, and she said they'd caught a glimpse of it a couple times, and they thought it was a dog jumped out of somebody's truck? I'm not sure she believed me.

Couldn't really blame her. As far as i was aware, there hadn't been any wild wolves in California in close to a hundred years.

So when i got where i was going and found some time to myself around a computer a couple days later, i looked it up.

Sure enough it turns out this wolf on the northern border of California was Wolf OR-7, who, wearing a tracking collar, at one and a half years old, became the first confirmed wild wolf to be in California since 1924, crossing the Oregon border within two days of my sighting him in that area. I found a thread online of people who had managed to get photos of him crossing their property, and while i'm not an expert at identifying wolves, it seemed to be the same wolf. And the right age. And confirmed to be on the border of California the same time I was. And was the only wolf in a hundred years to be there.

I didn't notice a tracking collar on him, but he's also wearing it in the above pic i included, so you can seen how i might have missed it.

So, I met wolf OR-7 face to face! And it was very memorable.

He did very well for himself. Went back up to Oregon and got himself a mate, and founded the Rogue Wolf Pack, the first pack in west Oregon in forever. Most wild wolves are lucky to see six years, but OR-7 (sometimes called Journey) lived to be 11. Some of his pups grew up and started their own packs.

Somebody wrote a book about him, and there's some kind of movie or TV documentary about him i haven't seen, it's called OR-7's Journey or something like that.

Here's a map of his travels

These are his grandchildren, sired by one of his sons

and here is some documentation of wolves in Oregon and California that includes, for example, that OR-7's daughter, OR-54, traveled over 8,000 miles around California and even into Nevada. This is her:

Anyway, that's the story of the time i bumped into a wild wolf in the woods!

[kradogsrats]

Timeline Revisions, Archdragons, and the Cosmic Order

This was supposed to be a post about Shiruakh and Laurelion, but I got derailed momentarily by discovering that there's actually no evidence that Sol Regem was the first Dragon King, meaning the Dragon Monarchy did not start only 1200 years ago, which is something I based like 80% of my history speculation and analysis on. As stupid as I feel about this and as interesting as it was in terms of elf/dragon/human political climate... well, it has made less and less sense as we learn about the other Great Ones and the Cosmic Order. So probably for the best.

Revised/Updated Timeline

Let's do a reset on what we actually know:

Pictured: The official timeline slide as presented at SDCC 2019.

5,000 years ago: Primal elves emerged, elves and dragons were not allied (i.e. presumably the dragon monarchy did not yet exist), and it sucked to be human.

3,000 years ago: the archdragon Shiruakh and the Startouch elf Laurelion battle to the death.

2,000 years ago: Humans acquire (primal) magic, and Elarion is founded. Humanity ascends toward a golden age.

1,200 years ago: The Dragon Prince Anak Araw ascends to the dragon monarchy throne as Dragon King Sol Regem.

1,000 years ago: Sol Regem confronts Ziard, the first dark mage, and threatens Elarion before being blinded with corruption. Luna Tenebris ascends the dragon monarchy throne and expels humanity from the eastern half of Xadia. The archdragons form the Border to keep the two halves of the continent separate.

300 years ago: Luna Tenebris dies without a suitable heir. The Sunfire elf Queen Aditi vanishes before she can resolve the ensuing succession crisis. Aaravos, the "Fallen Star," is defeated and imprisoned by the Archdragons and the Orphan Queen. Avizandum ascends to the dragon monarchy throne.

2 years ago: Avizandum is killed by the human King Harrow. His mate Zubeia ascends the dragon monarchy throne, with their son Azymondias as Dragon Prince.

"Now": Aaravos escapes captivity, but is returned to his heavenly form until his stars realign in 7 years. The archdragons Zubeia, Rex Igneous, and Domina Profundus perish in the battle. Azymondias is the last known living archdragon, and the status of the dragon monarchy is unknown.

and here's things we know happened, but not exactly when:

Between 5,000 and 2,000 years ago: the Startouch elf child Leola teaches humans the secrets of primal magic. Her violation of the Cosmic Order is reported by Dragon Prince Anak Araw, and she is executed for it. Her death forms the Sea of the Castout in Eastern Xadia.

Between 3,000 years ago and 300 years ago: the fang of Shiruakh is forged by humans into the Novablade. At some point, it winds up in the hands of the Celestial elves at the Starscraper.

Between 1,000 years ago and Now: the city of Elarion is either destroyed or naturally falls into ruin. (Anyone who can actually cite a reliable source for Elarion being destroyed is more than welcome to do so, otherwise I will die on the "we have no evidence that Elarion was ever destroyed, actually" hill.)

Sometime before 300 years ago, and probably before 1,000 years ago: the (arch?)dragon Aithne Solaire, mate of Anak Araw/Sol Regem, is killed, by him unwittingly burying her alive in an episode of rage. (I say "probably before 1,000 years ago" because she presumably would have succeeded him as Dragon Queen, if she was alive.)

Between 1,000 years ago and 300 years ago: the modern human kingdoms are founded. The mage wars end as the western half of Xadia is depleted of magical resources. (Unclear whether those two events are directly related.)

Some Speculation: The Archdragons, the Cosmic Order, and Shiruakh/Laurelion

This was originally supposed to be a post about Shiruakh and Laurelion, but let's rewind a bit. We know the Great Ones (a.k.a. the "First Elves") built or instituted something to either create an ideal Cosmic Order or preserve one they had foreseen, because that's what Aaravos wants to destroy as his revenge.

This Cosmic Order seems to be tied to an idealized state of stability—humans acquiring magic is known to be the first step in a descent to "chaos"—but also hierarchy. Archdragons are at the top. Elves venerate them. Humans are lesser beings than both. I think there's a very strong chance that the dragon monarchy was instituted either by the Great Ones, or by some agreement between them and the archdragons. The dragon monarchy oversees and preserves the Cosmic Order while the Great Ones... do whatever it is they do, because they don't actually seem very interested.

Destroying the archdragons (instead of just Sol Regem in particular) could be on Aaravos's agenda simply because they betrayed him 300 years ago, but I suspect they are considered a foundational pillar of the Cosmic Order in some way, and taking out three of the last remaining four was a pretty big win for him. We don't know where archdragons come from—like if a primal has no archdragon, whether one will just... coalesce. If that's the case, it clearly either takes more than 300 years or there's some kind of problem with Luna Tenebris's death and the Moon primal (possible).

Now, as for Shiruakh and Laurelion:

I'm assuming we'll get a translation for Shiruakh's name at some point, the best I could get was Hebrew shir ("song") and ruach/ruakh ("spirit", "breath"). Personally, given Shiruakh's coloration and the fact that her scale empowers Claudia with fire, I would lay money on her being an archdragon of the Sun. Since sometime after her death, Anak Araw is Dragon Prince, a Sun archdragon dynasty on the throne also makes sense. I would also have zero surprise if she was Anak Araw's mother, the mate of the at-the-time Dragon King, just because that would set off some animosity, there. Especially if she was hunted down because of some Cosmic Order bullshit, which would also be delicious—him and Aaravos angry for the same reason.

So why did she and Laurelion fight? Well, we just don't know.

Hmmmm. But no, we don't know.

Now, I would bet that either the Death of the Immortal poem was written long after the actual events, or else large chunks of it are missing, since Kazi skimming over "Laurelion fought an archdragon and its bite killed him" and/or "and then he exploded" would be... kind of weird. The archdragons seem to be aware of what will happen when Aaravos's mortal form dies, so presumably they wouldn't be too keen on delivering a suicidal bite if there are other options available... but the other option is the Novablade, which has the same problem. The Orphan Queen, having the same problem as the main cast, may have "spared" Aaravos less out of some mysterious compassion and more out of also sparing herself and everything in what looks like probably a multi-kilometer radius.

I (and I think a lot of others) had just kind of assumed that Laurelion was targeted for death because of some transgression, but now it seems at least equally likely that he was enforcing the Cosmic Order against Shiruakh going rogue. Given the close relationship that's implied between the archdragons and the Great Ones, with no clear point for it to have soured (except with Aaravos, specifically), it seems unlikely that the archdragons or the elves would feel the need for such a weapon. Which is consistent with the fact that, as we now see in the illustration of Aaravos's tale, the Novablade was actually forged by humans.

Given the trajectory of human civilization over the timeline, I wouldn't expect them to have the technology or knowledge to work draconic ivory that way a thousand years before they acquire primal magic. On the other hand, if Shiruakh's tooth was kicked around for a couple thousand years, why did they suddenly feel the need for a Startouch elf-killing weapon? Is this just a case of dick-swinging, like driving a car that can do 250 MPH when you're never going to go above maybe 90, and that's if you're a huge asshole (which you probably are)? "My sword is made from an archdragon's tooth and can kill a god"?

Was Aaravos behind this, somehow? I would not be at all surprised if Aaravos was behind this, somehow. It's unclear whether one Great One could kill another in single combat, or otherwise force them back to the heavenly plane—if not, the advantages of such a weapon might outweigh the risks for the person with the most motivation to dispatch other Startouch elves. A contingency.

(But I personally also think that Aaravos's manipulation was behind things like... the formation of the Border, so.)

Anyway, since either arc 3 or the leadup to it will presumably involve a lot of frantic researching, maybe we'll finally get some of the Orphan Queen story and learn some of what she figured out.

[altverse-invertverse]

Meeting + Kitty Bath right after

(I can’t draw backgrounds so I “borrowed” these from pinterest and then put a filter over the first two, to make them to make them look like drawings)

AU/Headcanon yapping for this lol ⬇️

Kallamar and Shamura met in their teenage years, living with eachother as close besties who found some random ass crowns along the way. They both shared a cabin on the border of early-day Anura and Darkwoods (there was no distinction between the areas, both areas were relatively the same). They shared a bed because it was comfortable enough for them, and lived an average life.

Now during his 30’s, Kallamar really wanted to take care of a child, even though he wasn’t as capable to carry one himself(intersex, infertile, AND he was single lmao). Shamura didn’t care for children as much, but wanted to see their best friend happy, just didn’t know how.

One day the two were sitting around and playing knucklebones with eachother, when they heard a knock on the door. Shamura got up to answer the door, looking around before glancing down, seeing a young black cat staring back up at them. Shamura was in a state of confusion at first, asking the kit where he came from, only getting a shrug as a response.

It was only a few seconds, before it clicked to Shamura that this child had been abandoned. With no second thoughts, they knew exactly what to do next, as they gently took the child by the hand to offer them a new home. Walking back into the living room, Kallamar had put away the board and dice, asking Shamura who was at the front door. Shamura replied with a simple “Just look for yourself”, as Kallamar gave them a look of confusion, before spotting the child stepping out from behind Shamura, while holding their hand.

Shamura explained to Kallamar the child’s situation, they brought up the idea of taking in the child, as if he were their younger sibling and such. Kallamar became ecstatic, agreeing to the idea almost immediately while going over to hug Shamura tightly, then greeting the little boy.

However, first things first, the kid smelled like trash(despite looking clean), which called for an “emergency” bath. I won’t go into big detail about the rest of that day, but let’s just say that Kalla and the child, nownamed Narinder, had alot fun getting to know each other.

This is literally “revised” lore I made up in my head for two weeks, finally had motivation to draw a bit of it, I just really like seeing interpretations of Narinder and Kallamar. So I thought instead of the usual sibling battles, they started off with a loving caretaker their adopted child type relationship, only becoming more sibling tied once growing up lol

[lanormie]

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 6)

what if? the event of Thanos snap happened in the BNHA universe? you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 previous part

Two months flew by, and the apartment search is going nowhere. The government has quickly seized up a large number of empty housings and facilities to turn them into temporary shelters, and now any new listing would immediately get scooped up as soon as they are posted, no matter the cost. Not like you or Shouto have time to stalk the market anyway, when crimes have been on a scary uptick for the past few weeks. Hawks has been apologetic about all the overtime, but you all know the world is far from peaceful.

An anti-nationalist group called The Flag Smashers has been on the rise. They’ve been gaining more and more followers everyday, vowing to restore the world order to how it was before the re-emergence.

A world without borders and patriotism. Even as a pro-hero, you can’t say you disagree. But when the line between ideology and violence blurs and innocent people get hurt, you refuse to stand by.

“Here’s the address of the juvenile shelter on 42nd, please tell Mandalay I said hi when you drop him off.” 

You hand the piece of paper to the sidekick who just showed up for the night shift, then turn to the small frame that’s clinging to your belt like super glue, tiny hiccups escaping from behind the mop of unruly hair that conceals most of his face.

Even though you can’t make out his features, you can tell he’s just a kid. A kid who had no family left when he returned, a kid who met the wrong people and got swept up in doing the wrong things. He was a lookout for a store break-in when you finally intercepted the group, and the grown men he was with had no problem turning him into a bargaining chip.

Nothing you haven’t seen before, sadly.

The standoff ended pretty quickly, with the men hauled off to the authorities. Your decision of keeping the little one from getting sent to the youth detention center thankfully didn’t encounter much resistance.

Everybody is too busy to care.

You send him off with a promise to visit once you find time, then take off towards the agency, the short conversation you had with him playing in your head like a record.

“Miss," The little guy meekly muttered in between sniffles. “When will things go back to normal?”

When?

Will they go back to normal?

“I don’t have the answer to that, I’m sorry. But in the meantime we can make the best of our new normal.” You emphasized the last part, but for him or for you, you didn’t know.

And you still don’t. If making the best of your new normal is working yourself to the brink of collapsing then do it all over again the next day, you’re doing great.

As the agency rooftop comes into view, you glance at the clock on your phone. It’s 3:30 AM. Looks like the sleeping bag under your desk is your friend again tonight.

There’s a warm light coming from the small covered patio on one side of the rooftop, and your eyes zone in on the figure sprawled out on the hammock, an open book resting on top of their face. Red and white locks peek out from under the book, or more accurately, the manga volume, now that you’re closer to see it. Broad chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the arms resting on it coming along for the ride. You chuckle to yourself as you land. Shouto really does sleep like a mummy.

You lightly tap on the manga volume before lifting a corner of it. “You didn’t go home?”

Shouto squints at you sleepily. “I just finished the report–” He pauses to yawn. “Report backlog. And we have a shift at 7, so I figured it wasn’t worth it. Plus,” He picks up the manga and tosses it onto the coffee table nearby. “This is surprisingly comfortable. Here, try it out.”

Shouto slightly scoots over and stretches out the fabric to make space.

You should’ve known how much of an ordeal it is to get into a hammock with another person already in it. It takes a lot of maneuvering not to fall directly on top of your friend, but in the end you still end up smushed against Shouto’s left side. Despite that, he was right, this is terribly comfy. 

The stretchy fabric cocoons you in like a swaddle, the cool night breeze gently caresses your skin, which you don’t mind too much cause the heat emanating from Shouto is more than enough to ward off the chills.

“Ten out of ten.” You conclude, eyelids growing heavier. Maybe all that overtime is catching up to you.

* * * * *

“But they look so cute!”

“I don’t give a shit, they’re about to be late.”

The sound of aggressive whispers pulls you away from your dreamless slumber.

Daylight greets you through your eyelids, as you register a certain weight draped over your side and some humid warm breeze fanning your forehead. Your bleary eyes open to find yourself face to face with a white T-shirt covered broad chest, and it dawns on you. You and Shouto both fell asleep on the hammock last night.

Groggily tilting your head up, you find Shouto already awake. His dual colored eyes are focused elsewhere, indicating that he’s listening in on the whispering match happening behind him.

“I’m going to wake them up.”

“Wait, Touya no!”

The hushed tone does nothing to hide the very distinct voices of Hawks and Touya, clearly being at odds (as usual) about letting their employees snooze on premise.

Shouto finally notices your stirring, and the cool arm that was lazily resting on your side curls in ever so slightly.

“Wait.” He speaks, voice low enough for only you to hear. “I want to see if we stay still, they're going to let us sleep in.”

Soft as his murmuring is, it still reverberates through his chest and onto you, and you try your hardest not to squirm at the proximity. In your still-freshly-out-of-a-relationship brain, hugs are different from cuddles. Not that you’d ever shy away from your best friend who mostly shows his affection through non-verbal cues (the majority of them is touch), cuddling with someone who’s not your boyf–, well, ex-boyfriend, is some sort of line you haven’t brought yourself to cross.

It’s a sort of intimacy that you didn’t know you longed for until this very moment, but god if it isn’t intimidating at the same time. Like standing in the sand staring out at the azure of the ocean, its calm waves gently ebbing and flowing around your feet, urging you to follow them into the depth.

Should you let them lead you further into its water, when you know what drowning in a stormy sea feels like?

You look up at Shouto, and find the ocean staring back at you from his left eye.

Its serene surface seems to glitter under the cloudless sky, featherlight breeze nudging its ripples ashore.

It’s so, so different from the crashing ocean of molten lava you used to call home. 

‘You okay?’ Shouto mouths the words, puzzled by the way your eyes are trained on him but your mind is clearly elsewhere. His hand presses gently on your back, his thumb patiently draws small circles atop your spine, letting you take your time coming down from whatever plane of existence you find yourself on.

The world comes back into focus as you mutter an unconvincing ‘yeah’. As Shouto searches your face for the real answer, the bickering between Hawks and Touya is getting louder.

“Look how cozy they are!”

“Oh yeah? Cozy huh?” Touya then amps up his volume, like he really wants you two to hear this last part. “Cozy on the same hammock you got a blowjob on last week?”

You’ve never flown away from anything so fast.

Looking down, you catch a glimpse of Shouto scrambling off the apparently tainted fabric with a huffed ‘nope’, before you both turn towards Touya, who’s now doubling over in laughter, one arm holding on to a mortified Hawks and the other clutching his stomach.

“For the record,” Hawks exasperatedly yanks Touya’s collar like a momma cat to set the silver haired man upright. “He was just saying that to get a reaction out of you.”

“You knew we were awake the whole time?” You land back down in front of the two intruders.

“Uh, yeah. Birdy didn’t have these for nothing.” Touya reaches back to pluck a wonky looking feather out of Hawks’ wings and waves it in your face.

You can see Hawks visibly fights back a shudder. For a former spy, he sure seems to lose the grip on his reactions a lot when it comes to Touya. You decide to file the thought away to investigate later.

“Why were you two brats canoodling up here anyway?”

You sputter a barely audible ‘were not’ while Shouto finally approaches you three.

“We came off our shifts late last night. Going home would take too long.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve slept over at work.” You shrug, with a concurring nod from Shouto. “I’ll stick to my sleeping bag next time though, the blowjob hammock–”

“It’s not–” Hawks starts to protest.

“The Schrodinger blowjob hammock is all yours.” You cut him off, not entirely convinced by either of them.

“No luck on the apartment hunt?” Touya finally pipes down once you’ve mentioned your sleeping bag. He disguises it well, but some remnants of concern still slip through in his voice.

“Not in this area.” Shouto shakes his head.

“Not even studios? I mean by the look of it y’all have no problem sharing a bed.” Touya smirks, his teasing lilt creeping back in.

“Touya, can you not?” You frown, warning him to knock it off.

A faint wave of heat hits your side for a brief second before disappearing completely. You turn toward it but you’re met with nothing, just Shouto scratching lightly at his left arm. The poor guy must’ve got some bug bites last night.

“Hey, Touya…” Hawks quietly calls out to the blue flame user.

Touya turns to look at the winged man and seems to immediately recognize the look in his eyes. They proceed to have a back and forth exclusively through eye contact and unreadable facial expressions for about a minute long before Touya rolls his eyes and concedes.

He grumbles something about the blond's ‘bleeding heart’ then gestures to his feathered roommate(?) to go ahead, to which Hawks mouths a quick ‘thank you’ before turning to you and Shouto.

“You guys can come live with us while you look!” He chirps a little too excitedly, before reeling it back. “If you want to, of course. We have a spare bedroom and an office that we rarely use, and it’s only five minutes from here.”

Five minutes of commute is a dream. You’d be sad to part with Fuyumi’s cooking, but some extra hours of sleep every night sounds downright heavenly. You’d be foolish to refuse.

You look over to Shouto. “I’m down, you?” 

“Likewise.” He nods, mind already made up since the moment you perked up at Hawks’ offer.

“Well, you’d better be.” Touya looks up from his phone. “Cause I already told my assistant to print some spare keys.”

* * * * *

Patrol is surprisingly slow today. Even evil is somewhat thwarted by inclement weather, you think. The rain spell has been unkind, thunder haunting the heavy grey sky above. You opt to walk, not taking the chance with the stray bolts that stretch the heavens every few minutes or so. You’ve been zapped by Denki before, while he was doing a Thor bit, and you’re not in a rush to experience it again.

The hood of your costume is waterproof, but it doesn’t help much since the frigid and earthy droplets of rain are coming from all directions, hitting your face like toy gun pellets and leaving a sheen of dripping water on your hair.

Step by soggy step, you trudge through the unusually barren streets. There’s only two minutes left on the clock when you hear the sound of water rushing gets louder and louder. You press forward, until you literally can’t hear anything else.

The man made waterfall at the entrance of the Memorial Park greets you, in all its deafening glory. You heard it was supposed to represent the flow of time as people move forward, or something like that. The flow of time seems obscenely intrusive, you think.

You head into the park, and you realize this is the first time you’ve stepped foot in here. Usually you would observe it from above, the long rows of dark granite looking like dots as you pass by. But now that you’re here, the maze of stone columns dwarf you, standing at least eight feet high. Rows and rows of letters are etched onto them, spelling out what must be millions of names in alphabetical order.

Names of those who disappeared during the Blip.

You carefully scale the letters, searching. People must have started coming here and crossing their name out, as you find multiple names with different levels of chicken scratch lines over them. Withering bouquets lay along the path, water pooling on their plastic wrapping.

All of the sudden, the rain stops pelting you, as the shadow of an umbrella appears above your head. Turning to find its owner, you come face to face with a pair of crimson eyes.

“It’s over there.” He tilts his head toward the north side of the park, and starts walking. You wordlessly follow.

You fall into steps with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the past couple of months, and you mentally clutch your wound, praying it doesn’t reopen.

Katsuki is wearing civilian clothes, simple joggers and a plain tee shirt and some rain boots. On the hand he’s holding the umbrella with, a silver band decorates his ring finger. You have to physically tear your eyes from the sight.

He traverses the maze of stone like a seasoned navigator, knowing exactly where to turn and how many steps to take. Soon enough, you both stop in front of what you’re looking for. 

It doesn’t take you long to find your name. It’s at eye level, and you feel like it’s staring right back at you. Katsuki too, is peering at you through the faint reflection on the stone.

“I um…” He clears his throat. “I can find you a rock, or something. So you can scratch it out.”

“You’re encouraging vandalism now?” You look back at him through the reflection and joke, though it’s humorless.

“It’s a grave for the living.” He shrugs. “’s lost its meaning.”

“You know, the last time someone was talking in symbolism, you gave them shit for it.”

He’s quiet for a moment, before saying. “That was five years ago.”

Upon hearing his reply, you turn to look at him. Not through a grainy or blurry reflection. Not distorted by relief or rage or frustration. Truly, truly look at him this time.

The silhouette of the Katsuki you know is still firmly there, but like colors that bleed over the line, there are parts you no longer recognize. You’re reminded again that five years of layers have been added to the puzzle that is Katsuki, the puzzle you had a hand in breaking apart.

Did he heal alone? Or did his new lover help put the pieces back together?

You watch the fissure between you and him grow wider, and you desperately want to latch on to the other side and hold it close.

But you can’t. You’re too late. You’d fall into the crack if you keep trying to hold on.

“I think I’ll leave it be for now.” You turn your gaze back to the letters in front of you.

It’s a grave after all, and some parts of you did die. Perhaps when you’re not in mourning anymore, you’ll come back and scrape it away from existence.

Perhaps one day.

[mieanme]

I had a Hualian brainrot that I wanna turn into a comic in the near future, but I'm hella slow, so bear with me, HOWEVER, here's the idea:

Merman x Siren au

Those who know me - you probably saw that coming.

BUT hear me out!

Xie Lian is a merman (yeah, no shot, no-one expected that), he lives in a huge pod with hierarchy and social roles as hunters, gathers, nursery guardians, etc. He's still an outcast though - he's the only one among countless merpeople in their society that has snow-white scales. He also wasn't born in their pod, he was rescued from an orca attack by two merkids aspiring to become hunters (Feng Xin & Mu Qing) at a very young age, so no-one knew where he really came from.

The Emperor of the pod let him stay though, so how could anyone argue, right?

Years pass, Xie Lian tries to fit in. It's been difficult, but he's not the one to give up, always kind and gentle to fellow mers and creatures of the ocean. He's not allowed near merkids, even if he would love to be a nursery guardian, because others believe he brings misfortune; he didn't manage to become a hunter, because his unusual white tail is visible from ten miles away, not a fit to not alarm the prey at all; no-one wanted to eat or use anything he gathered, because no-one trusted him, so eventually he settled on collecting and discarding trash from the various areas of the pod's territory. This way somehow he's able to contribute to the pod's life and secure his meals.

He lives like that for a good couple of years, until one day at an emergency gathering of the pod, it is announced three mers have caught a strange disease - one that could be cured only by a very specific type of algae. If not provided the medicine, the mers would not only die, but also spread the illness to others.

What's the problem, let's go and grab that algae, right?

The point is, the algae grows only in almost complete darkness, within the depths of oceanic trenches. And the nearest trench falls into the territory of a Siren.

And not just a siren. This siren everyone knows and loves to call all kinds of nicknames, the most popular being: cruel disgusting monster.

Mers always feared sirens, because, on the contrary to the merpeople, they resemble reptiles more than fish or humans. They usually live on their own, gather only for the mating season and even then they often pick fights with each other. Their territories are sometimes equal or almost as big as those of merpeople; how does one even manage to patrol such a huge area?

However, the most terrifying thing about sirens is that they don't hesitate to feed on even their own kin - not to mention humans or mers. Feral beasts, as most merpeople would address them.

This particular siren was even worse. No-one even knows what the monster looks like, because whoever crossed paths with it, hasn't come back alive. It's been expanding its territory for years, slowly swollowing the remaining unclaimed area between its own teritory and that belonging to the pod. Who knew what would happen if they would have to fight to defend their borders? Would they even stand a chance against that beast?

Venturing into its territory was not an option.

But there's no other trench anyone knows of. So, was it a death sentence for the pod?

Not on Xie Lian's watch.

***

Wooohooo, that's it for now, if you wanna know more or you think it's a good idea, lemme know!!

PART II

[vienssunshine]

Distracted Driving

pairing: Yuki Tsukumo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!Yuki wc: 1.9k author's note: I skimmed a motorcycle tutorial for this description: Yuki convinces you to ride her bike and rewards you for your bravery

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Yuki says, holding out her spare helmet.

You’re floored she would even suggest the idea. “I’ve only ridden on your motorcycle, what makes you think I can drive it?”

“You’ll be a natural,” she urges, pushing the helmet into your arms, “and this is the perfect place to try it out.” She gestures to the abandoned dirt lot you’re standing in; it doesn’t have much to crash into. The only other thing out here is the road lined with glowing streetlights heading back to a city you passed around fifty miles back, a distance like that meaning an ambulance would take forever to arrive if you had an accident. You can’t even get started about wait times in emergency rooms.

“You said we were coming out here to go stargazing, not to see how fast I can kill us both by crashing your bike.”

Yuki laughs and steps closer. “It’s cute when you get all worked up over nothing.” She presses a kiss to your flushed cheek. “What if I give you a reward for your bravery?”

“It’s not bravery, it’s stupidity,” you respond. This is a bad idea, no doubt about it. You have trouble driving a car, which has four wheels, a motorcycle only has two. It’s like making the jump between rollerskating and rollerblading, but with the potential of much more severe consequences. Your eyes flick back up to Yuki—she’s dressed in her stupid, dangerous, sexy motorcycle jacket and goggles—and see her watching you with a tilted head and smirk. She’s been your girlfriend long enough to know that curiosity is tugging at you and isn’t surprised when you look away and ask, “But…what is the reward?”

Yuki turns, walking back to her propped-up bike. “Only one way to find out.”

She’s such a tease. What’s more frustrating is how it works so well on you.

You huff, strapping the helmet on. “All right.” It can’t be that bad, can it?

It is indeed bad when you’re on the thing, the angry engine rumbling beneath you and the exhaust spitting out fumes of gray smoke. The glare of the headlights just barely scares off the darkness of the night so you can see the dirt a few feet in front of you. If Yuki’s arms weren’t wrapped around your waist, you would’ve been off the motorcycle in a second.

Your fingers tighten around the handlebars. “This is a terrible idea.”

“You’re gonna do great,” Yuki purrs in your ear, sending a tingle down your spine. Or is this death machine activating your fight-or-flight response? Either way, you readjust yourself in the seat.

“Okay, whatever, how do I even do this?”

One of her arms loosens from your waist and she lays her hand on top of yours on the right handlebar. Her riding gloves leave her fingers uncovered, so you’re able to feel her skin as well as the rough leather coating her palm. “This is the throttle, and you twist it toward you to move forward.” With Yuki leaning forward to demonstrate the mechanics of the handlebars, her chest is pressed against your back. Her motorcycle jacket would muffle the sensation if it wasn’t unzipped like it is now, so you can feel the plushness of her breasts on your shoulder blades as she’s describing another lever on the bike. “…is the brake. Got it, angel?”

“Um, yeah…yeah I got it.” Doesn’t seem that hard, just a few twists and levers. Maybe it is possible you’ll survive this ordeal.

“Okay, I’ll just–” You twist the right handlebar toward you and the bike kicks up and starts rolling forward.

Yuki laughs, “Attagirl! Look at you go!”

You laugh a little too, not because you’re amused, but because you’re in disbelief that you’re moving the thing and haven’t blown up yet.

Still cautious, you turn the throttle slightly further, bringing the speed of the motorcycle up past the pace of a casual walk. And when you steer the bike into a gentle turn at the border of the dirt patch, you find it easier to control than you expected. Soon you’re successfully circling the lot while Yuki cheers you on. As impossible as it first seemed, you’re actually doing it, you’re driving her motorcycle.

“That’s my girl,” Yuki says. You want to turn and show her the smile her encouragement brings to your face, but you’re not comfortable driving without looking straight ahead yet.

“This is kinda fun,” you say, still leaving room to change your opinion in case of the terrible crash that your nerves are convinced will happen.

“You’re so good at it,” Yuki responds, giving your waist a small squeeze with her arms.

These kind of situations are why you like dating Yuki so much, she knows how to pull you out of your comfort zone, help you grow and try new things. Despite your anxiety, every experience she’s helped you through, though usually miserable whilst occurring, has been rewarding after pushing through it. It’s how you feel now, you’re proud of yourself for doing something that scared you.

You’re about to express your gratitude when her hands unclasp themselves from around your waist and travel up your torso. Your brows furrow, but you’re able to focus on the upcoming turn until her fingers splay out on your breasts, squeezing and kneading them.

You look down to the gloved hands on your chest. “Yuki, what…what are you doing?” The motorcycle lurches to the side and you snap your eyes back up to the dirt ahead of you, scrambling to re-center the bike until it steadies. The close call leaves your heart pounding and breath short, but Yuki is unaffected.

“It’s your reward, silly.” Her fingers pinch your nipple through your shirt and you gasp. “For being so brave.”

“What?” you whisper. You can’t make sense of this. Heat burns through your body and you’re not sure if it’s from her touch or your panic. This has to stop. Where did she say the brake is? You can’t remember.

“If you keep doing this”—she nuzzles her chin onto your shoulder and nibbles at your ear—“we are going to crash. This is literally distracted driving.” You steer through another turn, having a much harder time with it than your first attempt. With her touching you like this, if you make the smallest mistake, like hitting a rock or going into a turn too fast, you’ll both get sent flying.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuki coos, “I’ll make sure nothing happens. Just enjoy the ride, m’kay?”

“This–this is crazy, you know that?” A sharp exhale leaves your lips when Yuki moves from your ear to your neck, opening her warm mouth to lick and suck on your pulse. You shift in the seat of the motorcycle, trying to keep your attention on the land ahead while Yuki’s every movement is pulling it away.

“Fuck, don’t–” Her hands are moving downward, unbuttoning your pants and traveling underneath your underwear. Surely you’ll crash if she touches you there.

“You’re doing great, angel. Just keep those pretty eyes on the road.” You whine her name and she gently sinks her teeth into your neck, her arm slinking around your waist as other her hand descends to your heat. “Thought you’d be too nervous to be this wet,” Yuki breathes against your skin, hungry. The bike wobbles.

She slides her fingers through your folds and your vision blurs, the glow of the headlights melting into the dark of the night until you blink and refocus your eyes.

“Yuki–shit–I’m–”

You’re driving. You need to tell her to stop, but you can’t get the words out, you don’t know if you want to. Even if you think this is bad, idiotic, truly a one-way ticket to the hospital, the excitement flooding your core, swirling and churning deep inside you, is impossible to reason with. Any tension or tightness in your abdomen is softened with the swipes of her elegant fingers. You’re helpless when she’s making you feel this good.

It’s hard to keep your attention on the road, but you’re still trying, so you don’t notice how your hips angle themselves forward so she’s able to start circling your clit. You also don’t notice how your tightening grip on the handlebars—your body unable to bear the pleasure spreading out within you—causes the motorcycle to pick up speed, now traveling at the pace someone could pedal a bicycle at. The wind whisks your moan away into the night and the muscle memory built in the first few minutes of riding takes over to help you steer.

“I want…more,” you say, grinding your hips against her hand.

“Gotta focus on driving, angel,” she responds.

“I–fuck–I know, it just–feels so–”

“Uh huh?” Yuki skims her teeth over the heated skin of your neck.

“It feels so…good…when you touch me,” you say, and she kisses you. You try to keep your eyes from fluttering closed as she continues to swirl her fingers around you, tending to the pressure pushing up against your insides. It’s interesting how you’re being built up to an orgasm so much faster than normal. Splitting your attention between an activity like driving while pleasure is sailing through you wipes out any of those thoughts you have that take you out of the moment—how your body looks, whether Yuki likes what you’re doing, if you’re being sexy enough. In this moment, you’re out of your head, able to feel her touch without insecurity marring the sensation. Maybe Yuki knew this would happen. She knows you well.

You moan her name, doubling over. You shoot your head back up immediately, keeping your eyes on the road even though your legs are attempting to press together, trying to shut out the pleasure overwhelming your body, though the tangled metal of Yuki’s motorcycle keeps them apart and you susceptible. The bike rocks again.

“Yuki–I can’t–I can’t take anymore,” you plead, “I can’t focus.”

“I’ve got you,” she says, her hand stroking your waist. Her skilled fingers pick up to the pace she knows you like when you’re close.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“It’s okay,” Yuki tells you, “Just let go.”

So you do. The rope holding you together snaps as strings of pleasure whip through your poor body. Any consequences of releasing yourself, thoughts of crashing, dying, long ambulance wait, it’s all washed away; you even let go of the handlebars. The motorcycle bucks for a second, but Yuki wrangles it with her free hand, holding onto the handlebar as you cum all over the hand working at your clit.

You grab onto her forearm, clamping down on it as pleasure rolls over you, making it hard to realize how reckless letting go of the handlebars of the motorcycle you were driving is. You don’t really care though, with this feeling washing through your body, you don’t care about the bike, your stupidity, or anything that doesn’t relate to the motorcyclist behind you who’s slowing her strokes and cooing in your ear as the last muscle spasms of your orgasm calm.

Yuki takes her hand from your pants and is unfazed by the wetness coating it when she reaches it forward and to the lever sitting underneath the right handlebar. She pulls on it and the bike slows to a stop. So that’s where the brake is. The realization makes you laugh a weak, fucked-out laugh.

She kicks out the bike stand and you unfurl from your hunched form and sit back so you’re leaning against her chest.

“That was insane,” you heave out, “and stupid and dangerous, and…”

“…and?” There’s a grin in her voice.

A hazy warmth settles over you. You pull her arms into your lap, running your fingers over her gloves palms.

“Thanks, I guess,” you say.

She knows you mean more than just for the orgasm, she knows you appreciate how she pushes you from your comfort zone and helps you try new things. Even if those new things are reckless and crazy.

Yuki leans to your side and presses a kiss to your cheek. “You’re welcome.”

[streets-in-paradise]

Secret Presents

Relationships: (platonic) Faramir x Sister!Reader, (platonic) Boromir x Sister!Reader.

Genre: family fic, sibling bonds, fluff, birthday fic.

Warnings: Denthor's terrible parenting, use of she/her pronoums. I am not sure if birthdays are culturally accurate for gondorians, but since in lotr we saw at least one hobbit birthday let's pretend they also could have birthday customs for the sake of this.

Summary: Boromir and Faramir surprise their sister on the morning of her birthday filling her with affection while furtively bringing her different sorts of gifts their father wouldn't approve.

Note: (Late) birthday gift for my bestie @beautifultypewriter, also inspired in her gondor girl concept. I hope the fluff will be good enough to compensate the delay <3

She didn't expected anyone to remember, there were allways more important things going on in such convoluted times.

Completely absent from her father's thoughts, only her brothers could possibly think about it. During the occassions in which Denethor do cared to celebrate her, he was always actually celebrating himself. Birthday parties that were generic social events for the nobiity, occassions for him to show off his might in decline and pretend for the public that he could resemble a father.

If he could possibly be thinking on doing something, she would rather hide far away from it for as long as possible. The only good reason the Steward of Gondor could have to remember that he had a daughter were the men arround him making the recall. He would only use it as an excuse to push yet even more insufferable nobles in her direction.

Feeling the call of the servant announcing her waking time that morning made her groan of frustration, wanting it to be over before it ever began. She emerged from the covers only caring to make sure to be in a visible state before opening the door, trying hard to remember not to share her mood with the servantfolk through terrible manners.

What she found instead were her two brothers hidding their presence on the usual call, ready to join forces as soon as they will find her. Their happy faces said it all, and she almost regretted her grumpyness.

" What are you doing here? "

To a gestural sign of Faramir, Boromir went ahead to lift her up from the ground. Almost like a father would do for his child, only with tons of chuckling in between.

" HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR SISTER!!"

In a matter of instants she was smiling again while being carried back inside her bedroom.

" Are you insane? What is this? "

Faramir calmed his own laughter to explain.

" Your birthday surprise! I bet you thought we would forget. "

She was perfectly aware of how strongly they loved her, but war kept them always bussy and she was perfectly ready to forgive them if that was the case.

" Orcs are constantly pushing the limits of our borders, of course you could forget! "

" But we would never. " Boromir cheerfully insisted, releasing her on her bed. " Have we ever failed you? "

She giggled and nodded negatively.

" ... Then why did you seem so upset looking at us from you doorframe ? " Faramir inquired. " It think somone really needs to get their spirits lifted. "

With a mischievous look he approached for a strong hug ending only when he sneaked one hand to her already known ticklish point. Her loud laughing comforted them all, so Boromir encouraged Faramir to keep going untill she started fighting back and the situation could escalate into an actual tickle fight unleashed right in front of the servants.

She was red from laughing and playfully smacked them in return, when her eldest brother gave premission for the maidservant to enter. She was carrying a curiously long chest with the help of one lad and presented it to the lady by command before retiring.

" See, if we would have waited untill you would come down for breakfast, we wouldn't be able to bring your presents. " Faramir continued. " These are of the kind our father will not wish to see. "

A sparkle of excitement lighted her eyes.

" Certainly not fitting for a lady, by his expressed opinion. " Boromir added. " He would be very dissapointed of me if he would find out I'm letting Faramir present you with this."

" Not as much as when he will see what you got her. " He commented in response. " ... And yours can't be hidden easily, as one can do with mine. "

Curiosity was growing with each of their teasing recalls and she rushed to open the mysterious casket used to hide such secret present from the world untill reaching her.

It revealed a bow, perfectly new and with its matching quiver following the style of the one that was her brother's favorite.

" Nurturing your passions is important to me, and being honest i'm slightly jealous you have gained more practice with Boromir's weapon of choice. "

He was joking and she could perfectly tell. Her brothers never had to compete for her love the way their father intended them to.

Here eyes were roaming the weapon with increasing surprise, then inmediately directed to look at her brother with the happiest adoration.

" It's perfect!! Just, ... perfect!! Beloved brother, I would love to practice with you. " She thanked, hugging him from up front and practically jumping from the joy. " I can't wait to try it!! "

" We will tell father is an harp." Faramir joked, sharing her excitement. " I doubt he would ever ask you to play music for him, so he will never discover it."

You chuckled together seeing that Boromir was allowing you the mean spirited commentary.

" My gift will also work as a distractive strategy: he will never get a moment to wonder about anything else. "

She questioned Faramir with her glance, but he provided no clues.

" Boromir ... what have you exactly done?? "

Their eldest brother began to chuckle, assuming the mysterious guilt for some possibly memorable mischief.

" Come down with us and you will find out. "

She smiled and quickly followed the instruction, begging them to leave her proper space to at least dress decently before being publicly perceived for the first time in the day. Neither of her brothers wanted to miss what was about to come, so they awaited outside only to find themselves going after her later because excitement made her run her way down.

Hardly catching his breath, Boromir indicated her to go outside. Her cluelessness made her even more desperate for finding the surprise, but she inmediately stumbled with it once the final instruction was correctly followed.

A magnificent horse, one that she never recalled to have seen before.

" It was almost impossible to import, but your dear brother planned things with time and sent clever merchants on the quest for it. " Boromir recalled, pridefully. " They wouldn't have sold this easily for a mighty lord of the city, but couldn't refuse when told it would dissapoint a young lady. "

She looked at him in disbelief, unsure of the guess she was about to make.

" No,no, no ... There is no way. You couldn't ... "

" Send men to Rohan despite the uncertain danger it implies just to get you a horse? " Faramir followed, finishing her sentence in a wondering tone. " Don't worry, your present also worked as harmless excuse to obtain trustable testimonies about the state of our old allies. Something we have been wanting to find out for a long time, but father kept refusing to investigate. "

The clarification amused her more than the explanation itself.

" You are unbelievable!! How are we going to hide this? "

Boromir wasn't troubled by her very logical reasoning.

" We won't, and I will assume all guilt. Wait to see how fast he will find a reason to excuse me. "

He made her laugh through that lighthearted mock of his unwanted privilege, aspect he manipulated in contructive ways when it could bring a side benefict to his siblings.

Looking at her smiling brothers awaiting her final verdict made her feel the luckiest girl in Middle Earth.

" I have the best brothers in the world. "

[pearlcatcher-problems]

a few finished projects that I've been vibing with a lot! and their bonus lore rambles under the cut to keep things a little more trim ; w;

» the wives [ Padparadscha | Bunanuhnanuh ]

antique jaguar ᛜ ginger breakup ᛜ terracotta koi bronze piebald ᛜ white basic ᛜ terracotta koi

» the twins [ Naberius | custard ]

stone piebald ᛜ white basic ᛜ spruce koi tarnish pharaoh ᛜ white basic ᛜ brown basic

» acolyte goblin ambassador [ moss ]

white basic ᛜ obsidian paint ᛜ hickory koi

I swear I'm normal about naming dragons-- I'll have serious names alongside dumb meme ones and treat them equally as seriously as characters. I swear, it makes sense in my lair. I promise.

» the wives [ Padparadscha | Bunanuhnanuh ]

Pad and Bun are wives, with Bun being the elegant airhead and Pad being the gruff behemoth. Pad is near twice Bun's size and tends to be more protective/defensive than the wildclaw is. Her pearl tends to stay with Bun when not in her pearl pouch, who keeps it in one of her silk scarves padded with dry moss and lavender sprigs.

The two of them are residing in the Bazaar, currently travelling between there and the Oasis to finalise some trade agreements before the encampments decide to make proper paths between them. While Bun is more than happy to keep the conversation for the two of them, Pad is just.... always listening. The pearlcatcher beast somehow always seems to know what is going on and can quickly get the answer to the most obscure questions if given enough time to think. This includes knowledge from any of their other outposts, somehow able to just.... know. ( Behind the scenes, she's actually a fraction of a hydra, and despite them being split, they are still able to communicate telepathically with each other, resulting in easy relay of information between allied outposts nearly instantly but the only one who controls/knows of this is Quail. )

Bun used to be part of the Roost outpost, which is why her namesake is so strange compared to the desert-dwellers. She's kept her name, although able to change it any time given how Roost customs are, and finds some joy in how hers and Pad's mirror each other in length. Those close to her may call her Bun or Bana, although Pad tends to call her Sprig, Sweetbean, and other soft little nicknames. When relaxing, Pad often gnaws on Bun's horns when cuddling to keep her tusks in check, something Bun doesn't mind as her horns constantly grow regardless.

» the twins [ Naberius | custard ]

The youngest of the Acolytes ( a subterranean clan that only emerges for three weeks a year and spends the rest of the year worshiping the Solstice trio I / II / III and tunnelling. More Info on them is heeeeeere! ) They have the same affliction post-hatchling that ogi and his younger sibling do, where they just haven't progressed further physically or mentally. They have a lot of inherent volatile magics because of what they are, but they can't always act on it in the way they want due to whatever is stunting them. This leaves the two a little hard to predict, scrapping as often as they'd play, all while leaving arcs of fulgurite along the tunnels from their warring elements.

They are often underfoot, eager to help tunnelling efforts and harvesting lichen, but are easy to tire out and will just nap wherever they run out of energy. It's not uncommon to find both of them blocking a tunnel because they need a quick powernap. Good luck moving them.

Naberius and custard's energy came from an old elemental, also named Naberius, who decayed on the Acolyte border after leaving the bounds of the Oasis. The two spawned from his fall and have many of his powers, but with the stunt and divide between them, it is just a grain of what it used to be. Sezha knew what they grew from, and decided to keep Naberius' name for one as a way to honour his fall, while casket was allowed to name the other, resulting in the mock-roost name: custard.

» acolyte goblin ambassador [ moss ]

Moss is the 'ambassador' for the Acolytes when they're out of the ground, or when dealing with people who come to 'trade' ( drop gifts and supplies, they don't actually want anything from the Acolytes in exchange and are just encouraged to do so by Quail and repaid for it in other ways ) at the outposts' entrance during their submerged seasons. She loves the idea of bartering and making a trade, only really knowing how trade works from her few visits to the Oasis grounds and seeing the elementals make pacts.

When trading, she wears The Hat. The hat is a combination of a few hats she's traded for over the years, worn around the edges and lovingly cared for. She often puts feathers, gemstones, or dried flowers tucked into the brim for flair, and will outright refuse to accept offers from other outposts if she can't get her claws on her hat at that time. All business MUST be done with the hat.

When not being Very Important, she spends most of her time tunnelling and setting up the lighting system in the deeper section of the lair. The Acolytes currently use a lighting method that leeches off the ley lines beneath them, giving them an easy method to track the health of the flow of magic and know when their worship is required. These free-floating orbs can be placed at any area of the lair as long as they're still connected to the earth, and so often will be rooted to the walls with vining plants from handsome's farm.

[babydollmarauders]

for the baby el au, what if one day (when el is much older like 4-5 years old) el breaks her foot or some bone and is crying and jack and mama and literally everyone else get really really worried

it came to no surprise to me that Jack had El on the ice as soon as she was 3 years old. Jack and his brothers had officially deemed her old enough that summer and took her to the indoor ice rink in Michigan at least twice a week. by the end of the summer, my daughter was skating circles around me.

and the following summer, at 4 years old, she was learning the family business; how to play hockey.

we’ve been to the indoor ice rink enough times this summer that i’ve learned the best thing to do is sit on the sidelines while my husband and his brothers do the teaching. so twice a week, at the least, i come to the rink equipped with a book, my camera, and snacks.

“alright, c’mon El-Bell! grandma is expecting us home for dinner soon!” Jack’s words echo throughout the practice rink, but it’s not a surprise when two seconds later the word “no!” is replacing his own.

El is most definitely a Hughes. ever since last summer, she’s lived and breathed being on the ice. she never wants to leave, never wants to stop skating. she’s just like her father.

“El, you gotta listen to your dad. if he tells you it’s time to go, then we gotta go.” Luke tries to help, but his attempt makes no difference to his niece.

“no!” her high pitched voice bounces throughout the mostly empty rink, everyone else having gone back to their homes already. i watch from my spot off the ice as my daughter starts to skate away from her uncle as fast as she could.

“El, baby! slow down! i don’t want you to get h-” i trail off as she trips over air, her body twisting as she lands on the ice.

her scream pierces my ears, making me jump to my feet. Jack, Quinn, and Luke all rush over to her as i run to the ice, stepping on without skates and shuffling as fast as i could over to her.

“shit, i think her arm is broken.” Quinn confirms my worst fear as i finally reach them.

“daddy! it hurts! make it stop!” tears roll down her cheeks, her face red from her sobs. my own tears well in my eyes at the sight of my baby in pain.

“i know, princess. i’m sorry. i know.” Jack appears calm, but his fidgety demeanor and the pain in his eyes lets me know that this is affecting him just as much as it is me.

“okay, daddy’s gonna carry you to the car and we’re gonna go to the doctors, okay?” i run my hand over her hair as i speak. El nods through her sobs as Jack slides his arms underneath her and picks her up, careful of her injured arm.

i let out shaky breaths, my heart pounding on the way to the emergency room.

“what if they don’t think it’s an accident?” i whisper to Jack. Quinn drives the car with Luke in the passengers seat as Jack and i sit in the back with El between us.

“what?” Jack asks, his head snapping over to look at me in my frenzied state.

“what if they don’t believe us and they call child protective services or something? what if she gets taken away from us? we didn’t do anything wrong!” my breathing picks up, bordering hyperventilation as my mind races with ways that this could go wrong.

“baby, between us three boys, we’ve probably broken hundreds of bones, and that never once happened with us. i promise you, it’s a first time ER trip, we were right there watching her, they’re not gonna think anything other than what it was… an accident.”

Jack’s hand slips into my shaky one, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand in soothing circles.

“mommy.” at the sound of her voice, i look down at El. “do you think i’ll get a cast like Lilah?”

i let out a weak chuckle at her bravery through this, and at the mention of her friend from the playground, who had a hot pink cast on her right arm.

“you might, baby.” i confess with a sigh.

“that’s so cool! uncle moosey can write his name on it! i like his name.”

[ckret2]

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

Below: Bill literally an hour later.

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

"Axolotl!"

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

"Something happened—"

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

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

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

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

"He was bigger earlier."

"What happened?"

"A showdown with the cops."

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

"He did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

"How many fingers do you have!"

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

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

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

"What hat?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

"I don't know."

"I'm going to find out."

"Wait—!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

VENDOR turned toward Dimension Zero.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They did not want to go. They turned away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yup. Probably."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he could leave it.

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

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

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

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

"Has it passed yet?" the storm asked.

"No!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. The Axolotl paused to swallow his anger. 

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

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

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

####

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

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

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

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

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

Which was to say: he was a lawyer.

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

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

Now, he had a reputation.

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

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

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

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

Everyone involved except the Axolotl. 

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

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

All of which was to say:

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

And so he was appointed hostage negotiator.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 7 of a probably-9-part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl almost fucking die.

It's ALSO chapter 67 of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: okay THIS is now probably the least cosmic-horrifying chapter of this arc. Which is a necessary interlude, because NEXT CHAPTER is the big climax woohoo!

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

[tsvwords]

They tell me I’m in shock. No. 

First they tell me I’ve caused an international incident. Then they tell me I’m in shock.

This comes after:

some eight months of negotiating,

a temporary Peninsulan holding cell which begins to feel increasingly permanent over time,

a lawyer from my own country who holds his finger to his lips as if to indicate that our private interview room is not private,

a considerable amount of furious shouting,

assertions from Peninsulan policemen, policewomen and policepeople that I will never see my homeland again, and I should just come clean about my plot to destroy the town of Bellwethers with two servants of an illicit faith (and by the way, if it transpired that the Conclave of the Consolidated Linger Straits had funded or in any way enabled said plot, that would be useful information that would make things go a lot easier for me),

a final, frenzied agreement between nations,

a car to the border,

a hurried exchange,

and another holding cell on the CLS side of the border, with different flags hung over the supervising sergeant’s desk.

I’m interviewed by two detectives from the Nesh municipal force, as well as someone who introduces herself as a political attache and leans sourly against the corner of the cell when everyone else is talking.

You can see them frowning as they scribble on their notepads, trying to construct some, any kind of coherent narrative out of what I’m telling them.

Over time, they seem to acknowledge that I am probably not a covert member of the Parish of Tide and Flesh, but they continue to probe at me all the same, looking for other angles: what am I holding back from them? There has to be more to it than this, surely? Some final secret, some last revelation that makes sense of all this?

Eventually, they give up on me, and this is when the doctors come to run their tests, see if I’ve been brutalised or tortured in any way that could make for effective political capital.

And I begin to understand that there’s another, contradictory narrative emerging: that I’m in shock, a victim of horrific circumstance, and in some undefinable, whispered sense...a hero.

After all, nobody has forgotten the atrocities committed by the Peninsula in the last war. The disasters that transpire, year after year, when their gods go astray. The polluted islands, even now, that stand between our coastlines, a monument to their recklessness and callous disregard for our citizens.

It seems pretty clear to all concerned that Bellwethers was caused by one of their own experiments, and now they’re casting about for blame, trying to stir up trouble against us.

One of the doctors takes great care in smiling at me and squeezing my hand as he leaves. 

“I’m just glad we got you out of there in one piece,” he says.

And soon after that, the forms are signed, the doors open, and I stumble back out…home.

— Chapter 18: If My Hands Could Shape The Flow.

[ijosijen]

i've got zero clue how hot a take this is

but over the years i've become more and more convinced that starting a conlang's sound system with a phoneme inventory is the wrong approach. there's too much emphasis on some kind of systematic approach to language phonemes.

that's the hot take: don't do this. phonemes aren't so immediately important when it comes to designing a language's sounds. start off with your phonotactic rules. abstract the "exact" value of the phoneme away (and the word "exact" is incoherent when it comes to phonemic analysis) and instead focus on dealing with broad classes of sounds. it's these features that you're actually trying to express anyway when you make a sound system, right?

there's definitely a strain of conlangery where you want to have a specific phoneme or two in your language and that's cool, honestly. flair is important. but often i see people trying to go for a feel with how their language sounds. and when you want to design a feel, it's best to start with the broad abstractions and then zero in on the surface realisation from there, imo.

how i go about things

start with syllable structure ofc. consonants and vowels. your classic CVC stuff. Or maybe CV. or maybe you want to start off with insane clusters off the bat - don't worry about it, you can always change it later via sound shifts or other tinkering.

also important here is word stress. this is personal feelings advice but unless you're planning to do smth specific with stress then you don't need to go out of your way to define "how" stress works. just put it on the same syllable of every word for now if you wanna. maybe say some vowels are strong/weak and steal or can't take stress or smth.

you don't need to specify the exact vowel right now, that's the whole point of this post. you can abstract your features until you've built your foundation to that point.

for consonants it's about the same. be as broad and vague as possible before zeroing in on closer values. don't choose consonants like they're discrete phonemes that go in certain places on a chart. treat the chart like one big consonant space that you're going to chop up into distinct segments.

this is the true value of the IPA, in that it can tell you the ways that real humans like to distinguish things. but the IPA is designed to make as many cuts as possible, to highlight every single distinction that every known language makes at the same time. no language makes that much distinction.

like, for example: english doesn't care about the difference between the alveolar and retroflex places of articulation, not really. if you hit someone with a retroflex stop in english, the language and its speakers will interpret that as its "front area of the mouth stop," which generally defaults to alveolar and/or dental because those are the ones that require the least effort.

this isn't really "grouping together" different phonemes, this is not drawing a border between two phonetic qualities. a slightly different thing. at least to start, your language has one consonant (C) and one vowel (V). zero borders whatsoever. start drawing distinctions, your phonemes will naturally emerge like a sculpture cut from stone. if you'd really like a retroflex series - make a cut in that "front area of the mouth" ! add a distinction between "tongue straight" and "tongue curled" or smth. and that's that.

once you've made your cuts and have the vowel and consonant charts diced up into distinguishing sections, you can pick a phoneme from each one to "represent" the space. maybe the most common one, maybe something else if you wanna have a little fun. and then you can add that phoneme or two you really personally wanted into the thing.

whoever might have told you that phonemic inventories "needed" to be as balanced as possible has no idea what they're on about. natlangs only loosely adhere to that kind of "balance," and whatever is there is an emergent consequence of the fact that the cuts you made among various phonetic features are sort of naturally straight lines. if you're distinguishing the fricative manner from the approximant manner, of course you're going to have a "fricative series" and an "approximant" series.

and all of these are just approximations. sounds can enter and leave for any reason at any time. a bit of chaos is always good.

moving back to the phonotactics - remember how you did this before starting on your phonemic inventory? that's 'cause you can update this to be more specific as you get more specific with your conlang's sounds. maybe you've made a cut in vowel space and you want it to correspond to vowel harmony, maybe you've made a weird consonant cut (glides/nasals/approximants are famous for this) might have weird effects/placements on the syllabic level.

ultimately, phonotactics probably has a bigger effect on how your language sounds than the exact phoneme classes you carve out. my last bit of advice is to take biblaridion's advice and start with a proto-lang. for phonotactics, what that means is: if you want a bunch of consonant clusters, then start with a ton of small open CV syllables and begin the vowel loss. If you want the opposite, start with a bunch of consonant clusters and then reduce the ever-living daylights out of them.

it'll take like 10-20 sound changes at the absolute most to end up with a sound system that was the opposite of how you started. make your sound changes broad and abstract. again, think in groups, distinguishable by a common set of cuts, not individual phonemes. do this well, and you'll find that along the way you've ended up with a gloriously chaotic and slightly funky system that's lost the sense of human artifice that a fiat-declared sound system has.

this is all phonetics advice and i'm not even an ijo phonetics. but that last bit applies very broadly. if you work on your language in stages and evolve it over in-universe time, it'll build up a whole host of fun naturalistic irregularities. protos are good. but in fairness that's advice for "naturalistic" conlanging, another incoherent term. natlangs do whatever they want, there's no one single vibe.

even if you're not doing that kind of artlang - i feel like the steps outlined here are a slightly better picture of what languages actually do, at least compared to the mad-libs sound inventory nonsense that the IPA might dupe you into thinking is accurate.

or, rather, mad-libs sound inventory nonsense is not what the IPA is for. the IPA is for quickly notating as many sound distinctions as possible. even the close/"phonetic" [t] is just a broad representation of a common phonological distinction. IPA is a messy system.

a "phoneme" is just a collection of distinctive traits being pronounced "at once." a "syllable" is a slightly bigger and often more abstract collection of distinctive traits. so start with the abstract. work your way down into the concrete. all art starts with a feeling that you want to nail down; make sure you're not nailing at random out the gate.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 5 thoughts

boy. where this episode started out and where this episode ended were two VASTLY different spaces. come along while i undergo this journey.

the first thing we see is a dog! a doggy! it's a border collie, and it looks like it could be the same one we see in s1 episode 8- maybe dog actors are in short supply! but border collies are famously very smart and to me the cutest of all dogs, so i was pleased to see a friendly face <3

and then things escalated. aliens arrived to fetch the dog's owner.

thankfully they left the dog alone- perhaps they saw the threatening "ALIENS, STAY AWAY FROM THAT DOG" i had written in my notes- but whatever they are inflicting upon this gentleman seems. unpleasant.

(the aliens are obviously terrifying but they're always shown vaguely wiggling in some cold white light and it does make me laugh. ohhhh here they come. the wigglers)

so in the morning our gentleman- duane- was taken to a correctional facility and he hasn't been taking his meds... and then he hurts his doctor! they always find the kindest looking people to play doctors on this show and then make them suffer

THE NEXT THING WE SEE IS: a pool? the pool scene i wrote about seeing a while ago in my last post! the one where mulder emerges mostly naked from his exercise to face this new guy who looks like he covers his beer stench with a designer cologne!

i rewound to see whose pool it was mulder was swimming in but gained no clues. would be sick if the FBI had an in house pool.

breaking news: this SOAKING WET MAN is called to a HOSTAGE SITUATION!

(i do find it endearing that he swims recreationally <3)

next thing i wrote was "alex is pissing me off" and i don't even remember what he did but i stand by it

so mulder is at the scene, duane has four hostages, and claims to be abducted by aliens. now to mulder it makes perfect sense to ask about his abduction experience, and he's trying to do his homework and follow the rules for hostage negotiation, but duane knows all the tricks because he's former FBI which they DID NOT TELL MULDER!

he walks up to the head of the hostage situation and very angrily asks if she knows about how aliens will take your brains out and fuck with your ovaries and she tries not to laugh at him. mulder tell me what they do to ovaries i'll listen. i'll take notes.

and then alex is trying to be all sickly sweet puppy dog boy and asks if he can do anything to help. so the head of the hostage situation tells him to get her a coffee. HA! POINT AT HIM AND LAUGH.

cutscene to SCULLY CAM!!!! <3 she's gonna sleuth for his medical records

ohhh the power went out and duane started blasting. he shot someone so they're gonna send mulder and another guy in (an excuse for mulder to wear a paramedic uniform.......)

mulder's like nooo i won't tell him i believe in aliens (<- said by a man who is lying)

and off to the races, can you imagine it, he does JUST that, says he believes duane and trades himself for the guy who was shot... he says it happened to his sister OHHHHHHH sister mention

he's got the guy monologuing about his tortures from the aliens and honestly, these aliens are bitches. there is NO reason to do all of this. drilling holes in his teeth??? that's fucked

alex is on the phone with scully who is freaking tf out because duane is lying about who he says he is... when he tells her he traded himself for the injured hostage she says "WHAT!" so loudly and is filled with intense urgency

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! his sister was 8 when they took her

(for some reason i thought she was 10 when it happened, but the larger age gap between them explains a lot in terms of his instinctive level of Protectiveness towards all creatures big and small)

this next part had me GAGGED: SCULLY FLEW IN FROM WASHINGTON!!!! she is AT THE SCENE and she is YELLING at someone who isn't listening to her

alex made a VERY FATAL mistake in telling her to "calm down" while mulder is a HOSTAGE and she RIGHTFULLY told him off (and frankly she could have kept going and i wouldn't have complained) but she's a woman who gets things done so she finds someone who will actually listen to her

she says he has a very unique case of being shot in a specific part of the brain which happened to another guy before and then that guy became a pathological liar so she is basically saying "duane is the nastiest skank bitch i have ever met do NOT trust him"

so back to the scene. duane is saying the government is there while the aliens do all this. which i have no idea how to interpret so i'm just storing it here for later use.

SCULLY CAN HEAR HIM! she's on his secret wire mic and talking to him. duane can hear her a little bit but is going on about "the mountains"... it was at this point, with scully talking in mulder's ear, that everything was so tense i had a brief moment where i remembered that this is actually a tv show i'm watching in my free time and not an actual life or death thing

mulder convinces duane to let the women go and the younger one says she believes him which had to be impactful i'd think

but the snipers are closing in!!! mulder sees the line of fire on him and calls him over to get him out of the way so he won't get shot....

he asks duane if she was lying to distract him and now he's VERY VERY VERY ANGRY and he tries to calm him back down and say hey... you forgot to lock the door.... please go lock the door...

and he goes over to the door and bam. duane's shot.

we see scully and mulder watch as he's loaded into the ambulance and mulder looks deeply conflicted and once again has his sad wet eyes on because he still believes duane was telling the truth. scully tells mulder he did the right thing in getting him to go to the door, because we all know by now that mulder has a complicated set of feelings towards any loss of life.

"whatever you're feeling, you did the right thing" <- augh. scully loves him so much. oh to love anyone how truly and deeply scully loves this man

(shhhh i'm not getting into what kind of love it is. i don't know and whatever your answer for its flavor is, you cannot deny that she loves him. that she tries to find the exact words he wants to hear to soothe that internal Guilt he wears like a heavy jacket.)

later he smiles when the lead hostage negotiator calls him to thank him because he broke all of her rules and thought he was going to get yelled at LMAOOO that lil smile was very sweet

and he goes to see duane but the REAL reason she called him in was to tell him about the metal they extracted from duane's body... the doctors claim that the stuff in his teeth could not have been made from any current technology... alien life confirmed??

((i thought the episode would end here on a little cliffhanger that never gets resolved but boy. i was off))

no, instead of an episode's conclusion, we see mulder bring the metal pieces to scully, who once again has the most beautiful freckles in the world, and she says she'll take it down to be analyzed.

mulder leaves the room without saying a word which i thought to be cold in the moment and now that i'm typing this knowing what happens next i might actually cry.

she goes to the store and she's buying some stuff... we see kodak film in the background... sigh instant cameras i love you and your work... but she buys $11 of groceries and then sneaks the metal chip across the barcode reader and it makes the whole thing break down!!!!

the poor cashier is freaking out because the machine is going wild and she looks at scully like "did you touch it?" and she says no and awkwardly leaves LMAOOOOOOO i was howling because girl idk wtf i would have done in that situtation either

duane wakes up to more aliens and rips all his medical stuff off and runs like he didn't get shot very recently and he's on the prowl for something

scully's back at her place, calling mulder, telling him about how the barcode scanned, and she's really worked up about the whole thing, when she hears a rustle, but it's just a thunderstorm...

but she goes to the window and DUANE IS THERE!!! a look of horror passes over her face, and we hear her through mulder's answering machine, screaming for help while he takes her

(everything happened SO quickly, it transpired in my notes like this: WHAT!!! he's outside her window WHAT THE FUCK TO BE CONTINUED??)

yes. we get a "TO BE CONTINUED" on the outtro scene.

i sat there, baffled for a few moments, trying to process what i just saw.

but then i thought i noticed something else: her place looked different than it did in s1. at least, i thought it did- we didn't see it much, but perhaps she got fed up with folks showing up like eugene tooms did in s1 and bought a nicer space. i thought the old space was cute though, and maybe it really is the same space but from a different angle, but then i thought about how it looked like mulder's space also changed from s1, so maybe they both moved, or maybe i'm just not good at noticing things, but oh yeah, scully's in virigina now since she's at the academy, so she probably DID move, although i thought the drive from DC to virigina was doable, but maybe not?

none of this changes the fact that scully has been TAKEN.

(i won't lie, i knew this was going to happen at some point, because i read the s2 episode descriptions and saw something about her being "returned", which implies being taken in the first place. but still. it was very abrupt. they had thoroughly lulled me into expecting a vague sort of non-answer of an ending and then switched out the formula at just the right time so i never grew suspicious)

to be continued!!! this is soooo evil, especially because i don't have time to watch the next episode tomorrow. so i'm gonna walk around all day tomorrow at important work events thinking about what horrors scully must be enduring and get NO conclusion as to what they might be. duane i have fists and you are not real and i am small but i am unafraid to bludgeon you. stay away from her if you even LOOK at her ohhhh you're gonna learn a lot more than what it feels like when aliens take out ur brain just keep that in mind!

(and man. i'm sitting here typing. thinking about how mulder never said a real goodbye to her the last time they spoke. and i wonder if that's gonna haunt him. and i wonder if when he gets her back, he always always always makes sure to take the time for a goodbye. just on the off chance it might really be the last one. fuck.)

[misfitwashere]

The Berlin Wall Never Fell

It Didn't

TIMOTHY SNYDER

NOV 9

Thirty five years ago today, the Berlin Wall did not fall.

I realize that I am running against the torrent of anniversary remembrances here.  And no doubt you are thinking: he means this metaphorically; he means that some mental barrier remains between East and West, or perhaps between eastern and western Germany.

No, I mean that, quite literally, the Berlin Wall did not fall.  It did not fall thirty-five years ago today.  It never fell.  The "fall of the Berlin Wall" is a literary device, not a historical event. 

And that we have chosen a false image to stand for a moment of liberation reveals a problem.

But first, a reminder of what did happen.  At the time, East and West Germany were two different countries.  Berlin was a special island inside East Germany, itself divided between Western and Eastern parts.  A physical wall did indeed separate the two, built by the East German regime to keep their people in.  

In summer and autumn 1989, amidst Gorbachev's perestroika and reforms and gestures among neighboring communist countries, East Germans were finding ways to visit or to emigrate to West Germany.  The East German regime, in turmoil itself amid protests, was trying to formulate a new set of rules for the border.  Amidst a great deal of confusion, a regime spokesman seemed to announce, in response to a question by an Italian journalist, that the border posts at the wall would allow East Germans to depart for the West.

That was on November 9th, 1989.  The Berlin Wall did not topple over because of that press conference.  What happened was that tens of thousands of East Berliners took advantage of the pronouncement and crowded the border checkpoints, one of which eventually opened.  People rushed through to forbidden West Berlin, where they were greeted with champagne and flowers.  It was a night that changed the history of Germany, which would unify less than a year later.

But no wall actually fell.  People eventually clambered on it, and chipped off pieces of it (I have a few, somewhere).  People painted on it for a while, which is why those concrete souvenirs are colorful. On New Year's Eve, 1989, David Hasselhoff played a concert over the Berlin Wall, in a crane.  The wall was of course still standing, because it had not fallen down. 

Words matter.  Pretty much everyone says "the fall of the Berlin Wall" as a shorthand for the "the end of communism in eastern Europe."  But something that never happened cannot be a source of an actual memory.  It cannot teach us, for example, how authoritarianism is resisted. 

The image of a wall falling transforms a complicated history into a simple moment.  But when we embrace that image of something that never happened, we lose everything that we need to remember, everything that is human and interesting.

The opening of the checkpoint that night was an accident.  But it was an accident made possible by human action.  East Germans had chosen to leave their country.  They were protesting, and believed that they could protest in part because other people were doing so.  The largest and most effective protests were in neighboring Poland.  They went back to the foundation of a labor union, Solidarity, in 1980.  By November 1989, Poland had already formed a post-communist government.

And that of course is the Polish gripe with the whole "Berlin wall falling" story.  Poles will want you to know that Poland was more important than East Germany in the history of the end of communism.  And that is very true.  But the crucial thing to remember is what Poles did.  In the face of dictatorship they found concepts of cooperation and lived them.

The resistance to communism was a human story of cooperation.  Its dissidents stressed the need to work together.  Its most important organization was a union.  When a certain conjuncture emerged in 1989, it was these practices and traditions that allowed new political alternatives to emerge.  The human cooperation, called "civil society" at the time, was not enough in itself to change the world.  But when the world began to change in other ways, people were ready.  

When we imagine the Berlin Wall falling, as we will be summoned to do today, we are instructed that freedom is something that just happens.  The wall was up.  Bad.  And then it fell.  Good.  We think of freedom like that because it removes the responsibility from us.  And that is the wrong lesson, wrong historically and so wrong politically and morally.

Thirty five years ago today, the Berlin Wall did not fall. 

Thirty five years ago today, some people made history, amidst other people making history, thanks to some prior cooperation, and some good thinking about what freedom means.

We cannot change the world all at once.  But we can change the way we think.  We can clear away the clichés and make ourselves more lively.  We can work together and then, when other things are in motion, be ready to turn the change in the right direction.