#it's a cornucopia of misfortune

[igotsnothing]

CHAPTERS

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[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #50 – The Gold Eaters by Ronald Wright

This was the rare book I had literally never heard of before opening it - a birthday gift from a friend, and the rare one not resulting from some sort of conversation about what books we’ve been meaning to read. It’s the first historical fiction I’ve read in year and years, so I can’t really say how it stands in terms of the rest of the genre. Reading it for myself, I had a great time – though the book did seem confused about which part of ‘historical fiction’ it actually cared about.

The book (primarily) follows Waman, an adolescent boy just coming of age in a nowhere coastal village on the edge of the ascendant and seemingly world-spanning Inca Empire, the demands and products of which are the only outside intrusions upon his life. Feeling stifled at home after his father returns from a period of conscription building roads and bridges in the highlands, he runs away to have some adventures and become a man on a trading ship. And in a stroke of truly cosmic misfortune, on his first voyage they run into a scouting expedition run by one Francisco Pizarro, investigating rumours of a strange land called Peru and its cities of gold.

Waman is abducted and conscripted into service as the Spaniards guide and interpreter. He spends the next decades of his life with an unwilling front-row seat to History unfolding, making and losing friends and endlessly searching for his family and childhood love as the whole world is overthrown again and again around him.

The great strength of the book, I think, is how it manages to portray the civilizations of the past as both familiar and awe-inspiring. The Spanish and Inca Empires are both portrayed almost like fictional kingdoms in a fantasy novel, simultaneously defamilirized and made new and strange, and presented from the point of view of someone whose ideas of normal are at least as strange to us as any of the peoples he meets. More than that, it never stops feeling like a world where people actually lived and worked, one that made sense on a human scale where all its inhabitants could find a place for themselves (or else be forced into one). It was never exactly confusing either -even if it does feel a bit like cheating to jump between points of view to ensure there’s a wide-eyed foreigner needing things explained to them wherever it’s required.

Wright is apparently a historian by trade, and has mostly previously written nonfiction. Given the sheer cornucopia of details about both daily life and the exact sequences of events that led to Spanish dominion, I entirely believe it.

As history, the two things that I most took away from the reading experience were the portrayal of the Inca at their peak as a really vital, world-shaping imperial society on the one hand, and just how drawn out and contingent the process of conquest was, on the other. The book does a great job getting across just how incredible the road- and bridge-building projects and the great imperial cities were, and how rich and organized a society it was (without ever entirely falling into portraying the Inca as some prelapsarian utopia, either, which is how a great many works in the general space seem to screw this up). It then also does an excellent job getting across just how apocalyptic the smallpox epidemic that swept through the empire was, and how ruinous the wars of succession that followed. Pizarro triumphed because he was facing an empire that was a death-choked ruin at war with itself, manipulating and extorting an emperor with many enemies and not much way in the way of skills or legitimacy except that everyone ahead of him was dead.

The other thing that did strike me is that – the historical narrative as I have always received it is that the Spanish conquered their American empire in one single, cataclysmic moment of contact, disease and violence and simple shock leaving them ruling the better part of a continent before anyone even realized what was happening. Which I’d intellectually known was false, but the book really does an amazing job dramatizing the fact that the building of the Spanish empire was a multi-decade – multi-generational, really – affair, and far more a matter of politics and logistics than initial shock an awe.

My main complaint with the book is the matter of genre – it spent the entire back half continuously changing its mind about what it wanted to be. Is this Waman’s story, a man coming of age and scrambling to form a life for himself as the tides of history destroy and remake his world around him and buffet him hither and yon? Or is he just a convenient POV to what’s essentially a rationalized history of (the initial chapters of) the fall of the Inca, improbably standing at the side of and sharing drinks with one famous personage after another to hear their thoughts and see their pivotal deeds? The book never quite settles on an answer, and so Waman’s own arc and personal concerns shift from feeling like thin connective tissue to the emotional core of the story and back several times. The issue gets worse in the latter parts of the book, where it just outright shifts into omniscient exposition of historical events at times.

Also on goodreads this is tagged as a romance and – okay so there is a romance in this book. But it’s the third or fourth most important relationship at most. For the vast majority of the page count it’s just a childhood crush Waman nurses as motivation to get home. If you come in expecting this is mostly be a love story you are going to have a bad time.

But yeah! I should read more historical fiction.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Star Wars Rant - Take 2!

Guys. Guys, I’m sorry. I had a thought on the way to work today… and now I’m going to force it upon all of you, too, so that at least I won’t suffer alone.

Kaminoans do not value emotion. They value perfection. In fact, the social demand for genetic perfection is what led them to cloning and thus gave us our lovely copy/ paste cornucopia of delicious potential for OCs, wartime angst, and brotherly shenanigans. We know each clone ended up developing a unique personality even as cadets, but imagine the first batches. They didn’t have older clones to look up to, to learn that becoming their own person was okay. They had asshole mercenaries, the legendary original source for their DNA, and, most abundantly, the Kaminoans to raise them.

Children learn through mimicry. They see their guardians interact with the world, and that’s the initial outline for who they become. If they spent most of their time around the Kaminoans, that means they would likely view emotions as a detriment, with some interplay offsetting that from Jango and the mercs.

Fast-forward a couple generations to the discovery and implementation of said clones, during which time the Kaminoans have likely done away with anyone who strayed too far from their ideal soldier, furthering the general understanding that emotions are dangerous and something to be stifled. Then, suddenly, here are these Jedi Generals who fall all over the emotional spectrum! Shaak Ti shows them compassion. Yoda shows them acceptance (and chaos, let’s be real). Anakin shows them fun (also chaos. So much chaos). Obi Wan, the biggest flirt in the damn galaxy, just completely upends whatever textbook definition of romance may have been briefly taught to “prepare” them as cadets.

What I’m really getting at, though, is that clones were brought up without love. They were created by a race that pretty much bred out any tendency toward affection, trained by a man who regarded them as lesser copies of himself, and *decommissioned* if they displayed too much independence (I know there are caveats to this, such as Alpha-17 and the CCs, but they had much less patience for the CTs). And here are these Jedi who love in such a blindingly open and overwhelming way. How do they cope with that? How do they not become insanely loyal to these kind, generous beings that don’t treat them like numbers for the first time in their lives??

And then there’s the other side: the squads that have the misfortune of being paired with Jedi less prone to  that innate goodness, the squads trapped with Krell and Ki-Adi-Mundi. They never get the chance to feel valued as anything other than a tool. They may have heard the word “love” but would never be allowed to experience it, platonic or otherwise…

I don’t have any grand ending thoughts here beyond the absolute tragedy that those men suffered, but I will say, it does tempt me with some utterly angsty and beautiful thoughts for emotionally crippled clone OCs and emotionally traumatized reader OCs accidentally find each other through various whumpee ways… be a shame if someone was inspired by this and tagged me in whatever may or may no come of it...

[gaslighter-of-gods]

This far my theories are either that this statement is based on Nero playing fiddle as Rome burns. Kind of sound what happens when he plays without paying the toll. (could be salt and fire).

Or in all honesty or the more interesting one that it's based on the goddess fortuna.

The murder and suicide happen on the carriage as the wheels turned.

"I don't know whether to call it luck or misfortune that twist of fate that save me"

The seller made a lot of mentions on luck.

"fortune seems to have forsaken you"

"A stroke of luck is much in order"

An unusually shaped sack.

Could that be a cornucopia? Inside there are things you would offer the goddess especially the ivory figures the jwellery and the dice (they are accociated with her in myth).

And then why he desired most.

there's also the last lyrics to O Fortuna from Carmina Burana.

so at this hour

without delay

pluck the vibrating strings;

since Fate

strikes down the strong man,

everyone weep with me!

(very ominus and has a violin part).

Honestly this is what I have this far.. Might figure it out later.

[maytheoddshq]

Coral Starling (she/her). District Four Mentor. 117 Victor. Twenty-six. Davika Hoorne.

What was their childhood like?

Her memories from District four were something she looked back to fondly. Growing up swimming around and playing on the beach all day while her father went off fishing, or having competitions with her brother on who could hold their breath for longer. Her childhood was filled with positive memories, but it hadn't been perfect. There had been long weeks of her father being out at sea, needing to meet the quota of fish the capitol set. Whenever he'd been gone too long she had trouble sleeping, spending the whole day looking out at the water waiting for him to return. Her brother was a couple of years older than her and enrolled in the Career academy, always showing her what he'd learnt in the hopes of preparing her in case she got reaped in her first year. Being from District four, they knew it was rare, getting reaped at twelve and no one volunteering, but their parents always said it was better to be safe than sorry. So even though she grumbled and moaned they practiced swimming, throwing knives and holding their breaths. They quizzed each other on edible plants and other necessities for survival.

How did they feel about the games before being reaped?

As a child, she didn't take preparing for the games very serious, but when her best friend got reaped when they were 14 and she watched her die on the first day of the games, that had stopped. She vowed to do everything she could to be as prepared as possible if she'd have the misfortune of being chosen. Coral didn't plan on volunteering and had been unable to sleep for the whole night every year before the mornings of the Reapings, due to the fear of having her name being the one that was called.

What was their trajectory in the arena & how did they win their game?

The Arena she had been in was a small island surrounded by deep water with the cornucopia set in the middle of the island. While everyone ran towards the cornucopia and a third of the people died in the bloodbath, she ran into the other direction towards the water. Her endurance and training had paid off quickly, with most of the tributes being unable to swim and meeting their demise soon after. Coral knew all she had to do was hold out long enough and swim far enough for the other tributes to be unable to catch up with her. Her tactic had worked pretty well for a long time until the game makers forced her on land when it came to the final four tributes. As she'd made her way towards the shore she was met with a dying tribute, taking his weapon without a second thought and letting him drown in front of her. The other tributes had forgotten she was still alive until that point and had been so focused on killing each other, all of them battered and bruised that two of them ended up killing each other. The battle between her and the other tribute had been gruelling and only due to her steering them towards the water and finishing the fight there she had managed to get the upper hand and come out victorious.

How were they affected by their experiences in the game?

Her experiences in the games still haunt her and while the open water used to be her safe space, she has trouble looking at it or stepping a foot into the ocean. Coral tries to avoid going home as the shores in front of her house are too reminiscent of the arena for her. She pretends to like living in the capitol more than she did living in district four, only because it's too painful for her to return home. She hates that her safe space was taken from her and she wants to be able to return home without being plagued by panic attacks and nightmares, but so far all the hours of therapy she has been in after her win have yielded no results.

What are they like as a mentor?

Coral does her best to prepare her tributes for the arena as well as possible given the short time frame she had mentoring them. She wants to do her best in giving them a shot to return home, biting her lip as she pretends to be interested in what sponsors have to say in order to receive gifts for her tributes. It makes her feel cheap, selling herself out like this, but if it gives her tributes more of a fighting chance she's willing to swallow down her pride and flutter her eyelashes for these capitol citizens.

What is their personality?

Her personality has definitely changed since she won the games, she used to be a lot more fun-loving and easygoing, but after everything she's seen and been through, she's lost some of that spark. She puts up this mask as if nothing has changed, only permitting a few people to look behind the curtain.

Three strengths and three weaknesses.

+++: resourceful, adaptable, charming

---: withdrawn, manipulative, restrained 

PENNED BY: Lynn

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 2: The Sea

Chapter 9

It is cloudy when I wake up. The day is gray, and I wonder how late I have slept. Stitch is already awake, as is Elsie, who I suspect also got to sleep all night, given how long Zalea must have kept watch. I get up and move to their side of the fire so we can talk without disturbing the others.

Stitch quietly catches me up. “I was already awake when Mako went to get Elsie up, so I told him I would take over. She woke up not long after that anyway.”

“Was already gettin’ light,” Elsie says.

“How long ago was that?”

Stitch shrugs, but Elsie says, “Couple hours, probably.”

“The weather isn’t going to mess things up, is it?” I say. I don’t know anything about buffalo or causing stampedes, so I feel this is a valid concern.

Elsie shakes her head. “If the weather was bad I’d be worried, but it’s just cloudy. Shouldn’t be anything to worry about.”

The others wake before long.

“Let me guess,” Zalea says, “Buffalo for breakfast?”

In response, a parachute floats down and lands in my lap. I open the basket and can’t help but smile at the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls. I pull one out and take a bite. They’re even warm. I owe Finnick and my sponsors big time if I get out of here alive. “Looks like it’s your turn to be Finnick’s favorite,” I grin at Mako, holding up the cinnamon roll with one hand and passing the basket to Stitch.

“About time,” Mako snorts.

“How do y’all do that?” Elsie says, taking her roll from the basket. “All we’ve gotten is some tablets for water ’cause our backpacks didn’t have any.”

Zalea snorts. “You’ve seen these two, right? Know their scores, watched their interviews, all that stuff? If I lived in the Capitol I’d sponsor them too. And I wouldn’t be complaining about just getting tablets if I were you-” Zalea takes a roll, “-without water you’re dead already.”

“Besides,” I say, “It’s not like we’re getting spoiled. He literally told us he would send us a little something every day to remember him by. He’s just taking care of the crew.”

“Something to remember him by?” Zalea is back to being her snippy self. “Sounds like Finnick Odair to me. Whose head didn’t you turn?”

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that? Last I checked, he’s my mentor and it’s his job to send us stuff.”

“Just that you’ve got Gloss all over you, and Finnick sending you desserts, and sponsors lined up because they’re in love with you, and your boyfriend has to sit here through it all because he had the misfortune of getting reaped with you-”

“Okay,” Merritt cuts her off. “Let’s just appreciate the breakfast ’n’ get on with our day.”

“Please,” Mako says.

“You’re right. The sooner we go, the sooner we get done, the sooner we can split up again,” Zalea snaps.

We finish breakfast in silence. Merritt divides up the rest of the jerky while Elsie buries what’s left of the fire.

Merritt walks us through the details as we dress in our buffalo hides.

“Everyone knows the bird whistle, right? Good. I’ll lead, ’n’ Elsie’ll take tail. We go single file, ’n’ when I whistle like this-” he gives a four-note call, “-the last person stops where they are. Stay low ’n’ wait for the signal. Elsie ’n’ Annie’ll be on the close flank, then Stitch ’n’ Mako in the back, ’n’ me ’n’ Zalea’ll take the far flank. Once we’re all in position, I’ll whistle like this-” he gives two sharp whistles, “-then we go. Lose the ponchos, shout, run at the herd, spook ’em into a stampede, ’n’ keep ’em runnin’ at the cornucopia. They’ll do all the hard work for us.”

Mako hides our one revealed backpack up a tree. None of the others know about the cave, or that this is where we’d made our camp and planned on staying for the foreseeable future, so I simply say, “We’ll come back this way after it’s done.”

No one argues. Stitch says something about forest, which doesn’t eliminate much of the arena, but I think that’s the point, and Zalea says she found a water hole on the other side of the arena.

“We’ve been wanderin’ since the beginning, ’n’ I think we’ll keep doin’ just that.” Merritt glances at Elsie. She nods.

We double-check the area to make sure we haven’t left anything valuable behind, but everyone has picked up their possessions and stowed them in their backpacks, which make the other four look even bulkier than the ponchos alone. Weapons in hand, we follow Merritt through the little tree patch and onto the plain.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We walk in silence, not wanting to alert anything or anyone to our presence. I’m glad it’s cloudy, because I couldn’t imagine doing this walk in the hot sun wearing a furry poncho. The poncho’s making things uncomfortably warm enough.

I am just starting to wish I had brought one of our water bottles along when we crest a low hill and I see them. The hulking shapes of buffalo, spread in front of us, grazing peacefully. A few of them look up, but they must not perceive us as a threat; they go right back to grazing. Merritt leads us alongside the herd for a while before whistling. The next signal will be for me.

We walk another hundred yards and Merritt whistles again. I stop. Kneeling in the grass, I slowly turn so I am facing the glint of the cornucopia in the distance. I hear Merritt whistle again, this time leaving Stitch. I set my spear down. I can’t take the poncho off while holding it. Merritt whistles and Mako is in place. I lift up the bottom of the poncho as high as I dare without revealing myself. A breeze flutters through the gap, providing some relief from the heat. Another whistle. Zalea is ready. At the next signal, we run. I take a deep breath, let myself sink into the same mindset as I had at the cornucopia when the Games started.

Two sharp whistles cut through the quietly rustling grass. I let out a roar and throw off my poncho, grabbing my spear as I surge to my feet. In front of me, Elsie is whooping and shouting. The buffalo panic. For a horrible second, they run away from Elsie and me, but Merritt and Zalea turn them back and then we are all running.

I feel a surge of adrenaline as we race through the grass. The buffalo are not fast, but they are faster than us, and they are terrified. I can see it in their tossing heads and rolling eyes. We run with them, and there is something joyful about it. For a moment I feel truly free, the way I feel when we take the sailboat out and I climb up the mast and I can see forever. I am laughing and whooping and oddly I want this run to go on forever, to run until my legs just can’t anymore, to-

Something heavy slams into me, knocking me to the side, Dazed, I struggle to regain my balance. The buffalo are drifting to the side, toward Elsie and I, and one of them drifted right into me.

Elsie has noticed this as well. She is running faster now. I sprint after her, watching to see what she does. Then, she veers into the herd. The buffalo next to her throws its huge head and swerves away from her, pushing several others. Just as sharply, Elsie veers safely away from the stampede. After a few seconds, she does it again. I decide to copy her, and slowly, we turn them, just in time for the herd to slam into the cornucopia.

Just like the last time I was here, there is utter chaos. The buffalo tear through piles of supplies. I hear screaming somewhere. The dull clanging of massive, unstoppable creatures slamming into the metal sides of the cornucopia seems to come from everywhere at once. I hear the cannon sound once, then a second time. Someone is shouting. An arrow whistles by my cheek.

“Run! Run!” Zalea is shouting.

Someone grabs my arm. I whip around to see Mako pulling me away.

There is another scream.

“Elsie!” Merritt shouts.

I turn back toward the chaos. Most of the buffalo have scattered. Among the wreckage there is not a scrap of salvageable food. There are two bodies on the ground. Elsie joins them, the blade of Jilly’s scythe slicing her throat.

I barely hear the cannon. What I do hear is a wordless raging scream from Merritt. He throws himself at Jilly and we are all transfixed. Jilly is deadly, but Merritt is enraged. He has no fear. The pair exchange a flurry of blows before Merritt gets too close for the long scythe to be effective. He stabs Jilly, up under the ribs, just like Alvan and Cally. She drops. The cannon booms.

And then Merritt sinks to his knees, an arrow in his chest. The four of us who are left scatter. I sprint through the grass, going back the way we came, my only thought is that I can’t lead whoever is left of the Careers back to our camp.

The cannon sounds again. Mako is sprinting beside me. We do not slow down until we have gone up a low hill and down the other side. We are perhaps halfway back to where we started the stampede. Mako collapses into the grass. I drop to my knees beside him, sides heaving. I can only hope no one is chasing us, because there is no fight we could win.

It takes a long time to catch my breath. When I am finally breathing at a semi-normal pace, I creep back up the hill to see if anything is still happening. It is so quiet in the arena, I can almost make out the words that the four surviving members of the Career pack are shouting at each other. Almost, but not quite. I’m too far away to be able to tell who is still alive. I know Tychus is, but beyond him I have no way of knowing. I didn’t pay enough attention to the two bodies that were stampeded to death, I guess. Silly me.

I crawl back down the hill to Mako.

“Any idea?” he says quietly.

I shake my head. “Tychus. At least one girl, probably two, from the shouting, but I couldn’t tell which ones. And I could only see four of them, but who knows.”

He gets to his feet, slowly. “We should get back to the cave. They’ll be out for blood.”

“They got it,” I say hoarsely, “Elsie and Merritt…”

“They knew the risks. It was their plan. But we need to get somewhere safe, in case the pack tries to hunt down the rest of us. They saw us, Annie, they know who was in on it. We need to-”

The cannon stops him short.

We sit in silence for a long time.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

“Let’s go get the ponchos,” I say finally.

Mako nods, and as the sun creeps low toward the horizon, we walk through the trampled grass until we find the first discarded poncho. I trail my fingers through the rough hair, saying a silent goodbye to Elsie. We find my poncho a hundred yards beyond. I put it on. The sun is nearly down and already it is getting cold. We hurry to find Mako’s, then, cold and exhausted, we curl up under them and listen to the anthem play. Then they show the pictures. Andromeda from Two, the boys from Seven and Nine, Jilly, Merritt, and Elsie.

“That was worse than the bloodbath,” Mako says quietly.

I nod. “Do you think they’ll find us if we just sleep here for tonight?”

Mako looks around. There are already a handful of buffalo drifting in. “No. And if they do, we’ll have an early warning system.”

I take the first watch, staying up as long as I can. It doesn’t feel long enough, but I can barely keep my eyes open, so I wake Mako.

I dream that I am being chased by buffalo, but their faces are human. Farroe, Tychus, Andromeda, Jilly, Megary Fallon…

****

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@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider

[hera-the-shoggoth]

Tranquil Cornucopia Plan

I've been suggesting for years that the best plan for our future is to move carbon-burning industry to the moon. This would create greenhouse gasses that would accumulate into an atmosphere while allowing the export of manufactured goods back to the homeworld with minimal environmental impact. The space freed up on Earth could then be dedicated solely to residence and recreation.

Once the lunar atmosphere is established, the water locked in ice at the poles and deep underground will melt and pool onto the surface. At the same time, comet fragments and asteroids in the Jovian and Saturnine regions could be towed into lunar orbit and gradually broken up with explosives into fragments that would evaporate on atmospheric entry and rain down onto the surface without impact.

The newborn lowlands and estuaries could then be put under cultivation, most probably of rice, cereals, potatoes, and pharmaceuticals, which would generate oxygen in the atmosphere as well as transform the moon into a self-sufficient agricultural, mining, and manufacturing colony servicing the homeworld.

A magnetic field could be generated in orbit by a network of nuclear-powered electromagnets while heavy cloud-cover and the canopies of massive trees liberated from the constraints of terran gravity would do the rest.

It would, of course, greatly help if the whole world were united by a Socialist human superstate capable of pooling the resources of all nations into a common plan, but even in capitalism there are clear incentives for the captains of industry to begin this process and I hope I see it started in my lifetime. The best way forward for this cooperation would be the End of Death through the medical application of nanorobotic swarms.

These would first be used on the rich in capitalism, but would spread uncontrollably through automation of manufacture beyond the scope of price systems and through the efforts of international medical organizations to provide the entire world population with eternal life and equalize access to a superb and constant healthcare.

This would in turn make it easier for the proletariat of all countries to resist police forces and overthrow the bourgeoisie, while a technological explosion would follow with the continued work of immortal academics.

Life would become less driven by hectic timetables and personal ambition and aggression would be reduced across the board if humans had an indefinite lifespan with which to wait out misfortunes. We could all be there together ❤️

I hope to meet you in the sky someday.

[othernaut]

Halfling unicorns are fat goats, furred in winter moss and may flowers, autumn berries and summer ivy. They are living celebration, a wandering holiday; from their cornucopia horns flow fireworks and forest mead, fresh lute strings and silver rings. They are true immortals, but only when cooked and eaten; a halfling unicorn will return every time a toast is raised over its roasted body. They eat only rainwater and dirty jokes.

Goblin unicorns are great one-eyed boars, mottled in the colors of blood, mushroom caps and forest loam. They are the beasts of prophecy and necessity; they carry truths both welcome and unwholesome; they reveal lost things, both scatter and unearth treasures, and are death to touch for anyone who is not a prophet.

Orc unicorns are many-fanged wargs, old as the mountains, bristling pelts the color of storm and steel and scree. They are the hearth-diggers, the makers of community; they heave their ancient bulk into fractious orc-holds to be cared for, as their ever-growing fangs pierce their skull; the next time they hunt, it shall be the last. To tend an orcish unicorn means to tend to the hold as a whole; no battle can be lost, no hunt unsuccessful, if the unicorn at last chooses to end its life in service.

Drow unicorns are furred centipedes with shells the color of mirrors and magic and misfortune. They are figments of the deep caves, a sign that one is approaching a conceptual barrier - the end of all known things and the entrance into uncertainty, into madness. They are the fragmenters of thought; they sing only unknown songs, speak only unheard languages. They make labyrinths, dreams, and delusions, and to encounter one in the far darkness means that a drow will only return to their community insane or enlightened.

Funnily, the dryads have no word for unicorn. The dryad language refers to them the same as dryads, but they gender the noun in a unique way and refuse to elaborate why, claiming it's obvious.

Actually, different fantasy races get their own unicorns.

When unicorns appear to humans, they take the form of horned stallions the colour of whitewater and seafoam. They are the runners, the hunted, easily swayed by maidens to their doom.

When unicorns appear to elves, they take the form of silvery deer with long, twisting beards the colour of snow and moonlight. They are the lion-hunters, the fierce, the beating heart of the wild made manifest.

When unicorns appear to dwarves, they take the form of shaggy mules the colour of hope and daylight. They are the poison-curers, the blessed, banishing firedamp with a touch of their horn and a boon to miners deep under the earth.

Gnome unicorns are the little, pink plastic things that smile all the time. They should not be trusted.

[anonymous-kero]

𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞𝕤

The fandoms I'm in!

—★

🐾:: not played/watched/read yet

🦢:: completed

Almost My Floor (prologue 🦢)

Baldi's Basics

Blush Blush

Ballads At Midnight 🦢

Bingus My Beloved

Crush Crush

Calico 🦢

Cattails

Cattails Wildwood Story

Circadian City

Cooking Companions

Cornucopia

Deltarune 🦢

DDLC 🦢

Doodle Date 🦢

Emily is Away (1, too, <3) 🦢

Fictif (Roadkill, For The Love Of Gods 🦢, Monster Manor 🦢)

Fire Emblem (Three houses, Engage)

Five Nights at Freddy's (1, Pizzeria Simulator, Security Breach)

Furquest

Geneforge Mutagen

Harvest Town

Hello Charlotte

Kirby (The Forgotten Land)

Little Misfortune

Monster Prom Series (Prom, Camp, Road Trip)

MetaWare Highschool (demo) 🦢

Major/Minor

Obey Me (One Master To Rule Them All, Nightbringer)

Omori

Pokémon (Sword, Violet, Brilliant Diamond remastered, Shining Pearl remastered)

Rune Factory (4 special, a tiny bit of 5)

Road 96

Stardew Valley

Super Mario (Origami King, Bros U. Deluxe)

Superliminal

The Arcana

The Big Con 🦢

The Henry Stickmin Collection 🦢

There Is No Game (jam, paid) 🦢

Trapped With Jester 🦢

The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe

Undertale 🦢

Winds Of Change

World's Dawn

Zelda

A Series Of Unfortunate Events 🦢

Craig Of The Creek

Kids Next Door 🦢

Phineas & Ferb 🦢

Powerpuff Girls (original) 🦢

The Amazing World Of Gumball 🦢

Coraline 🦢

Willy Wonka (original, 2005) 🦢

Wings Of Fire

Sisters

Conan Gray

Jazmin Bean

Markiplier

Melanie Martinez

Cryptids/Mythology/Folklore/etc.

Sanrio

Slashers 🐾

[mecthology]

Robert the doll.

The doll originally belonged to Robert Eugene Otto, an artist described as “eccentric,” who belonged to a prominent Key West family. The doll was reportedly manufactured by the Steiff Company of Germany, purchased by Otto’s grandfather while on a trip to Germany in 1904, and given to young Otto as a birthday gift. The doll’s sailor suit was likely an outfit that Otto wore as a child.

According to legend, the doll has supernatural abilities that allow it to move, change its facial expressions, and make giggling sounds. Some versions of the legend claim that a young girl of “Bahamian descent” gave Otto the doll as a gift or as “retaliation for a wrongdoing”. Other stories claim that the doll moved voodoo figurines around the room, and was “aware of what went on around him”. Others claim that the doll “vanished” after Otto’s house changed ownership a number of times after his death, or that young Otto triggered the doll’s supernatural powers by blaming his childhood mishaps on the doll. According to local folklore, the doll has caused “car accidents, broken bones, job loss, divorce and a cornucopia of other misfortunes”, and museum visitors supposedly experience “post-visit misfortunes” for “failing to respect Robert”.

The first hint that something out of the ordinary was happening was one night when Otto, who was only ten years old, awoke to find Robert the Doll sitting at the end of his bed staring at him. Moments later his mother was awakened by his screams for help and the sounds of furniture being overturned in her son’s bedroom. Otto cried for help, begging his mother to rescue him. When she finally was able to wrench the locked door open, she saw poor Otto curled up in fear on his bed, his room in shambles and Robert The Doll sitting at the foot of the bed.

Otto’s parents would often hear their son upstairs talking to the doll and getting a response back in a totally different voice. They reported seeing the doll speak and witnessing his expression change. Giggling and sightings of Robert running up the steps or staring out the upstairs window were also reported.

Follow @mecthology for more scary facts and myths. DM for pic credit. https://www.instagram.com/p/CWLRexZpiBc/?utm_medium=tumblr

[thegenxorcist]

Robert the Doll

HERE IS SOMETHING THAT MOST people would agree is true about Robert the Doll: He’s terrifying.

Ostensibly a little boy in a sailor suit, his careworn face is only vaguely human. His nub of a nose looks like a pair of pinholes. He is covered in brown nicks, like scars. His eyes are beady and black. He wears a malevolent smirk. Clasped in his lap he’s holding his own toy, a dog with garish, popping eyes and a too-big tongue lolling crazily out of its mouth.

Here are some other things that people also agree is true about Robert: That he’s haunted and that he has caused car accidents, broken bones, job loss, divorce and a cornucopia of other misfortunes.

The Story Behind the World’s Most Terrifying Haunted Doll

[crime-bot]

! Creature Gets Lost in a Bootleg OmegaMart, More at Eleven !

A small, grey weasel of a dragon was in the dim and cool alley of a street. They were rummaging through a garbage can, making a little mess of clatters and clangs, but coming up with nothing edible. They paused to droop and lament over their misfortune. In the middle of the pause, and through the midst of discarded cans and empty bags, they caught a glimpse of yellow, clear as day. It must’ve been a banana! Or cheese! They gasped with some new vigor ignited and reached their scaly arm in to get it, but when they got hold of the thing and pulled it out it was just a plastic lemon. They grumbled and angrily threw it at the ground. It bounced away and stopped, resting near the alley’s wall opposite of them.

Their stomach growled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” Greyscale said, “I’m trying to find something! Can’t you have any pa-”

They looked up as they hollered and noticed some smoke in the sky, above the surrounding brick buildings.

“Oh, what now, a fire-?”

They had to admit, they’d be intrigued by the idea of a fire somewhere, and at least that’d take their mind off their stomach. What else could smoke mean, after all? They knew the saying: where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

They lept to a pipe that scaled the side of the alleyway and climbed it to the rooftop only to discover the smoke was coming from a particularly not-up-to-code shipping truck, but what wasn’t what caught their eye.

Behind it was a large building with the words “DELTAMART” displayed proudly over a set of clear doors, standing tall and sure in the light of day. A grocery store! That’s just what they needed!

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll have to wait for much longer,” Greyscale said.

They lept and bounded down from roof to windowsill to dumpster. Right as they hit the ground, they made a dash through the parking lot desert, behind the truck, and right right up to the doors, then abruptly stopped and clung to the wall in an attempt to stay out of the eyes of anyone from inside.

They did a double-take, looking for anyone nearby. No one was around. They poked their head around to peak through one of the glass doors of the building that towered over them, a looming mass of bricks and corporate design.

There were some people walking around inside, carrying overflowing cornucopia baskets and pushing carts full of different treats, tools, and other products, but that wasn’t what got them the most. The aisles they could see were filled to the brim with food, and a couple of visible setups of fruits and vegetables looked so delicious and tantalizing in their array of colors that they sparkled to the dragon like precious gemstones.

Greyscale drooled a little with wide eyes.

They anxiously waited until there were barely any people near the doors, and anyone that was there appeared too thoroughly occupied to notice anything sneaking in.

They whispered, “the coast is clear!”

The creature sprang from their hiding spot and scrambled ins-- wait, no, nevermind, they just bonked headfirst into the glass door.

A first-time customer in a nearby checkout aisle got startled out of her waiting stupor and looked over to the sliding doors. Nothing was there.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“I hear everything,” said cashier #23,457, mid-scan of a bag of milk with one of his hands.

Understandably, that monotone answer concerned the customer, but she tried to brush it off. She just needed some milk for a recipe quick, and this was the closest store to her house.

“So-- Um,” she pressed on, “what about that thud from outside?”

“Ohh, haha, yeah I did,” he admitted, “Someone probably just walked into one of those doors again.” He handed the customer a grocery bag with her bagged milk inside and said, “Anyways, have a good day!”

Warily, she took the bag.

“You’re... not going to check on th-”

“H-H-Have a good day!” He said.

Now truly weirded out, she quickly said, “alllright thenIwill!” and walked out as fast-yet-also-not-running as she could.

It’s safe to say she’ll make the effort to not come back.

Seeing their chance, Greyscale scurried in under an exiting woman’s line of sight before the glass doors closed behind her.

At last, they made it into the glory of fluorescent lighting and vibrant food! In the midst of their wave of triumph, they continued to make the effort to stay hidden, taking cover behind some shopping carts.

The store was very nicely kept, they had to note. The white and navy blue checkered floors were spotless, and all the aisles and displays of different sorts were a combination of white, and/or blue, with some yellow, too. From where they were hidden, the whole place smelled cold and vaguely sterile, but they didn’t complain about it. They knew that was just how supermarkets were.

They took a great big breath in preparation and ran from the cover of the shopping carts, still with the effort of being undetected. As they perused in their own only slightly feral way, they dove behind grocery aisles, clambered up shelves, and hid in crates to stay out of workers’ and customers’ perceptions.

During this act of stealth and agility, they noticed an aisle with no people in it full of candy from atop a set of shelves.

“Aw, how sweet of fate!” they mused.

The creature made a B-line for it, jumping across gaps between short distance of aisles, and snagged a small bag of candy that had fallen to the checkered floor. They tore into it and began to eat a mouthful of the tart, brittle sweets inside.

Among the midst of the corporately pleasant music playing throughout the store, its jingle chimed in.

It sang, “De-De-deee de DelllltaMart, you have NO ideea what’s in STORE for YOU-u-u!”

They noticed the jingle and stopped their snacking to chuckle.

“You’re right about that,” they said, “I wonder what other good stuff this place has!”

They focused back on their bag of Candy Spiders (Now With 70% More Spiders!), just in time to notice one of the confections moving amongst its kin with its bone-pick legs.

A shocking moment of registration passed. They yelped at the realization and threw the bag away from themself as far as they could.

They sputtered, “Did-- did that--? No-”

They paused and slunk back up to the bag, warily.

The bag was motionless.

Slowly, cautiously, they batted it with their paw. They reeled it back away from the bag, as if it might jump up and bite them. Still, nothing inside moved.

They blinked a couple times and began to doubt what they thought they saw.

“Huh, h-ha, maybe this candy’s expired..” they said.

Greyscale left the bag behind to wander about some more(and put some distance between them and the Candy Spiders, but they didn’t want to fully admit that), and checked the rest of the products out.

They trotted through the deli area, passing by a stiff employee who was still in the process of regaining energy from his charging deck, fixated on the selection of meats. They even tested grabbing a slice of ham, and he didn’t notice one bit!

Once they were done with that, they visited another place that no one was in at the time. It didn’t have anything meant to be edible, but it sure was beautiful. Countless flowers were displayed in rainbows of colors, and the air was chilly to keep them all preserved for longer. Greyscale stayed there, smelling the roses both figuratively and semi-literally, until they had enough of that. They walked out of the section and past a sign that read, ‘HYBRID FLOWERS’. One of the tulips opened its eye.

After that snack and slice of ham they had, Greyscale was undoubtedly more content with their level of hunger, but they wanted to try to make the most of this place. After all, when they’re amongst a bounty of food, it’s good to get as much as they can before they go. They put their two front paws up on the ledge of a refrigerated bin full of organized fruit and poked their snout in, looking to choose which might be tastiest. Should they have a pear, or maybe an apple? Oh, but the peaches looked good, too!

Out from under the side of a display pyramid of apples behind them, a glitching, writhing tentacle rose to inspect its produce.

Ah, yes, every apple was shiny and in order... It had the pigeon grease to thank for that. It was about to retreat back under the apples, but something caught its attention. What it noticed was grey, and.. It wasn’t shaped like a customer either. It was rummaging around in a nearby refrigerator bin full of fruit strictly for customers.

Greyscale felt a couple of taps on their back and jumped, then turned to face-

“aAh-!!”

Nope! Nope, nope nope! They scrambled into and out of the freezing bin of fruit and away from the shifting, glitching-- thing in front of them. It lunged, and they turned and ran only to skid to a halt before smacking into a glass display case of ears.

Oh nonono, they shook the shock from that off and sprinted left into an aisle, only to see one of the store workers pulling can after can out of his mouth to put on the shelves.

They quickly turned again to climb up a shelf from the opposite side of the aisle as fast as they could. They really, really, really shouldn’t be here-

They tried to escape, find a way out, but the more and more they ran and jumped and turned, shifting from running on the ground to balancing on top of aisles, the more the grocery store grew and stretched into a labyrinth.

“NononononoIcan’tbetrappedthere’sgottabeaneXIT-”

They stopped briefly, shuffling and turning in place and trying to catch their breath, looking for anything that could possibly function as a sign to point them out. They launched themself from where they stood again only to smack into a pair of legs they hadn’t noticed.

The owner of those legs, a tall, nicely dressed woman, looked down at whatever had bumped into her.

Greyscale screamed and ran as soon as they realized they got noticed yet again.

“Huh…” she said, “one of the fish they’re selling must’ve got out again.”

She shrugged and continued to read the label of some canned wood she grabbed from a shelf of assorted canned inedibles.

Still thoroughly spooked, Greyscale bolted through the open door of a storage room to hide, but it only led to an expansive area of ventilation pipe trees and tubes protruding out of the ground and sky and distant walls in a variety of angles, all painted in a mess of glowing neon patterns.

The little dragon darted about the dark and dizzying manufactured forest, too worried about getting caught by any foe to realize the nature of the location surrounding them until they finally looked back. They began to slow down to a trot when they didn’t see anyone.

“There’s…” they huffed, “no one.. there…?”

Upon that realization, they slowed down even more, but that wasn’t enough to keep them from losing their footing on a pipe nestled into the glittering ground.

“HuhuUuAH-!”

Before they had a chance to save themself, they were swallowed into further oblivion and shot down the pipework with a series of clunks and shouts, thumping, denting into each abrupt turn going deeper, deeper, faster, faster until they were finally spat out to the end.

Greyscale was flung from the mouth, still held at the whim of momentum, and tumbled to a stop, toppled over themself. The result of that disorienting ride was a dizzy, discombobulated dragon, complete with stars going around their head as it bobbed about, trying to get their bearings despite their eyes having trouble focusing on anything for the time being.

They knew it was bright, or-- maybe it was dark? They couldn’t tell, they could still only see stars and an ever-shifting background. Their ears picked up on a further dizzying soundscape of moving, shifting, falling, corporate music, but the more they strained to focus on and determine a sound the more and more difficult it felt to tell any sound apart from another. It was a surrounding, pattering swarm of noise, and as their vision cleared and they tried to stumble up, they only fell back down onto the soft, squishy.. mahogany(?) surface they had been spat onto by the pipe.

Wearily, they picked their head back up and finally witnessed the shifting, unending world surrounding them. Cans floated through the air, worlds of their own, great candy spiders spun threads and webs of sugar on even more pipes that ripped out of the ground, checker patterns slid across surfaces, and everything seemed to pulse with an underlying life.

They were then aware, horrified, of the unavoidable fact that they were now utterly, hopelessly lost.

Amidst the cacophony of sights and patterning and a ground they couldn’t get a hold of, Greyscale thought they heard a familiar yet muffled jingle, far away in the distance yet echoed everywhere throughout these caverns.

“De-De-deee de DelllltaMart, you have NO ideea what’s in STORE for YOU-u-u!”

Their heart sank.

“Oh no-”

[salmonid-ink]

C7 and C9 for the worldbuilding ask meme, please!

Worldbuilding starts with you! (Ask prompt, OPEN) 

C7: Do gods exist? Tell us about a god or goddess that resides in the world.

Salmonid gods and deities are something I’ve been wanting to make a full post on for a while, now! Not every Salmonid is fully superstitious, nor do they all believe in the same gods, or that gods exist at all, however there are multiple deities that the Salmonids have within their mythos and lore.

We don’t know much of anything of religions in Splatoon, however given the core lore the games provide, these deities likely do not exist. 

I DO have sketches of all three of these, as I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while, however I don’t have a good way to include those here. It’s long enough as is! But maybe someday I’ll finish them up and give them a proper post (But if you wanna see the sketches, all ya gotta do is ask!). In the meantime, have this: 

Mother Maridae: A large Maws-like deity who is considered the mother of all life. Her constantly shedding scales birth new Salmonids, with each scale representing a new person. She has a promenade of Smallfry who swim about her like a luminous halo.  Before Smallfry hatch, Maridae gives them the care and love they need. She is benevolent and kind, and treats everyone under her care with love and respect, making her quite the idealized mother. When Salmonids perish, they return to her care. There you can either offer your scales to her and move on to the afterlife, or you can become one of her scales to be reborn into a new life. She was the inspiration behind the Maws class. While Maws can be biologically male, most that choose to be a Maws are female, wanting to follow after Mother Maridae’s path. As a deity, she represents fertility. It’s common for parents planning to fertilize eggs to pray to her, or make offerings for a bountiful and healthy nest. 

Twins Keiko and Koichi: This deity is based directly after twin Salmonids that once existed, centuries ago. Considered the first Goldie to ever be hatched, the twins were born conjoined from the neck down, with their tail splitting into two. Upon the birth of the sisters, Salmonids thought that they were sent directly from the heavens, and were to act like deities upon the earth.  Unfortunately, due to their condition they lived a very short life, barely making it to their teens before they passed away. Myths say that the twins shed their mortal form and returned to the heavens, having fulfilled their duty.  Common myths claim that when the sisters are in good company, fortune will shower upon the Salmonids, and they will prosper and be wealthy. Their agreements result in the birth of Goldies, who are, in their own right, considered deities upon the earth.  When the sisters are arguing however, the Salmonids believe that misfortune will fall upon them. During this time, no Goldies will hatch, and they believe that the sisters finally stop arguing once a Goldie is hatched. In my more personal headcanons, the Salmonids have not seen a Goldie hatch for some time, and they consider the war between themselves and the Inklings a result of the twins arguing, and their current misfortune.  As deities, the twins represent fortune and prosperity. While some Salmonids will ask them for good fortune, it’s considered bad luck to ask them for a Goldie child. 

Gardener Anno: A Salmonid deity who wears a cornucopia of foods, and rides on the tail of a giant eel named Dalfon. Anno is the god of the harvest, and his eel companion is the god of rain. This deity in particular is based off of a constellation, and farmers would refer to the position of his stars to decide the perfect time to plant their crops.  Common belief is that Anno tends to the soil and breathes life into the crops. Then Dalfon comes, bearing storm clouds on its belly, to bring forth the much-needed rain. Some depictions show the rain coming straight out of Dalfon’s sides. When the pair leaves, the harvest is over, and he sleeps until winter comes. Every harvest, the Salmonids offer a portion of their crops to Anno and his eel, as thanks for his assistance, and the food. They believe that if the food is dissatisfactory, such as if one were to offer the worst of their harvest, Anno would be enraged and strike a famine upon their soil for the next year. Various Salmonids have their theories as to what his favorite food is, however this usually reflects their most supple or preferred crop. The most popular is corn. The Steel Eel class is heavily inspired by Anno and Dalfon. The original purpose of the Steel Eel was to be used to water crops quickly and effectively during a drought, however they were easily repurposed for war.  As a deity, he represents prosperity, however he and his eel are both considered fickle gods, and some may consider him a representation of famine during a bad year.

That’s all I have in regards to deities at the moment. I may come up with more should the inspiration strike me, but I’m quite happy with the lineup I have now. 

-----

C9: Is medicine further advanced than our own or is it less so? If magic exists, does it play a part with healing the sick or injured?

I don’t think magic really “exists” in Splatoon! You’re probably not really looking for that but I may as well say it!

As for Salmonid medicine, it’s getting better. I’d say they’re a few decades behind Inklings (i.e. Inklings are in 2020, while Salmonids are in 1960/70), so they don’t have as much access to the medicine and treatments that those in Inkopolis would. They’re quickly catching up, but the overfishing and oppression is really not doing them any favors at present. 

Not much else to say! They’re very intelligent, but can only work with what’s available to them. 

[howdidyoufindthis]

A small, grey weasel of a dragon was in the dim and cool alley of a street. They were rummaging through a garbage can, making a little mess of clatters and clangs, but coming up with nothing edible. They paused to droop and lament over their misfortune. In the middle of the pause, and through the midst of discarded cans and empty bags, they caught a glimpse of yellow, clear as day. It must’ve been a banana! Or cheese! They gasped with some new vigor ignited and reached their scaly arm in to get it, but when they got hold of the thing and pulled it out it was just a plastic lemon. They grumbled and angrily threw it at the ground. It bounced away and stopped, resting near the alley’s wall opposite of them.

Their stomach growled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” Greyscale said, “I’m trying to find something! Can’t you have any pa-”

They looked up as they hollered and noticed some smoke in the sky, above the surrounding brick buildings.

“Oh, what now, a fire-?”

They had to admit, they’d be intrigued by the idea of a fire somewhere, and at least that’d take their mind off their stomach. What else could smoke mean, after all? They knew the saying: where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

They lept to a pipe that scaled the side of the alleyway and climbed it to the rooftop only to discover the smoke was coming from a particularly not-up-to-code shipping truck, but what wasn’t what caught their eye.

Behind it was a large building with the words “DELTAMART” displayed proudly over a set of clear doors, standing tall and sure in the light of day. A grocery store! That’s just what they needed!

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll have to wait for much longer,” Greyscale said.

They lept and bounded down from roof to windowsill to dumpster. Right as they hit the ground, they made a dash through the parking lot desert, behind the truck, and right right up to the doors, then abruptly stopped and clung to the wall in an attempt to stay out of the eyes of anyone from inside.

They did a double-take, looking for anyone nearby. No one was around. They poked their head around to peak through one of the glass doors of the building that towered over them, a looming mass of bricks and corporate design.

There were some people walking around inside, carrying overflowing cornucopia baskets and pushing carts full of different treats, tools, and other products, but that wasn’t what got them the most. The aisles they could see were filled to the brim with food, and a couple of visible setups of fruits and vegetables looked so delicious and tantalizing in their array of colors that they sparkled to the dragon like precious gemstones.

Greyscale drooled a little with wide eyes.

They anxiously waited until there were barely any people near the doors, and anyone that was there appeared too thoroughly occupied to notice anything sneaking in.

They whispered, “the coast is clear!”

The creature sprang from their hiding spot and scrambled ins-- wait, no, nevermind, they just bonked headfirst into the glass door.

A first-time customer in a nearby checkout aisle got startled out of her waiting stupor and looked over to the sliding doors. Nothing was there.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“I hear everything,” said cashier #23,457, mid-scan of a bag of milk with one of his hands.

Understandably, that monotone answer concerned the customer, but she tried to brush it off. She just needed some milk for a recipe quick, and this was the closest store to her house.

“So-- Um,” she pressed on, “what about that thud from outside?”

“Ohh, haha, yeah I did,” he admitted, “Someone probably just walked into one of those doors again.” He handed the customer a grocery bag with her bagged milk inside and said, “Anyways, have a good day!”

Warily, she took the bag.

“You’re... not going to check on th-”

“H-H-Have a good day!” He said.

Now truly weirded out, she quickly said, “alllright thenIwill!” and walked out as fast-yet-also-not-running as she could.

It’s safe to say she’ll make the effort to not come back.

Seeing their chance, Greyscale scurried in under an exiting woman’s line of sight before the glass doors closed behind her.

At last, they made it into the glory of fluorescent lighting and vibrant food! In the midst of their wave of triumph, they continued to make the effort to stay hidden, taking cover behind some shopping carts.

The store was very nicely kept, they had to note. The white and navy blue checkered floors were spotless, and all the aisles and displays of different sorts were a combination of white, and/or blue, with some yellow, too. From where they were hidden, the whole place smelled cold and vaguely sterile, but they didn’t complain about it. They knew that was just how supermarkets were.

They took a great big breath in preparation and ran from the cover of the shopping carts, still with the effort of being undetected. As they perused in their own only slightly feral way, they dove behind grocery aisles, clambered up shelves, and hid in crates to stay out of workers’ and customers’ perceptions.

During this act of stealth and agility, they noticed an aisle with no people in it full of candy from atop a set of shelves.

“Aw, how sweet of fate!” they mused.

The creature made a B-line for it, jumping across gaps between short distance of aisles, and snagged a small bag of candy that had fallen to the checkered floor. They tore into it and began to eat a mouthful of the tart, brittle sweets inside.

Among the midst of the corporately pleasant music playing throughout the store, its jingle chimed in.

It sang, “De-De-deee de DelllltaMart, you have NO ideea what’s in STORE for YOU-u-u!”

They noticed the jingle and stopped their snacking to chuckle.

“You’re right about that,” they said, “I wonder what other good stuff this place has!”

They focused back on their bag of Candy Spiders (Now With 70% More Spiders!), just in time to notice one of the confections moving amongst its kin with its bone-pick legs.

A shocking moment of registration passed. They yelped at the realization and threw the bag away from themself as far as they could.

They sputtered, “Did-- did that--? No-”

They paused and slunk back up to the bag, warily.

The bag was motionless.

Slowly, cautiously, they batted it with their paw. They reeled it back away from the bag, as if it might jump up and bite them. Still, nothing inside moved.

They blinked a couple times and began to doubt what they thought they saw.

“Huh, h-ha, maybe this candy’s expired..” they said.

Greyscale left the bag behind to wander about some more(and put some distance between them and the Candy Spiders, but they didn’t want to fully admit that), and checked the rest of the products out.

They trotted through the deli area, passing by a stiff employee who was still in the process of regaining energy from his charging deck, fixated on the selection of meats. They even tested grabbing a slice of ham, and he didn’t notice one bit!

Once they were done with that, they visited another place that no one was in at the time. It didn’t have anything meant to be edible, but it sure was beautiful. Countless flowers were displayed in rainbows of colors, and the air was chilly to keep them all preserved for longer. Greyscale stayed there, smelling the roses both figuratively and semi-literally, until they had enough of that. They walked out of the section and past a sign that read, ‘HYBRID FLOWERS’. One of the tulips opened its eye.

After that snack and slice of ham they had, Greyscale was undoubtedly more content with their level of hunger, but they wanted to try to make the most of this place. After all, when they’re amongst a bounty of food, it’s good to get as much as they can before they go. They put their two front paws up on the ledge of a refrigerated bin full of organized fruit and poked their snout in, looking to choose which might be tastiest. Should they have a pear, or maybe an apple? Oh, but the peaches looked good, too!

Out from under the side of a display pyramid of apples behind them, a glitching, writhing tentacle rose to inspect its produce.

Ah, yes, every apple was shiny and in order... It had the pigeon grease to thank for that. It was about to retreat back under the apples, but something caught its attention. What it noticed was grey, and.. It wasn’t shaped like a customer either. It was rummaging around in a nearby refrigerator bin full of fruit strictly for customers.

Greyscale felt a couple of taps on their back and jumped, then turned to face-

“aAh-!!”

Nope! Nope, nope nope! They scrambled into and out of the freezing bin of fruit and away from the shifting, glitching-- thing in front of them. It lunged, and they turned and ran only to skid to a halt before smacking into a glass display case of ears.

Oh nonono, they shook the shock from that off and sprinted left into an aisle, only to see one of the store workers pulling can after can out of his mouth to put on the shelves.

They quickly turned again to climb up a shelf from the opposite side of the aisle as fast as they could. They really, really, really shouldn’t be here-

They tried to escape, find a way out, but the more and more they ran and jumped and turned, shifting from running on the ground to balancing on top of aisles, the more the grocery store grew and stretched into a labyrinth.

“NononononoIcan’tbetrappedthere’sgottabeaneXIT-”

They stopped briefly, shuffling and turning in place and trying to catch their breath, looking for anything that could possibly function as a sign to point them out. They launched themself from where they stood again only to smack into a pair of legs they hadn’t noticed.

The owner of those legs, a tall, nicely dressed woman, looked down at whatever had bumped into her.

Greyscale screamed and ran as soon as they realized they got noticed yet again.

“Huh…” she said, “one of the fish they’re selling must’ve got out again.”

She shrugged and continued to read the label of some canned wood she grabbed from a shelf of assorted canned inedibles.

Still thoroughly spooked, Greyscale bolted through the open door of a storage room to hide, but it only led to an expansive area of ventilation pipe trees and tubes protruding out of the ground and sky and distant walls in a variety of angles, all painted in a mess of glowing neon patterns.

The little dragon darted about the dark and dizzying manufactured forest, too worried about getting caught by any foe to realize the nature of the location surrounding them until they finally looked back. They began to slow down to a trot when they didn’t see anyone.

“There’s…” they huffed, “no one.. there…?”

Upon that realization, they slowed down even more, but that wasn’t enough to keep them from losing their footing on a pipe nestled into the glittering ground.

“HuhuUuAH-!”

Before they had a chance to save themself, they were swallowed into further oblivion and shot down the pipework with a series of clunks and shouts, thumping, denting into each abrupt turn going deeper, deeper, faster, faster until they were finally spat out to the end.

Greyscale was flung from the mouth, still held at the whim of momentum, and tumbled to a stop, toppled over themself. The result of that disorienting ride was a dizzy, discombobulated dragon, complete with stars going around their head as it bobbed about, trying to get their bearings despite their eyes having trouble focusing on anything for the time being.

They knew it was bright, or-- maybe it was dark? They couldn’t tell, they could still only see stars and an ever-shifting background. Their ears picked up on a further dizzying soundscape of moving, shifting, falling, corporate music, but the more they strained to focus on and determine a sound the more and more difficult it felt to tell any sound apart from another. It was a surrounding, pattering swarm of noise, and as their vision cleared and they tried to stumble up, they only fell back down onto the soft, squishy.. mahogany(?) surface they had been spat onto by the pipe.

Wearily, they picked their head back up and finally witnessed the shifting, unending world surrounding them. Cans floated through the air, worlds of their own, great candy spiders spun threads and webs of sugar on even more pipes that ripped out of the ground, checker patterns slid across surfaces, and everything seemed to pulse with an underlying life.

They were then aware, horrified, of the unavoidable fact that they were now utterly, hopelessly lost.

Amidst the cacophony of sights and patterning and a ground they couldn’t get a hold of, Greyscale thought they heard a familiar yet muffled jingle, far away in the distance yet echoed everywhere throughout these caverns.

“De-De-deee de DelllltaMart, you have NO ideea what’s in STORE for YOU-u-u!”

Their heart sank.

“Oh no-”

[penhive]

Sayings of Beatnik Rabbi

Life is a theater of the Absurd, so celebrate the irony of life’s existence.

Shame and guilt wear heavily on the soul.

Reproach you are an intruder of the soul.

Nihilism and negations are needed to surgicalize angst.

Even my own relatives have written me off.

I hate to beg for help even when I am feeling helpless.

I would like to gouge out the eye of sadness.

The body is a machine of erotic joy.

The Self has mirrors, one of self-hate, reproach, guilt, shame and false pride.

The existentialists were right in calling life absurd but they also gave a clue to live life with meaningful and creative choices.

The enigma of the soul is the poetry of the heart.

In my journey of life, experience has taught me that life is meaningless, chaotic and absurd.

We have to live life by making creative choices.

Irony is the raw humor of life.

In this life: fortune makes an affirmation and misfortune a negation.

The Myth of the Sisyphus is the true meaning of life.

Teenage is fancy, youth is charming, middle age is irony and old age: wisdom.

May the wheel of fortune turn the tide in my favor.

There are only two choices in life: one: affirmation and the other negation.

Horoscope is a demon of false hood.

Blessed are the ecstatic for they shall obtain ecstasy.

Being in tune with nature is communion for the soul.

Wit matures with age as wisdom.

To write is to drain the blood of the body.

Meaning of the self is a cosmos in chaos.

Mock the absurd with ironic humor.

Nietzsche was right when he said that God is dead.

Moral man, you are a savage self.

Free the significations of the body with passion and delirium.

Fortune favors the meek and not the brave.

Childhood memories are sweet reminiscences.

Anger is a poison residing in the heart.

The gift of love is a cosmetology of the heart.

I can never forget my teenage sweetheart even though she has forgotten me.

I would like to pull the trigger of luck.

Oh, Mammon: God of money be absurd enough to bless me with many windfalls.

Memory can forgive but memory can never forget.

Say Yes in affirmation to the existence of life.

Wealth has to become a cornucopia of abundance in my life.

To write is to express madness.

It is said in the Bible: what profits a man if gains the whole world and he loses his soul? In reply I would like to say I am a soul lost but I have not gained the world.

Abundance is infinite passion and desire.

Woe that strikes the heart: burn it with fire.

To write is to live a life of fulfillment.

The existential self is an amoral one.

There is a passionate shame in committing adultery.

Nietzsche’s death of God has killed all morals.

God is only a theological question mark.

You can sell your soul to the devil but you can’t do it with your ego.

The carnal man is a poetic soul.

Sin is a beautiful temptation.

Don’t overcome desire but succumb to it in passion.

The Philosopher Nietzsche was humane in the pathos of feeling.

The desire to be victorious is a humane one.

[bloodlettingbeast]

Serpent’s Venom.

Just getting done with crushing the junkie’s face in, putting the useless wooden replica to use after a deal went south.  Deciding the haul he had bought wasn’t enough after the fact, a poor attempt at a sneak attack ended in him now having molars and front teeth bounce off a practice weapon like pinballs.  Easily drawn blood, and savage bruises as the busted blood vessels of his head began leaking their contents in this...uh, vicious night gone totally out of control.

Truly like starting from the ground up once again, just like his youth.  With the sounds of violent struggle precipitating the alleyways, thrashing from the downed victim in a dirty puddle.  Vicious now convincingly gained the upper-hand, standing over the man and getting a nice hold of his would-be client’s face-

Squeezing, through that battered mess he made, Vicious was grasping and could almost feel the give of the junkie's bones as they were fracturing in his grip.  Crunching, crunching, crunching..  Until the faintest calls rung out from the end of the alley as a very rightly concerned man approached to see what in God’s name was transpiring here.  

‘...you still have o-...”  A gentleman’s voice, the serpent’s fangs flew.

CRRRKK-  The misfortune of a knife being within grabbing range, likely dropped from the junkie he was attempting to slay.  It found its way into this third party's abdomen now.  Fool-  What good did that do him?  Glaring with the darkest of expressions, the shock and then sudden acceptance of his situation was...quite the spectacle for Vicious.  Perhaps he might have chalked it up to being alone, but that assurance both greatly aggravated and perturbed the normally intensely calm gangster.

 He pushed the shockingly muscular man to the wall before making off into the night, cursing under his breathe intensely with every adrenergic receptor in his body saturating while a cornucopia of brutal thoughts skipped past his mind.