#cavern life

[chimerafeathers]

[ on youtube ]

a concept for the type of OP i'd love to see for the second season of Dungeon Meshi! both s1 OPs are great, but i'm really hoping for one that captures both the "dangerous fantasy adventure" and "comedic cooking adventure" aspects of the series in equal measure, because it's the integration of those two concepts that makes the series special to me. the joyous whimsy and the dramatic horrors are equally important!!

[pocket-size-cthulhu]

[At the Feast of the Winter Star]

Harvey: I'm just glad we didn't have any medical emergencies this year!

Me, thinking back to the 173 times I woke up in a hospital bed after emergency surgery post- getting knocked out in the mines: uh...huh 🤨

[chaoticdesertdweller]

Dixie Caverns Campground Salem, VA, 1960s

[hoodiedeer]

d1_trainstation_04

artfight attack from last year for @cavern-of-remembrance 🖤

[ludinusdaleth]

i am 100% saying this with a bias as a ludinus fan and do not consider this some canon intention (mooostly) but just in the same way lucien was a ghost of a lost m9 member, destined to be in their party but in an echo of another life, i consider ludinus, in a way, the same - if more wraith than ghost. if lucien looks at the mighty nein and swears he cant recognize them as molly screams in his head they're family, ludinus looks at the bells hells and recognizes them instantly as himself, utterly alone but not alone, as some tiny part of him in essek's voice says "you should try friends sometime", and another screams that it's far too late.

[fisheito]

@halfetirosie @fallencelsetial Reply that makes me cheerfully repeat it outloud . then Reply that makes me instantly drop my smile

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 12: Starvation

Underground Caverns + "Just a little more"

3602 Words; Raised by Serpentine, pre-canon

TW for death, blood, injury

AO3 ver

Cole had never seen the sky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It can’t be.” Lyssie reassured him.

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

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

+=+=+=+=+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+=+=+=+=+

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

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

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

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

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

“Cole.”

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

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

Lyssie hissed softly, chastened.

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

“I dunno.” She denied.

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

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

“Let’s go home.”

+=+=+=+=+

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

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

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

But Cole was fated to be something else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It never was.

+=+=+=+=+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cole needed to be ready for when that did happen.

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

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

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

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

+=+=+=+=+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Ss not your fault.” Lyssie said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+=+=+=+=+

His mother was getting worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d never stop.

+=+=+=+=+

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tomb was sealed tight.

Cole would never see the sky.

[spookcataloger]

Icemans Victims (2015)

[thorsenmark]

It Isn’t Hard to Imagine a Beautiful Place in Guadalupe Mountains National Park by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A view looking to the east while walking the trails in the Salt Basin Dunes portion of Guadalupe Mountains National Park. My thinking in composing the image was to capture a sweeping view looking across those white sands with the growing vegetation. The Guadalupe Mountains would then seemingly tower above all with some blue skies and clouds to complement the west Texas landscape and national park setting

[shorthaltsjester]

i’ve been metaphorical goofy floating in a pool about relvin temult since that post yesterday but good grief the people who set him as equal to syldor vessar and thoreau lionett . please get a grip. please just. listen to the people telling the story. everytime syldor is mentioned or shows up in c1 and even now with tlovm, the cast are happy to shit on him to no end even though vex Does choose to form a relationship with him in the end. matt vocalized how much he hated playing thoreau and the entire cast agreed that he’s horrible and marisha talked about how travis got Dad Mad™ about how shitty thoreau treated beau. meanwhile at the end of the single episode where we see relvin is… a sad man who despite his conflict with his daughter still gives her everything he can to help her on the mission she’s on, when travis says “he wasn’t a total dickfuck” they settle on the claim that, no, “he was human”.

like. please tell me you’re not watching critical role, the epitome of storytelling that extends empathy to all who come across it, and saying that a man who tried his best and Did fuck up is the same as men who consistently abused their children. please tell me you have the extremely minuscule critical thinking skills required to understand the difference between those relationship dynamics.

[dateinthelife]

29 December 1961

John Lennon valiantly avoids picking a fight with some jazz bros who are on the bill with them at the Cavern Club.

They weren’t playing our type of music and we weren’t playing theirs. I know John Lennon later said that jazz was shit, but he wouldn’t have dared say it to our faces. I’m an ex-Commando, Bob [Frettlohr] is ex-para and Martin Boland is an ex-rugby league professional with a very short fuse.

John Cook, trumpeter, Yorkshire Jazz Band (The Cavern, Spencer Leigh)

[inyri]

Drums.

Drums in the deep.

… they are coming.

(Luray caverns, Virginia, USA)

[aquatark]

Uranus Coin's Location - Iceberg Cavern

Endless Ocean: Blue World, Nintendo Wii

this series makes cave diving seem so fun, whimsical and beautiful... i'm sure partially because the lights are somehow always on

[sga-owns-my-soul]

okay i'm guessing there aren't a lot of edmontonians in this fandom so i need you all to be aware of something

west edmonton mall is HUGE. it's the largest mall in north america, third largest in the world. it has one of the biggest indoor water parks world wide, a massive amusement park, two mini golf courses, a movie theatre, a freaking HOTEL, all inside the mall.

it spans like 3 city blocks

it doesn't matter that there's maps every 7 meters jeannie it doesn't MATTER you will get lost as a fully grown adult with perfect sense of direction ok you can't say rodney has no sense of direction bc he got lost in that mall YOU CAN NOT SAY THAT JEANNIE ITS SO EASY TO GET LOST THERE

[colorsoutofearth]

Schools of Pacific creolefish (Cephalopholis colonus) and Panamic sergeant major (Abudefduf troschelii) swimming through sun beams inside an underwater cavern

Photo by Alex Mustard

[chittr-official]