#13 hours help

[viaviv124]

I'd like to think this is accurate

[heartorbit]

i'm sending this endless melody to a nameless you

[emacrow]

When Danny hides his corpses along with Elle and Dan.. those fucking Archaeologists are persistent little shits then shenanigans happens..

He hide them in the Antarctica, where barely any humans goes beside a couple groups of persistent scientists living there and the hidden society of cannibalistic humaniod yetis....

There was no way anyone could find their bodies under 60 feet of snow and frozen millennium ice...

Ancients be damned 4 months later, danny felt a disturbance in his hidden grave only to see History News found 3 preserved corpses perfectly intact in a solid crystallized looking coffin the God damn Antarctica.

Took him a solid 5 days to find the right God forsaken headquarters of those Archaeologists who already send their bodies to gotham...

He about to flip his lid, especially as it was getting to him very badly... by how sleep deprived his ghost side was being to the point that the disturbed.. eldritch part of his very being was slipping a bit..

Then the truck driving with their corpses got stolen by some low grade wanna be villain by the name of 'the penguin'.

Who has his goons trying to break the crystal coffin into pieces with how priceless it beholding.

Danny brought Elle and Dan into this because he doesn't know gotham and three heads work better then one with the search out.

By the time, they actually found the Right fucking Hideout; because how many fucking hideout does a fucking penguin needs.

They were too late by a fucking hour, because of course something had to take their coffin.

Penguins already look arrested and it seem Batman got their coffin, whom had sent it to the Watchtower to get analyzed after they found a heart beating after 40 minutes to the batcave..

Danny wanted to ghost screamed by then...

(Wayyy later in the plot that I'll never finish)

Constantine whom is about to drinking scotch whiskey before it slapped by the ghostly eldritch child who shoving an glowing green smoothie in his hands for the 3rd time.

He look at them with a begrudgingly look who glares back at him with the similar mom glare looks before he sighed and drink the smoothie.

He ain't admitting it taste so much fucking better then his usual whiskey for shit.

Meanwhile Elle is enjoying having a younger halfa to bother even if his core is all types of fucked up and looking worse then a apple that fell off the ugly tree, got shredded by a wood chipper, mashed back together and then peeled off by a potato peeler before stomped on.

[marshmallowgoop]

no thoughts just Heiji Hattori (HD)

[sparklejumpropequeen1949]

It’s a tradition at this point

[yesokayiknow]

okay so you know how it goes: fourteen comes to life in thirteen's clothes. and they're both too short and too loose and entirely too bright for his frame of mind. they worked with a doctor who hid everything behind a too wide smile; not so much with a doctor whose pain and tiredness is written across his face

he needs to change. obviously

and then the star beast starts, and fourteen leaves the tardis, and he's still in thirteen's clothes

he just. he doesn't know. how does he choose new clothes? he feels wrong. how will wearing something else change that?

(donna tells him that it's christmas, mate; it's bloody freezing. maybe wear longer trousers, yeah? also he's both too young and too old to wear braces. just a friendly note)

he doesn't have to explain who he is to the unit scientist, not with those clothes. instead he talks about how he doesn't understand why he looks like this. why he is this. why this face? why isn't he someone new?

actually. maybe he is someone new. was he ever this open before? hm

why do you look like that, sylvia hisses, trying to hide him from the daughter he destroyed ruined left

it's a lottery, he replies, purposely ignorant

he still has his thirteenth self's screwdriver. it's too small in his hands

(the whole time they were her, her hands were too small. she didn't like touching anyway, but whenever someone took her hand, it felt wrong. they were too small. sometimes it felt like if she worked fast enough, tinkered about without stopping, she wouldn't have to look at them)

everything goes wrong. his fault, like always

(blimey. of all the things to carry over from the first time he had this face, it had to be the guilt, didn't it?)

you shouldn't look like that, the doctordonna says, and he runs a hand down his face with a tired laugh

no, the doctordonna says, not the face. a hand reaches out to grasp at the collar of his shirt, at the dangling earring chain. this isn't you. who are you, doctor?

like he knows. like they've ever-

she dies.

she lives. he doesn't deserve it. it isn't about him. he still doesn't deserve it

we're letting it go, donna says, and he looks down at himself, at another him's clothes, another him's screwdriver

well, she never was subtle, his donna

the tardis is gorgeous, though when isn't she. he tries to show off his new console to donna, and she rolls her eyes, and drags him off to the wardrobe

unlike normally, where all the clothes are scattered about, the new tardis wardrobe now also has a line of wardrobes stood against the wall. fifteen of them, to be exact

the last wardrobe is open. and empty

he goes to the second to last, and opens it to reveal a wide array of rainbow patterned shirts. she probably would've hated for her things to be organised like this. always creating mess so she wouldn't have to think about anything important. he laughs. and he takes off the sky coloured coat and the worn boots and the earrings and gently places them inside. tag, he thinks, as he closes the doors

and then he moves down to the eleventh wardrobe, full of brown coats and blue suits and neatly pressed shirts and pairs of converse. and he stands in front of it. and he wonders

after a moment, donna's like wait do you want me to leave?? you never cared about nudity before, did you? and he's like oh actually i do feel more self conscious. huh. weird.

he doesn't have to say, i think i'm a different person. not to donna. she just gives him a smile, and a shoulder nudge, and tells him she'll see him in the console room

the last wardrobe is empty

he takes a breath, and then goes to rummage about in the rest of the clothes

[hazele-omega]

Hello Tumblr I present to you a redraw of a piece from 2023, feat. Chaos (NMS avatar character) fighting a corrupted sentinel

I really liked the concept of the original piece and figured I should give it another shot now that I have Lighting Skills...

Original/comparison under cut

[caffeinegremlins]

JJK because I can. So everyone knows the you look beautiful meme that was going around a while back, right?

So obviously my gay little self had to draw Itadori and Fushiguro like that.

[chicken-magnet]

hey google, what are you supposed to do when it finally sinks in that one of the few relatives that you actually like* would never accept you if they ever found out who you really are and you feel like something in you just broke?

[yujeong]

what do u think is the relevance of the black cat on tonkla? what goes on inside his head when he sees the cat?

Anon, I could talk about that damn cat all day, but my head is a mess and I can't fully put my thoughts in order. This post was the best I could do, but since you asked, I'll try to explain how I view the whole thing as coherently as I can. In very few words, the cat represents many things in relation to Tonkla: loss, powerlessness, mourning, bad luck, love, revenge and so on. Whenever the cat appears, it encompasses all of those things, some of these prevailing over others depending on the scene in question. With that said, let's take each scene and analyze it a little bit, shall we? First instance - Episode 1: Right after Korn leaves, Tonkla hears his cat meowing. The cat looks at him for a short moment, then it immediately flees to the kitchen, where it disappears before it completely turns around. (In this moment I'd like to mention how, in my opinion based on Episode 7, Tonkla's cat was probably killed near or in the kitchen. The space isn't shown clearly but it'd make sense, since 2/3 cat appearances happen close to the kitchen.) In order for us to understand what Tonkla is thinking once he sees the cat, we need to remember what happened for it to appear in the first place: Korn left to go to his dad, his actions and words reminding Tonkla that he doesn't come first. Korn, the man Tonkla loves, left him. Just like his cat did. But it's not only that.

This specific moment has stayed with me. It looks like he's reminiscing a past memory. Like he's remembering how his cat was killed, how he lost something he loved, how it was brutally taken from him. And the memory must have hurt, because he exhales, rests his head on the couch and then:

He does this. Many people, myself included, thought this was about Korn, and it very well could be, and it kind of is, but I also think it's about the cat. It's about the loss and the loneliness and how it's a constant in Tonkla's life. Second Instance - Episode 7: This time, at first the cat meows softly like before to get Tonkla's attention, but then the sound the cat makes is angrier, its gaze sharper. Now it stays there and it doesn't flee and it stares at Tonkla without fear. So, what happens this time to make the cat appear? Tonkla gets upset by Win's approach of bringing Title to justice. He feels it's not enough, like it's not the correct solution to the problem. An important detail to this moment is that we don't only hear the cat meowing. We also hear its bell ringing. The one Tonkla was holding when he pushed his father down the stairs. When he killed him. What goes on inside Tonkla's head this time is simpler to understand: the cat serves as a reminder of what he's done in the past. The realization dawns on his face, his fingers itch with it, the sink becomes his old house's floor with his father's blood smeared all over it.

"Right," he thinks. "I can take matters into my own hands. I don't have to rely on anyone else." Third Instance - Episode 7: Finally, we hear the cat and see it briefly walking by Tonkla's gun, the one he uses to shoot Great. Here, what happens before this moment to make the cat appear is interesting to me: Tonkla finds out Great and Korn are related, something he had no idea about, judging by his reaction:

And it's interesting to me because I believe that for a moment, he was conflicted:

He understood what him doing harm to Korn's brother would mean for him and for their relationship. That's why, even when the cat meows and the gun appears in the frame, he still has that face:

But of course, this doesn't last, because Tonkla understands the poetic irony of the situation. And he finds it hilarious.

That's what his smile means to me. He's not losing it, it's not a deranged expression (although it is). He just finds it all amusing and I can't really blame him. This is the moment the cat represents revenge. This is when it crosses Tonkla's mind. All the other things are still there - the loss, the pain, the loneliness, all of it - but this is what prevails in the end. Oh, and because I saw a few mentions of mental disorders floating around in regards to Tonkla seeing the cat, I'd like to end this post on a very unserious note, by adding a moment from 13 reasons why of all shows: Clay: "I don't actually see ghosts." Justin: "I get it. You wrote my paper on magical realism."

[skitskatdacat63]

"Non paeniteo potitus."

+ details & process

And, process !!

The jump btwn the second to last and last always surprise me whenever I make one of these because I always forget to take snapshots after I start painting. It's always like: oh yeah heres the lineart with some colors- BOOM fully finished✨️

What he's holding are the Austrian imperial scepter and orb, seen below:

I was going to draw the crown too but decided I don't hate myself that much(maybe some other day), and gave him a golden laurel crown, bcs I'm obsessed with that as a motif, and also its very remincient of the boy king statue that started this whole thing!

There's some symbolism of this, both intentionally but also just historically. I love that the orb represents that the monarch is holding the world in their hand, basically every old monarchy has one of those, and I think it's very cool for symbolism. But also bcs of that, I was forced to basically draw catholic fanart so, you win some you lose some. The star halo above him head is both to reference those religious statues with star crowns(I saw them a lot in Europe and they imprinted onto my brain), as well as: his four championships of course!

[iloveacronix]

I have no context for this💀

@get-acronixed-meme @yourlocalkitkat

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

Daylight savings is an outdated concept that is no longer really relevant, hope this helps ☺️💕

[marshmallowgoop]

No matter how special it is, a kid's lunch is still just a kid's lunch.

I dunno, I liked "The Genius Restaurant" (Episode 1,089).

Happy (belated) birthday, Jimjam.

[Song link] [YouTube link]

[tired-eyes-cold-as-ice]

Life's Chosen

Alinua from @comicaurora, partially inspired by some of the recent pages but mostly just vibes. Red, if you're reading this, THANK YOU for sharing your art with the world and helping people like me keep creating. <3

(Open for some bonus WIP content!)

I like sharing my process whenever I can so here's a look at the initial (refined) sketch, the line art, flat colors and finally the shading:

(Also WHAT is UP with me and covering the eyes of Aurora characters with flowers. First Dainix? Now Alinua? Who's next???)

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 12: Starvation

Underground Caverns + "Just a little more"

3602 Words; Raised by Serpentine, pre-canon

TW for death, blood, injury

AO3 ver

Cole had never seen the sky.

This wasn’t unique, in the tomb—the last dwellers to see the sky had passed away long before Cole was born, before even his parents were born. But his father told him that stories had some root in reality, so even if Cole had never seen it, he had to imagine it existed, somewhere above the rock.

He’d heard it was blue like the hanging moss that grew in the corners, that it had a big ball of fire in it brighter than any torchlight. He’d heard about clouds, too, big white balls of fluff carrying water.

“And it changes color, too!” Cole added, excitedly retelling the stories to his peers. They had all heard the same stories, of course, but the sky was always a popular topic to the tomb’s children—certainly a preferred story to the tale of the Surface War and the Evil Master Chen. And at almost five years old—by tomb time, which ran based on growth cycles of the moss and mushrooms, though Cole of course wouldn’t know about the cycle of seasons that defined the surface’ faster calendar—Cole was no different.

“No it doesn’t.” A new voice joined the group as Beffa walked up. One year Cole’s senior, a whole head taller than him, with bright eyes and more scales on her face than Cole had. “The sky’s not real.” Beffa declared, hands on her hips as she looked down at the group. “It’s just rock.” She said it with such certainty, too, as though maybe there really was just more rock above the barrier they couldn’t dig through.

“Nuh-uh!” Adel was the first to protest. “My dad ssays my great-grandmother ssaw it!”

“Yeah, it’s real!” Alina added, Lyssie and Bryan and Cole voicing their agreement.

Beffa sniffed. “Nope. It’s just a story for hatchlings.” She sat down, pulling a beaded cord from her dress pocket. “I’m doing you all a favor, really—you can’t hold onto fairytales forever.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong.” Lyssie said, crossing her arms. “My momsss ssay the ssky’sss real, sso it hasss to be.” She turned her snout up with a hiss, as though it made her words any more convincing.

Cole scowled. “My dad says all stories have their roots in truth.” He added. “So there has to be something up there.” He nodded, satisfied with his argument. His dad was smart, and knew all of the stories in the tomb, and Cole trusted him implicitly. Culture was important, Cole’s dad claimed, because it was how people connected.

Beffa snorted, fiddling with the cord. She tied the two ends together, threading the new bracelet on her wrist and examining it. “You’re all dummies.” She decided, standing back up. “I’m gonna go hang out with smart people.” And with that, she left, ducking down a tunnel at the edge of the cavern.

Adel was the first to break the silence. “Is the ssky fake?” He asked.

“It can’t be.” Lyssie reassured him.

Cole nodded. “It’s up there.” He promised, pointing towards the ceiling. “Somewhere.” Past dwellers had seen it, from before the Surface War’s end, and they had passed the stories down. If someone had seen it, then it had to be real.

And maybe Cole and all his friends would get to see it, too.

+=+=+=+=+

There was always some gathering going on in the central chamber. The tomb was a community, after all—they all had to work together to survive.

It was a festival, the kind with music and dancing, harsh and heavy vibrations that the Constrictai loved played in tandem with the harmony of voices singing. The noise rose all the way to the ceiling high above, and Cole laughed, dancing with Alina. This was fun!

Spirits were always high, in the tomb—festivals always lasted several shifts, so that everyone could participate no matter what cycle they slept on. Cole giggled, running over to his father as the song changed and Alina grabbed Lyssie’s hands to drag her into a new dance.

“Daddadad!” Cole had caught his dad between dances, and his dad turned to him. “Are you and Mom gonna dance together?”

“Well, of course!” Lou chuckled, moving to hoist Cole up, and wincing only slightly as Cole clambered onto his shoulders. “Well, can you spot her from up there?” He asked, and Cole peered out into the crowd.

“There!” Cole pointed to where his mom was dancing, darting from partner to partner, the polished stones of her necklace glinting in the torch and firelight. Lou broke into a light run, dancing through the crowd as Cole laughed, keeping his finger pointed at Lilly. “And there’s Skal!” He added, as his mother approached the General.

His dad twirled around a grinning pair of teens—Dreska and Vera, who liked to help out in the medical caverns and used to sneak Cole treats during festivals—and slid to a stop in front of a bemused Lilly and Skalidor. With a tired sort of groan, Lou put Cole down—and Cole wasted no time in grabbing at his mother’s hands. “C’monc’monc’mon! You gotta dance with dad!”

“Ah, give me a moment,” Lou breathed. He reached out and ruffled Cole’s hair. “You’re starting to get too heavy for me to carry!”

Lilly had no such problems, sweeping Cole up into a crushing hug as he laughed. “There’s my little Beetle!” She greeted, pressing a kiss to Cole’s forehead. After a moment, she passed Cole to Skalidor, who fumbled to hold Cole and the staff at the same time as Lilly grabbed Lou and dragged him to an open space.

Cole fell to the ground with a giggle, grabbing Skalidor’s free hand as he watched his parents start to dance.

He didn’t need to see the sky to be happy.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole watched the fighters in the Slitherpit from his vantage point on the stairs winding up the central chamber, enraptured. It was a little hard to make out details, here, but this was also the prime spot for Not Getting Caught watching the Slitherpit when he was supposed to be sleeping.

As there was no day-night cycle in the tomb, there was no set “day” or “night”—dwellers slept when they were tired, in overlapping shifts that meant there was always some awake to watch for cave-ins or tend to cavern upkeep.

Of course, there was a shift where children and their families all tended to be asleep at once—and that was the shift with the most Slitherpits, and the most exciting Slitherpits.

That Cole and Lyssie were supposed to be asleep right now meant little to the six and a half year olds—the Slitherpits were just so cool. It was a lot like watching his mom and dad and Skal dance late at night—but the Slitherpit had weapons, which made it so awesome!

Cole leaned forwards as one of the combatants bowed down, leaving the pit as another took their place. After a moment, the pair launched into motion, and Cole started to whisper-shout his excitement in tandem with the crowd below. Lyssie’s eyes sparkled with the same excitement, her hands thumping the stone in tune with the excited chanting below.

“Cole.”

Cole’s head snapped around so fast he almost fell off the edge—scaled hands grabbed his arm to haul him back towards the wall, towards the rows and rows of names and handprints. Cole squirmed, putting on his most innocent face while Lyssie attempted to disappear into the shadows between the torches. Skalidor simply stared at Lyssie until she trudged forwards, arms crossed.

Skalidor sighed. “Cole, Lyssie, you are both supposed to be sleeping.” He turned his attention onto Lyssie, “What would your parents think?”

Lyssie hissed softly, chastened.

“And where is Adel?” Skalidor added. At the mention of her brother, Lyssie frowned.

“I dunno.” She denied.

Skalidor glanced up the stairs, then sighed. “Both of you need to go to sleep.” He ordered, before slithering up to where Adel and Bryan were trying to hide in a crook in the wall.

Cole scowled, then sighed. He was supposed to be the Master of Earth, eventually. Which meant being responsible, even if Slitherpits were so cool—”c’mon.” He offered his hand to Lyssie, who took it in her own.

“Let’s go home.”

+=+=+=+=+

“A healthy baby!” Lilly said, holding the infant and making faces. A flick of her hand, and the clay in the bowl she had brought came to her fingertips so she could mark their forehead.

Cole watched his mother work, murmuring blessings of strength and heart to the baby in her arms. It was a sight he had seen plenty of times before—this was part of his mother’s job, and would eventually be Cole’s job, too.

Cole respected his parents a great deal, even at almost nine. His dad collected stories and dances and songs and came up with new ones—and helped put together all the festivals and events that unified the community. Skalidor was the General, which meant he carried the staff with him nearly everywhere. It was his job to make sure things ran smoothly, to hear out concerns and make plans. He was so cool, and for a bit when he was really little Cole had wanted to grow up just like Skal—

But Cole was fated to be something else.

His mother was the Master of Earth, able to bend rock and dirt to her will. It was a prestigious role, Cole understood, and one that would pass onto him someday. To be a Master of Earth was different from being General—where a General impressed order through command and action, the Master of Earth was a pillar of community and strength. It was often that Cole would follow along after his mother as she traveled through the caverns, offering a helping hand where she could and representing tenacity in human form.

Which meant holding babies only a few days old to bless them with some luck, in the hopes of them living through their first year. Lots of babies were born, especially when the fan mushrooms bloomed, which meant visiting a lot of caverns to personally see all of them.

Lilly handed the child back to the father, wishing them well before exiting the cavern to head to the next. Cole trailed after her like a shadow, bowl of clay in his hands.

On and on, from cavern to cavern, blessing babies or just checking in, until the shift was over and it was time to head back to their family’s cavern. Some shifts were just like this, while others saw Lilly attending gatherings in the central chamber. Whatever it was, it was the Master of Earth’s job to give to their community in the ways that only they could.

They were halfway across the central chamber when Bytar ran up to them, wringing his hands. “Oh, Lilly! There was a cave-in—”

Immediately, Lilly straightened up, any trace of cheer or tiredness gone. “Where?” Bytar started running towards one of the tunnel entrances, and Cole rushed to follow as Lilly shot off after him. They made it to the tunnel entrance, worried dwellers scattering to the sides as Lilly rushed through. Cole pushed through the crowd, afforded some leeway but less than his mom, and arrived just as his mom was pressing her hands against the collapsed wall, feeling for any air pockets. It looked like two cavern entrances had collapsed—that was pretty big, as far as cave-ins went.

Cole jolted as he realized where they were. That cavern… Bryan’s family lived there. And Beffa’s was right next door—

Cole spotted Beffa leaning against the opposite wall, pebbles scattered at her feet. She looked shaken, in a way that Cole had never seen her look. Slowly, as his mom began to push the stone up, expression taut, Cole made his way over to Beffa. “You okay?” She had a cut on her arm, and Cole dug into his pocket for spare fabric to wrap it with.

“Just peachy, dirtclod.” Beffa spat, pulling her injured arm away from Cole. “My dad was in there—” She cut herself off, looking down at the ground, pale brown hair falling over her eyes.

Cole turned back to the reforming entrances—it didn’t look like the left cavern had caved in fully, and Cole could see Bryan and his moms crawling out through the opening Lilly had made. But the cavern on the right—

Stone lifted to reveal the bloodied paste that used to be Callum. Cole grimaced—cave-in deaths were always the worst. He glanced at Beffa, who stared at the corpse with wide eyes, jaw clenched—

“I’m sorry.” Cole murmured, as someone asked where Bryan’s little sister was and Bryan burst into tears, as his mom declared the area unstable and everyone started to shuffle out.

“Sorry won’t bring dad back.” Beffa muttered, and Cole shrank in on himself. She was right. It wasn’t enough.

It never was.

+=+=+=+=+

“I’m sorry, Cole, but Lyssie and Adel aren’t feeling well today.” Vera said, from where she was standing in front of their family’s cavern.

Cole huffed, scowling at the carvings framing the entrance. “When will they get better?” A lot of people were falling ill recently. It was starting to get worrying.

Vera shrugged. “I don’t think the symptoms are too bad? They’ll probably be hale again in a few shifts.

Cole sighed. He trusted Vera to be telling the truth—and it wouldn’t do to worry over things he couldn’t help, anyway. He turned back down the tunnel, heading towards the central chamber. He had started trying to push a pebble upslope without touching it, recently, having turned ten just a few weeks ago—his mother had been able to make rocks jump up the steps around his age, and her powers had started to wane ever so slightly. So Cole made his way to one of the dips in the central chamber, taking a pebble from his pocket and setting it down.

Masters of Earth held the tomb together. The whole community gave what they could, and through that there was enough for everyone—but Masters of Earth could prevent and undo cave-ins, or dig new tunnels and caverns with little effort—

Cole wanted to help. It was going to be his job, eventually, to bear these powers and use them for the good of everyone. And as much as he hated to think about his mother no longer having those powers—

(She’d had trouble lifting Skalidor a few shifts ago. Loss of strength was one of the first signs.)

Cole needed to be ready for when that did happen.

Cole concentrated on the pebble. It was small enough to fit in his fist, a little smooth in some places and rough in others. He happened to like this pebble; he had found it when he was three and kept it ever since. It was a good luck charm, something to turn over in his hands when the ceiling looming above him felt too heavy to bear.

Cole glanced up towards the ceiling. The central chamber’s stairs wound all the way up to where the tomb had been sealed, to that massive rock that couldn’t be budged even by a Master of Earth in their prime thanks to the magic keeping the tomb closed—

Cole turned back to his pebble, and pushed out with his hand. He had attracted a few spectators, mostly children wondering what in the name of the abyss he was doing. Cole ignored it, breathing in, out, and imagining the pebble rolling up the slope—

Much like the tomb entrance, the pebble didn’t budge.

+=+=+=+=+

“We’re going spelunking soon, right?” Cole was excited, to finally see the deeper, unused caves, way down past the underground lake and the tunnels used to grow moss and hunt cave newts. Those deeper tunnels had been blocked off since before Cole was born, accessible only to a Master of Earth. Cole wouldn’t be able to open them, yet, but he had managed to make a pebble roll upslope last week—one of the first signs that he was inheriting his mother’s powers.

“Of course!” Lilly said, before getting swept up in another dance. Cole grinned, letting the music pour through him, low vibrations and mixing voices filling the central chamber.

Cole looked for a group to join in with—he was itching to dance, to let his body move with the rhythm until he felt as bright as the torchlight dotting the chamber. He looked for Lyssie or Alina or Bryan—he spotted Beffa, hanging back and leaning against one of the walls, chatting with Alina. Bryan was trying to get an impromptu Slitherpit going—

And there was Lyssie, exiting the central chamber, despite the shift not being over yet. Cole jogged over to the tunnel, tapping the wall as he followed after her, finding her in a crook at the bend.

“Lyssie?” Cole asked. She was sitting down, arms curled around her knees.

“I misss him.” Lyssie murmured, as Cole sat down beside her.

Cole winced. Adel had passed weeks ago. Sickness. Slowly, he reached out his hand. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked.

“No.” Lyssie said, taking Cole’s hand. “I’ve already talked about it.”

“Okay.” The music from the festival was still audible here, vibrations faint through the walls. “I’m sorry.”

“‘Ss not your fault.” Lyssie said.

They sat in silence for a moment, side by side against the stone.

Eventually, Lyssie broke the silence. “You know the sstoriesss, about the ssurface?”

Cole nodded. “Yeah?” He wondered what Lyssie was getting at.

“I heard one, once, about the ssun.” Lyssie said. “How it fallsss, and the ssky turnsss the color of fire.”

“They called it sunset, I think.” Cole nodded, having heard this story himself.

“But nothing actually burnsss,” Lyssie continued, “How doesss that work? How doesss a ball of fire fall, without ssetting fire to the ssurface?”

“I dunno.” Cole murmured. “Maybe it doesn’t actually fall. Maybe it goes out.”

“I think it fallsss.” Lyssie decided. “I think it fallsss, and when it doesss, ssomeone diesss.”

Huh. “You think that’s why the sky turns red? Because someone’s dying?”

“Yeah.” Lyssie nodded. “Becaussse I can’t imagine Adel dying under a bright ssky.”

Cole had never seen the sky, or the sun, or experienced any kind of weather. Nobody still alive in the tomb had, for all that they still had the stories about it from their ancestors. The tomb was sealed tight, magically unopenable, leaving them with only solid stone above their heads. But the sky supposedly existed somewhere up above the stone, above them all—

“Yeah.” Cole agreed. “I can’t imagine it, either.”

+=+=+=+=+

His mother was getting worse.

She wasn’t the only one, either—the weeping cough kept spreading, despite everyone’s efforts. Another blight had hit, as well—the tomb was once again fasting.

Still, Cole did his best to smile through it. To greet his neighbors and tombmates warmly, to stay connected in all the ways his mother couldn’t. His dad was doing much the same, singing and dancing at festivals.

Cole had to be responsible. He was eleven, now, only four more years from hitting majority. He had to hold together, so he could hold the community together. He and his mother had never managed to go on that spelunking trip, despite her promise to show him the way down—but surely, she would get better, and then they could go down to the uninhabited cave network. Surely.

So Cole smiled, and chatted, and worked, and danced. He smiled, because crying and fretting wouldn’t do anyone any good. He chatted, to stay connected to everyone and make sure everything was going well. He worked, because the moss wouldn’t harvest itself, clothes wouldn’t weave themselves, and everyone had to do their part to keep things together. And he danced, because his mother wasn’t well enough to attend the festivals and dance herself—and if he didn’t dance, if he didn’t lose himself to the rhythm, then he’d gnaw his own arm off.

His mother would get better soon, surely. Sure, the weeping cough had proven deadlier than other sicknesses, and sure, his mother’s breathing was getting more and more labored—

But Cole could not let himself worry, because if he started—

He’d never stop.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole stared at the empty bed, at the rock scraped clean of the moss his mother had once rested on.

It just wasn’t fair. There was never quite enough in the tomb for everyone, even when they all pooled what they had and worked together—

Cole rubbed his eyes with his arm, his chest tightening. He needed to go out and walk around and smile and talk and—

And he just couldn’t. Because he wasn’t the pillar of strength he was supposed to be, because eleven and a half wasn’t enough—because there was never enough—

Cole let himself fall forwards onto his knees, leaning over onto the cold stone as he buried his face in his arms. He wanted his mother back. He wanted everyone who had died early to cave-ins or sickness or starvation to have never died so unfairly in the first place. He wanted things to be better, but all he could do was keep smiling and persevering—and he couldn’t even do that right now.

Beffa was right. Cole had been holding onto fairytales as a child. He glared up at the ceiling, at the unyielding stone that refused to recognize him as its Master, at the barrier cutting his people off from the surface and its supposed bounty—but it didn’t budge, and never would.

The tomb was sealed tight.

Cole would never see the sky.