#Great Sand Sea Desert

[mindblowingscience]

The Great Sand Sea Desert stretches over an area of 72,000km² linking Egypt and Libya. If you find yourself in a particular part of the desert in south-east Libya and south-western parts of Egypt, you'll spot pieces of yellow glass scattered across the sandy landscape. It was first described in a scientific paper in 1933 and is known as Libyan desert glass. Mineral collectors value it for its beauty, its relative rarity – and its mystery. A pendant found in Egyptian pharaoh Tutankhamun's tomb contains a piece of the glass. Natural glasses are found elsewhere in the world; examples include moldavites from the Ries crater in Europe and tektites from the Ivory Coast. But none are as rich in silica as Libyan desert glass, nor are they found in such large lumps and quantities. The origin of the glass has been the subject of debate among scientists for almost a century. Some suggested it might be from volcanoes on the moon. Others propose it's the product of lightning strikes ("fulgurites" – glass that forms from fusion of sand and soil where they are hit by lightning).

Continue Reading.

[grasshoppergeography]

Hey All,

I've been away for some time, as we've been working really hard on something quite exciting:

let me present to you the world's first ever global ocean drainage basin map that shows all permanent and temporary water flows on the planet.

This is quite big news, as far as I know this has never been done before. There are hundreds of hours of work in it (with the data + manual work as well) and it's quite a relief that they are all finished now.

But what is an ocean drainage basin map, I hear most of you asking? A couple of years ago I tried to find a map that shows which ocean does each of the world's rivers end up in. I was a bit surprised to see there is no map like that, so I just decided I'll make it myself - as usual :) Well, after realizing all the technical difficulties, I wasn't so surprised any more that it didn't exist. So yeah, it was quite a challenge but I am very happy with the result.

In addition to the global map I've created a set of 43 maps for different countries, states and continents, four versions for each: maps with white and black background, and a version for both with coloured oceans (aka polygons). Here's the global map with polygons:

I know from experience that maps can be great conversation starters, and I aim to make maps that are visually striking and can effectively deliver a message. With these ocean drainage basin maps the most important part was to make them easily understandable, so after you have seen one, the others all become effortless to interpret as well. Let me know how I did, I really appreciate any and all kinds of feedback.

Here are a few more from the set, I hope you too learn something new from them. I certainly did, and I am a geographer.

The greatest surprise with Europe is that its biggest river is all grey, as the Volga flows into the Caspian sea, therefore its basin counts as endorheic.

An endorheic basin is one which never reaches the ocean, mostly because it dries out in desert areas or ends up in lakes with no outflow. The biggest endorheic basin is the Caspian’s, but the area of the Great Basin in the US is also a good example of endorheic basins.

I love how the green of the Atlantic Ocean tangles together in the middle.

No, the dividing line is not at Cape Town, unfortunately.

I know these two colours weren’t the best choice for colourblind people and I sincerely apologize for that. I’ve been planning to make colourblind-friendly versions of my maps for ages now – still not sure when I get there, but I want you to know that it’s just moved up on my todo-list. A lot further up.

Minnesota is quite crazy with all that blue, right? Some other US states that are equally mind-blowing: North Dakota, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming. You can check them all out here.

Yes, most of the Peruvian waters drain into the Atlantic Ocean. Here are the maps of Peru, if you want to take a closer look.

Asia is amazingly colourful with lots of endorheic basins in the middle areas: deserts, the Himalayas and the Caspian sea are to blame. Also note how the Indonesian islands of Java and Sumatra are divided.

I mentioned earlier that I also made white versions of all maps. Here’s Australia with its vast deserts. If you're wondering about the weird lines in the middle: that’s the Simpson desert with its famous parallel sand dunes.

North America with white background and colourful oceans looks pretty neat, I think.

Finally, I made the drainage basin maps of the individual oceans: The Atlantic, the Arctic, the Indian and the Pacific. The Arctic is my favourite one.

I really hope you like my new maps, and that they will become as popular as my river basin maps. Those have already helped dozens of environmental NGOs to illustrate their important messages all around the world. It would be nice if these maps too could find their purpose.

[chillyfeetsteak]

I first became fascinated with it a few years ago when I noticed it out an airplane window on a flight from Texas to Southern California. In an expanse of endless desert, suddenly, a vast body of water. When I got home, I immediately looked it up on a map. The Salton Sea.

It’s the largest landlocked body of water in California. It sits right on top of the San Andreas Fault at over 200 feet below sea level. It is more than twice as salty as the Pacific Ocean. It is completely toxic. And I had never heard of it before then.

(photo essay under the cut)

In the early 1900s the Colorado River was diverted through a series of irrigation canals in order to provide water for the farmlands of Imperial Valley. One of the head-gates broke during a flood, and the desert basin filled with water for 2 years before it was fixed. The unexpected lake soon became a popular vacation destination; it was stocked with fish, and resorts and hotels popped up along its shores. It became known as a great place for sport fishing, waterskiing, and yacht parties. Big name celebrities visited. At one point, it had more annual visitors than Yosemite.

Salton Sea has no outlet, and is only filled via agricultural runoff. As the water evaporated in the hot desert sun, the lake became more and more saline. Chemicals began to build up from the run off causing toxic algae blooms, and mass die-offs of fish and birds started in the 80s. By the 90s, the beaches were littered with fish gills and bird bones and the resorts were abandoned. The lake began to dry up as irrigation run-off was diverted away. The exposed lake bed is also toxic, and the high desert winds kick up the dust, making the air poisonous. 

Despite the unpleasant odor, the noxious air and the summer temperatures regularly reaching 120°, a renaissance of sorts began in the early 2010s. Artist and nomad colonies began to spring up around Salton Sea. Bombay Beach, once a popular resort destination, is now mostly a ghost town, but the folks who remain have turned the ruins on the shores into an outdoor art installation gallery where the found-art sculptures are cyclically destroyed by the elements and then replaced with new ones. Many of the houses and RVs in town are themselves art pieces.

In nearby Slab City, a settlement of off-the-grid lifestylers, you can find even more folk art. Salvation Mountain is a manmade hill painted with bright colors and bible verses and maintained by a community of volunteers. East Jesus is a sculpture garden and art installation. 

This past weekend my partner and I finally made the pilgrimage to the Sea. California has the benefit of being home to a huge array of biomes. In just a couple of hours you can travel from snowy mountain peaks to lush oases to endless sand dunes. Driving the hour or so south from Palm Springs towards Salton Sea is like driving towards the end of the world.

Bombay Beach especially enamored me. The beach is crusted with salt and millions of tiny shells and bones. It smells awful, like sewage and chemicals and low-tide and rotting fish. You drive out onto the beach and park anywhere amongst the sculptures and deteriorating resort ruins. The art feels raw in a way I haven’t experienced before. It reminds me of seeing paleolithic cave art. Humans made this, with no motivation other than to create something intriguing or beautiful or sad. Not much can live out here, but what you find fills me with a great adoration for humanity. Despite the asphyxiation of the natural world, the human spirit persists.

[elodieunderglass]

the first chapter of Moby Dick rewritten in tiresome modern idiom

CHAPTER 1. Loomings.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - it's none of your business how many - being mostly broke, and bored with the land part of the world, I thought I would sail around a little and look at the watery part of the world. I'm probably the most mentally healthy person you know. Whenever I feel my face getting grim; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself accidentally reading the ads in the window of funeral homes, and following funeral processions through traffic; and especially when I'm hangry, and only my extremely strong moral principles stop me from deliberately going out in public and methodically slapping people's earbuds out - then I know it's high time to get to sea, ASAP. This is my substitute for getting in fights. I'm too mentally healthy to kill myself; I quietly and considerately put myself on a ship and sail myself away instead. There is nothing surprising in this. Everyone feels exactly the same way, and if they don't, they're lying.

You think I'm lying? Exhibit A: a city. Go to your local coastal city. Everyone is looking at the water. They drive over from other neighborhoods just to come to the water. They make a day of it. They're not doing anything, they're just staring at the ocean. Why? Is it because they all work office jobs? No! Here come more of them! They cram themselves up to the edge of the water and stare at it. WHAT DO THEY WANT? WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING AT. Perhaps the ships themselves all packed together, each one with several compasses on it, creates some kind of critical mass - all of the small compass-magnets on all the ships in the harbor combining into one really big magnetic field - and the people get sucked into the field and trapped there. That's science.

Exhibit 2: the countryside with lakes in it. Every path you follow in the countryside brings you to some water, such as a stream. There is magic in it. If you take your standard fool with ADHD dissociating in the middle of a supermarket and put them outside and give them a shove, they'll automatically lead you to water (if there is any nearby) (try it). Another good experiment to try is to get lost in the great American desert in a caravan supplied with a metaphysical professor! Try it in the great American desert at home!

Yes, as everyone knows, meditation and water are a match made in heaven. Married forever. That's science.

Here's an artist who wants to paint you the dreamiest, most enchanting landscape. What does he put in it? Trees, meadow, cows, a cottage with smoke coming from the chimney, obviously. He will probably put a path in it and make lots of triangular mountains in rows and have them be different shades of blue (naturally.) But there's gotta be a stream in it. Go visit the prairies in June, and wade for forty miles through knee-deep through tiger lilies. What's missing from this picture? Water!

If Niagara Falls was made of sand instead of water, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why would a guy given a handful of cash have trouble deciding whether to buy a coat (which he needed) or go to the beach? Why are all the best, healthiest, sexiest and most mentally healthy people obsessed with the sea? (You get me.) When you were first on a boat, did you not succumb to VIBES? Consider ancient Persia. Consider ancient Greece. They understood about vibes, and also gods.

SURELY ALL OF THIS IS NOT WITHOUT MEANING.

And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all! You get me! You understand it now.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I get weird, don't you dare imply that I buy a ticket and get on a boat. I have never had money in my life. How dare you. Anyway I don't go as a passenger - that's bougie, and something boring people do. Passengers never have a good time. And although my C.V. is incredible - I go to sea SO MUCH, you guys, I have lots of experience - I don't go as a boss, or a cook. That sounds like far too much work. Hard work. Disgusting, respectable, bougie, and far too responsible. I can literally only look after myself. Do not ask me to look after ships or shit. In fact, I have only a vague idea of what a ship is. There's so many different kinds of ships - don't get me started and DO NOT GET INVOLVED. Also, I'm allergic to glory.

It's kind of attractive to go as a cook. I mean, I'm allergic to glory and there's some glory attached to the position of the ship's cook, but, like, you're not management-track and so it's still credible. But I don't really want to cook (say) roast chicken. I really fucking love to eat roast chicken. I'm one of the best at doing it actually. I really appreciate when people go out of their way to butter, season, baste and roast a chicken for me. Picture a roast chicken and I am Looking Respectfully at it. Maybe something more, maybe I'm worshipping it. Don't make this weird. If you want to get weird about my relationship with roasted chicken, why aren't you getting weird about the ancient Egyptians? They ate roasted hippos (look it up) and the pyramids were basically pizza ovens. So it's pretty hypocritical to think that I'm being weird about roasted chicken when I've never made mummies out of chickens or built a religious pizza oven dedicated to honoring them: check and mate, haters.

Anyway - I like to go to sea as a manual laborer. A simple sailor. Salt of the earth… er… sea. Yeah, true: as a job it sucks. They make you jump around, order you around, treat you like shit. They expect you to jump around the boat like a grasshopper. And yes, at first, this sucks. It's degrading, especially if you come from a middle-class family. Worse, it's awful if you've already had some kind of professional job before signing on to be the dirt on the boss's boots - like, if you went to college and worked as a teacher and actually got kids to pay attention to you, really feeling this connection to work/teaching/identity or some shit, and now you are just literally the scum on this captain's boots, in the lowest possible job in the world. It hurts! It hurts your dignity. But the hurt, and also the dignity, both wear off in time.

So what if some old bastard sea captain orders me - ME! - to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, compared to the shit in the Bible, compared to the shit in the news, compared to the shit everyone else has to take. Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. We're all just serfs under capitalism, right, so why not just be honest about it: I prefer the honesty. Anyway, however the old sea captains may order me about - slapping and punching of course - I have the satisfaction of knowing that it's the same experience everyone else on Earth has, but more honest. Everyone else in the world is being served the exact same way. Either in a physical or a metaphysical way - sometimes people get the shit beaten out of them in person, sometimes online, sometimes emotionally, it happens to you in EVERY JOB, you sign on to get pushed around and slapped in the teeth: so the point is that when you're a sailor, it's a clean and honest slap. All the workers of the world share the same universal slap to the face that gets passed round, one slap passed all 'round the chain, like paying it forward, but it's a slap; and we should all accept this Universal Slap as the price of living, and then offer each other healing back massages, brother to brother, and slap each other and then kissed the places we slapped, and be happy.

I could examine that but I'm not going to.

Anyway: I always go to sea as a sailor. I've said that already. You're welcome. BUT THE POINT IS, they pay you. If you're a passenger, they don't pay you, at least, not that I've ever heard of [citation needed] (do they pay passengers?? Is there a job I can get where I can be a passenger and get paid?? Look this up.) Yeah so passengers have to pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. (That's Adam and Eve. You get it.) But BEING PAID. GETTING PAID IS THE BEST. NOTHING COMPARES TO GETTING PAID. EVERYONE LOVES THAT SHIT. Which is surprising, since we also apparently believe that money is the root of all evil, and isn't there something in the bible about "no rich people can get into heaven," right? And yet it's universal, literally everyone loves payday. Ah! How cheerfully we send ourselves to hell.

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor (I've said this already) because it's FRESH AIR AND EXERCISE. Okay so think about ships. Normally, bosses stand on the "bridge" thing, and because we're sailing a boat, the nose is going into the wind and the butt part of the boat is at the back. That's how wind works. But if you think about it, winds usually go in one direction more than other directions (unless the men have been eating beans and farting: it's Pythagoras, look it up) SO if you're a boss standing on the boss-deck, the wind is blowing FROM the sailors TOWARDS you, and YOU ARE ACTUALLY BREATHING THE AIR THAT SAILORS ALREADY BREATHED. The boss THINKS he breathes it first, but he doesn't. He gets the air at the BACK of the boat and sailors get the air at the FRONT. So it's better to be at the front of the boat (sailor) for health reasons. This is a metaphor for life and work, etc.

But I have smelled the sea lots of times as a paid sailor and WHY I should decide to go on a whaling expedition - ok so you know how there's an invisible police officer of the Fates who has me under constant surveillance, who secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way? YOU get me. You know him. "The poor FBI agent tasked with reading my search engine history" YOU GET ME. Anyway, "Ishmael, why, after having a perfectly well-reasoned, and very smart of you, part-time job as a spontaneous random sailor, did you decide to escalate that to joining a WHALING EXPEDITION, which is worse in every way?" Well, ask my fucking secret FBI agent, he can answer better than anyone else. Including me. You get me. Also, obviously, this was predestined, part of the Universe's Grand Programme for its talent show, which was all scheduled way before our time. The concept of sending me on the whaling voyage comes in as a kind of interlude or solo between the main performances of the Universe's great talent show. I bet it was advertised llike,

"PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF THE UNITED STATES EMBROILED IN ONGOING LEGAL DISPUTE.

Whaling voyage by some guy called Ishmael.

BLOODY BATTLE IN AFGHANISTAN."

Like a commercial break in between the big acts. A filler episode. Lightens the load for everyone else. Though I can't explain why the stage managers - the Fates - chose such a shitty role for me, a WHALING VOYAGE of all things, when it feels like others were given magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces - it seems a little unreasonable at first. Why doth Ishmael get shat upon, etc. But then I think about all the circumstances, the plot points and motivations that were cunningly presented to me under various disguises - FBI agents, bouts of random hanger, gay awakenings, you get me - and you can see that actually, I was set up. And worse, between them all, these Fates and Circumstances conspired to make me believe it was all my own choice and good judgment. Is Free Will an illusion? Are my decisions bad? We will NEVER know because I, Ishmael, am just a little guy that the Universe plays head games with.

One of the ways the Universe tricked me into starring in this performance and then mocking me for it was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself (whaling expeditions usually contain whales.) Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then of course, if you have a whale, you have the wild and distant seas where the whale rolls around with his body-the-size-of-an-island; the dangers and nameless perils of the whale; whales are also found in interesting places I haven't seen; this all tipped me over the edge. Maybe normal people could've resisted, but I am tormented with an everlasting itch for obscurity. I hate everyone else's oceans. I want the forbidden seas.

You know The Horrors? Of course you do. You might be surprised that I, the most mentally healthy person you've ever met, a person who is self-aware enough to go to sea when they're at their fucking limits, a guy who likes fresh air and manual labor and normal things, is familiar with The Horrors. Well, you'd be surprised. I know what's good, I'm an extrovert. But I'm still quick to perceive The Horrors. And how I deal with the horrors is a very extroverted thing: I'm social with them, if they'll let me. It's smart to be on good terms with The Horrors. You should always be on good terms with your permanent neighbors. That's how extroverts deal with The Horrors, and I recommend it.

I think that's enough explanation for why I welcomed the whaling voyage. The great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild figments of imagination that pushed me into doing it, the whales came marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. They marched into my innermost soul in endless processions and occupied it, you see, I was quite helpless under this occupation - I consented to the haunting and the whales marched in to haunt me - and amidst them all was one grand shrouded white phantom, like a snowy mountain in the air.

You get it.

You know how it is, with whales.

(read the actual first chapter of Moby Dick here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm)

[genshin-impact-updates]

Visitor from the Sea of Sand, Profound Providence

"You shall have the dexterity of the fox and the agility of the flying serpent. The wisdom of Hermanubis shall also bestow its favor upon you. Your name shall be Sethos."

— A divination from a Priest during a name-giving ceremony

◆ Name: Sethos

◆ Title: Wisdom's Measure

◆ Desert Envoy

◆ Vision: Electro

◆ Constellation: Basileos Delta

Inexperienced travelers often find themselves trapped by the vast, boundless sea of sand. Were it not for the timely guidance of a kind soul, their journey of exploration might have come to an untimely end, cruelly cut short. Many of those who were lost and returned to their companions on the road all had the same name upon their lips: Sethos.

A great sense of direction, enthusiastic and talkative... These are all common impressions among those who have been on the receiving end of Sethos's guidance. And it is quite true. As a desert-dweller, Sethos knows the paths between the various oases like the back of his hand, and his mastery of the techniques of navigation — such as using the sun's position to calculate direction — runs even deeper. As a personal interest, Sethos enjoys traveling by foot between desert and rainforest, and the navigational skills he's acquired are a product of his personal experiences doing so. As for being enthusiastic and talkative, by speaking with Eremites chance met on the road or listening to the fascinating anecdotes of hapless scholars rescued from swamp and marsh, not only can he broaden his knowledge and horizons, but also have a lot of fun. For Sethos, that is where the joy of the journey lies.

Perhaps it is because of this personality of his, but regardless of locale, from desert to rainforest, he always has those he can regard as friends. One researcher he met at Caravan Ribat, who had developed a deep admiration for Sethos after being struck by his distinctive understanding of the Akademiya and its knowledge system, once even went so far as to suggest that Sethos sit the Akademiya's entrance exam.

"Be a student at the Akademiya? It would be pretty fun to see how the Akademiya's teachings differ from what the old folks say back home. I'll consider it."

[m1d-45]

i love your sagau/imposter au fics so much (esp kazuha’s),, do you think nahida would be able to sense if the creator isnt an imposter because of her having access to Irminsul and being able to see if there are records of them? anyways okok so uh hear me out, maybe the creator tries to seek safety in sumeru while they’re being hunted? sorry if this is a lengthy ask ekwjkwm anyways thanks for reading, ur amazing !

sandy refuge

word count: 3.4k

-> warnings: spoilers for the final sumeru archon quest

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

sumeru was a deadly nation.

liyue was guarded by the adepti, and inazuma’s storms tore the sea around the archipelago to shreds, but sumeru…

sumeru, the land of wisdom, headed by academics and led by scholars and sages. the nation split in two, lush forests barely a stones throw from barren deserts, believers of two (three?) separate gods walking side by side through the city. for a nation so divided, it was rare to get everybody to agree on something, every decision inevitably and invariably leaving some group of people unsatisfied.

and yet, there they were, united under one flag. eremites and the matra, the beige robes of the desert dwellers shifting in the wind besides the glittering armor of the akademiya’s soldiers, spears and swords aligned towards the same target.

it would be beautiful, if only you weren’t the one they rallied against.

you didn’t know how long you had been running when you managed to work your way past the wall, nor how long you had managed to stumble across sand dunes before finding your current oasis.

literally. trees swayed around a large pool of clear water, thick grass cushioning your knees as you barely hesitated before cupping some in your hands and drinking. it was blessedly cool, and you were tempted to swim in it and let it soothe the continuous heat from the desert sun. sadly, you didn’t have a spare set of clothes, and you weren’t keen on stripping when the matra could storm the place at any moment.

or the eremites. or the corp of thirty. or literally anybody else, since you’ve apparently been declared public enemy number one.

you splashed some water on your face and over your head, goosebumps rising where a drop raced beneath the collar of your shirt. how water was so cold when the sand was so hot, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to complain.

after drinking a few more handfuls of the water, you finally looked around. there was a large spire of stone next to the oasis, flanked by large trees, with a thankfully abandoned hilichurl hut beside it.

you try not to think about how an archer would have had an easy shot as you were drinking.

at the base of a few of the trees is something green, and you remember the nuts that grew in the desert. you were too wary of the henna berries and the cacti they grew on to try and eat those, but you distinctly remember these being used in a few recipes.

all you could do was hope they were edible raw.

you stood—your vision blurred, the ground tilting, but you ignored it—and walked around the oasis, inspecting the green and hoping it wasn’t a fungus.

good news, it wasn’t. bad news, it was the husk of one of the nuts, hollow without any of the fruit inside. fresh, by the looks of it, the green leaves squishing instead of crumbling when you kicked at them.

great.

you sat on the curved trunk of one of the trees, holding up a hand to shade your eyes as you looked up. you could see another nut, hanging off the top of a tree, but.. the bark of the trees were smooth, and any of your athletic abilities were worn away by exhaustion and malnutrition.

you let your head drop and tried not to focus on your hunger, instead inspecting the mix of sand and grass beneath your feet. sand and grass. all of sumeru, represented right at your feet. hot, slippery sand, and cool, spiky grass. the desert and the forest, two wildly different ecosystems, and yet… both drove you out.

you tried not to cry, to push away the helplessness of the situation, but you couldn’t. what had you done, you wondered, for your very face to cause such an uproar? for two separate groups of people, divided in location, name, and faith to ally in their shared hatred of you? if somebody asked you what the millelith, matra, and eremites had in common about six months ago, you couldn’t have answered. you’d have thought about it, maybe, but drawn a blank outside of ‘defenders.’

but what were they defending? and how were you a threat?

when the first tear fell, so did something else.

you jumped at the dense thud, digging your nails—overgrown, bitten at, broken—into the bark as you searched for the source of the noise.

a large fruit had fallen, the one you were eyeing earlier by the looks of it. it sat atop the empty husk of another, magically fallen from the tree by seemingly nothing.

you weren’t going to complain.

you slid off the tree, reaching for the nut, grabbing the stem and pulling, but dropped it just as fast. a fungus was standing just behind it, large orange eyes looking up at you.

you were frozen. would it attack you? was it trying to eat? did they even need to? could you get sick from fungus spores? even if you couldn’t, getting hurt wasn’t worth the meal…

the fungus tilted to one side, then the other, bumping the large fruit towards you.

it… was giving it back?

you stared, but the fungus didn’t move. when you carefully tugged at the nut, slowly drawing it closer so you could properly pick it up, it didn’t move. it just watched you, the rim of its cap slightly falling into its eyes.

you sat back on the tree, pulling it into your lap. the outer leaves were coarse, softening as you pulled away the many layers. there was a high chance some of the inner leaves were edible, but you didn’t want to take chances. the fruit itself was a pale green, easily tearing under your fingers. it was soft, with the barest edge of sweetness that had you prying up more. it wouldn’t make for a full meal, but it was certainly far better than nothing.

you checked on the fungus every once in a while, but it just stood there. by your guess, it was the floating anemo kind, but where was its group? fungi rarely appeared alone, and part of you felt bad.

(felt bad. for a fungus. you’re in dirty, torn clothes and on the run for your life, and you still find the empathy for a fungus. at least you knew your morals were still intact.)

you offered a piece of the nut to the fungus, but it didn’t react. instead it turned, floating into the air and drifting away.

…alright.

you try to eat the fruit slowly, as to not make yourself sick, taking breaks to sip more water from the lake to dim the sweetness. you didn’t know how long the fruit would stay good now that you’d opened it, but you were trying to enjoy it. its not as if you were overflowing with excess, and you likely couldn’t linger here long. you don’t even know why you resorted to the desert anyway.. between cyno, the ruins, scorpions, the primal constructs.. to say it was dangerous was an understatement. even if you made it to the far west, the pari were there, and you didn’t think they would take too kindly to you. fontaine wouldn’t be much better, provided you somehow crossed the sea around it…

nowhere was safe. you supposed that was the point, that nobody would give you refuge, but it still hurt. you didn’t think you’d ever land in this situation when you first downloaded the game..

whatever. you’re not going to go down that path for the nth time. you hold the remains of the nut in one arm as you stand, picking off chunks as you walk toward the hilichurl hut. with any luck there would be something useful inside, or at least be a safe place to rest temporarily.

the camp looks like it’s been clear recently, which is both good and bad. good, because neither hilichurls nor patrols should come by here for a bit, but bad because it lowers your chances of finding anything useful. there’s no arrowheads or vegetables, not even embers in the fire pit, all the supply boxes long since broken.

at least it’s shelter. at least you had food today, and (hopefully) clean water. small wins, small wins…

you gather your strength and begin to drag all the rubble into the hut, using what was left of their training dummies to make a hollow pile. hopefully it would just look like trash to anyone walking by, and could maybe keep you warm. the scraps of furs littered over the camp were matted with something you didn’t want to think about, so this was your best bet.

man, you missed your bed.

you returned to the oasis for more water, scrubbing off some of the dirt from your arms and face. you wouldn’t be clean for long, what with the dirt floor you’d picked as your shelter, but it felt nice. a topical fix for a bone deep wound.

you didn’t try to clean your clothes, eyeing the sun dipping in the sky. having wet clothes wouldn’t help at night, even if it might feel good. perhaps tomorrow? yes, tomorrow. tomorrow you could scrub at your shirt—*blood doesn’t clean easily without soap*—and try to undo some of the knots in your hair, maybe even use leaves and some of the scraps of twine around the camp to bring some water with you.

tomorrow. you got this. surely.

(just ignore the fact that you don’t know where in the desert you are. or how easy it would be to get lost, or dehydrate. nope. this is a perfectly fine and normal situation that you have an okay amount of control over. you got this. you have to.)

you return to the hut, retrieving the other half of your fruit and taking it with you into your pitiful shelter. at least you didn’t have to worry about rain…

it was only slightly cramped beneath the pile of junk, but you had enough room for you and your food. you laid there for a long time, occasionally peeling off pieces to eat. you didn’t know how much was left, and you didn’t think about it, distracting yourself by thinking about tomorrow. if you were clever with some sticks you could fashion some wider soles for your shoes to get more grip on the sand, or maybe a hat to keep from burning… but there was water and food to worry about, but the area along the wall was certainly dangerous, but it might be worth it if it meant you lived a little longer…

you fell asleep at some point, the faint sweetness of your dinner lingering on your tongue.

normally, waking up to someone barely a foot from your person would be unsettling. in your situation, it was terrifying.

you immediately pushed yourself back, crawling backwards away from nahida. she was kneeling, seeming surprised at your actions. you almost wondered how she was out here, and in your survey of the area, it clicked.

you weren’t in the hut anymore. you’d missed it in your fear, but you were lying on grass, in a small meadow. you didn’t pay too much attention to it though, putting a hand to your chest to try and calm your heart.

“just a dream,” you breathed, and nahida’s expression fell. not into anger, more.. sadness?

“i’m sorry if i startled you.” her voice was soft, but flat, motions stiff as she stood up and dusted off her dress.

what a weird dream. first you’re lucid, then she’s here… maybe it was wishful thinking. maybe your brain had finally had enough.

“it’s fine,” you said, taking another look around the field. tall trees arched high above you, the bushes and ferns between them reminding you of the rainforest. in the center were three chairs, with various plates laid out on the table between them. you stood, automatically wiping for any grass caught on you, only to find that you were actually wearing clean clothes again—one of your favorite outfits, actually.

you mostly ignored nahida as you walked to the table, looking over the various dishes. you recognized a few as sumeru recipes, but not all of them, deciding to pick at a bowl of fruit instead. you’re not sure how dreams work here—you haven’t had many since coming to teyvat—but it feels safer to stick with a food you’ve actually tried before.

(you ignore the nut from the oasis. calculated risk.)

“i hope they’re to your liking?” nahida’s voice is hesitant as she comes to your side, sitting in one of the chairs. you don’t do the same.

“i’m surprised i remember so many of these,” you say instead, looking over the sheer variety of food laid out. your subconscious has done well.. almost a bit too well.

“eat. you need the energy.”

“i’ll just miss them in the morning, and it’s not like they’ll give me any actual nutrition.”

“…please, my god.”

your head whips to her in an instant, the fruit falling from your hand as if it was poison. it could be, considering everything.

even after all these months, you’d let your guard down. in front of the one god who had control over dreams, you ate of her food and showed that you were weak.

nahida raises her hands, and you have half a mind to grab a knife off the table. it wouldn’t do anything, but it would make you feel better. “it’s just me. there’s nobody else in this dream.”

you should have known better. “leave me alone.”

“i mean you no harm, i only-“

you put your hands over your ears and close your eyes, trying to make yourself wake up. you pictured the walls of the hut, of your makeshift shelter and the leaves of last night’s dinner. you pretend you can’t hear her voice, that the only sound is the whisper of the wind.

if only you’d remembered her powers quicker, or perhaps discovered yours sooner.

you don’t know how long it took you to break free from the dream, or if you managed to break it at all. you just knew that you woke up to the sounds of talking from outside your hut, the words were faint but still discernible from the wind. two voices, one soft and one rough, picking their way around the oasis.

you didn’t dare try to run, instead shifting some of the wood in your pile to cover the entrance. where could you even go if they found you? west was dangerous, east was deadly, north led you into either a sandstorm or a dead-end sea, and south was entirely uncharted, and that was assuming you even made it that far.

they came closer, and you reached for one of the smaller planks in your small shelter. it was still about the length of your forearm, and though the rest of the stack shifted, you felt a bit safer. maybe you could hide in a cave for a while until they left? no, that would mean you’d have to get enough of a lead to lose them, and you doubted you could run that fast.

“-abandoned.” there was a sound like a rock kicked against the side of the hut, covering the sound of your breath as you recognized the voice. “you sure this is the right place?”

wanderer.

“i’m certain, i saw it myself.”

and nahida. she probably tapped into your mind to see where you were trying to wake up to… it would be clever if your life wasn’t on the line.

footsteps drew ever closer, and it was getting hard to judge the distance. the hut was empty save for your little scrap pile, but how close was too close? could you even have a chance with wanderer’s skill? not to mention the dendro archon…

maybe you were doomed from the start. there was no good ending for you, just a constant delay of the fate that you dodged when you first set foot on this planet.

how long has it been? how much time have you borrowed? teyvat had ghosts, would you become one? would you return to earth? did your earth even exist anymore? this was not the time for this debate…

a shadow moved, and nahida’s voice was far closer than it was before. “divine one?”

you bit your cheek as to not laugh. ‘divine one.’ she already had a god, the one that had ordered this mess to begin with. the first person you ran into, ironically, who had on sight declared you a criminal. you didn’t want to be associated with that person at all, thank you. did she think that you thought you were the god? you wouldn’t be hiding if you did.

“buer. you’re talking to a pile of sticks.”

“i’m aware.” her voice grew quieter, like she’d turned around. “but we need to be patient.”

“there’s an easier way to do this, you know.”

“after all that’s happened? there’s no easy solution to this.”

“that’s not what i…” he sighed. “can i show you something?”

“what is it?”

the air hissed, your pile broken by a blade of wind down the middle. the anemo curved around you, acting as a shield as the wood splintered and flew. you quickly pushed yourself up, sitting against the wall and looking between the two of them. nahida looked terrified, and the shock on wanderer’s face is comical. looks like he didn’t expect you to actually be in there.

he removed his hat from his head, quickly dropping to one knee, nahida doing the same barely a moment after. “my god.. i apologize for my haste.”

pardon?

nahida lifted her head, meeting your eyes with a hand to her chest. “and i’m sorry for invading your dream earlier. i just wanted to find you, and when i noticed you were in sumeru..”

wanderer is too prideful to apologize to anybody he doesn’t absolutely need to, even for a plan.. jut what’s going on here?

you fix your attention on nahida and hope she’s not a good liar. “don’t you already have a god you follow?”

nahida flinched, looking away. “that… was a mistake. i should have trusted my instincts, and for that i’m sorry. i had no idea that my silence would lead to this…”

either she’s a really convincing actor, or she means it. given the severity of the situation, you don’t want to assume.

“if it helps…” wanderer’s hands tighten on his hat, and he bows his head further. “my anemo protected you. even if i did mean to cause harm, that is more than enough proof of your identity.”

“…so i’m supposed to believe you? just like that?”

nahida shook her head. “i understand your apprehension. it’s hard to trust someone after everyone else has betrayed you, and i don’t expect you to come with me to the sanctuary right away. aaru village is close by, though, and i was hoping you would be willing to go there..?”

some part of you still thinks it’s a trick, that there would be a swarm of matra waiting for you. but honestly… running is tiring, and nahida is kind. you want to believe her, even if it does end up going poorly. what else do you have to lose, really?

you drop your poor excuse for a weapon, briefly checking your hands for splinters before standing up. you kick aside the remains of your dinner and dust yourself off, walking forward. “alright. i’ll go with you.”

nahida beams.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Deserts are not progressively expanding, as so commonly believed. Rather, most deserts expand and contract in relation to rainfall more than any other single factor, and have done so for millions of years. In fact, most of the world’s great deserts, including the Sahara, the Namib, the Kalahari, the Atacama, and the Gobi, date to about 65 million years ago; some of them are even older. During the planet’s great ice ages, deserts were many times expanded because so much water was locked up in huge ice sheets, allowing less precipitation. Without an understanding of the environment and ecological systems in arid lands, it is all too easy to conceive of deserts as deforested seas of sand perpetually on the move.

Diana K. Davis, Of Deserts and Decolonization: Dispelling Myths About Drylands

[cadere-art]

A sample of common crops of Uanlikri, with a focus on crops grown on the Ojame archipelago.

More information under the cut.

Grains

Several types of grains and grain-like crops are cultivated in Uanlikri. Of these, the four major types are millet, sand rice, swamp rice, and amaranth (not depicted).

Millet and sand rice are heat-loving and drought tolerant, with sand rice requiring especially good soil drainage but being more cold hardy. They are the main staples north of the Kantishian Mountains. Millet is favoured in the wetter Basin region, and sand rice in the dryer, more mountainous western regions, and both are grown equally in the continent's hot and arid northern desert.

Swamp rice is another important staple of the Basin region: though cultivation is complexified by its extremely heavy water requirements (swamp rice only grows in marshes or riverbanks), the complex river deltas leading to the Basin's inner seas are ideal for its cultivation and have been heavily modified to create artificial wetlands where swamp rice can be grown. Some strains of swamp rice have good cold hardiness allowing them to be grown south of the Kantishian Mountains. Swamp rice has also been selected for salt resistance: it is an especially important crop in the cold brackish marshes of the Cianji river and in the hot saltwater marshes of the Ojame Archipelago.

Amaranth is primarily cultivated in southern regions of Uanlikri. In the southern Basin region, they are a supplemental crop, but up in the mountains and in the cold lands south of the Kantishian, amaranth is the main staple. Mountain amaranth is especially frost resistant and able to survive nightly summer frosts in the Kantishian's high plateaus.

Red oats, known in the Ojame archipelago as uciwici, is a locally important crop grown in eastern coastal regions. Red oats is sensitive to extreme temperatures and does poorly in continental climates, but its extremely high salt resistance and ability to grow in poor soils make it a crucial crop by allowing cultivation to extend to otherwise marginal areas such as sandbars, coastal dunes, and other poor, rocky and sandy soils. It is appreciated for its purple grains with a naturally slightly salty taste, and for its decorative red foliage which retains some of its colour when dried, making it useful for basketry.

Ferns

Other grain-like crops grown in Uanlikri are seed ferns. Seed ferns are distantly related to true ferns and cycads. Two species are cultivated in Uanlikri: a climbing seed fern grown South of the Kantishian and which produces large numbers of small orange seeds attached to the underside of its fronds, and a caytoniale tree fern which produces modified fronds with large, round yellow seeds instead of leaves and is grown in the Upper Basin and Great Lakes region.

Climbing seed ferns are extremely prolific with a seasonal harvest on par with grain fields and well-keeping seeds with high nutritional value. The seeds are bitter with a taste somewhat reminiscent of burnt almonds and citrus peel, and are usually parboiled before cooking to remove some of the bitterness.

Caytoniale seed ferns are less prolific but are perennials. The seed envelope is also quite bitter, but the seed flesh has a pleasant neutral flavour and a crunchy, sticky texture not unlike that of meringue. Seeds keep well on the tree, but go bad quickly once harvested unless they are properly processed: seeds meant to be kept are parboiled, smoked, and ground into flour, while seeds meant for short-term consumption are either hulled and ground into flour, or hulled and grilled, often to be eaten as snacks alongside grilled insects.

True ferns are commonly consumed as greens, especially young fern shoots (fiddle-heads) and equisetum (horsetail) ferns. Antioles are less sensitive to the toxins in ferns, and parboiling of fiddleheads is often done but not strictly necessary unless consumed in great quantities.

Legumes

Legumes grown for food are historically rather rare in Uanlikri prior to the conquest of the Western Peninsula by the Senq Ha Empire. There are only two important legume crops in Uanlikri which are native to the continent: the grosbean, and the wax pea.

Grosbean is a vine which produces short, rectangular pods containing two to three large beans. The beans are exceptionally large, very colourful, and have a somewhat chalky texture. They used to be a staple in the Basin region, but have been mostly displaced by more palatable varieties introduced by Senq Ha colonists, though they are still grown for jewellery.

The wax pea is short, somewhat vine-like plant producing smooth pods containing a single unpalatable, extremely waxy pea. Though they are edible under duress, wax peas have never been grown as a food crop. They are instead highly valued for the wax which can be obtained by boiling the peas in a slightly acidic solution.

Other legumes (not depicted) have grown in popularity in the two centuries since and are now commonly eaten in most regions.

Roots and fruits

There is a great regional variation in the crops grown for their greens, roots, and fruits. This section should be treated as a sample of a sample, focused more closely on crops grown in the Ojame Archipelago.

Fruits

There are several species of ginkgo in Uanlikri, all of which produce elegant foliage and edible nuts. The nuts stink and their skin can cause rashes, so they are to be manipulated with caution, but their creamy flesh is much appreciated for its strong cheese-like flavour, which confers a pungent taste to salty and sweet dishes alike.

Bird cherries are small, cherry-like fruits that grow on trees and bushes. Most bird cherries are tart and astringent and are used for a touch of tartness or in jams and other preserves. Some cultivars produce very sweet cherries. The seeds of most birdcherries are mildly toxic to antioles.

The arils of a few yew species are eaten by antioles, especially as a gooey prepared delicacy or in jams. All other parts of the yew plant are extremely toxic to antioles, and the arils must be consumed with extreme caution. Because of this, it is illegal to plant yews on the Ojame Archipelago and especially in Ranai, but due to the extreme longevity of these trees, there are several ancient yews in the city of Ranai which are important landmarks and sources of yew arils.

Various citrus are grown and used throughout the Northern parts of the continent: most are acidic and bitter, though there are also sweet varieties. In the citruses of Uanlikri, green is associated with sweetness, yellow with bitterness, and orange with acidity.

Sumac is an important culinary crop in the Ojame Archipelago: sumac fruits are processed for the production of malic acid, a popular flavoring and crucial ingredient in the traditional Ojame ceviches.

Mothberries are named after their pale blue flowers in the shape of a butterfly. It is a drought resistant plant originating from the northern regions of the continent and cultivated for multiple uses: its tuber and leaves are aromatic and medicinal and its fruit is very sweet.

Roots

Root vegetables of all kinds make up an important portion of non-staple crops throughout Uanlikri.

Fur yams are floury and sweet, with edible and prolific leaves with a distinctly "green" taste.

Gourd roots, named after their shape, are crunchy, aromatic and sweet, with leaves used as culinary herbs.

Reeds are an all-around essential plants, with young shoots eaten as greens, roots eaten as a staple by coastal and marshland peoples, and its dried leaves and stems essential materials in basketry.

Orange onions are one of the many varieties of alliums cultivated in Uanlikri. They are the most popular alliums in Ranai. They are potently sulfuric and milden considerably with cooking.

Sweet and pearl radishes (are not radishes) are different cultivars of the Uanlikri radish (not a radish) with crunchy, fresh-tasting and slightly bitter leaves and small starchy tubers which produce very fine starches.

Spindleaf yams are plants with strangely shaped, aromatic and medicinal leaves somewhat reminiscient of sage and a juicy, crunchy tuber with a slight, mustard-like bite.

These are just a sample of grains, ferns, legumes, greens, roots and fruits eaten in Ranai and elsewhere on the continent of Uanlikri. Many of these plants have a large number of regional cultivars, and each region has a variety of local plants they grow or gather which are not broadly eaten elsewhere.

[redheadspark]

Azriel chooses Elian over his mate and realizes the mistake he made when he sees her happy with someone else

*cough* Tarquin *cough*

He doesn’t get enough love.

A/N - AHHH! THE ANGST! I hope you like it, it was quite fun to write!

No More

Summary - You were Azriel's biggest regret, and he'll live with it for the rest of his life

Warnings - ANGST ANGST ANGST!

Azriel did not want to be here.

He was standing behind Rhysand and Feyre as they were walking to Tarquin in his study, going over the alliance documents and brushing up on new meetings that were going to be held that year.  The cool ocean breeze was coming through the open windows that were also showing the sunshine twinkling off the ocean water.  Azriel was only half paying attention as he was near the door, his mind was somewhere else.  Usually, he would be listening to every word to debrief with Rhysand when they would all return to Velaris, but this time it wasn't going to happen.

Not when he knew who was there in Summer Court.

"Azriel, why don't you go take a walk and get some air," 

Azriel snapped out of his thoughts and looked over at Feyre, seeing her watch him as she was turned into her chair.  Her Summer Court colors shined in the sunlight that poured in the room, loose along her skin and her hair up in a delicate braided crown with her tiara perched along the top, He was about to deny the request when Tarquin spoke up.

"The private beach is open for any visitors of Summer Court, It's quite enjoyable this year and you can visit the ground if you wish," He suggested to Azriel, folding his hands on the top of the desk and giving Azriel a kind and neutral smile.  Azriel felt his stomach turn, not wishing to seem rude to the High Lord in his very own Court but also not wishing to be passive about it.  Rhysnad was now the one to look at his friend, His purple eyes gazing at Azriel and giving him a silent command with a gentle yet stern gaze.

Go.  Take a breather.

"Thank you, my Lord," Azriel replied to Tarquin with a slight bow.  He saw Feyre out of the corner of his eye giving him a worried look.  But Azriel only gave her a small smile, hoping to give her some reassurance that he would be fine.  He had to be fine, he was the Spymaster of Velaris and Night Court, one of the most intimidating beings that have ever been and knew how to kill so easily and quickly. 

But no, he wasn't fine.  He was a coward.

Walking out of the room and closing the door gently behind himself, he drank in the silence and the deserted hallways of the Adriata Palace.  The tan walls and seaglass chandeliers, seafood colors doors, and flowing fresh water riverbanks along the wide, opening to the vast open sea that showed the busy bay over to the left.  Yet right outside of the large sea form colored doors, there was a small stairway engraved into the cliff rock and sand that led to the private beach for only the High Lord and his Court to enjoy.  Azriel, thinking it was a better idea to clear his head outside the palace, went outside to breathe in the deep ocean air and feel the summer heat along his skin.  Of course, his leathers were a bit too constricting thanks to the heat, but it was not unbearable while he descended the stairs and touched down on the pristine sand.  

It was calmer there amongst the waves than it was in the Palace, at least to Azriel it was.  He had no real problem with Summer Court, up until recently as it was.  It wasn't the High Lord or his dealings that was an issue Tarquin was a great leader and was making Summer Court thrive once again since the Battle of Hybern ensued.  Something else was simmering under the waves there on the back, under Azriel's skin as he was watching the waves and their smooth rolling motion as he was replaying all that happened within the last few months within his mind.  

These last several months were hell for him. 

Movement was seen over to the right along the shoreline, tucked behind a cluster of boulders that were nestled in the deep sand.  Azriel saw a flicker of movement, his eyes ever trained in things that were moving around him, so he knew that he wasn't alone out there on the private beach.  Taking the quiet stealth steps, he walked forward a bit more to get a better view of who it may be, then heard over the rolling waves that were crashing along the shoreline singing.  Mostly humming, but he knew that voice and that tone very well.  It was both thrilling and heartbreaking at the same time.

There you were, perched on top of a boulder in a light blue summer dress reading a book, your light hair flowing into e wind behind you with some braids that had pearls interwoven amongst the hair, and a tiara decorated in both pearl and aquamarine gemstone in your hair.

Azriel felt like he was seeing a ghost, someone who had been haunting his dreams for the last several months and was now in front of him once again to trick his mind and make him believe that all that occurred never did.  He remembered the day you walked out of his life very clearly, and how he knew it was all his doing.  The days following after were miserable and near torture, which was saying something since he knew how to inflict torture.  But the torture he put you through was devastating and something he regretted, inwardly and slowly it ate him up and never gave him rest of peace.  

But you were happy here, which was worse for him.

Where you once sported the colors of Night Court, you changed from black and deep purple to blues and pearls.  You walked away from your business in Velaris when you left, giving the business over to Nesta since she was your best friend and confidant for she could keep it running and thriving, finding a small little cottage in Summer Court to hide away in and restarting your life in.  That was what Azriel heard, and a few months later you were being courted by Tarquin, the High Lord himself, which was another dagger to Azriel's chest when Rhysand broke the news to the Spymaster

"She's happy.  That's all that matters."

"Az—"

"I know what I did was wrong, and I have to live with it, Rhsyand.  What's done is done,"

"You know, it's okay to have feelings about this, you know,"

One stupid mistake, and Azriel has made mistakes before and has had regrets that he wishes he could change.  But those mistakes and regrets seemed like nothing, mere childish things in the one mistake he made with you as he sealed your fates once and for all.  

Azriel rejected your bond, thinking his heart belonged to sweet and gentle Elaine.  Of course, instantly he felt the bond break into a thousand pieces between the pair of you, not to mention the look on your face as you walked away from him briskly with tears in your eyes and your own heart shattering from the rejection.  Nightmares came soon after, backtracking in his mind if what he did was right or what he did was meant to be. 

The fateful morning you left Night Court, leaving behind a detailed document on the desk of High Lord Rhysand at his River House as you told him what you wished to do.  Azriel was not there for the meeting, but Rhsyand told him enough when he was summoned to meet with the High Lord in his home.

"She wished for a clean break, which I granted her," Rhsyand explained while Azriel was scanning over the document you left behind.  His heart was beating out of his eyes, eyes scanning the words rapidly as his brain was trying to catch up to the news that broke, "I told her we'll provide her with some funds for her travels, and I asked High Lord Tarquin to keep an eye on her as she makes roots in Summer Court."

Azriel never knew the true feeling of heartbreak, apart from the loss of his mother.  He felt it, knowing you were out of his life.

"Azriel?"

He saw you now watching him, the book closed in your hands as you were staring at him with no sense of urgency or hate, but of simple curiosity and almost neutral kindness. You did smile, but it was not the same smile you would show him in the past when you two were friends and getting to know one another years ago.  This one was smaller, almost civil, and Azriel wouldn't expect anything more.  Not from how he ended it with you two.  He cleared his throat, giving you a slight bow as you were still gazing at home.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," He replied in a gentle tone, averting his gaze for a long moment before he looked at you again.  You barely changed, though your skin was now being touched by the sun and was giving a tanned glow to highlight your features and brighten your eyes.  Even the sunshine kissed your hair to give it new depth, making you look more radiant to him.

"You're not," you replied gently, your tone showed no once of callace or bitterness as you gestured with a finger up in the direction of the palace, "I forgot Night Court was coming for a meeting today.  I hope it's going well for the High Lord and Lady,"

"It's almost done," Azriel explained, you giving a small smile as you nodded, "Though I know High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre were looking forward to seeing you—"

"Out of my own courtesy and comfort, I felt it was not my place to be there to see them." You gently interrupted him, seeing Azriel instantly snap his mouth shut as you fiddled with the spine of your book, "They are kind to think of me, but it's far too soon to be in their company again,"

Ah, that made sense in his mind.

"Understandable," Azriel agreed, holding his hands behind himself as he shuffled a bit on his feet.

"And I also knew you would come, and I didn't wish to be in your company, given our history," You admitted to him a bit sheepishly as Azriel paused and took in a long breath.  Did he expect you to lie about it?  You would be bitter to him and rightfully so, Azriel expected that from all he did to you and his own rejection of the potential mating bond.  Yet seeing you there, sporting the colors of Summer Court, clearly happy and satisfied with the life that you made here, made him hate himself all the more.  The tender heartache and wound he got over his own heart and ego felt exposed again.  Yet deep down he knew that your heartbreak and wound were massive and far more tender thanks to him.

He was reaping what he sowed.

"I should get back to the Palace," You mumbled, gripping the book in hand and was about to hop off the boulder, "I have a few appointments to get to today,"

Azriel was about to hold out his hand to aid you down from the boulder, but you moved a bit faster and eased off the boulder with both swiftness and agility.  Your dress flowed down to touch the bottom of the and, showing your curves in both a modest and alluring manner, Azriel's eyes couldn't help but do one look over as you walked past him and was about to ascend the stairs, out of his life again.  Azriel knew he had to tell you what was feasting in his heart, ever since the day you left Velars and left the Inner Circle behind he knew what he needed to say to you.  Yet it was now or never.

"I'm sorry," He said, you pausing at the top of the stairs and still facing away from him as he clenched his scarred hands together, "What I did to you, to us, was a mistake.  A mistake I have lived with for the last months and I wish I could take it back.  In all my years in Night Court, I have lived with the mistakes I have made and moved on from them.  But what I did to you is the one that I can never get past, because what I felt for you was real."

He felt so exposed at that moment on that beach, pouring out his heart for you and leaving nothing behind.  But he had to, there might not be a moment to tell her all that he needed to to somewhat fix what he solely broke and damaged.

"I had no right to do what I did to you," Azriel kept explaining as you remained like a statue on the stairwell, "You deserved more than that, much more than I thought of you so highly.  And…and I still do.  There is nothing I can do to fix what I did—"

"How's Elaine?" You said, Azriel's once again going quiet within a millisecond as you turned your heart slightly to him to hear his answer.  

Azriel knew right then and there when you said those two words, you weren't going to forgive him.  He was going to lose his battle as he sighed and looked down at his feet.  Even his wings sagged in defeat.

"She…she's well," He replied, you humming and nodding once, "She and Lucien are a good pair together and are in talks of being married in a few months."

You turned around to face him, not to look shocked or perplexed from the news, but simply drinking in what he said.  Yet he saw the look in your eyes as you were watching him, the look of uneasiness and a hint of sadness.

"They're together?" You asked, your voice sounding almost light and forced.  Azriel took in another breath, knowing this was all going to be exposed sooner or later.

"They're mates, and they made it official last week," 

Being with Elaine for those few months was great, Azriel was not going to deny that part at all.  He enjoyed her company and her beauty, thinking he found his better half with her as he started to court her.  She was all that anyone would want in a partner: kind-hearted, sweet in her gentle nature, a rare beauty and had a massive soul to match.  Azriel had no issue with being with her, and maybe he thought he made the right choice in choosing Elaine. Although they were not mates, it still felt real to him.

But the very moment Elaine confessed to him that Lucien was her mate, Azriel had no choice but to let her go to Lucien since he knew it would mean death if he chose to go against it.  Maybe it was karma that got to him, seeing Elaine and Lucian come together naturally and organically since their mating bond was strong and consistent, but Azriel couldn't do a thing to stop it.  Not just because of the laws of Mates, but even his High Lord Rhysand told him not to interfere and let it happen.  

"You and I know the protocol far too well, Azriel.  I can't let you do anything about it, and even if you try, it won't work in your favor,"

"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you," You replied to him calmly as you finally turned around and faded him, still on the last stair steps and clutching your book tightly in your fingers.  Azriel was waiting for you to scowl at him, or maybe smirk as if you were about to say, "Did you learn your lesson?"  But no, you were still giving yourself a unique kind of gaze and saying nothing for a solid moment or two.

"I wish for us to be civil," Azriel explained to you as you cocked your head at him.

"We'll always be civli, for the sake of Summer and Night Court," You countered back gently, yet he gave you an unconvincing look.

"You know what I mean," He tried, but you shook your head at him and took in a sharp inhale.

"We cannot be civil, you and I. You know why," You stated to him as he was still watching you with any hint of hope slipping away, "Az….you rejected me."

"I know I did—"

"You rejected me, our bond and the last thing I can do in this very moment is go back and relive that pain," You went on, Azriel feeling the wrath go under his skin and wrap around his bones so severely that it was almost like an ache, "Did you expect me to let things go back to what they were between us?"

"No.  No, I supposed I can't," He mumbled, feeling shameful as he looked down again.  He was reaching for some kind of medium, he knew it was a reach, but of course, a reach could go so far before someone would fall and be burned in the end.  First, it was you with him turning his back on you, and now it was your turn to feel that burn of rejection and defeat.

"As much as I wish to wonder why things happened the way they did, it's no good for me to dwell on the past," You explained, seeing him look up at you again as you were staring him down, "I am happy in this life I have.  This Court has been amazing to me, and I have good company to bring me peace and happiness.  Tarquin has been good to me, and I am happy with him, Azriel."

Azriel knew you weren't saying it to be spiteful against him or to rub it in his face, you were far better than that. You were simply telling him how you are happy with someone else, someone who was taking good care of you and making you feel beyond loved and adored.  Azriel couldn't help but picture you and Tarquin together, Tarquin making you laugh during your talking, bringing you flowers and gifts to show his love for you, even walking with you in public and not being ashamed to have you on his arm. You two must know each other inside and out, as two being in love should. Inwardly, Azriel wished he had that with you, wanting to do all of those things to you and with you.  

But he lost his chance, and now he had to watch you be happy with another who loved you wholeheartedly.

"As I said before, we are going to be civil for the sake of Night Court and Summer Court, but nothing past that," you explained to him, seeing him try to contain the pain he was feeling and experiencing with your words, "I wish no ill intent with you and your life, but I don't want any part of it from here on out, Azriel.  Our lives are no longer intertwined, and they never will be,"

Before Azriel could say anything else, anything that could save this conversation from going down in flames as it always is, footsteps are heard coming down the same stairs as a voice breaks the tension between you and Azriel.

"Ah!  I thought you wandered down here, my love!"

Both you and Azriel looked to see Tarquin, Rhysand, and Feyre making their way down the steps.  You moved down to the sand again, just in time for Tarquin to sweep you in his arms and kiss your cheeks lovingly in front of your guests.  You blushed from the gesture, seeing Azriel look away for a split moment as Tarquin pulled away from you with a soft smile, "I was hoping to find you here.  Are you well?"

"Very well, my dear,” You hummed, seeing him smile widely as you saw Rhysand and Feyre look at you with fondness in their eyes, "High Lord Rhsyand, High Lady Feyre, it's good to see you two again."

Rhysand kissed your hand as Feyre gave you a small hug,  Azriel was staying quiet, not wishing to say anything else in that moment.  But Rhysand could see it on his face as Feyre and you were catching up, something was said between the pair of you that was not positive.  

"Well, since we are all here and I wish not to forgo the news any longer," Tarquin said amongst the group, he then looked over at you with love in his bright eyes, “It’s been unbearable to not tell anyone outside my family.  May I break the news to them?  Only with your permission, of course,"

Azriel's eyes went to you through the small group, seeing you grin widely at Tarquin and you nodded your head.  Tarquin smiled widely, almost too giddy himself as he looked at the visitors from High Court.

"We are officially engaged," Tarquin proclaimed.

That was the last blow to Azriel's chest.

Nothing else was set inside of him as the others were giving their congratulations to you and your fiancé, Azriel could feel himself inward spiraling with no signs of slowing down or stopping.  Deep down, he felt as though he could change the course that he made, knowing he was the one who forged this new path because of his rejection.  Yet again, Azriel realized that there was nothing he could do to change what he did.  That path he carved was now permanent, no amount of graveling or pleading would bring you back to what you two once again.  

"This is wonderful news!  We should celebrate," Rhysand said lightly to you and Tarquin, "Let Feyre and I take you two to dinner when you come to Night Court next week, it's the least we can do to contribute to this news."

"That's very kind of you, and we will take you up on that offer," You replied kindly to him, seeing him give you a genuine smile.  But maybe you saw the pinch of hurt in his purple orbs, maybe for Azriel or the last you two were no longer close.  Nonetheless, he hid it with his smile.

"Let's go back to our parlor and have some drinks in celebration!" Tarquin said to the group, taking your hand in his and giving you up the stairs back to the palace.  Rhysand took Feyre's arm in his own, pausing as they both looked over at Azriel to see his reaction.  Yet once they saw his face, how he was hiding so much within himself. They both knew that this was personal and hard for the Spymaster to drink in and endure.  Azriel was never once to show his emotions on his sleeve, he was more stone cold in the face and his personal life.  

Not anymore. He was about to break.

"Az," Feyre said his name softly, almost afraid of spooking him, "Are you—"

"With your permission, I'm going to go back to Velaris and get back to my Spymaster duties," Azriel interrupted immediately, both Feyre and Rhysand looked at him in shock as he was clutching his hands too tight and his wings were ridged against his back while his eyes were trained on the ocean waves, not showing the fact that he wished to shed tears.

"Azriel.." Rhysand said his name softly, sounding just as heartbroken as Azriel was.

"If you don't have anything else for me here, I want to go back to Velaris," Azriel said again, his voice was close to being bitter and cruel.  Rhysand inhaled sharply, knowing deep down that he was hurting and the last thing he wanted to do was push his friend and brother even more.  

"We'll see you back at the House of Wind tonight, then," Feyre replied softly and carefully,  Before either one of them could utter another syllable, Azriel's shadows took over and swallowed him whole, whisking him away from the beach he was on.  The silence was there on the beach as the last of the shadows now evaporated in the air.

As Rhsyand and Feyre reluctantly went back to the palace, giving an excuse for Azriel to go back to Velaris.  Of course you did fee a bit bad that he found out this way, but you were far too happy to let it dread as Tarquin poured out some of his best white wine.  You were happy in this life, the past was behind you and you had your future to look towards. 

Azriel, on the other hand, grabbed some whiskey from the House and Wind and drank himself to tears and rage.  He was feeling that rejection all over again, this time you were the one rejecting him and telling him that you fates who no longer intertwined.  After the bottle became empty, he threw the bottle out into the void and scream out the pain he nestled deep inside of them.  

The roar was loud enough to be heard in all of Velaris, some of the mountains even sook from the insane sound that came from him.  

He would regret turning you away all over again, and as the sun went down on Velaris, his own heart was settling on what he thought he wanted.  His love for you could no longer be evident, and he knew deep down he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.

The End

Tagged - @ethereal-athalia @valeridarkness

[cheecats]

Old art BUT I??? I don't think I ever posted this guy (if I have woopsie!) But yeah! My old "Warriors" OC: The Great White Shark (or Shark... or white boy lol) - the main guy from my pirate/shark themed group.

More info under cut:

He's the youngest of seven children to "The Megalodon" (or Captain Otodus): a matriarchal leader of a rogue group known as "The Divers."

His eldest sister is The Hammerhead Shark and they clash a LOT. But she has a stronger nerve than him and can usually kick him back down into his place lol. She's like an unofficial deputy and everyone knows it.

They live by the ocean of Shark Bay in Western Australia, although frequently travel in small groups out to sea in the makeshift boats they craft to gather materials and food.

They're a notoriously violent group, neighbouring the more private but expansive desert group inland known as the "Sand Runners." They clash often when the Sand Runners need supplies from the sea, or The Divers travel inland to escape flooding and storms. They sometimes meet to trade, but mostly try to avoid each other.

The Divers also know how to use celestial navigation, read the time, filter water, fish, swim and make tools! Also they tend to spit a LOT due to the salt water that builds up in their fur. Also goes without saying, but they're very devoted to the sharks of Shark Bay, and can even tell a lot of them apart from their appearances/personalities.

I have lots more to say but it'll never shut up otherwise so lol

[strawurberries]

Oh my god! Berry I had an idea and I had to come running to you with it cause I thought you'd enjoy it too (and cause your writings awesome) but,

A Soulmate AU where you can hear the other person's thoughts?

With Vash, Wolfwood and nai please! (Separate obviously cause I honestly think having all three as soulmates would just be too much xD)

Whether headcannons or a little scenario thingy I leave up to you 😁

Hope you have an awesome day! - 🍰anon

Soulmate Head cannons

Summary: Head cannons with little drabbles about Soulmates <3

Authors Note: I'm sorry this took so long! Finals are finally over so I can focus on writing :) I hope you all enjoy!! Also I wouldn't mind having all three as soul mates. . . but ya know 😂

Warnings: Self-hate, mild sexual themes, angst, cursing, mentions of religion and murder.

Vash didn’t know what an ocean looked like—deep, painfully blue, and so cooling yet full of dangers unimaginable—but he assumed it had to be something similar to the sight before him: sand dunes rose and fell like the chest of some great giant, tumbling across the horizon without thought or remorse. Compared to the vastness of sand before him, he was nothing but a speck of dust—smaller than the grains of sand that covered this desolate, prison-like planet. Part of him was comforted by that fact, knowing that in the grand scheme of things he would be nothing but a passing memory—no one out there to judge him, hurt him, or even see him. Yet he also hated the loneliness of it all. Looking out and seeing no life but himself, it only served to remind him what he was. 

Vash the Stampede:

“Shit!”

He paused, feet sinking into the dry sand below. A semi-cool wind hit the back of his neck. “Hello?” his voice echoed out into the world around—hello. . . hello. . . . . hello. Nothing responded and he adjusted the strap over his shoulder. He must really be losing it now. He had suffered from heat stroke before, had experienced delusions, and been near deaths’ door due to the pounding suns above, so, unfortunately, he knew what might be happening.

He stood still for a moment, longer. . . nothing. Okay, perhaps this was a one time delusion and he’ll be fine.

“How the hell am I going to get out of this alive?!”

He whirled around, looking for any sign of life—the person of whom the disembodied voice belonged to. After a moment he confirmed his suspicions. There was no one around. He groaned and covered his face, thinking to himself: “the heat must be getting to me. . .”

“What?”

He blinked, “What?”

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” he yelled out into the vastness of the desert. No one responded. “What the hell?”

“Great! I’m getting shot at and I’m hallucinating!”

“What is happening right now?!”

“You tell me! You’re the voice in my head!”

“No, you’re the one in my head!”

The first time you two met—and by that, I mean: the first time you two heard each other—was a mess. You were busy running for your life, and he was wandering through the emptiness of a sandy sea. Both of you, due to different reasons, thought you were going insane. You thought the adrenaline of the situation finally made you snap, and that this run-in with danger took the last bit of your sanity. Vash, on the other hand, swore the heat was out to kill him again and he ignored you for the most part—no use in talking to a delusion. It was only after you both reached safety and had a night's rest, that you both came to realize this was something more than hallucinations.

“Uh. . . so. . . are you real?” Vash thought to himself as he washed his face in the sink, the morning sun starting to make the hotel room feel like an oven.

“Of course I am! . . . are you?”

From then on you two talked a lot, and bonded immensely considering the other’s deepest, darkest and most intimate parts are on display. 

Vash tried desperately to keep the fact that he’s a plant and an outlaw a secret, but simply thinking about how he wanted to not think about it, made him think about it. And, therefore, you heard it all within the first five minutes of knowing him.

“You’re Vash the Stampede! The humanoid typhoon?!”

“Uh. . . no?” He thought about how stupid of a lie that is.

“I can hear your thoughts, Vash! You can’t lie!”

“Aw man I forgot!”

Really, Vash was terrified at first. Having someone able to hear his thoughts? It meant his act, his silly persona, was useless. He was laid bare in front of a person he didn’t know, had never seen, and wasn’t even sure if they were 100% real. No matter what lie he constructed, the truth would be sitting somewhere in his thoughts; easy to access, and even easier to talk about considering there was no way to ignore each other.

“Vash?”

He didn’t want to talk today. A mother had been killed, he had been shot in the shoulder, and ran out of town faster than he had ever known was possible. Sitting by himself in a crude rock formation, miles from any town with the moons shining down on him with pity. He wanted to be alone—to wallow, and think, and cry, and grieve for what was lost and what could never be.

“Vash, I know you're throwing a pity party right now.”

He wiped some tears from his eyes, watching the stars. 

“Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash, Vash—come on! I know you're hurting, but it wasn’t your fault. Nothing is. The whole space ship thing? Not your fault. Your brother? He’s his own person, you can’t control his actions—his decisions aren’t on you. The deaths? Inevitable, Vash. Everyone dies someday.”

“But they died because I was there!” He hated showing this side—the pain, the anger, the grief. He didn’t deserve to feel this way. His life, the wandering and suffering, was his punishment for failing to save the people he loved. He didn’t deserve comfort.

“When I finally meet you, I’m going to slap you upside the head before giving you the biggest hug you’ve ever felt.”

He blinked. “Eh?”.

After the rocky start, the weird emotional trauma bonding, and the insecurities—Vash fell hard. Having someone who could peer into his very soul? It, despite feeling so terrifying at first, made him feel so understood and. . . safe. This person has seen the very worst of him, the bottom of the barrel, and yet they chose to keep on talking to him. And, of course, normally Vash would take those emotions to the grave. He doesn’t deserve love. Whoever loves him, whoever he loves, will end up dead. But those thoughts, quite literally, are destroyed the moment they are given tangible sound. 

“I love you too, so I need you to stop thinking that I shouldn’t. Even if you keep running away—” despite the fact that he so desperately wants to meet you he’s terrified you’ll get hurt, and runs away the moment you're in a hundred mile vicinity—“I’ll still love you. And one day I’ll find you Vash. I promise that.”

He sobbed for about an hour straight after that.

He really does want to meet you, it’s the truth, but he needs to confront his fears before he can enjoy your love without guilt. 

Wolfwood:

Wolfwood couldn’t fall asleep. The lull of the bus hadn’t hit him yet, the rocking and groaning metal not a lullaby but a shrieking reminder of how far away from civilization he is. Usually he’d be passed out by now, cigarette limply hanging between his lips, but he had opted to twiddle with it between his fingers. The smoke curled around his palm, lazily rising up into the musty air of the bus. No matter how long he closed his eyes for, how many sheep he counted, or how he positioned himself, he couldn’t reach the comforting arms of sleep. Eventually he gave up, annoyed that everyone else on the bus—excluding the driver himself, thank god—had managed to peacefully drift away into their dreams.

“I’m tired. . .”

He blinked and chuckled quietly, “you and me sister.” He turned away from the window, taking a small drag of his cigarette as he turned to see who had spoken. A lady across the aisle looked at him, tilting her head. He gave a small wave and she turned away quickly. 

“Rude,” he thought for a moment before sighing. Maybe he should try to go to sleep again.

“Hello?”

He blinked and looked around. Surely someone must be sleep-talking. Right? “Wish I could be sleeping,” he looked around once more, eyes lingering on the lady across the aisle who was now starting to doze off. “This sucks.”

“Okay, I’m hallucinating now. God damn it. I knew that I shouldn’t have eaten that sandwich.”

He turned around, looking behind him, and then back to the front where the bus driver was humming a song to himself. “What. . .?” Pure confusion was all he felt. Earlier he had spent several hours in the sun, but the heat couldn’t have gotten to him this bad. . . right? Right?

“Oh God, please make this food poisoning death quick. I’m not into pain.”

Sleep deprivation must really be getting to him. This is going to be a long ride.

Chaos. Absolute chaos. 

Part of Wolfwood thought for a moment he might be getting possessed—he tossed that idea aside quickly but he did consider it for a moment before shaking his head. The other option, he thought, would have to be that the stress of trying to find the Humanoid Typhoon finally caught up to him, and he’s in the middle of a psychotic break. But he remembered hearing that you can’t be aware that you’re in psychosis so. . . where does that leave him?

“Has God really forsaken me this time?” he grumbled, stumbling off the bus and waiting for someone to toss the Punisher down to him.

“I hope not!” came the voice again, “I already have bad luck. If god hates me then I’m really a goner.”

Both of you came to the conclusion fairly quickly that there was no demon or god involved, nor were either of you dying or having a breakdown. Wolfwood, unlike Vash, accepted the situation a lot faster. He was confused and apprehensive at first, after all, no one likes showcases their true, intimate selfs—but he got over it fairly quickly. If this was what fate had given him, he would accept it. After all, it didn’t seem to be too horrible. What’s the matter with appreciating the good things in life?

When he gets bored he’d just stare off into space and annoy you—doesn’t matter what you're doing, or what he’s supposed to be doing. He’ll call your name over and over and over, or start preaching until you tell him to shut up. Sometimes, though, he will start talking about the dirtiest, strangest things you’ve ever heard of until your interest is piqued or until he can hear a reaction from you. Either way, no matter what method he chooses, you’ll eventually be talking to him.

“Here’s another quote, ‘Give your burdens to the lord. And he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall. Psalm 55:22’. You know, personally, I’ve always thought that bible verse—”

“Please shut up. I will literally kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try, Doll.”

His favorite pastime is annoying you, making you flustered, or straight up saying the most out of pocket shit you can ever imagine. And, the funny thing is, you always know what he’s trying to do yet he still manages to get a reaction. It doesn’t matter if he spends several minutes brainstorming before saying what he wants, and it doesn’t matter if you try and prepare yourself, he is a master at being a cocky, loveable bastard.

He does hate when you manage to get him to talk deeper about himself, when you bring in the comfort and philosophical talk. Deep down he knows this life isn’t something he wants to partake in, he doesn’t want to go down the path that has been chosen for him, but what other option does he have? 

“You don’t have to kill.”

“How am I supposed to survive if I don’t? This world is built on blood, and one person trying to make it better isn’t going to do shit.”

“Well, I actually think it’s two people trying to make it better. Can’t say I’ve ever killed anyone.”

He was slightly salty when he got that response. 

He didn’t fall first here, but he most certainly fell harder. His heart is a little petrified, and he often lets people in, but only deep enough to where they feel accepted yet can’t glance at anything too important. It’s like if he invited you over to his home, showed you the kitchen and living room, but kept every other door locked and closed. Yet you had the key and essentially broke every lock in one go. He still doesn’t know if he hates or loves it.

He also desperately wants to meet you but, like Vash, he’s terrified you’d get hurt. But his love and desire outweigh his nervousness and, besides, he’ll protect you with everything he has. If he must die for you, so be it. So, the moment he is sure of himself he asks where you are. And, of course, you knew this was coming, and he knew you knew, and you knew he knew you knew. Make sense?

“Do you want to meet in person?” he thought about how much he wanted to see them, feel them, hear them with his ears not with. . . his mind? He wasn’t really sure how this whole thing worked.

“Of course! How could I deny you when you’re practically begging?!”

“Begging? You haven’t seen me beg yet. . . and now that I think about it, I haven’t seen you beg either. That must be a pretty sight, huh?”

Bastard. He’s a bastard.

Million Knives:

Knives were pissed. No matter how loud he played the piano, or how many plants he surrounded himself with, he could not get that annoying little song out of his head. A solemn, lonesome hum that echoed through his mind like nothing he had ever heard—and it infuriated him beyond anything he had ever known. At first he had assumed it was the sound of the pipes, the mechanical building breathing with man-made life, but once he found himself in the desert, alone, he knew that wasn’t the case. It crossed his mind for a moment, a moment, that he might be having some mental issues but he quickly tossed that idea out the window. He could never have any problems like that, never. 

He brushed his fingers along the piano keys, thinking of problems past and future, thinking of what is to come and how he should deal with it all. His own thoughts, he noticed, almost drowned out the humming; that was, until, a voice blew through his troubled mind. 

“Woah, you’re a plant?”

He whirled around, ready to mame and kill whoever had managed to infiltrate his base. . . but no one was there. “Come on out now!” he seethed, “and I’ll make your death painless.”

No response but the clacking of gears and the hiss of steam.

“Audacious human,” he spit out in his mind, already thinking of different ways to kill whoever dared to address him. He began to stalk the room, eyes snapping from one corner to the next. “They can’t hide long. I’ll find them.”

“Why are you so violent? Geez. . . well, I mean I guess it makes sense but don’t you get tired of being angry all the time?” The voice trailed off and began humming that infuriating tune. A vague thought that wasn’t his came to the forefront of his mind, wondering if it was worth eating the stale bread or if he should—wait no, not him because this isn’t his thoughts—they should wait until they get paid tomorrow to eat.

He ignored the mundane thoughts and confronted the voice in his head, “you’re the one who’s been singing that idiotic song?!”

“Wow, you’re rude too. Who would’ve guessed?”

The conversation devolved very quickly after that.

To be honest, you’d be found very, very quickly. Unlike Vash, Knives won’t avoid you; and unlike Wolfwood, he won’t wait until the time is right—he’ll rush off into the desert and hunt you down in less than a week. Finding a stranger is surprisingly easy when you have infinite access to their thoughts. At first he was angry and only wanted to find you so he could cut your head off, but soon—despite his hatred for admitting this—he found you interesting.

“I’m coming to kill you, and you’re not worried at all?”

“I’ll die someday, and besides, I think I’m starting to charm you.”

“I will rip you apart.”

“Sounds sexy.”

You infuriate him on so many levels he doesn’t even know where to start. 

Actually, he does know where to start. You peer into his mind and learn everything about him and oh my god that pisses him off because now a human—a mere human!—knows everything about him: his trauma, his fears, his past, his brother. And he has now way to stop you from learning about him. Out of pure spite, though, he tries his best to learn nothing about you. . . but that plan fails quickly.

“I’m going to kill myself!” you cry out in your mind, rage edging at the tone of your words.

“Please don’t, it’ll take the joy out of me torturing you.” 

“I’m already being tortured! My boss sucks! Ugh! I’m going to kill him!”

He has a tiny, second-long urge to say he’ll kill the man for you before he literally gags with disgust. He had never been so glad someone was distracted because if you had focused on his intentions in that moment you would have teased him until he showed up on your doorstep and killed you. 

Over the course of the couple days he spent tracking you, he unwillingly came to be invested in your life and found a small amount of joy when he debated with you. 

“Humanity sucks, yes, but we can be good!”

“It doesn’t matter if you can or can’t. What matters is what you’ve done, and what you’re doing. Your potential means nothing when compared to the damage you’ve done.”

“. . . damn it why are you smart. Also, I didn’t do anything! I was just born!”

“That’s a sin in itself.”

“Okay, well, gotta call you out on that one. Being born is not a sin, also, what are you? A preacher? Jesus Christ!”

“Don’t use his name in vain.”

“What?”

After he gets over his initial repulsion and hatred he finds the look into human life interesting. You’re pitiful, weak, and disgusting yet you still push on. Why? Why? Why?

“Why not?’

“It’s useless.”

“So?”

“So. . .?”

“I got you, the great Knives, tongue tied? Wow, I can die happily now.”

Overall, it takes a while for him to fall for you. At first it’s purely rage, and then it’s curiosity, and then. . . maybe he’d call it interest. He wouldn’t fall first and he wouldn't fall that hard, but he’d still appreciate you in some capacity. 

[egginfroggin]

Buried Treasure in the Sand, the Lynari Desert

"We once met a man who said he dreamed of finding a great treasure buried in the desert. "Everyone burst into laughter, and told him there was no such thing. "But the moment I saw this place, I felt his dream would surely come true. "The desert glittered like a sea of jewels under that shimmering sun."

~ Opening narration, the Lynari Desert

Talking under the cut:

So this took a while! It would have been up sooner, most likely, but Kirby decided to rot my brain for a while.

This is for my Pokemon/FFCC AU, and is part of what could be considered the main story, following Akari and Rei (or Dawn and Lucas). Return to Sender takes place in the same AU, though that mainly follows the train twins.

I learned a lot doing this, and although I know I could probably polish it more, I just want it to be done so that I don't lose motivation with the project and get discouraged. It's time for it to be finished, so it's finished -- not perfect, but as close as it will get.

Tried emulating the fancy script that they use for the dungeon names for the handwriting; it was tricky. Fun fact, I was so into FFCC when I was younger that I actually thought it'd be fun to absorb the script's fanciness into my own handwriting -- thus, my handwriting was once nigh illegible, but has settled to something halfway between cursive and print, still with some excessive swoopiness here and there.

It's never really stated who the narrator is referring to in the opening narration for the Lynari Desert, but I somehow always assumed that it was Hurdy/Gurdy. He would be the most likely to know of a "treasure" hidden in the desert, after all, though he might not remember why. Also, Gurdy is the one you learn the riddle from, so I guess I always just thought it was him.

Anyway, the man in question is Emmet this time around. What's he doing here? I'd love to tell you, but I'll let y'all ruminate on it because this is getting long and alas, I'm too tired to attempt much more coherent thought.

So, thank you all for reading! I am open to constructive criticism, especially about backgrounds and shading, as I consider myself to struggle with those.

Thank you very, very much, and I hope you all have a wonderful, blessed day! (ˊᗜˋ)/ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ* <3

(program: krita; time taken: about 28 hours, cumulative)

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 沙海/Tomb of the Sea/Sand Sea.

Sand Sea is the 2018 installment of the DMBJ/Lost Tomb franchise, which tells the story of the search for an ancient desert city, a fight against a secretive assassin family, the raiding of more than a couple tombs, and a whole bunch of other action-packed bullshit.

Have you ever watched an anime adaptation that outran the as-yet-incomplete manga it was adapting, necessitating it throw together a largely befuddling ending based on the available clues? That's Sand Sea. At time of production, only ~75% of the Sand Sea novel had been written. As I am making this post, that's still all of the Sand Sea novel that has been written. I finished watching the show and had a lot of questions about its loose ends. I read the book. It didn't help.

So, I'm not going to try and summarize the story, much less try to sell you on the show on the strength of the plot. What I am going to try and do is convince you it's a good time anyway.

As I mentioned earlier, it's part of a larger franchise, but you shouldn't let that stop you from diving in here. Most of the DMBJ shows and books are narrated by Wu Xie, the series' special little birthday boy. Sand Sea takes a different tack -- your main POV characters are completely new to the world of the tombs, meaning that the show explains things to you while it's explaining things to them. Wu Xie's still a major character, but you're seeing him through the eyes of a befuddled teenager who wasn't even supposed to be here today.

I'm going to give you five reasons to watch this series, and all five of them are relationships. I'm pitching it to you this way because, as was the case in my rec for Reunion (one of the other tomb-raiding dramas), I'm assuming you have zero familiarity with DMBJ, which means that any appeals to the larger franchise or its twists and turns will have no impact. Instead, I am here to sell this to you on the strength of character interactions. If you're interested in what the characters are doing, the plot will come.

1. Dudes Rock

The aforementioned teenager narrator is Li Cu, a too-cool-for-school underachiever who lives with his abusive father and has no direction in life. He comes with his two best (and only) friends: earnest pushover Su Wan and neighborhood bully Yang Hao.

They're a trio of problem children who cannot succeed by the metrics of society at large: Li Cu and Yang Hao are both from family circumstances that have hampered their ability to perform academically, while Su Wan, bless his heart, is just not that bright. They do, however, all do well when put in situations that play to their strengths and given appropriate mentorship. (Alas that all of their mentors are terrible people; see point 4.)

They're set up as an intentional next-generation parallel to the Iron Triangle, which is the term DMBJ uses for Wu Xie and his two closest people. Normally, the Iron Triangle would be the core of a DMBJ story -- but since that threesome is broken by Circumstances at the moment, these boys become the substitute triad whose friendship is one of the main bonds holding the narrative together.

They have such teenage boy dynamics, it's great. They're stupid about girls and alcohol and money and homework and all the other things teen boys are stupid about, while also being stupid enough to get themselves entangled in shadowy international conspiracies. Huge parts of the plot are fueled entirely by their dumbass decisions. But they also barely have any competent adult supervision in their lives, so you know, when you're seventeen and basically feral, renting a warehouse so you can beat a bunch of frozen snakes to death actually sounds like a good solution to the problem at the time.

It's not all comedy, though. Li Cu and Yang Hao in particular are deeply traumatized young men even before the story starts, and events of the series make it worse. They're definitely the "feelings are for girls!" type of young men, and they need Su Wan there as their eternally bippy buffer. When he's not, they can get mean.

What's also charming about this trio is that they're all pretty darn straight. In a franchise chock full of (unintentional?) homoeroticism, these three manage to keep their platonic dude dynamics pretty platonic. I mean, I myself come at most things with slash-colored glasses on, and even I'm of the opinon that they're befuddled heterosexuals struggling with how the entire tomb-raiding industry's gay. And even if you assume everyone in this entire show is straight, these boys are still going to get a bunch of real-time lessons in how to love other people, whether they like it or not!

So if you like a Teen Boy Squad of goobers who don't want to admit they're close or have emotions or anything like that, right up until they're all each other have, this may be just the thing for you.

2. The Only Good Het in the Tombs

DMBJ is not known for its high-quality heterosexual romance, to put it mildly. Most of the time, it makes the smart decision to not even try. When it does, you mostly wish it hadn't.

Therefore, you cannot imagine how shocked I was to find myself falling head-over-heels for the incredibly weird canonical love story between horny hot mess Dr. Liang Wan and emotionally constipated 80-year-old virgin and arsonist Zhang Rishan.

Their relationship goes a little something like this: He needs something from her, so he contrives a plan to ask her out. She declares him her boyfriend. He continues the relationship in order to continue getting things from her. She thinks he's hot, so she's fine with that. He warns her that continuing their relationship will involve messing with some very bad members of the Tomb-Raiding Industrial Complex. She's like, again, you're incredibly hot, so that's not a problem. He makes her memorize maps and sends her to a desert. She dresses up like him and pepper-sprays him. And somewhere in the midst of all that, he falls for her and she gets sick of his shit, and they wind up for-real dating as equals.

Part of what's so delightful about their relationship is how awful they are to one another. It'd be bad if that awfulness were one-sided, but man, they each give as good as they get. He's heartless and exploitative, and she's neurotic and insecure. She makes constant demands of him that he's almost too confused by to refuse, and he keeps putting her in situations no sane person should want to be part of. He comes from a cutthroat world of complete bastards, while she wears her heart on her sleeve whether she wants to or not. They're extremely good for one another, because he trusts her competencies and is going to make her demonstrate every one of them, while one of her chief skills is calling him on his bullshit.

It is at this point I need to sing the praises of Liang Wan, hottest of the hot messes. She's one of the principal POV characters for the novel, where she's just as boy-crazy (though for a different boy, because Zhang Rishan's not in this book) and just as far in over her head. The adaptation has absolutely done her character justice. What makes Liang Wan so charming to me is how much she absolutely refuses to let herself be stopped by being completely out of her depth. She doesn't know what the hell is going on most of the time, but fuck it, she's rolling with it. She's just also going to be applying moisturizer and anti-aging serum the entire time, because you know what, sometimes when your whole world is falling apart around you, the one thing you can count on is your skincare routine.

Zhang Rishan is surrounded by people so cool, butter doesn't melt in their mouths. He can be balls-out naked in front of them without batting an eyelash. It is her thirsty disaster charms alone that have set fire to his frozen heart. I love them to bits.

3. Enemies to ... ???

This is Sand Sea's Wu Xie. You're not going to like him at first, because he spends the first several episodes tormenting a teen who only mildly seems to deserve it. What you find out as the show goes on is that Wu Xie is having a bad time -- more than that, he's having a straight-up bad decade. He has taken a lot of psychic damage and decided to cope with it by being absolutely insane. He's a bitch with no sense of self-preservation living in constant gremlin mode. He is no longer under the active supervision of his husbands, and he's going to make that everyone else's problem.

The show chooses to start out by inflicting Wu Xie on a bunch of strangers through an arc that's bizarre, lengthy, and mostly completely unrelated to the larger plot. It does introduce a few elements that will matter, though, and one of them is Su Nan.

When Su Nan appeared as the badass head of a mercenary outfit, I was braced for one (or both) of two things to happen. Thing one, I figured she'd die or otherwise leave the narrative after the first arc, which made me not want to get attached to her, if she wasn't going to stick around. Thing two, I was all but certain the show was going to try and make her Wu Xie's love interest, which made me make such a face, because [see last point].

Neither happens. Su Nan is still around in the final episode, and what she becomes to Wu Xie is much, much more interesting.

They're not friends. They're never friends. They can't be friends, because they absolutely can't trust one another. Except sometimes they have to trust one another, and in return they have to allow themselves to be trustworthy.

In the last relevant chapter or so of the novel, Wu Xie gets his throat cut and shoved off a cliff ... and because the novel isn't finished, we have no idea why that happened or who did it. The drama decides that when he goes over that cliff this time, throat unslit, Su Nan needs to go with him. This means they spend much of the later part of the series depending on one another for survival, getting real vulnerable, sharing trauma, and occasionally fucking one another over anyway, because they are both bad and untrustworthy people.

And they're ... kinda into one another? But because it's not textual, it winds up being great. If the show had tried to write their romance, I would have hated it. Instead, it chooses to leave things fraught and unspecified, with the two of them obviously having a lot of feelings but not even knowing themselves what all those feelings are, much less how to react appropriately to them. That is delicious. Pour that right into my mouth.

I also choose to interpret Su Nan as being transfemme (complimentary), if only because that's the most charitable explanation for her dedication to keeping her tits out and her lipstick game sharp even in wilderness conditions.

4. This Man Should Not Be Trusted With Children

As I mentioned before, all members of the Teen Boy Squad wind up paired with adult men who act as their mentors. Li Cu and Wu Xie are the main duo, since they're the main character of this show and the main character of the entire franchise, respectively. Yang Hao winds up in an even more abusive dynamic with a bitch of a man who takes advantage of Yang Hao's capacity for rage. But precious baby Su Wan is lucky enough to be adopted by, well...

If you read my rec for Reunion, you will recognize him as the guy I called "this giant fucking loser" with all the affection in the world. Hei Xiazi is both the worst and the best, which makes him the perfect man to take care of the tender soul that is Su Wan.

Su Wan's a poor little rich boy who is happy to be bullied by his friends, because it means he has friends! He's a dipshit because he's sheltered by his family wealth, and he's also a dipshit because he'd be a dipshit no matter how much money he had. He needs someone to kick his ass in a way that builds him back up again and helps him make the transition from doormat to functional adult.

The circumstances that bring these two together are so batshit, they're not worth recounting here. Suffice it to say that as one adventure arc ends, Hei Xiazi is tasked with taking Su Wan home. Su Wan expresses interest in whatever Hei Xiazi's whole deal is, and Hei Xiazi responds by offering (in a roundabout way) lessons in what exactly his whole deal is.

Hei Xiazi is a terrible teacher, but he's a perfect teacher for Su Wan, who is the kind of boy who would go find the nearest dictionary if you told him the word "gullible" wasn't there. They're preciously weird at one another. The work so well together because Su Wan believes the best of everything, which leads him to see right past the parts of Hei Xiazi that other people (correctly) find inscrutable and offputting. With Hei Xiazi's questionable guidance, Su Wan finds for the first time in his naive, privileged life a goal for himself that is both achievable and worth the effort.

Later books give evidence that all three of the boys eventually go to work for Hei Xiazi, which I think is great, especially since he is somehow the least toxic and terrible of all the mentor characters. ...Man, though, that bar is low. It's a miracle anyone in DMBJ survives into adulthood.

It's also cute to think about how the boys are no doubt context-appropriately homophobic, because it's so easy to picture their respective reactions to finding out that their strong, terrible male role models are queer. Cue Li Ci and Yang Hao's respective no-homo freakouts, while Su Wan just has a million slightly offensive but ultimately well-meaning questions about how bisexuality works.

And I'm just going to say, if you watched the Untamed and loved Xue Yang? You owe it to yourself to see that actor suddenly become the sweetest little butterscotch muffin ever. ...Yes, if you didn't recognize him earlier, that's Wang Haoxuan, and he turns in an incredible comic performance here. Su Wan is consistently one of the funniest characters onscreen. The bit with the saxaphone kills me dead.

Anyway, unlike the first three relationships I've talked about here, this is one you have to wait a good long while for. Su Wan shows up in the first episode, Hei Xiazi appears about a dozen or so episodes later, but it takes their storylines much longer to cross. It's worth the wait, though, knowing that eventually you'll get to see these two weirdos bounce merrily off one another.

5. Everybody Loves Pangzi

This is the Iron Triangle I mentioned earlier. Obviously there's Wu Xie in the middle. The perfect boy in the hoodie is Xiao Ge, who is at the time of this series slightly stuck in what's basically a giant time-lock safe, so you're only ever going to see him in flashbacks. (Xiao Ge is trapped, so you can't have Xiao Ge.) And then, over there on the left is the man whose nickname translates to "fatty," Wang Pangzi.

Hold on to your butts, because I am now going to wax poetic about how much I love this fictional man.

Pangzi is the best. The best. He's funny. He's kind. He's got terrible taste in men and only slightly less terrible taste in women. He's a gentleman. He's the party shock absorber. He's prone to making things explode. He's impeccably dressed. He's charmingly superstitious. He's not subtle. He's got an excitable little stammer and an atrocious Beijing accent. He's a flexible fat man. He's the most fuckable person onscreen no matter who's onscreen with him.

He's also usually the DMBJ everyman character, except Sand Sea has a ton of everyman characters for a change, so he winds up filling the role of a badass insider instead. His job is basically to hold down the fort while Xiao Ge's indisposed and Wu Xie's off being insane. In the absence of both his beloveds, Pangzi's going to do what needs to be done, and he's going to be incredibly hot while he's doing it.

Usually, DMBJ shows serve up a huge amount of Pangzi and Wu Xie interaction. Sand Sea only puts them in the same room near the very end -- but they're collaborating throughout. In fact, the only way the whole story works is if they're basically so much in each other's back pockets that they can function as a single unit even across great distances. The record will show that I read them as husbands -- but more importantly, they're good friends who understand and trust one another completely. As much as it pains me that they're apart for basically the entire thing, they're never really apart, you know?

However, because Wu Xie is physically elsewhere for so much of the show, Sand Sea provides a unique chance to see Pangzi interacting on his own with other characters. Wu Xie is the special little boy who always takes up all the oxygen in the room -- and of course Pangzi doesn't begrudge him this, because Pangzi loves him. Without Wu Xie around, though, we get to watch all the other relationships Pangzi has cultivated over the years.

One of the best is with Xie Yuchen, a.k.a. Xiao Hua. In other series, we see the two interact, but only in the context of having Wu Xie around. Sand Sea presents us with a little window into what is clearly a longstanding friendship. From the tiny bit we get of their interactions, it's obvious they hang out on a pretty regular basis. They're chilling and having spa dates while their husbands are out there getting sandy and fighting snakes, proving that these two urbanites are absolutely the brains of their respective marriages.

...Hold up a second,

I hear you say,

IS this show actually gay? Because you keep using words like "husbands" and talking like it's intentionally, onscreen, boys-kissing-boys gay.

On the one hand, no.

On the other hand: Is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid gay? Textually, taking it at face value, and especially considering the context in which it was made, no, it is absolutely not gay, nor was it meant to be gay. But when you step back and realize everything it's doing, you kind of can't avoid the really romantic implications. Maybe Butch and Sundance never smooch, maybe they don't even want to, but they're each other's other halves. We would instantly recognize what they are if one of them were a lady. In a narrative setting where gayness is unthinkable, nothing they can do can be gay, which loops around to making everything kinda gay, and ... look, I'm just saying, if Pangzi were a woman, we'd know immediately what she is to Wu Xie (and holy fuck she would be so hot). If Xiao Hua were as female as the opera characters he plays, we'd have no questions about her relationship to Hei Xiazi. Keep everything beat for beat, line for line the same, and there'd be no missing it.

This is something you get a lot with stories about men written by men, this unintentional homoeroticism from male authors who don't realize their misogyny has actually poisoned them against heterosexuality. Remember what I said earlier about DMBJ's regrettable het? So much of it stems from the assumption that getting a girl and a boy together will inevitably to romantic feelings from at least one of them, so there's no reason to bother spending time giving either of the participants any actual reasons to like one another. (Sand Sea does this too! Just with a character I haven't mentioned here, because I'm trying to talk about the good dynamics.) This kind of thinking treats women not as people, but as as basically interchangeable desirable objects. But men are people, which means the male characters' feelings are worth discussing in the narrative! So what you get is these well-developed, intimate relationships between men described in loving detail, sat right next to perfunctory heterosexual couplings -- and we're supposed to believe that one is romantic and one is not based solely on the genders of the participants? Yeah, no, I call bullshit.

And -- if you'll permit me to loop back to the boys for a minute -- we now have a model for how a straight Iron Triangle would behave, and it is not the way the actual Iron Triangle members are about one another. Those teens love one another in a way that is fierce and strong and not what Wu Xie, Pangzi, and Xiao Ge have going. Maybe it could become that, but it's not now. It's not better or worse now for being what it is, but it is different, and it makes by contrast some things very clear (and very queer).

So that is why I feel justified in referring to them as husbands and will continue to do so despite the lack of explicit textual support.

Anyway, back to Pangzi!

Where were we? Right, Xiuxiu!

Pangzi's always at his best when he gets to be a knight for someone he cares about. This time around, that's Huo Xiuxiu, who who only shows up after you've met several of her matriarchal family's other members, all of whom would be at home in a Tank Full Of Dangerous Ladies. Xiuxiu is not a fighter like they are, but she does have an object that means everyone's out to get her, and as such she relies on her Pangzi to keep her safe while she's trying to survive the fucked-up games her family is playing.

And Pangzi clearly loves it. He absolutely thrives on being the big brother/bruiser figure for her. He loves how cool it makes him look to her. He doesn't have Wu Xie around to be a tank for, so he's going to tank for her. In fact, he's even going to bring in reinforcements to help him do it. (What's the deal with the cute Tibetan boy? Look, shh, just appreciate that you've got a cute Tibetan boy.)

Then there's his dealings with the rest of the Tomb-Raiding Industrial Complex, who are a bunch of shady dudes with impressive family pedigrees and expensive suits, all of whom are trying to play twelve-dimensional chess with one another. There's going to be lots of names dropped, of families and of individuals, and the show is going to act like you're supposed to be impressed. And if you're familiar with DMBJ canon, yeah, you could be impressed! Or you could be like Pangzhi, who rolls up in his amazing Holstein shirt, not giving a single fuck what any of these rich bastards think about him.

This is actually some character development for Pangzi, who has in the past been cowed (pun unintended) by the wealthy, mostly due to his own financial situation. That stage of his life is over now. Honey badger has ceased to care. The cool, pretty people are going to try and give him shit, and he is impervious to it. You better believe the Iron Triangle trashed this fancy restaurant the last time they were in here, and if you give Pangzi half the chance, he'll fucking do it again.

No wonder Zhang Rishan likes him. A pair of little firestarters.

Don't let me oversell you on how much Pangzi is in Sand Sea, because he's not. There's maybe a dozen of the 52 episodes that have any Pangzi content, and he's only in small parts of those episodes. Pangzi is a rare and precious event, like an eclipse. Cherish the Pangzi moments and all the wonderful interactions contained within.

caveat: You call that an ending?

Buddy, if you'd seen how most other DMBJ series end, you wouldn't be asking me that. But because I'm assuming you haven't: Yes, I call that an ending, because it actually attempts to do a winddown and conclusion, instead of just wandering off on a cliffhanger. The ending isn't wholly satisfying, but it is an ending. There is a narrative, and that narrative concludes. Does the conclusion make sense and tie up all the loose ends? Absolutely not! But it does follow basic story structure and resolve the action semi-competently.

As I said about the sweet disaster that is Psych Hunter (which was also directed by the guy who did Sand Sea!), I think knowing in advance that an ending sucks makes the ending suck less. It removes the disappointment factor and lets you enjoy what is there, instead of making you grumpy about what isn't. No, you're never going to understand a lot of things. That means whatever you want to be true can be true. The book is unfinished. The series is nonsense. Canon has no hold on you. You are free.

As compensation, here's a picture of Xiao Ge without his shirt on.

Are you feeling like it's Tomb Time?

There are a couple places you can get this one! Try Viki, WeTV, this YouTube playlist (which is missing the first episode for some reason), or this YouTube playlist (which has the whole thing). Note that subtitles vary in quality from place to place. The YouTube versions also have the bizarre, amazing in-character commercials, and it's up to you if that's a plus or a minus for your viewing experience.

I love this bonkers show. It is balls-to-the-wall weird, to a point that will make you question the translation. I got to the part where Zhang Rishan explains that ancient people worshipped fish with snakes in their eyebrows, caught the fish, took out the snakes, and implanted the snakes in their own human eyebrows -- and I thought, surely that's not what he's actually saying. Nope! The subtitles are accurate. It's the show that's off its rocker.

Anyway, once you've watched Sand Sea, scroll down to the bottom of my rec post for Reunion and find out how you can get even deeper into said tombs! Trust me, there's a lot down here.

As those other posts would indicate, this would not be my first choice for how to get into DMBJ. It is, however, how a fair number of people have gotten into DMBJ, so what the hell do I know! Or maybe this post has convinced you that Sand Sea is worth watching, but you'd rather build up to it than go into it raw. That works too! Whenever you get to it, it'll be here: under a bunch of sand, tattooed and inexplicable, and extremely gay whether it knows it or not.

Go to the desert, they said. Find Gutongjing, they said. Solve the mystery, they said. Fuck it, we nap.

[blackblooms]

So, didnt have a lot of progress to talk about on my new game since i had taken about 2-3 weeks to work on other things, but heres some of the work i`ve been putting into the world map and struckture.

So here we have what i call "zone maps" which consist of rough drawings of what areas are planned and how they are placed and connected. Since the game is themed around fire and wilderness, most areas are fiery twists on common fantasy environments and explore the many forms that heat and fire can take.

Some notable areas are:

Great caldera/Caldera outskirts: (dark red) Since flamebearers are highly resistant to heat and fire, it was an interesting subversion for the first area of the game to be a volcano. Boiling ridge/Boiling caverns: (cyan) The water area of the game, featuring harsh cliffside battered by a raging sea and plenty of geysers and thermal vents.

Pyrewoods: (bright red) A perpetually burning forest. The trees have adapted a thick insulating bark to protect themselves from the flame. Ashen highlands: (pale grey) An expansive plateau, located above the smoke of the forest. Deposits of ashes from the forest and caldera, fertilize the ground, making it a suitable place to build fields and villages. Sundered plains: (bright orange) A deadly desert, with plenty of glass structures formed from the scorching heat battering the sand.

City of cynders/Charred city (brown) The capital of an ancient civilization, burnt to the ground in times long past. Now only rubbles of sandstone and glass remains, and many myths of how exactly this city may have fell...

Frostburn pass: A gnarly canyon where frost and flame meet. Located between the great caldera and the ashen highlands. Brimstone bogs (dark green) ADark, smouldering swamps, where monstrous creatures lurk. A place long abandoned by the flamebearers and left to rot. Fuming crags (purple) Toxic fumes emanate from ancient fissures in the ground, rendering this region extremely dangerous to korugues and flamebearers alike. In the distance, an old castle lurk, long abandoned by those who used to call it home.

The melting pot: A loathsome pit of molten sludge, the heart of a twisted curse that cannot be destroyed or contained...

- Since were giving some building here, lets also describes some faraway lands that exist i nthe lore, but wont be seen in the game. South west: Nameless islands The great sea house many archipelago, conquered by the descendent of the flamebearer of the sea. South east: The frozen continent A distant landmass, overtaken by the ruthless cold. Ruled by the descendent of the frostbearer who could channel its power into cold instead of flames. North west: The endless peaks Towering mountains, reaching higher than the eye can see. Conquered long ago by the flamebearer of the sky and her children. North: Desolated expanse The sundered plains make way for a great wasteland. Long ago, the flamebearer of earth crossed through the desert and was rumored to have found habitable land on the other side, but very few dared cross the waste to verify those claims. East: The dark lands Lush forests cover the landscape, but those lands have long been forbidden. It is said that none of those who ventured to the east, not even the eldest and strongest son of the original flamebearer, was ever heard from again. My goal with these was that i wanted to imply a much bigger world beyond what is seen in the game (compared to irredeamable, almost claustrophobic worldbuilding) This next game will have plenty of distant lands and families to speculate on. I probably just wont do much with them myself. Anyway, all that stuff is subject to change as i work on it. The maps i provided are already pretty inaccurate, but that just means there will be much to discover when the actual game comes out.

[xxdemonicheartxx]

Most common funerary burials by flight:

Putting this one below the cut due to death mentions and burial descriptions I understand this can be a topic of discomfort no matter how vague one is when speaking on it <3

Arcane: opalization, the body is taken and layed in the shallows of intensely magic rich pools in a resting position, where it will rapidly opalize in a matter of weeks or months due to the volitile arcane energy of the land, sometimes individual scales are opalized instead and the rest of the body is cremated to be scattered amid their favorite place of study

Earth: mummification, the body is taken and embalmed, richly doused in spices, oils, and linen wraps, the organs removed are in canopic jars that resemble the dragon's own visage. Some earth mages practice petrification of the body as well upon request. Another practice is glass blowing cremated remains into colorful works of art, often colorful globes of glittering glass or glass sculptures of the deceased's visage

Shadow: the body is often cremated and the ashes greatly compressed into logs or bricks, before being soaked in spores and water to allow the mushrooms the the tangled wood to reclaim them and take them home. Other practices include burials or creating wrought iron burial markers. Celebrations of life are held around these burial sites

Light: due to the.... emperor problem.... graveyards have rapidly been destroyed and the fear of merging with Luminax sits like a stone in the heart of every imperial. Cremation is the most common practice as of now but celestial burials used to be common practice where the sun would always be able to touch you even in death (also known as sky burials) a new practice adopted from the earth flight includes taking these cremated remains and turning them into glass suncatchers

Plague: plague dragons believe that returning to the land you've survived is a must, dying of old age is a great achievement!! Often the body is returned to the land, buried or laid to be reclaimed by the ecosystem. Some more sentimental dragons or close loved ones will save scales or tan parts of wing membrane to carry close to their heart

Nature: burials are the most common practice, continuing to feed the shrieking wilds, some pathways have small markers or idols where loved ones frequent so that they can continue to pay homage in the labyrinthian jungle

Ice: ice dragons actually do not freeze their deceased, instead they take parts of membranes and tan them before tattooing a depiction of their loved one into their own hide, complete with a name, date of birth and date of death, its too cold to dig in this land so they cremate the remains and scatter them amid the tundra so in spring they can help the flowers return. The tanned memento is kept with a clan's priest, shaman, or spiritual leader with the rest of them, under expert care

Fire: forge pyres, often when fire dragons die their own heat resistance can make cremation a difficult process. So their remains are given to forge masters who are capable of reaching intense heat, working bellows and feeding the flames until the body is reclaimed by the flames. Other practices include caldera funerals, where the body is taken to be sunk in the lava of volcanoes or lava floes. Sometimes blackened skeletons can be reclaimed by loved ones in doing this

Wind: sky burials. The body is taken high up and laid under open sky for the sun and the wind to reclaim, it is believed that in doing this their spirit may continue to soar. Also refered to as celestial burials

Water: sinking of the body in designated graveyards is a common practice, often referred to as a burial at sea. Tiny tiny fragments of the dragon are often kept to be artificially put into oysters so that a pearl can be formed from their loved one's remains. Another practice is water cremation or Alkaline hydrolysis is another practice that is starting to gain traction

Lightning: the desert sand is not suitable for proper burials and grave markers aren't reliable in the shifting expanse, often the body is dehydrated first before undergoing electrical cremation, with no fluid the body will burn rapidly, the ashes then mixed with sand are placed amid one of hundreds of electrical storms with a tall metal rod in the center of the remains. To be struck by lightning turning them into "fulgurites" or "fossilized lightning" these unique and intimate structures are then returned to loved ones to be kept similarly to an urn

There are always exceptions to funeral practices. Dragons like obelisks and imperials often require additional care in the event the obelisk returns to stone or cremation is not an option for the imperial but these are the common or most popular practices in each region (non cannon)

As always I'd love to hear your own headcannons and takes too!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Marauder.

There are so many rules in this world. So many shackles to keep him down.

Let nothing obstruct his errant path.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A fish is bound to the water his entire life.

It’s not a life for him.

Floyd is on his back, set adrift in the face of the Coral Sea. His hands cradle the back of his head, and he finds himself staring up. A flock of birds form an arrow, slicing through the sky. He wonders where they're going, what they'll do there.

Some merpeople dreamed of trading scales for skin, but Floyd thinks about giving up his fins for feathers. A pair of wings with which to witness all manner of strange things…

He chuckles soft.

Wouldn't that be so freeing?

“Eheheh. I wanna try it, too! Wait up for me, birds. Here I come…!”

Floyd rights himself and dives unto the frigid waters. His powerful tail undulates like a teal ribbon, propelling him after and faster. He steadily gains, chasing the shadows of the birds that skim the surface of his home turf.

Floyd approaches, lifting himself toward the shimmering boundary between sea and sky. A second later, he breaks through with a mighty splash.

His body elegantly arcs in the leap. He’s a skipping dolphin, a flying fish.

Free.

Floyd launches higher and higher, zipping past the flock. He collides with some birds, screeching with laughter as they spin like cars out of control.

Here come the clouds now—he easily bursts through them. They’re made of cool and fine-grained beads of water, refreshing him as he flies.

And higher still he goes, the sky dimming, a gradient of light to dark.

Floyd is among the stars, each twinkling like diamonds in greeting. The planets, like massive globes of sugar orbiting him.

The eel is weightless, effortlessly floating through space. With his arms, he paddles--and though there should be no gravity, the space warps and gives like water, letting him sail as smoothly as a ship after a storm.

He reaches out and plucks a star out of the cosmos, giving it a curious lick. The taste is like sweetened milk, and so he pops the entire thing into his mouth.

Then begins his descent.

At the peak of his jump, surrounded by the stars, he bends downward and plunges.

But there are no longer any waters waiting for him.

He crashes through a canopy of leaves. They scatter like papers, raining down verdant, brown, scarlet, tangerine, and gold. Sunlight pierces them, giving each a magical glow.

Roots come, skittering by him like a snake might slink. Thin tendrils extend from them, brushing his face.

Maybe there is some other name for them? Hyph-something, myce-whatever. Floyd does not care to remember his twin's excitable rambling.

Alarmingly, he spies an ugly bulbous cap poking out from a root. His nose crinkles with disgust.

Shiitake mushroom.

Floyd paddles through the fungi and plants, the scent of dirt and chlorophyll filling his nostrils. It's fresh and green mixed with damp and earthy, nothing like the salty smell of the sea.

Jade would like this, he thinks.

Daisies push through, their petals tickling his skin. He takes a shaky breath, holds, shakes again, and...

Sneezes!!

A great gale is unleashed, clearing his surroundings in an instant. Floyd is sent flying up, up, and away--

He shoots out of the dunes. Sand scatters from the force he emerges with, throwing particle clouds up into the air. Floyd flails, trying to balance his body. No use--he flops uselessly under the pull of gravity.

A scream rips from his throat. Not of terror, but of joy.

The landscape unfolds into a sandy expanse. In the distance, he sees an oasis guarded by palm trees. And below, a great city crowning the desert.

There are bright tents and stalls pitched, merchants hawking their wares. Vases and lamps with unique patterns, ripe fruits, adornments in a variety of designs.

Families and friends mill about in the packed marketplace, satisfied with their mundane lives, the schedules they keep. So content, so peaceful.

Floyd grins.

And he lets himself plummet straight into a stall.

The weight of him collapses it with a loud THUD. The merchant looks on, horrified, and his circle of customers gasp, putting distance between themselves and Floyd. Sticky with fruit juices, he removes the strand of black hair that clings to his cheek.

"Eh, guess it could be worse," Floyd shrugs, tossing off a chunk of watermelon sitting like a hat on his head. A line of juice dribbles down his forehead.

He notices the crowd staring and wiggles his tail in a casual pseudo-wave. One person immediately faints--but luckily, they're caught by a concerned onlooker.

"Riffraff!" the merchant shouts, waving a fist. "Scoundrel!! I demand compensation for what you've wrecked!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. He sounds like Azul.

The eel hauls himself off the pile of fruit--and peels right past the feet of the customers. The merchant's face heats.

"Guards! GUARDS!! Come quickly, HELP!! There's a sea monster on the loose!!"

Floyd rapidly drags himself across the market, digging his talons into the ground, his tail pushing him forward. He gleefully writhes as people scream and flee, clearing a path for him. His laugh, cackling.

He's at the waterways that thread the city when heavy footsteps spill into the street.

"He went that way!!"

Floyd doesn't look back before he dives back into his natural element.

The water welcomes him, its streams washing off the sand that paints his skin, loosening the hair that clumped from fruit juices. A tender kiss, a kind hand.

He has returned to the sea.

The channel goes deeper than Floyd thinks. It widens, becoming an entire ocean bathed in sunlight. A coral reef teeming with life stretched out below him, and when he runs his hand along it, tiny seahorses escape and trail bubbles.

He turns his head this way--a school of rainbow tropical fish race by. The other way, a band is in full swing. A carp on the harp, the plaice on the bass, bass on brass.

Floyd twirls as he passes, happily humming along to the tune. The music wraps around him, giving a warm embrace. He almost misses his name being called, almost forgets himself.

"... od....... loyd... Floyd! There you are."

A face that matches his appears beside him. He is followed by a boy with lilac skin, a series of squirming tentacles at his beck and call.

“Where did you vanish off to?” Jade asks. “Azul and I were starting to get worried about your whereabouts. Weren’t we, Azul?”

“I’m more concerned for the places he visits rather than Floyd himself. Who knows how much collateral damage he could cause unsupervised,” the octopus merman grumbles.

“Oya, Azul… Could it be that you lack faith in Floyd? Even though he has unquestionably served you since middle school?"

"You're saying strange things again. I recall him losing interest and changing his mind last minute more often than 'unquestionably serving'." Azul raises a brow. "So? Where were you all this time?"

Floyd flings himself at the duo, slinging his arms around their shoulders and pulling them close.

"F-Floyd?! What is the meaning of this?" Azul sputters, struggling against his binds.

"I was everything and everywhere all at once," he responds with a laugh. "I was as free as a bird! I'll tell you guys about it~"

"Fufu, it sounds as though you've been away on quite an adventure. We would, of course, be more than happy to hear of your escapades."