#sand cave tragedy

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

Tragedy at Sand Cave

William Floyd Collins, better known as Floyd Collins, was born June 20, 1887 in Logan County, Kentucky to Lee Collins and Martha Jane Burnett. From an early age, Floyd developed a hobby of exploring caves. This pastime led to the discovery of Crystal Cave in 1917 beneath his father’s farmland. Floyd developed the cave into a tourist attraction that boasted unique helictite and gypsum cave formations.

Floyd knew of another potential cave located on property owned by Beesly Doyel. This cave, known as Sand Cave, had prime real estate situated right beside Cave City Road. Travelers would easily pass by Sand Cave before continuing to the other show caves such as Mammoth Cave. Floyd entered into an agreement with Beesly Doyel to explore Sand Cave and share the profits if the cave proved worthy to show.

Floyd first entered Sand Cave on January 30, 1925 with only a single kerosene lantern and shortly found it offered many challenges. He found himself squeezing through tight passageways – at one point so tight that he had to inch through on his stomach, with one arm stretched out ahead of him, pushing his lantern, and the other arm at his side. Beyond this crawl, the cave began to open up, but his lantern suddenly began to flicker. 

Floyd knew the peril of losing light in a cave, so he reluctantly began his return journey. As he returned through the tight crawl, his foot dislodged a 27-pound rock which wedged his ankle in place. Try as he might in his awkward position he could not remove his foot. He was trapped in a stone straight-jacket. Thus begun Floyd’s harrowing tale in Sand Cave.

 Once it was discovered that Floyd was trapped in the cave, rescue efforts slowly ramped up. Engineers, geologists, and cavers were called in from all over the local area and state. When more conventional means failed, miners began digging a shaft to reach him. Rescuers worked long hours day and night in hopes of finding a solution to getting Floyd unstuck from Sand Cave. The workers encountered periods of rain and cold weather, cave collapses and disagreements among leaders on how to proceed. The rescue efforts spanned over 17 days with many tactics to rescue Floyd attempted, but all of them ultimately failing. Throughout the rescue efforts, the story became too big for Cave City. People began to arrive from all parts of the country and a "carnival atmosphere" took hold at the mouth of Sand Cave. Vendors appeared, selling food, drink and souvenirs. Thousands of sightseers descended on Cave City, and the state was forced to dispatch troops to keep order.

On the eighteenth day after his entrapment, rescuer’s finally reached Floyd via a 55 ft. vertical shaft, but it was too late. Floyd Collins was pronounced dead of exposure, and Sand Cave was sealed with Floyd’s body inside. Only months later would his body be removed for a formal burial closer to his family’s home near Crystal Cave. He now rests in the Mammoth Cave Baptist Church Cemetery.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Tragedy at Sand Cave

William Floyd Collins, better known as Floyd Collins, was born June 20, 1887 in Logan County, Kentucky to Lee Collins and Martha Jane Burnett. From an early age, Floyd developed a hobby of exploring caves. This pastime led to the discovery of Crystal Cave in 1917 beneath his father’s farmland. Floyd developed the cave into a tourist attraction that boasted unique helictite and gypsum cave formations.

Floyd knew of another potential cave located on property owned by Beesly Doyel. This cave, known as Sand Cave, had prime real estate situated right beside Cave City Road. Travelers would easily pass by Sand Cave before continuing to the other show caves such as Mammoth Cave. Floyd entered into an agreement with Beesly Doyel to explore Sand Cave and share the profits if the cave proved worthy to show.

Floyd first entered Sand Cave on January 30, 1925 with only a single kerosene lantern and shortly found it offered many challenges. He found himself squeezing through tight passageways – at one point so tight that he had to inch through on his stomach, with one arm stretched out ahead of him, pushing his lantern, and the other arm at his side. Beyond this crawl, the cave began to open up, but his lantern suddenly began to flicker. 

Floyd knew the peril of losing light in a cave, so he reluctantly began his return journey. As he returned through the tight crawl, his foot dislodged a 27-pound rock which wedged his ankle in place. Try as he might in his awkward position he could not remove his foot. He was trapped in a stone straight-jacket. Thus begun Floyd’s harrowing tale in Sand Cave.

 Once it was discovered that Floyd was trapped in the cave, rescue efforts slowly ramped up. Engineers, geologists, and cavers were called in from all over the local area and state. When more conventional means failed, miners began digging a shaft to reach him. Rescuers worked long hours day and night in hopes of finding a solution to getting Floyd unstuck from Sand Cave. The workers encountered periods of rain and cold weather, cave collapses and disagreements among leaders on how to proceed. The rescue efforts spanned over 17 days with many tactics to rescue Floyd attempted, but all of them ultimately failing. Throughout the rescue efforts, the story became too big for Cave City. People began to arrive from all parts of the country and a "carnival atmosphere" took hold at the mouth of Sand Cave. Vendors appeared, selling food, drink and souvenirs. Thousands of sightseers descended on Cave City, and the state was forced to dispatch troops to keep order.

On the eighteenth day after his entrapment, rescuer’s finally reached Floyd via a 55 ft. vertical shaft, but it was too late. Floyd Collins was pronounced dead of exposure, and Sand Cave was sealed with Floyd’s body inside. Only months later would his body be removed for a formal burial closer to his family’s home near Crystal Cave. He now rests in the Mammoth Cave Baptist Church Cemetery.

[szynkaaa]

The Tragedy of Bull King, Red Boy and Princess Iron-Fan

me: does a poll for people to vote on between the Daoist Mi Lore or Kingdom of the Flowing Sand rats Also me: alright imma write about something else entirely

I will be tackling the Bull King's Family lore according to Black Myth Wukong, since the devs did change some things from the original JTTW books + my own interpretation and thoughts. You can find my other posts under the Black Myth Rambling tag

TW: Rape, forced childbirth, suicide

Will be abbreviating some names or calling them by a different name: Bull King = BK Princess Rakshasi = Princess Iron Fan Sun Wukong =SWK Red Boy = RB Mount Lingshan = Western Heaven Celestial Court = Eastern Heaven Taishang Laojun (the furnace guy) = TSLJ Keeper of the Flaming Mountain = furnace boy

I will try my best to tell all of this in chronological order to make sense of the timeline. Some events it is not very clear if it happened before or after this and that, so I listed them up in the order that I think it happened.

Some Backstory:

Both the Yaksha Kingdom and Kingdom of Rakshasa were destroyed by Mt. Lingshan

In the past, the Yaksha King was betrayed by the celestial beings, leading to the massacre of the royal family and the downfall of the Yaksha Kingdom. After the kingdom's collapse, the yakshas were forced into exile.

Yaksha Archer journal entry

When a formidable enemy attacked, the Yaksha King appointed Mi Yan as the vanguard general. [...] Despite their valor, the Kingdom of Yaksha was ultimately destroyed, but not a single soldier from Mi Yan's army deserted.

Red-haired Yaksha journal entry

Along with the fall of the Yaksha Kingdom, the Rakshasa Kingdom, due to their kinship with the yakshas, also met its end.

Thunder Rhino Master journal entry

From the Sea Rakshasa Journal entry:

from the entry, we gather that Princess Iron Fan was a princess of the kingdom of Rakshasa beyond the Western sea

Kingdom fell, they escorted the princess eastwards, and made a new home in the Flaming Mountains. Strongly assuming this all happened before fire rained down to the mountain from the furnace being kicked over by SWK

Princess Iron Fan is described to have a kind heart

After her eastward migration, Rakshasi had a new Daoist master in the Celestial Court. Practicing Daoism in Buddhism's stead, Rakshasi marked a departure from her past.

also from the Thunder Rhino Journal entry

From the Keeper of the Flaming Mountain Entry

he's a bitch and doesn't give a shit about human lives lol

also hazed Princess Iron Fan

calling him furnace boy because that was literally his job in heaven lol, fanning the furnace. the same furnace SWK was cooking in for 40 days

His master is TSLJ, introduces him to Princess Iron Fan. She is his new disciple, but also furnace boy's senior. He calls her 师姐 shī jiě, with jiě meaning 'older sister'.

which, he is not happy about. and then says well since she is the senior she should be fanning the furnace.

and Princess Iron Fan being the queen she is, goes alright bet and does her job.

does NOT tattle on furnace boy. instead asks for a bigger fan because the one the boy gave her is too small.

and old man gives her hher signature Iron Fan.

Enter SWK, who springs outta the furnace, and flames fell down to Earth creating the Flaming Mountain.

Furnace boy is demoted to Keeper of Flaming Mountains

Iron Fan volunteered to go to mortal realm to help him. what a queen he did not deserve her

he learns then that the princess already has a cave where she chills and loyal followers (the Sea rakshasa)

TSLJ arranged the marriage between her and BK

realizes no matter how many dirty works he does for TSLJ, his master will never think furnace boy is worthy to be with her LOL. even his master knows what a trash he is

So we know that Princess Iron Fan and BK got married after SWK jumped out of the furnace

Here is a pic of Princess Iron Fan. Ain't putting one of Furnace Boy because he doesn't deserve it

The Yaksha King Lore

2nd phase of the Red Boy final boss battle in chapter 5.

Journal entry does not talk about the RB though, rather talks about the Red Boy's bio father. yes folk that's right, BK is not his bio dad in BMW

Mt. Lingshan wages war against the Yaksha Kingdom. Mount Lingshan is where Buddha resides and the final destination of the pilgrims in JTTW to retrieve the scriptures.

Yaksha King's son, a baby, recently died. Father is still carrying the infant in his arms. The King himself is gravely wounded

creepy ass dude shows up and is like "yeah I can help you to carry on your royal line and save your son, trust me bro"

"Whether the Yaksha royal lineage continues or ends depends entirely on your decision today." [...]

they extract the dead baby's soul into a red lotus flower before it could enter the cycle of reincarnation

They also need the life and the water of child-bearing river in

The figure clapped, and a white-clad Daoist emerged from behind. The Daoist approached the Yaksha King, bowed, then sat cross-legged on the ground. He extended his hands above the boy's head and began to chant softly. Before long, a small, blood-red lotus flower emerged slowly from the boy's forehead, crystal clear and vibrant. The Daoist carefully plucked the lotus and placed it into a bowl he carried. The Yaksha King fixed his unblinking gaze intently at the lotus. The figure said, "This red lotus is the essence of your son's soul. To ensure it does not dissipate before successful reincarnation, we will need your life and the water from the River of Childbearing."

White figure is Furnace Boy and his master is TSLJ. probably also what furnace boy refers to doing his master's dirty work

This is the same way Red Boy kills himself at the end of chapter 5, thus ending the royal Yaksha lineage

Here is an image of Red Boy

Princess Iron Fan was forced to drink the child-bearing water and give birth to the Red Boy

BK and SWK are sworn brothers, and he aids him fighting against the court, before SWK rebellion in heaven and was buried under a mountain for 500 years

We learn in the chapter 5 ending animation, that she was forced to drink from the water and give birth to Red Boy. BTW Highly recommend watching the ending animation

The way I understood this scene is that if it wasn't SWK, none of this would have happened, hence I believe they forced her to do it as a punishment for BK and probably to also keep his family in check

Princess Iron Fan says herself that carrying and giving birth to this child gave her a lot of pain, toppled with the fact that her husband doesn't really look at her anymore and pretends he doesn't know about Red Boy's origin and just overall keeps his distance. They still had a good relationship though as father and son

She still loved Red Boy very much and raised her like a son

"I ordered you to raise a child, but I did not ask you to be a true mother. Let the boy stir his trouble; as long as you and your husband stay out of it, you will be safe."

From Princess Rakshasi journal entry

Princess Iron Fan mentions that if the truth about Red Boy's origin gets exposed, the whole family is doomed. so yeah imo that's another thing pointing towards the court trying to control BK

This is also where Furnace Boy says that when Red Boy grows up, he is the living proof of the genocide that the Mount Lingshan committed ("He will be living proof... of the dark deeds of Mount Lingshan..")

TL;DR Western heaven destroyed the Yaksha and Rakshasa Kingdom, Eastern Heaven swooped in to claim the soul of the last Yaksha royal as blackmail material

BK has a fox lover, with him he conceives a child too: Pingping. We love Pingping, she has never done anything wrong in her life. We never meet the "real" Pingping in the game rip

Gang arrives, SWK wants to borrow the Iron Fan to get rid of the fire (his fault they rained down there btw LOL)

Princess Iron Fan was ready to hand out cause she knows if she doesn't there will be problem

Bull King cannot decide whose side to pick, which I guess demonstrate his indecision here, and also no choice is still a choice, which in turn turns into a bad one in this case here

Red Boy says no fuck that you can't have it. gets his ass beaten by monkey, and is then sent to be a disciple under Guanyin along with Black bear guai

Princess Iron Fan seeing her sweet sweet boy beaten refuses to hand out the fan now, gets attacked by the King.

The fox mistress is killed by Zhu Bajie

SWK tells him he should find a master to serve

BK pissed at how his wife and mistress were treated, lashes out.

Heavenly Court gets involved in the battle, Nezha subdues BK and beheads BK but don't worry he is not dead

BK is taken to heaven, converts to buddhism, serves heaven and then returns home

Pingping lives with Princess Iron Fan

enter the happy family era

From that day on, the Bull King's temperament changed drastically. His former wild and unrestrained nature was no longer seen. He declined all invitations, ceased his travels, and instead stayed in Flaming Mountains, helping Rakshasi with household affairs and training the bull soldiers, living a very peaceful life.

Bull King journal entry

red boy then also returns from Guanyin and they live happily together as a family of four for some time being

The he get summoned by the court to fight against SWK. by that tiem SWK has already attained buddahood, realized it's not for him and went back to Mt Huaguo. The heaven was not happy about that

SWK warns BK to not absorb the artifact, because that will fuck him up.

BK swallows the artifact, becomes depressed

At some point Red Boy also learns the truth about his origin, and demands the BK give him the artifact so he can take revenge on Heaven and avenge his bloodline

BK refuses

Red Boy wages war against BK

he also knocks out Pingping so he can take her form to mess with SWK and get the artifact from BK

and then pretty much everything from Chapter 5 happens, Red Boy's army fighting against BK's Army. BK himself is sitting depressed on the mouintain, injured and looking very skinny. We defeat Red Boy, BK spits out the artifact, Red Boy was not defeated and gets the artifact and aborbs it, turning into the Yaksha King

MEANWHILE our QUEEN Rakshasi tries to get help from her master and Buddha to stop the fight between father and son

she went to her master TSLJ, who is a dick and said. just let them do whatever, didn't ask you to raise the kid as your own son anyway. You just needed to give birth

she knows her son well and knows that the only way the siege would end is if he would die

Then goes to Mt Lingshan, to get revenge, carrying her fan, but she was not able to get revenge and is laughed at by everyone

A booming laughter echoed, deafening. Within that laughter, she heard the cries of an infant, the innocent giggles of a child, the roars of an adolescent, and the cycle of blooming and withering flowers, the growth of grass and the flight of orioles over millennia. She heard the embers extinguishing in the Flaming Mountains.

From her journal entry

so she senses that her son lost the battle or is close to death, so she rushes back home, like the fantastic mom she is

You can watch the cutscene here starting at 28:30 - highly recommend watching it to the end

She is begging DO to spare her son's life, and in return, she and her whole family will go into secluded meditation (exile?) and he can have her fan

Red Boy, refusing to be shackled and chained again, kills himself the same way the Yaksha King killed himself

we still get to keep the iron fan LOL

My thoughts and rambling: This whole family story is one fucking tragedy after another. Princess Raskshasi / Iron Fan, who lost her kingdom, moved east and then was used as a pawn by her master. Firstly wed to the Bull King and then forced to give birth to Red Boy - and suffered much pain carrying giving birth to Red Boy. It's never explained why her master set her up to marry the Bull King, but given how everyone in the famils is used as chest pieces, I strongly assume it is also a way to control BK.

Unconfirmed but this is the timeline I pieces together in TL;DR

SWK jumps out of the furnace

Princess Iron Fan follows Furnace Boy to the mortal realm. Is set up to marry Bull King

Bull King aids SWK in fight against the Court

SWK loses against Buddha of the West, is buried under the mountain

Princess Iron Fan has to drink the pregnancy water and gives birth to Red Boy

They used his wife as punishment for his action

While it doesn't sounds like it is a marriage out of love (which, to be fair not a lot of marriages back then were), I do think that both Bull King and Princess Iron greatly cared for each other. I'd say even boldly that Princess Iron Fan cared more LOL because Bull king had a mistress with whom he had a child. It can be argues that because he knows Red Boy is not his, he seek solace in the arms of another woman (and then has another child with her.

Princess Iron Fan has like every reason to turn into an evil stepmother or bitter woman, but she didn't.

Bull king has never made a right choice in his life, according to SWK

SWK and BK vs the Court

SWK and the court vs BK

the court and BK vs SWK

And the Red Boy... last of his lineage and used as a pawn by the court. Also interesting to note that in his design, he looks half "human" half bull, with his lower half being the bull part.

Overall another tragic love story in BMW.

And that's it from me, thank you for reading!

[little-de-vil]

As recompense for me taking forever to respond to @tumblingghosts, I offer you My Ficlet. This is my first time posting about my Silly OC Thoughts, I'm terrified so please be nice!

This takes place during the 73rd Hunger Games, the main characters in this fic are Cassia (Slip Name) "Harlow" (Home Name) Sophro, an 18 year old tribute reaped from District 2 and middle child to Vance (SN) "Hawk"(HN) Sophro, the Victor of the 44th Hunger Games and a historic one as the first of the Cutters, and Dardanius "Dani" Bollard, another 18 year old tribute from 2, but a Volunteer. He's originally from the south, but his family moved up north after a tragedy. He's what's called a Cutter by Blood, someone who still holds onto the Cutter traditions but works (or in this case, his father) as a Keeper. He's trained as a Career, whereas Cassia has been trained by various Victors, those from 2 and not. @thegreatmelodrama let me know if I did your baby Dani justice! She's also a Snow but that's a topic for another day!

Sand continues to trickle into the cave as the storm destroys the supplies at the nearby Cornucopia. What a rarity, for the whole lot of Career tributes to be cornered and beginning to starve. Starving softly, unlike the chronic harshness other district children are so used to. Like the pair from 3, who are tangled together in wires and sparks bleeding out from a corner most camera.

“Why can’t we just destroy each other?” Dardanius asks Harlow softly. 

The question throws her off and she’s been so focused on perfecting the nose of the stone version of her district partner that it takes a moment for his question to register. She is, however, certain that he’s broken his nose more than once.

Who is the “we”? The pair from 1? The lone boy tribute from 4? Certainly not the ones from 3, who no one can really tell why they’re still alive, let alone with the Pack.

Or does he mean himself and Harlow? Are they the “we”?

He must mean them. Because if the years of watching District 2 pairs reach victory has taught her anything, it’s that those from 2 are loyal to their community. Of masonry or military. And that it’s the worst part of watching The Games in District 2, how much the animosity grows amongst the crowd at even the slightest difference in trade or birthplace is put to question the chance of triumph as one tribute falls. 

But is the answer so simple? A mere difference in industry? In home? The Cutters: hewer and layer masons, quarry-folk, stone and crystal miners, blacksmiths. The Keepers: soldiers—the common grunt and almost unheard of 2 born general—, cadets in schools, Peacekeepers stationed throughout the country never to return for 20 years, the hundreds working in The Peak. The southern desert folk and their blunt nature, intrenched in tradition that mirrors what it was before. The northern mountain people and their river sweet ways, creating new rituals after living so close to their invaded neighbors. 

No, nothing as simple as that. Their mutual destruction is not an echo of past rivalries, but of present vows.

A small piece of granite crumbles under the light tap of her brother’s chisel, and she looks back to see that Dardanius’ stoney eyes match his own. “Because we both made promises that work against each other. You promised my brother that you’d protect me. And I promised my father that I wouldn’t become him. Those two don’t work well together.”

He nods, but his brow tightens in concentration, mind locked deep in thought. His voice is soft and filled with sadness or maybe remorse, unlike its usual deep, assured cadence, “So what will we do if it’s just us?”

She blinks, having not considered this point until this very moment. But something deep inside her quickly finds the answer, “I give you permission to kill me.” She says sternly, mirroring his typical tone.

That comment can’t be playing well with the audience. What sponsor would back a tribute so unwilling to see their own victory? Hasn’t the Capitol been so generous to give these poor tributes the opportunity to better their life? And her especially, who has grown up in the greatest Capitol family of them all her whole life? What joy comes from watching someone fight who will never want the crown?

But this must also be playing horrifically among the Cutters back home. Self-sacrifice isn’t a Keeper trait, but Cutters aren’t known to back down from a fight when it comes to dishonoring their people. By allowing even this possibility to happen, she’s just repeating the cycle of those loyal to the Capitol can claim victory, and those traitors are always bound to fall at their hands. 

But her father must be proud of her for lasting this long, for sticking with her partner, for still Saying her Stones? Was he proud of himself when he was in her position 29 years ago, or did that pride diminish once his partner crumbled in his arms and the trumpets of victory rang? She wonders if he will still be proud of his eldest daughter when she returns cold and lifeless, sprinkled with hard tact bread given to her by a joint sponsor of the Master Mason and Head Peacekeeper of 2, spread generously at the end by her partner. Or will he be filled with disdain and fury for defying his one wish to not become like him, like her cousin of the 66th, like her neighbors of the Village who practically raised her. Only time will tell, she supposes, to whose promise will be kept. Or if District 2 will have two tributes sprinkled with bread.

[sirenologyyy]

SWEET TO ME !

ao'nung x fem!sully reader

✷ premise : as tensions rise and your family is forced out of the only home you've ever known, fish boy meets forest girl and the rest is history (tragedy)

✷ warnings : kidnapping, swearing, injury, blood, violence, and death

✷ author's note : this ones gunna be a rollercoaster of emotions so... sorry about that

part 3 of the SOLD OUT OF LOVE series

He's brought you to a cave, the ocean seemingly only a gateway to a hidden world, for there lay an island surrounded by water, home to a plethora of lush fauna, full of bright flowers of different colours, leaves spread open like fans double the size of a Na'vi, the sand like crushed up gemstones glittering and shimmering underneath the sunlight, a throng of giant trees towering over you, almost brushing the ceiling, the ceiling in which had a hole big enough to allow sunlight in, giving justice to the island's glory.

You couldn't contain your awe and so you simply stood there, admiring the whole cave as your heart practically swelled at its beauty. "Oh my fucking Eywa" was all you could say, and everything you wanted to say.

"No one knows this place but me" says Ao'nung, stepping closer to you. "Here you will be able to feel simple again"

At that you turn around, looking at him in disbelief. "Ao'nung-"

"No" He stops you. "I won't hear any of it, this place is yours now... as much as mine"

So you recalculate your approach. "Thank you" You say instead.

He bows his head. "You're welcome"

You walk towards the island, well, more like ran, you were eager to see every bit of it, Ao'nung simply stood and watched as you leaped around, pointing things out he himself hasn't seen before, your laughter the only thing he could hear.

"So why'd you bring me here? To your secret spot?" You insist after a while, taking a seat on the rock as your eyes followed him, taking a seat beside you.

"It is my way of making my peace"

"You already said sorry"

You see him shake his head. "It is not enough, even after I have apologised I found that not even that could chasten the guilt burning inside me"

It made you think.

"It's me... doing you a solid " He says, the unfamiliarity of the phrase to him making it known, despite all that it made you bite down on a grin. "I'm still not entirely convinced I was the first person you've brought here"

"You don't believe me?"

You shake your head. "Nah"

He scoffed.

"So you're telling me you didn't even bring Rotxo here?"

"No"

"Not even your other friends?"

He sneers at you. "Especially not them"

"Not even a few girls?" You grinned suggestively.

He shoves you away, both of you laughing. "Cut it out, of course not"

You stood in front of him now, showing him your hands. "Maybe I'm getting this all wrong, what about boys?"

He half-shrugged, staring up at you. "A few close calls but... no, they did not want to pursue the son of the Olo'eyktan"

You give him a small smile, a distant one. "Back home, neither did they, no one there took me seriously, it's the problem with keeping your options open, they get scared, run for the hills, leaving you with nothing"

His eyes snapped up. "Wait-"

"You're kidding me, you didn't take a guess?" You laughed. "Like calls to like"

His aquamarine eyes still on you, he lets out an amused scoff. "Huh"

This was where you hum, nodding in understanding. "So, i'm the only girl you've ever brought here?"

"The first and the last" He replied darkly.

"Am I just gunna turn into one of your Na'vi sacrifices?"

"Keep talking and you might find out"

You let out a lone cackle, pulling your head back and allowing your laughter to let loose, seemingly drunk off of nothing but the pure idea of having a good time with the same boy you wanted to kill just a few days ago, and he sees all of this, from your cheeky grin, to your flushed cheeks, to your narrowed amber eyes that glistened as your body shook with laughter.

"I feel like you'll tell me that you don't actually like leading people and that you want to become a Tsahík instead" You say, turning your back on him and walking towards a white flower that grew on stringy vines, you rub the petal, feeling the smooth, delicate surface in between the pads of your fingers before propping yourself up.

"I do"

"Wow, that was spot on" You say, mostly to yourself.

"But how do you know that Forest Girl?" He wonders, looking you straight in the eyes, the huskiness of his accent mixing with the silvery nature of his voice only inclining you to tell him why.

"Your face, your bruises healed quickly than your friends, and I expect they paid a visit to your mother after the fight" You explained, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Your hands were dyed purple when you saw me by the rocks, and I recognised the smell, you used tam'bon on your face and your knuckles mixed with other poultices from the many mixtures your mother has in your Marui, you'd have to be paying really close attention to know which to use on your face"

"My mother is the Tsahík, I see her healing people everyday"

"No" you stop him. "Only someone this passionate about healing would be taking note of everything the Tsahík does, it isn't a coincidence, you were listening on purpose"

His eyes widened like saucers. "Wow"

"You used yalna bark too, I can tell"

He nods, standing to his feet. "Impressive"

"One of my many, many talents" You bragged, giving him a sly smirk. "You should try guessing me next"

"Fine uhhh" He sang, rubbing his knuckles together. "You don't like being told what to do"

"Yes, but very obvious, dig a little deeper"

"Fine" He says again. "You're the oldest daughter?"

"No, you forgot about Kiri, Lo'ak goes after her, I go after Lo'ak"

"Really?" He asks. "I always thought you were older than her"

"How?" You questioned him genuinely, until a light bulb buzzed to life above your head. "You know what? this could be a thing"

"What thing?"

You sit down in front of him. "There's this game we play back in the Omaticayan Village, it's called 20 questions, instead of us trying to guess we'd have to ask, and the other person has to answer no matter what"

"No matter what?" He asks.

"No. matter. what" You reiterate gravely.

"You go first then" He says nodding at you.

"How old are you?" You began, already grinning like a maniac.

"15" Ao'nung answers. "16 in 2 months, how old are you?"

"14, turning 15 in..." you stopped to count. "6- no, 7 months"

He nods. "Next question"

"How tall are you?"

"8 foot 5"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Really? Some people say they're 8 feet tall but in reality they're only 7 foot 9"

"How can I be 7 foot 9?" He exclaimed, almost scandalised.

"I dunno, you ask yourself that" You frowned.

"Just ask the next question" He says boredly.

You bite your inner lip in thought, exhaling when you finally think of the next question. "Why do you hang around them?" You found yourself asking instantly. "Those boys, you don't even seem to like them all that well"

That seemed to have ceased the lightheartedness of the situation, silence settling in awkwardly, quickly, like a virus finding a host.

"I dont know why" He tells you quietly. "It's a comfortable choice, they never seem to care about anything except the present, they don't care that I am to be the next Olo'eyktan, that I am to lead our people for the many years to come, if I stick with them maybe I can forget what is to be my fate"

You stay quiet, so does he. It's almost a dizzying experience, to have Ao'nung pour himself out to you like that when 5 days ago all you wanted in life was to rip his head clean off his shoulders, half of you were expecting for him to stand up, laugh in your face for believing such a thing but as time progressed you found that flame dying rapidly.

But he exhaled, making you glance at him. "What about you Forest Girl?"

You snort, grinning. "What about me??"

"Do you have any secrets worth my time?"

"I got no secrets, I'm an open book"

"Surely there must be something you aren't telling me" He pressed. "What's your favorite food?"

"Pizza- well used to"

"What's that?"

"It's sort of like this triangular shaped snack with meat, and cheese, and sauce on it"

"Oh, well alright" He says, all while having no clue what that is. "What's your favorite food now then?"

"I'm torn between melon tree fruit and yovo fruit"

He grinned. "That, I can get behind by"

"Oh!" You exclaimed, snapping your fingers. "What's your favorite colour?"

"Yellow " He answered.

"Really?" You scoffed. "I thought you'd say blue or something"

He gives you a look. "Blue? Why Blue?"

You gesture to him, making him frown. "Why wouldn't you say blue?"

He gives you an insincere laugh. "Very funny Forest Girl" He drawled. "What about you then? What's your favorite colour?"

"Y/F/C" you state, pushing your hair back away from your face.

He half-shrugged, staring at his finger nails. "Yeah, I guessed as much"

You draw a line on your teeth with your tongue. "If you could leave right now, where would you go?"

"Anywhere but here" He replied, standing up as well. "As long as I can get far away from this place as possible"

You watch him as he starts picking up branches on the sand, realizing he just needed to do something with his hands. "This is my home yes, I've never known any place else but I just want to leave, my knowledge only goes as far as riding a skimwing, but I know the ocean will end eventually"

"Then ride an íkran"

"Well I don't know how to, do I?"

"I'll teach you" You offer, leaning against a tree. "If you taught me how to ride an ilu, surely I can teach you how to ride an íkran"

He gives you an incredulous look, tossing the branches into the water. "So you can throw me off 50 feet in the air? no thank you"

"No, I'm serious, do you really want to learn?"

He thinks, almost entertaining the idea. "I would not oppose once the opportunity presents itself"

"The opportunity is practically waving at you, Ao'nung"

"Maybe another day" He says instead, so you decide it was an answer enough.

Whatever stars have aligned, whatever curse was cast on you, the both of you spent about an hour talking about the most aimless things that made even you wonder what kind of sick stunt the universe was trying to pull.

"Stop it! You are throwing me off!" Ao'nung exclaimed trying to stop you from doubling over and laughing.

You wipe the tears collecting at the edge of your eyes, trying to catch your breath. "Just- just say it again-!"

Ao'nung clicks his tongue against his mouth. "I will not, all you'll do is laugh at me!" He protests.

You sit on the rock again, pulling, well, practically forcing him to sit down before he could run away again. "I promise I won't laugh just- just say it again"

He sits back down unceremoniously, no thanks to you. "What is a castrated smurf anyway? Why do I need to tell Neteyam he looks like a castrated smurf? "

"Because you can" You insist, trying to resist your laughter again. "It's a glowing compliment amongst Sky People, trust me"

"Fine" He says, rolling his eyes at you. "I trust you"

You giggled through your nose, a smile breaking on your face as you look at him.

amber meeting aquamarine.

Your eyes trail to the giant purple bruises that littered his face, then to his neck where you had cut him with your dagger, all the millions of white freckles on his face like Eywa had kissed stars onto the afternoon sky.

You blink, so does he, and suddenly you tear away from eachother, you turn away from him, Ao'nung starts rubbing at his nape as you feel silence encapsulate you once more.

"Where did your necklace go?" He asks, almost on cue a wave of coldness washes over your collarbone.

"It snapped off during the fight, I went back for it, tried finding the pieces but with all the sand flying around during it I barely found half" You replied.

Oh great. another thing Ao'nung felt responsible for. "I see" He replies.

So you stand up, looking at everything but him, the trees, the white petals fading into purple then yellow at the very middle, its orange stigmas standing tall, you walk up to it, leaning into it to take a whiff, light, musky, sweet, you found yourself sniffing it again, you hold it by its stem but a bug reveals itself and crawls onto your hand, you flinch and flick your hand away. Ao'nung laughs at you. "It is just a little insect, you cannot be that afraid of it"

"I can feel it's legs all over me, it's gross and weird" you explain before you shudder involuntarily.

He looks at the vines again and plucks a flower before handing it to you. You stare at it warily and he sighs when you did not take it instantly. "I promise there are no bugs on there"

"You might be lying"

"Why would I lie?"

"I don't know, but you could" You state, watching as he rolls his eyes. After a moment of contemplating you decide to take it before you stand up on your toes and you tuck the flower between his ear, landing back to your feet to see an unimpressed Ao'nung staring back at you.

"Oh Jesus do I wish I had a camera" You sighed longingly.

You see him cross his arms over his chest, a ball forming at his temple as he tightened his jaw. "I look like a joke"

"You look pretty"

"I'm not pretty" He said. "I'm hot"

You let out a laugh. "Whatever helps you sleep at night"

"take it off" He whined.

"Nuh-uh, I don't want to"

"You're a child" He declares sanctimoniously.

"Uh-huh" You nod absentmindedly.

"Come on, take this stupid flower out, I don't want it"

"Take it off yourself" You say.

He lets out a disparaging groan and pulls it out of his ear, you were about to prove your point but that was before he places the flower behind your ear instead. Your eyes widen a centimeter and your cheeks flush to a lilac as your hand instinctively reaches up to it, your fingertips barely brushing the tips of the petals.

"There" Ao'nung says, pulling you out of your trance. "Now you look like the joke"

You narrow your eyes at him and walk away towards the water, the bioluminescent creatures making your stomach drop.

"Fuck" you say, making Ao'nung turn around. "Ao'nung how long have we been down here?"

"I know as much as you do Forest Girl" He retaliates.

"We gotta go back"

The sound of the conch shell make your heads snap upwards, towards the hole of cave where the moon was only a ways off from casting it's silvery glow onto the island.

You turn to Ao'nung. "Oh you're so fucked" You laughed.

"Says you" He laughed back, pointing a finger at your face before you slap it away, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day before running back to the way you came with you tailing him. Once the two of you reach the water he dives in, barely even making a splash and resurfacing mere seconds later.

"Come on!"

"But my-"

"It'll stay on" He cuts you off mid-sentence, seeming to know what your next words were. So you jump in, paddling alongside him as you tried swimming out of there before he did, eventually you made it out of the structure, swimming upwards like your life depended on it, glancing at Ao'nung every now and then only for you to pick up your pace as he picked up his. You resurface at the same time, he beats you at calling his ilu first while you took a while catching your breath, he saddles his ilu the moment yours arrived, laughing at you as you struggled to get on.

You tell Hinewai to put the pedal to the metal and you finally managed to catch up to him, his eyes widening as he sees you pop up on his peripheral.

"Hurry up!" He tells you.

You let out a disparaging groan. "What do you think I've been doing smart ass??"

He only laughs, pulling his head back before he dives under the water, shooting out moments later, his ilu spinning on the air before landing back onto the water.

Show off.

The pair of you decided to round the island, turning to Ao'nung when you see all the village people crowding the docks, muttering your name, only for him to avoid your eyes.

You hop off your ilu as does he, trudging up the sand as you feel the eyes of every Metkayin trained on you. Parting the crowd was your mother, your father, Neteyam, and Lo'ak, followed by your sisters close behind.

"She's here!" Dad calls out to the people, you couldn't help but frown as he began checking your arms and your face. "She's alright! She's fine"

"My son" Tonowari starts.

"Father, I see you" Ao'nung addressed, placing his hand over his forehead and bringing it to his chest. You cringe subtly and do the same. "I see you, Olo'eyktan"

He geeets the both of you with the same gesture.

"Is it true what they say?" He began as you felt Ao'nung tense up beside you. "That you have brought Lo'ak beyond the reef? That you have risked his life?"

You snap your head towards Ao'nung, your face falling only to see him glancing up at his father with a pensive look.

"Yes" He replies without hesitation.

Ronal jumps down the platform only to pull his ear, making him wince. "What were you thinking?! Leading Toruk Makto's son to his death??" She hissed, Ao'nung avoiding her face. "This behavior is beneath you"

Jake takes your shoulder and makes you face him. "Where the hell have you been? I thought I taught you better than to not keep track of the time"

"I know but i-"

"No, no excuses" He snapped, hopping over the platform, you trying to follow him.

"Dad just please-" You insist.

He turns to you. "You'll get to talk when we get back to our pod, now drag your ass back home"

"Toruk Makto please-" says Ao'nung, almost stepping in between you and your father, he meets your father's gaze and he immediately regrets his decision, his eyes flicking towards you only to see pure hatred burning back into his retinas. "I am at fault here" He began again cautiously.

You try and ignore the whispers that reverberated around you, the looks of your brothers practically burning into your scalp. "I brought her with me to apologise for our altercation a couple of days ago, I did not mean to bring her home this late, we were caught up in eachother, we lost track of time, believe me, my intentions with your daughter are pure-"

Jake blinks, you could practically feel his anger radiate off of him. "-i'm sorry what?"

"-Dad, this is not what it looks like" You jump in front of Ao'nung, your eyes wide as the whispers around you only intensified.

Ao'nung nudges you away. "-Please, Toruk Makto do not blame your daughter, she has done nothing wrong"

Ronal walks up to Ao'nung grabbing his chin and tilting it upwards, giving everyone a perfect view of his scar. "She might as well explain what is this then"

Neytiri comes forward, feeling her behind you. "My daughter will not answer to you"

"We've discussed this alright? We've buried the hatchet, it's done and dealt with" Jake explained hurriedly, eyes switching from you, to the Tsahík, to you, to Ao'nung.

"While I commend you for trying to make peace on your own terms I cannot forget the fact that you have put Lo'ak in grave peril and returned Y/N home past eclipse"

"No," says Lo'ak. "Going past the reef was not Ao'nung's fault, it was my idea, he tried to talk me out of it, really "

"Lo'ak-" Neytiri started.

"I'm sorry" was all your twin could say before he too hopped up on the platform.

You begin your walk of shame, plodding through the woven pathways as Lo'ak appeared by your side, donning the same downcast expression as you did, your eyes meet, sending eachother whatever was the most microscopic amounts of optimism left in you before your father caught up to you.

"Dad, you told us to make friends with these kids that's all I was trying to-"

"-I don't wanna hear it"

"-Dad" You start, trying to back Lo'ak up, all while having no desire to lengthen this argument any further, but he dosen't even look at you.

"You have brought shame to this family" He tells Lo'ak, who simply stood beside you with an impassive expression.

"Can I go now?" He wonders impatiently.

"Anymore trouble I jerk a knot in your tail, you read me?"

"Yes sir, Lima Charlie" He replies before walking off, you pivot your heel and follow him, trying to put as much distance away from you and your parents as possible only to have Jake pull you back and face them.

"That's strike 2 for you young lady" He says, showing you two fingers to make himself clear. "Look, I dunno what went in your head when you decided to follow Ao'nung when your brother had been missing for hours-"

"-I didn't know he was missing"

He opens his mouth to say something but closes it quickly and sighs. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph" He exclaimed, raking his face with dread. "You're still a kid, I don't want you making decisions that'll make your life go up in smoke, you know that right?"

You nod, your jaw still tight.

"I gotta worry about Lo'ak, I gotta worry about Tuk, I gotta worry about Kiri, do I gotta worry about you too?" He ejaculated, throwing his hand in the air.

You shake your head. "No sir"

"Good" He tells you, his eyes darting up to the flower stuck to your ears and you couldn't help but notice it. "Then we're done here, am I understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir" You nod, your feet already itching to get away.

"Good, get out of here" He nods towards the docks and you didn't telling twice. Pushing past the villagers, you hop down the platform, knowing full well who you were going to find next.

And you do find him, walking alone on the beach, almost sulking.

You didn't exactly try and mask the sound of your footsteps and so he sees you about 5 feet away from him.

His eyes light up. "What are you-"

You slam your hands onto his chest, sending him staggering back several steps away from you.

"Are you fucking brain dead? " You seethe, narrowing your eyes at him, pushing at him again and watching him collect himself. "Are you crazy? "

"I don't think I am, no" He exclaimed, watching you go on a rampage.

"What the fuck is wrong with you??? Trying to embarrass me in front of your whole goddamn clan?? Is that what you wanted this whole time? Try- try and get me to lower my guard down? Make me laugh? Make me reveal my secrets? so that in the end I can make you look like a fucking hero???" You yell at him, bashing your fists against his chest.

"Stop it-!" He shouts, trying to grab your fists.

You push him away. "No! No! Let me go!"

"I will when you calm down-!"

You yanked your arms away from his grasp, pointing a slender finger at his face, looking at him with unbridled rage and fury. "Is that what you wanted? To make a fool out of me??"

He swallows, hesitating. "No-"

"Do you know what you did??" You ask him, your voice cracking. "Do you know-"

"-No!" Ao'nung shouts. "No! I don't know-!"

"You made me look weak! Like I needed to rely on some man for protection!" You screeched into the sea before whirling towards him.

"I stood up for you! I defended you and this is what I get?? Not even a thank you???" He yelled.

You slapped him across the face, he turns to you, clutching his cheek.

"I never asked you to defend me did i?" You tell him.

"I still did"

"Learn to take a hint next time"

"You should be grateful" He spat.

You hummed, staring at his face. "The next time you raise your tongue against me I won't hesitate to give you a matching set" You say, prodding his bruised cheekbone, hearing him hiss in pain before pulling the flower from behind your ear and throwing it to the sand, you gave him one last look and with that you turn around, marching back to the village.

"I hate you!" He shouts after you.

"Suck my dick!" You yelled back, plodding across the sand.

Ao'nung stood there with the salty sea air sweeping his curly locks. His eyes traverse from your figure growing smaller and smaller as it neared the village to the flower abandoned on the sand. He crouches and picks it up, twirling it between his fingers as his stomach churns with guilt, anger, sadness, but most of all an indescribable longing. How could you long for someone's presence but also want to stab them in the throat?

[awanderingmuse-fandom]

Off The Marshamallow Stick and Into the Campfire

Chapter 32

Fandom: Outer Wilds

Summary: The light of the exploding singularity is brighter than anything Obsidian has ever imagined. Breathtaking as a spark of hope when they thought everything was lost. Obsidian would know, they’d worn that feeling like a  second skin, loop, after loop, after loop. The feeling still holds them even as pure light, pure possibility, consumes them. Then, nothing. 

Obsidian wakes up…

Rating: Teen

Warnings:  Major Character Death, severe injury, trauma, Existentialism, aftermath of trauma, alcohol use, references to suicide, mentions of substance abuse

Characters: Player Character (Obsidian), Gabbro, Hal, Gossan, Marl, Gneiss, Chert, Hornfels, Riebeck, Slate, Esker, Feldspar, Porphy, Rutile, Micha

Tags: Aftermath of the End of The Universe, Cannon Continuation, Gabbro didn’t just sit on Giant’s Deep the whole time, Player Character and Gabbro are friends, Science Compels Us to Explore the Multiverse, everyone lives kinda, things I wish the game let happen, liberties taken with in game timeliness and mechanics for easier write-a-bility, physics, metaphysics, fluff, hurt comfort, slice of life, Multiple POV, Tragedy, Character Death, Echoes of Eye Spoilers, Suicide Attempt, Adventure, Substance Abuse, No Beta We Die Like the Universe, A Bit of Prose for Flavor, All the writers and artists in this Fandom are amazing and y'all gave me brain rot

Chapter Preview

They follow the familiar path through the caves, past the Angler Fish Fossil Overlook, and into the city itself. The city is what it has always been, a giant cavern with buildings hidden in the alcoves, all revealed to them when they turn on the lights.  The sand isn’t quite low enough for them to follow the path to the High Energy Lab. So, they make themselves comfortable by the trees. Obsidian takes some time to read and document the text that is there for Hornfels.  “Still the same.” They inform Gabbro after making their notes. “At first glance it all kind of looks the same.” Gabbro says, sipping their tea.

[artwithoutblood]

now i feel like a fraud because, like neil gaiman, i too have a dream that just wants to die. this is awkward.

Nooo! I'm sorry, I am the awkward one, getting all overexcited about a theory and forgetting that it can be really rude to compare. (Even accidentally.) That was just trying to spitball what the demon rules for dealing with Silas could be! 

Dream gods are just Like That anyway, they're a bunch of sad emo bastards. Too much time spent in their own other people's heads. It's the natural way of things - Dreams die.

Hive minding happens.

The characters are also quite different in personality, character arc, genre... Morpheus tried to clean up his act and in doing so brought about his own death indirectly. Silas is not contrite, went full serial killer and is completely unable to die despite actively seeking it. Plus under the horrific elements Sandman was a classic Greek tragedy with heaps of specific nods to Shakespeare and theatre, and Silas' story is more like cosmic, supernatural or psychological horror. It’s fine!

samir's domain is sand. all sand. little hideaways underneath, where he spends his days drawing and weaving. i could see him keeping silas in a coffin, buried deep, deep in the sand. should silas awaken, he will be drowned by the weight. perhaps adonis can trap his soul in a photograph and take him away. demons don't have souls.you get it. or, perhaps, his body must be forced into the erotic ritual of giving a human demonhood. take over another's aspect. let the former body rot.

👁️ 👁️ 🍿

Lore drop

That's pretty cool. The deserts bring to mind Africa, 'the cradle of humanity''. Or the Middle East, where important theories/inventions around math and astronomy emerged - showing people the workings of reality.

The drawing and weaving are the mind's images, creating narratives, constructing realities. Spinning a yarn. An unbroken thread passing through human lives, an extant tapestry recording experiences that cannot be forgotten.

The desert tunnels also recall the primordial caves. Ancient mankind. The dark. The unknown. The earliest recorded depictions of history and human lives.

Nightmares are as old as humanity and developed alongside them to deal with the horrors. Samir delves deep, down into the suppressed, the hidden back corners and labyrinths of your mind. Samir gets to the hidden reasons, the mysteries. While it's mostly around remembering and managing danger - Samir gives the tools and understanding to engage with, make sense of, and gain mastery of the world you live in.

So that's a really good idea...

By breaking Silas down to his building blocks (physically and/or metaphorically) and understanding his workings he could be stripped of his power by integrating him into, suppressing him under, or extinguishing him with another consciousness.

From a deadly figurative nightmare he could become a weaker literal nightmare. A powerless figment that is terrifying but loses its grip quickly, lurking in the subconscious like an attenuated virus, helping to deal with real fears and predators. A boogeyman suppressed under conscious awareness and weighted down by the sifting sands of Time. No longer real. Passing into myth, into collective memory, now only marked by a constellation.

Samir can also do the opposite. A horrific, primal and subliminal force can be given a different symbolic form. Processed, relived, released, ultimately taking a more acceptable expression.

*points at Silas* Get sublimated idiot.

I also like Adonis trapping him in a photograph. Silas doesn't have a soul but he is an idea, a concept that can be fictionalized into a grim old fairy tale. Like the opposite of those Victorian girls with their paper fairy hoax, people will gasp at the clever photography effects and the tide of scepticism could weaken his grip on humanity.

And perhaps he can even be trapped temporally in a photograph. Frozen forever in time.

“All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.” ― Susan Sontag

I'm not actually smart, I don't know who Susan Sontag is. Tumblr dash just shows me random quotes and this one was on the nose for Aeron and Adonis

it's alright! i meant it in the way where 3 years before the film was released, i wrote the plot of guardians of the galaxy 2 beat by beat for one of my ocs. and then i realized it's ok that i didn't flesh out that storyline because gotg2 was bad. i now have to be like "DAMN!! I CANT DO THIS, GAIMAN ALREADY DID"

samir keeps to himself. he's probably, actually, the most kind, gentle person in the universe thus far. he speaks like the morning dawn. he keeps the cave drawings. makes textiles, makes cloth. plays pretty strings, beautiful instruments. watches nightmares from afar. i know that we must suffer to grow. that doesn't mean i like it.

sometimes, he can make a nightmare just an hourglass. the sand falls on your face. he watches. he has acknowledged you. if he was finally able to find silas and drag him back home by the hair, he'd put his body in a coffin and bury it deep. perhaps, he'd force the essence out of silas and into a younger body. a pretty girl with the fluff of the clouds, eyes of the stars, she should be the one to represent dreams. children have dreams. she could play with toys in the dreamscape.

he is there in your first nightmare. he is the comfort of waking up. he is the comfort in knowing that you can overcome the fear of the nightmare. but he is also the repeating nightmare that haunts you, reminds you of your sins.

there are, perhaps, parallels between samir's solitude in his own caverns and kayn, crawling around in the cold of a dead culture.

because of your asks involving samir, here he is, in his glory.

[unikittybigbrightworldau]

What TV programs are the least and most popular in every kingdom?

The Unikingdom’s most popular TV shows are off-the-wall comedies, sitcoms, variety shows, and action shows. Some popular shows in particular are My Happy Yummy Life; Party Animals; Fun with the Monsters; The Early Morning Daytime Daytime Show; Action Clash Cards, Go!; Duel Domino; and Action Hero Showdown. The least popular shows are slow-paced dramas, like A Galaxy Journey and What Do I See?.

In Frowntown, the most popular shows are cooking shows, build-offs, horror comedies, and thrillers. These include shows like Work Hard, Grill Hard; Neon Cafe; Brick Rush; Murders of Crows; and There’s Trouble Downtown. They also like a genre called Everyday Object shows, which consists of shows like Soggy Cereal and Tables and Chairs. The least popular shows are, ironically, tragedies, like The Last Thing I Remember, Boo-Hoo Brook, and The Differing.

Over in Swan Lake, the most popular shows are dance-themed shows and sports-themed shows. Dance Around the Lake, Don’t Stop Dancing, You Can’t Bring Us Down, Water Power, and The Cycle Cycle. The least popular shows are mysteries and supernatural shows, like Complex Puzzle or Spirits in My Mirror, because most Swan Lakers see them as too predictable. That isn’t the case with every one of those shows, though.

Ice Cream Landers enjoy feel-good comedies and reality shows, but they also like documentaries. These include Cinnamon and the Shifters, Mocha Museum, Small Cups, Resident of the Year, Dare the Peaks, Mallow Mysteries, and Hidden Treats. The least popular shows are epic dramas like The Blueberry Prince and The Sweetest Journey.

Elegancians love theatrical-ish dramas such as In The Days Of Glim, What Goes On Behind The Curtain, Garnets, Jewels in the Sky, and My Years In The Metropolis. They aren’t really that fond of simple slice of life shows like Unakite University, Ruby’s Yard, or A Lamp Shop.

The most popular shows in Marevi are cozy dramedies that leave you feeling warm and fuzzy inside. These include shows like Carve Your Path, Heart Show, Anemone Garden, and What The Seabed Is Made Of. The least popular Marevian shows are sci-fi epics such as Benthic Cave 6, High Out Of The Ocean, and Captain Blue.

Botanians favor shows with action, comedy, and fantasy elements. These include shows like Treetop Wish, Code Begonia, Will of the Willows, Pollination Now, Sands of Fate, P.I.N.E.C.O.N.E., and Creepers Of The Forest. Their least favorite shows are gritty dystopians, like Beastly Thorns and The Most Ferocious Creatures.

Yes, Charm Valleyans can watch TV. They do it with projections of Light magic. They love epic shows with lots of imagination, such as The Giants of Airworld, Legends Of The Well Ablaze, In A Dream, Era of Rebellion, and 6,000 Lightyears. They’re not too fond of down-to-earth sitcoms and “teen shows,” like Sugo And His Pandoth, Close Friends Of The Mist, and Happy Accidents.

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

saw ur post about Danny from escape room and omg agreed I need more people to talk about him with he's so underrated

NO LIKE ACTUALLY THOUGH!!!!

I genuinely love him, he's so harmless and genuinely excited to be there, it's like textbook-first-death-you-care-about-to-get-you-invested, but I think it would be fascinating to see how the story would progress if he had lived longer. He doesn't get much of a chance to realize this isn't just a super fucking good escape room and I'd love to see how he'd react to another person's death, or the more morally-questionable puzzles.

Would he step up to the plate in a Zoe sort of way? I feel like theres even a possibility he'd cling to the concept of it just being a normal escape room for WAY longer than he should as a way to cope with all the fucked up shit happening.

Because if you think about it even his personal tragedy/survival event (while also being SO FUCKING SAD OHHH MY GOD??? how old was he??? was he a kid??? when did this happen?? if someone remembers if it's says how long ago HIS ENTIRE FAMILY DIED let me know) is incredibly passive.

He definitely saw his family post-death but unlike a plane crash or a mine cave or any of the other tragedies in he has never actually seen anyone else in the process of dying, and I think that would be SO interesting to explore.

Like is that why he likes escape rooms so much? Because it's a way to solve 'impossible' puzzles and clever-your-way out of problems in a way he never got a chance to because he was probably asleep when it happened?

(I also wish we got a slightly closer look at how Ben feels about his death. Because it's really no one but Minos' fault but if the blame had to be pointed to another player it's on him. And he's already got a complex about that shit. Danny is a significantly more sympathetic/guilt complex kind of murder than Jason.)

He's just SO interesting as a character, especially because his death is the only non-preventable one. Theres no way to out-think being dragged under ice in a freezing current. I know the whole game is about luck but it's entirely unfair in a way that I can't even imagine would be particularly entertaining for the people watching at home and I WANNA KNOW WHY! Was he always going to die first? Did they underestimate how good at escape rooms he was? Was it a shock value death to keep all the rich viewers who bet on the safest-winner invested? Was it just because he brought a phone when he wasn't supposed to?

Like (second movie spoilers) but especially with the Amanda reveal in the second movie I'm shocked more people aren't talking about the possibility that he's not actually dead at all!

Because why would Minos kill him? If they want to force people to make escape rooms for them wouldn't Danny be their first choice? He's smart, he loves escape rooms, it would be perfect!

The only real explanation is just that it has to do with personalities and who would be most likely to actually go along with them, but we don't know nearly enough about Danny to think that he wouldn't.

Like?? He kind of seems like the easiest of the first movies cast to manipulate in this situation!! He's the youngest, he's naive, and I don't think he's got the kind of Zoe-backbone that would rather die then spend his time building escape rooms which is what he's passionate about.

If I'm being entirely honest I am not going to believe anyone is dead unless we see the body.

Like, in the first movie who are the only two we don't see the actual body of?

Amanda and Danny.

Amanda is clearly a good person to have on your evil-escape-room-murder-game team as it's shown in the sequel, and like I said DANNY KAHN IS LITERALLY THE PERFECT PERSON TO HAVE ON YOUR TEAM. WHY WOULDN'T THEY KEEP HIM IN THEIR BACK POCKET?

((It also makes sense with the sequel, where we don't see a lot of the bodies. The ONLY person's body we actually see is Theo; Nathan falls into the sand, so does Ben, and we know how that worked out. We kind of hear Brianna and Rachel but we don't SEE them. And the might mean nothing, but if you think about it- it tracks, in a tournament of champions, best of the best, you'd want to hold on to as many as you can.))

I'm veryyyy interested to see if this comes up in the next one, I honestly do not think it will, but I definitely think it's a plot line that could be INCREDIBLY interesting to go down.

[organ-market]

Unsung Beauty: Caves in Fictional Media

Hang Son Doong, Vietnam

Around a year ago, I started obsessing over cave tragedy videos on YouTube. Videos about tragedies in Sand Cave, Nutty Putty, or any other deep hole in the ground where something goes wrong were formulaic, repetitive, and worst of all the guy I was watching used the exact same music in every video, but despite it all those videos inspired an infatuation with all things deep within the depths of the Earth. I soon stopped watching "caving gone wrong!" videos in pursuit of something with a little more taste and love. I read about Hang Son Doong's expansive size and gargantuan formations, Mammoth Cave's rich history and winding chambers, and countless more fascinating oddities of our natural world. My infatuation with caves deeply burrowed into my everyday as I spent hours reading about caves all across the world. I had no idea such an interesting and diverse world existed beneath my feet! I found that there is an unsung beauty deep within the natural splendor in the twisting caverns below us all.

To complement my newfound obsession I sought out movies, television shows, and games that involved caves but my search turned into a desperate scavenge as media that revered caves the way I did was beyond scarce. Apart from scholarly articles and the odd documentary, caves were widely known but as an interest they were somewhat niche. The only fiction I could find fascinated with caves to any degree was solely horror in genre. While disappointed I could see why this was the case; caves are dark, damp, and play on a litany of common human fears, but writing off caves exclusively as a vehicle of horror is an egregious waste of enormous potential!

Neil Marshall's The Descent, 2005

As much as I enjoy movies like The Descent and In Darkness We Fall, where its titular characters underestimate the depths and labyrinthine chambers of the caverns that eventually entomb them, there needs to be more diversity in cave fiction that explores the majesty and wonder of caves, the rich history some of these caves have that could make for compelling narratives, or the captivating creatures that call caves home. I would kill for a show about speleologists (Scientists who specialize in caves.) who explore and discover fascinating species of troglobites, (Animals that strictly live within caves.) and find incredible rock formations worthy of a name. I would love to see a historical drama about The Kentucky Cave Wars during the 1920’s when private cave owners used malicious tactics to gain a competitive advantage. The closest thing I have to the latter is the musical, Floyd Collins, based on the real man who was trapped in Sand Cave a almost a full century ago.

Far too often are caves relegated to being obtuse holes in mountains that have nothing to offer in our collective narratives. The portrayal of caves in these movies are incredibly bland! (Although I did enjoy how the humanoid creatures in The Descent bear close resemblance to real world troglobites!) Caves can be lush or barren, dry or wet, claustrophobically tight or breathtakingly large. If caves were ever one thing it is that every one is a unique little snowflake forged in different ways over a timespan inconceivable by our human minds. The caves featured in popular media are largely interchangeable with one another, we could place the lead characters of In Darkness We Fall in any old hole! Caves are products of geological history and their defining landscapes shape how they turn out. Hardly do media about caves explore this uniqueness and that's a genuine shame.

Cave of the Crystals, Mexico

There is a severe drought of cave fiction that borrows the beauty of caves. I want to see a setting inspired by the otherworldly wonder of the ginormous Hang Son Doong in Vietnam, the largest cave in the world, so large, in fact, it can form clouds within it. I need to see the towering crystals present in Mexico’s Cave of the Crystals, a cave adorned with enormous gypsum crystals which make the curious scientists seem so tiny. I demand to see set pieces in movies inspired by the fantastical Waitomo Glowworm Caves in New Zealand which resemble the night sky. I write all of this hoping to push back against the narrative that the sole function of a cavern in stories is for a protagonist to get lodged under a rock, or consumed by its depths, I hope to encourage others to see how diverse and unique caves are.

Mojang Studio's Minecraft, Caves and Cliff Update, 2021

Thankfully, for you and me but particularly me, I’ve recently seen an influx of gorgeous caves reminiscent of my natural darlings. Although these appear to be notable exceptions, the colorful world of video games have delivered to my doorstep some magnificent offerings of unparalleled beauty. While somewhat few and far between, games like Minecraft and Elden Ring spoil a cave enthusiast like me to take part in exploring the depths I daydream about on the daily. The new swallowing expanses of hollowed chunks of rock in Minecraft were directly inspired by Hang Son Doong! I was delighted to see the inclusion of pale, blind cave fish inspired by the real world fish that lack pigment and eyes due to evolving in an environment where those features were no longer necessary.

Although I haven’t gotten very far in FromSoftware’s Elden Ring, the opening cave had me absolutely overjoyed. The careful attention to detail with an opening in the cave ceiling allowing light shrubbery to grow did not go unappreciated! A screenshot of ginormous glowing crystals looming above Tarnished gazing upon them torch in hand, left me thinking back on the real world Cave of the Crystals. The interactivity of video games lends itself well to being able to bask in the glory of these digital recreations of the caves I’ve grown to love. Being able to meander in these physical spaces is just so special and an unbelievable gift.

FromSoftware's Elden Ring, 2022

I haven’t delved into the portrayal of caves in literary fiction but from a glance it seems just as filled with horror as other mediums, but I’m sure there’s some gems in there waiting to be found. As it stands I remain starved for passionate, loving portrayals of my beloved caves in the media I consume and I continue to curse myself for obsessing over such a niche little thing. I will admit however that every little unique depiction of caves that sings about their beauty has me jumping for joy because their rarity makes them feel all the more special. Like a gift on an otherwise ordinary day, it’s always such a pleasant surprise. If you’ve watched, played, or read something that constructed a narrative surrounding caves that called on their natural majesty, PLEASE I beg of you to let me know about it! I hope to see more and more diverse representations of what caves can be in all forms of popular media in the years to come! Keep it real y'all <3

 -Ghost Emoji 👻

[yeahyankee]

Palimpsest [Trigun '98 - Post Show - Vash x Meryl] - Pt. 3

Meryl ended up only having room for half of her plate of food. The rest of it sat ignored, perched on the corner of her work desk.

She'd tried to go to sleep a dozen times since then, woken up anew each time the storm rocked the house, making the rafters and shingles quake in their ramshackle rental.

Ultimately, she climbed out of bed and sat down at her desk. Insomnia was a hell of a good time to transcribe her notes into her report for the week. No time like the present.

Meryl felt herself get lost in the rhythm of typing. When she could manage to separate herself from the discomfort of having to report the sins and tragedies of other humans—the news was just reporting back a series of facts.

That was enough to keep her mind busy most nights until she ran out of steam or typewriter ribbon.

Except, today, her enemy was light itself.

She rounded out the hefty quote at the end of a page and pulled a blank one towards her.

Her table lamp flickered and sputtered out. Meryl cursed, getting up to fiddle with the room's light switch. Nothing. She sighed, knowing the sandstorm had finally knocked something loose at the local plant.

Outside, she couldn't hear anything but the scrape and shudder of sand blowing against the home.

Meryl made her way downstairs cautiously and tried to remember where the generator in the house was. Did Milly say it was in the basement? Outside the house? She couldn't remember.

She kicked herself. Hadn't Vash checked on it earlier?

She pressed her palms against the cool walls downstairs, closing her eyes to feel her way along. It was too dark to see anything this late, with the occlusion of the sand, no moonlight or street lights to guide her.

Downstairs, the sound and the cool dark made it sound like she was in a deep cave. The dark was an improvement, if she was being honest, to the storm's lead-up. The way it turned the sky an ember shade of red, so much like August. The churning red sky, the cratered, smoldering absense where parts of the city used to be.

A bead of sweat cropped up on her temple as she made her way through the dark. Vash was a lot of things, one of those things was a being that was not...to their understanding. And it wasn't until he'd left ages ago, that she realized--even beyond the spooky marksmanship and the hole he'd blown in the moon--people knew he wasn't like them when he showed up to town.

Like a minor note in a major chorus, they picked him out each time. The sorrow that followed Vash wasn't something he sought out, it was his punishment for being different, standing outside the flow of time.

Something slipped around her forearm and she jumped.

"Hey, whoa now, it's me," Vash said in the dark.

She slapped at him where she pictured his chest would be, "I'm not a barn animal, you don't need to horse whisper me."

"All right, fair enough," he said, grabbing her hand unceremoniously in the dark.

Meryl's soul felt like it was about to leap out of her skin. He'd practically sponge bathed her in a nightgown and somehow this seemed like the most shocking thing he'd done all evening.

"Come on, I wanna show you something," he said, tugging on her hand gently. He waited for her to catch up, mindful she wouldn't trip. "Watch your step."

"Is the generator working?' Meryl asked idly as they padded to the back of the house.

"Nah," Vash said. "Compressor's busted."

Meryl followed him to the back of the house, where the long, covered sunroom looked out towards a dusty field. The slant of the add-on roof shielded most of the covered porch from damage.

But she could see now, it provided an almost impossibly beautiful view onto the lone field, only caught in moments of visibility between rough snatches of wind.

The braided gusts of sand wove past them, and it reminded her of her old experiments as a child, shaking up water and sand in a glass bottle--a tiny imitation surf.

Vash let go of her hand and took a seat on the rattan bench, littered with Milly's favorite blankets for napping.

"I couldn't sleep so I've just kind of been watching the storm."

She sank down into the worn cushions next to him, pulling one of the crocheted blankets around herself. Less for warmth and more for comfort.

"It's beautiful," she said, relishing the dull thunder of sand buffeting against the tin roof, hearing the sand slide downward, like a big, bristled brush.

When she checked back, she noticed him looking at her, face at ease but inscrutable. "You look like you're feeling a little better, that's a relief," he said.

Meryl struggled to find her voice for a moment, "Good, yeah, I'm fine, thanks."

"Come here for a sec, you had a knot on the left side of your neck," he scooted back on the settee, making room in front of him. "Let's get that out, too."

Meryl muttered something, seemingly at her lap, and then awkwardly budged herself. She perched herself at the very edge of the settee.

Vash's hands found the back of her neck in the dark, working the pads of his fingers around the tenderness in her neck, easing out the pain slowly with practiced swipes of his thumb.

They slipped underneath her jaw, working out all the tension from when she ground her teeth in her sleep.

"You're a mess," he chuckled softly behind her. She could feel it rumble against her back as he leaned in.

"You're one to talk," she shot back, her mind going back to memories of his body. So painfully torn up, but lean, and practiced, a savage beauty to the patchwork of scars and along his flesh.

She'd counted every bullet hole on his body. Cataloged every entry and exit wound, knew every freckle, cut, and hair on his head. On some of their scariest nights, she counted them back to herself, as Vash tried to keep down the pain medication long enough to sleep.

"You know what I always wondered?" Vash asked, fingers kneading into her scalp.

"What?"

"How come you never said anything after you kissed me, that one time."

He tipped her head back and she opened up her eyes, staring at him. Somewhere along the way, she'd come under the impression that they'd silently agreed to never speak of that night again.

It was an impulsive, celebratory move, the night they stumbled back home after his recovery. The truth was that they were both delighted that Vash could walk, more than anything else.

"I was glad you weren't dead. Plus, you fell on me on the way back to the house," Meryl bristled, but as she did, she could feel Vash shift closer.

"That's the story you're going with?"

"That's what happened," she insisted.

"And now?"

He was stone sober tonight, and she had no idea what that meant. His hands swept around her hips, lifting her effortlessly into his lap.

Vash brushed the straps of her nightgown downwards, planting soft, lingering kisses on her shoulder.

"You're beautiful, Meryl," he murmured into her soap-fresh skin.

"That tickles," she shuddered, squirming in his lap.

A short huff of want, and then lips along her earlobe. His fingers curved around her ribcage, tugging her nightgown down. The tips of his fingers traced circles around her budding nipples. Lace scraped deliciously against her sensitive skin.

She leaned against him, as his fingers explored her, tracing paths from her ribs to her belly-button. She jolted softly in his lap when she felt his fingers bunching up the gown, sliding it back.

The lightest touch, so soft it almost tickled, brushed against her inner thigh. Her heart would be thundering out of nervousness if it hadn't begun to thunder out of want first.

Vash's fingers appeared at her lips, pressing against them softly for entry. She opened her mouth and took both of them to the knuckle, enjoy the salty-sweet taste to him.

Fingers slick, Vash pressed into her. She already was wet with want, his fingers slipping into her easily as her curled them upwards.

He spread her legs, hooking them on his knees, so her hips could cant upwards.

The pressure in her hips built as she bucked towards his hand, lips mouthing silent pleas.

Vash kissed along her jaw, pulling his fingers out of her.

She pressed into his hand, needy, and his middle finger pressed down on her clit, rubbing soft and slow.

Meryl bucked up against his hand one final time, feeling herself hurtle off the edge with abandon, topping into a velvet dark.

The storm outside ate any sound of their indiscretion in the solarium, and that was probably for the best.

Later that night, as she rested, curled into his chest, and counted the seconds between his breaths getting longer, more even.

When she was sure that he was a sleep, she pressed her forehead to him and whispered "I didn't think I'd see you again."

Vash's lumbering arm pulled her close, almost making her jump.

"Didn't think I'd find you."

"We didn't do a good job at this the first time around, did we?" she said glumly, feeling lulled into some false sense of security, convinced he was already asleep, babbling in a dream.

"Never too late to start over, I think," he said, suddenly humbling her. He lifted a sleepy hand to poke her on the nose. "You worry too much."

"Give me less to worry about, then," she grumbled, but felt herself relax against him.

"Yes ma'am."

She smiled.

In the morning, after the storm was isles away from town, they would wake to a glorious sky, draped in colors you could only imagine most days in the desert.

Pinks, that bled into explosive purple, soft blue, and delectable, sherbet orange, everything painted a new coat of dazzling varnish.

Maybe you could overwrite something painful with something good.

Maybe to try was human.

[vonlipvig]

SAND CAVE TRAGEDY MENTION i think the internet h1storian should walk into the house and get lost there

[hobbledehoyyyyy]

A LOVER FROM PALESTINE - Mahmoud Darwish

Your eyes are a thorn in my heart

Inflicting pain, yet I cherish that thorn

And shield it from the wind.

I sheathe it in my flesh, I sheathe it, protecting it from night and agony,

And its wound lights the lanterns,

Its tomorrow makes my present

Dearer to me than my soul.

And soon I forget, as eye meets eye,

That once, behind the doors, there were two of us.

Your words were a song

And I tried to sing, too,

But agony encircled the lips of spring.

And like the swallow, your words took wing,

The door of our home and the autumnal threshold migrated,

To follow you wherever led by longing

Our mirrors were shattered,

And sorrow was multiplied a thousand fold.

And we gathered the splinters of sound,

Mastering only the elegy of our homeland!

Together were will plant it in the heart of a lyre,

And on the rooftops of our tragedy we’ll play it

To mutilated moons and to stones.

But I have forgotten, you of the unknown voice:

Was it your departure that rushed the lyre or was it my silence?

Yesterday I saw you in the port,

A long voyager without provisions,

Like an orphan I ran to you,

Asking the wisdom of our forefathers:

How can the ever-verdant orange grove be dragged

To prison, to exile, to a port,

And despite all her travels,

Despite the scent of salt and longing,

Remain evergreen?

I write in my diary:

I love oranges and hate the port

And I write further:

On the dock

I stood, and saw the world through Witter’s eyes

Only the orange peel is ours, and behind me lay the desert.

In the briar-covered mountains I saw you,

A shepherdess without sheep,

Pursued among the ruins.

You were my garden, and I a stranger,

Knocking at the door, my heart,

For upon my heart stand firm

The door and windows, the cement and stones.

I have seen you in casks of water, in granaries,

Broken, I have seen you a maid in night clubs,

I have seen you in the gleam of tears and in wounds.

You are the other lung in my chest;

You are the sound on my lips;

You are water; you are fire.

I saw you at the mouth of the cave, at the cavern,

Hanging your orphans’ rags on the wash line.

In the stoves, in the streets I have seen you.

In the barns and in the sun’s blood.

In the songs of the orphaned and the wretched I have seen you.

I have seen you in the salt of the sea and in the sand.

Yours was the beauty of the earth, of children and of Arabian jasmine.

And I have vowed

To fashion from my eyelashes a kerchief,

And upon it to embroider verses for your eyes,

And a name, when watered by a heart that dissolves in chanting,

Will make the sylvan arbours grow.

I shall write a phrase more precious than honey and kisses:

‘Palestinian she was and still is’.

On a night of storms, I opened the door and the window

To see the hardened moon of our nights.

I said to the night: Run out,

Beyond the darkness and the wall;

I have a promise to keep with words and light.

You are my virgin garden

As long as our songs

Are swords when we draw them.

And you are as faithful as grain

So long as our songs

Keep alive the fertile soil when we plant them.

You are like a palm tree in the mind:

Neither storm nor woodsman’s ax can fell it.

Its braids uncut

By the beasts of desert and forest

But I am the exiled one behind wall and door,

Shelter me in the warmth of your gaze.

Take me, wherever you are,

Take me, however you are.

To be restored to the warmth of face and body,

To the light of heart and eye,

To the salt of bread and song,

To the taste of earth and homeland.

Shelter me in the warmth of your gaze,

Take me, a panel of almond wood, in the cottage of sorrows,

Take me, a verse from the book of my tragedy,

Take me, a plaything or a stone from the house,

So that our next generation may recall

The path of return to our home.

Her eyes and the tattoo on her hands are Palestinian,

Her name, Palestinian,

Her dreams, and sorrow, Palestinian,

Her Kerchief, her feet and body, Palestinian,

Her words and her silence, Palestinian,

Her voice, Palestinian,

Her birth and her death, Palestinian,

I have carried you in my old notebooks

As the fire of my verses,

The sustenance for my journeys.

In your name, my voice rang in the valleys:

I have seen Byzantium’s horses

Even though the battle be different.

Beware, oh beware

The lightning struck by my song in the granite.

I am the flower of youth and the knight of knights!

I am the smasher of idols.

I plant the Levantine borders

With poems that set eagles free.

And in your name I have shouted at the enemy:

Worms, feed on my flesh if ever I slumber,

For the eggs of ants cannot hatch eagles,

And the shell of the adder’s egg

Holds but a snake!

I have seen Byzantium’s horses,

And before it all, I know

That I am the flower of youth and the knight of knights!

[thecrookedwriterspath]

First line tag game

Thanks for the tag @sabels-small-sphere !

This game has you post the first sentence in your last ten works; if you don't have 10, do as many as you have!

Lucky y'all, I DEFINITELY have at least that xD I usually only mention WIPs I have a decent amount on but but there's plenty more. Let me know if you're interested in any, familiar or not!

I'll tag @thewriterswitch @writing-with-melon @hd-literature and @surroundedbypearls though anyone feel free to take it on as well!

1. Songs of Decay

Tom: Soo you're angry with me because the moose didn't maul me and my daughter? Sir? Compton: No, I'm upset because you were directly in the Moose Zone after the warnings went off, and then instead of leaving, you fought it. With your daughter there!

2. Frozen Sands

Hawk stalked out of the house and paused to massage his temples. His father Hugo could be too jovial at times. There was a limit to what Hawk could handle, and Hugo went over that, regularly. Combined with the hammering of metal in the forge and workshop, headaches were a daily occurrence.

3. A Small Lantern Still Gives Light

Zhang Huai Shi: *eating noodles* You hear that? Bai Xue Ying: Dog, he said. Zhang Huai Shi: Yeah. Don't know any that tall, do you?

4. Dragons and Kingdoms

“The herds were forced into the last barn remaining, and the herders tried their best to keep all of the animals together. The dragon roared and swooped at the stragglers, its companion flying over the roof and belching out green flames. But the people had thought ahead and soaked the roof, and the flames would not catch. The greedy dragon was not pleased by this, and tried again."

5. Bards, Courts, and Changelings

Leir: Who's the warden? Haysel: Ooooh, that's Leystand. Leir: What? Haysel: *quieter* Can't you tell?? Leir: *also quieter* I've never had the misfortune of running into him.

6. Birds of a Feather (Labyrinth x Princess Tutu)

[montage of recordings in front of the school in various locations; Rosalind, a theater student with an assignment, is setting up for interviews, shuffling papers beside a camera. Her partner, Celia, is setting up the camera] Rosalind: *going through papers* Celia: *focusing the camera on an outside hallway* Femio: *posing* Is this good? My better angle? Mis amores, please tell me if I am too much for your technology~

7. Dancing with Deception

Shida used to take ballet. She'd even learned ballroom, salsa, tango, swing. Now she just listened to the beat, bouncing and banging her head and hips to the sound surrounding her.

8. Alien Girlfriend

Most people don't believe in aliens. However, I happen to know that those people are wrong. I never argued one way or another for a long time - it didn't matter to me. Extraterrestrial or local, I didn't push for any more information than people would share on their own.

9. A Deal's a Deal

Nashida walked into the woods with a light, well after the hour she knew were safe. She followed a path deeper and deeper into the forest, and soon lost the trail entirely. She was alone. She knew she had to be for this to work.

10. [title pending] Princess Tutu Reverse Isekai Xianxia

An old man lived on his own with a donkey in a cave on a mountaintop, rarely coming out but to chuckle at the world, beat his fish drum, and return. He wrote stories, fanciful but sad ones, delighting in their tragedy and chaos. One day, he was found dead, his last story left unfinished. But it held much potential left to fulfill…

That's all for now!

WIP tag lists (condensed):

@hd-literature @surroundedbypearls @pure-solomon @blind-the-winds @sarah-sandwich-writes @lucianinsanity @coffeewritesfiction @sabels-small-sphere @writinglittlebeasts

[myths-and-legends-retelling]

The Tragedy of Picolous

Picolous wiped sweat and blood from his eyes. Above him and his brothers, the sky turned dark as lightning flashed from the skies. But there was no rain to wash their dead away. Those bolts were aiming for their own.

With a deep breath, Picolous grabbed his sword and pushed himself behind a boulder. In the field, Apollo was slaying more of his giant brothers. His arrows moved swiftly through the crowd. He turned his head to Picolous’ hideout who jumped away into the field, hiding beneath the body of a fallen brethren. The putrid smell of iron and rotting flesh, mixed with the screams of the fallen pierced Picolous’ ears worse than any blade ever could.

Luck was on his side, for Apollo saw Ephialtes and pulled back his bow. The arrow whistled through the air and landed in Ephialtes’ left eye. The roars from the giant sent shivers down Picolous’ spine.

For three nights, the giant shivered and cowered beneath the body. He didn’t dare look up, for he feared the eye of the Sky Father. It was only when the thunder seized and Nyx drew her veil over the skies, that Picolous took a breath of fresh air. But he could not remain in the field for long, for in the distance he heard the Keres call out in hunger. The smell of rot and the buzz of flies followed the grotesque creatures as they made their way to the battlefield. Picolous eased out from under his dead brother and ran to the mountains. From the top, he watched the Keres tear at the flesh of the fallen and fight over dried bones.

“Savages,” he sneered at the creatures.

For three days, Picolous roamed through the lands, until he reached the place where the sea and the land met. The cold sand stuck to his body and the winds Eurus blew in were cold against his exposed flesh. Before Picolous could rest his weary feet, he heard the sky above rumble. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He was being watched by one he wished will never watch him.

Picolous fled to a cave where the Sky Father’s eye couldn’t reach him. Once more he waited for Nyx, watching the stars before he fled from his cave. He dove into the sea and swam away. Picolous’ arms ached as he fought against the rising waves. The dark sky and salty water did nothing but hinder his journey. By the time Picolous was ready to give in to his watery grave, he saw land on the horizon. He pushed on until he could drag his weakened limbs onto the shore.

He kissed the sands of Aeaea, thanking his fathers for his safety. There Picolous spent a month, slaying wild boars and eating fruits to regain his strength. It appeared as though he was fated to live.

On one of his hunting expeditions, Picolous saw a blessed sight. Bathing in the waters of Aeaea was made of fair skin and dark hair. Her features were fine and her eyes were soft as she gazed at the rippling of the pond. A filthy heat rose in Picolous as he watched her caress her bare skin. He wished to be the one who could touch her skin. To kiss it and bite it tills it was covered in red.

A stick broke and the maiden’s eyes turned to where Picolous was hiding. They were the colour of the night sky and as cold as the frozen winds. Picolous ran from the maiden to hide in the woods. There his mind brooded over the beauty he had seen. He would make her his. Through any means.

As Nyx rode over the skies, Picolous came from the woods. He spotter the maiden wandering into a cabin surrounded by animals. Hidden in the bushes, he waited for every being to fall under Hyno’s spell before he crept out. He opened the door to the cabin and spotted the maiden sleeping above a bed of furs. Her pale skin contrasted their dark colours.

He caressed her cheek before forcing his hand over her lips. Dark eyes burst open, filled with horror as Picolous smiled at her. His teeth were rotten and bloodied from the fatty wild. The maiden wanted to scream, but Picolous’ gigantic hands muffled any sound as he pulled her close to him, he lifted her up and dragged her from her cabin. The animals didn’t stir even as she kicked and fought.

Picolous pulled her to his den within the woods – hidden so not even the Sky Father could find them. He threw her to the floor and pushed her arms down. Tears ran from the maiden’s eyes, while Picolous’ foul breath burned against her skin.

But Nyx would not keep this act a secret. For as she descended, Helios rose in the sky. The sight of his daughter under the filthy giant made his blood boil. The Sky Father may not have found them. But Helios would not allow his daughter to disappear that easily.

He pulled back his bow and shot the Giant with one arrow. Picolous fell over the maiden, his eyes still red with lust.

Helios came down and pulled the maiden from the giant. “Circe, you are the mightiest witch on these lands. How can you fall to such a brute.”

Circe didn’t answer, her skin was burned by the giant. Instead, she watched as Gaia took her son back. Leaving nothing of the giant but moly to decorate the spot where he died.

[cavefilllingcorporation]

The Crystal Cavern's last memory

As the workers were leaving, Tom looked behind him, the once beautiful magical caverns now lifeless in the wake of his and his crew’s destruction. Straight walls of solid rock stood where multifaceted crystals of purple and white hue once gleamed with delight. Those crystals would be broken down into their fundamental components, most likely as crystals put into technology, sealed from any source of light and ability to sparkle and shine. He continued to look around, seeing the empty nooks and crannies that littered the caverns earlier. These crevasses once held unique plant-life. Lichen, moss, grasses, and even some small trees once littered the place, giving a contrasting color to the purple and whites. Now those plants were either being studied for exploitation or sitting in the composting facilities, being turned into cheap fertilizer. Not one plant was allowed to live, leaving the cavern bare and monotone in its gray hue. He then turned to the interior of the caverns. The most magical part about these caverns was the floating islands in the middle, some of them even having homes from the pervious residents. But when he turned to look at them, all he saw were support beams, the only things keeping the ceiling from punishing them for their greed.

Worse yet, their next assignment was going to be the ocean desert. A former body of water that the Corporation had dumped tons of sand into, resulting in a flat sandy plain, one that would have to be manually harvested. It was going to be tedious, slow work, and worse, the glass blowing sectors would not be able to keep up in time, meaning that they would have to occupy their time with something else. Maybe they would move on to another sector. Maybe would get back to clearing the maze. Who knows? All he knew was that it wasn’t going to be as memorable as this place.

“Tom!” Tom snapped back to reality, one of his fellow workers finally succeeding in catching his attention:

“We have to go. They’re going to detonate the charges on the support beams.”

Ah yes, that. With no unique material to harvest, and with the risk of a cave-in becoming ever clearer, the Corporation had decided to trigger an artificial collapse and save itself a major accident scene. It was all for the safety of their workers, and of course there was nothing to save left for stone and hardened clay. It was for the best… and yet, he couldn’t help but have a hollow feeling in his chest.

“I’ll be out shortly. I just want to take one last look at this place.”

“Fine but be quick.”

He nodded as the worker left for the train. Ironically, his nostalgia for the place caused him to take a step forward towards the cavern, not backwards as a smart person would take. He remembered the first time that he was here. Eager to get to work, he stepped on the cavern floor, and was affected by the curse that was placed on the land. It took him a week before he could get out of the medical ward, and even then, he had trouble with partial blindness for days until they could completely remove the curse. That was when he remembered the reason why these caverns were magical. A coven of witches and wizards once lived here. A hostile group, ready to send their flying beasts at anybody who dared entered their home. Fortunately for them, they were nearly wiped out before the Corporation arrived. They accepted the terms of the Corporation’s deals, being moved to a new home so that the Corporation could harvest the caverns. He could still smell the dried blood that they ran into occasionally as they were tearing the flying islands apart.

You know, when thinking about it that way, maybe these caverns weren’t so special after all. Sure, they were full of wonder, but they were caused with sinister intentions, which were rebutted to them several times over. It was the site of tragedy, and loss, not to mention having the stigma of being a direct part of the Maze itself. Maybe it was the best to have it destroyed… was it? He wasn’t sure he could even convince himself of that.

Yet as he turned away, he saw the small corner where he and his friends goofed off playing the crystals like drums. He saw where they had broken past the crystal walls and found the standard stone and clay. He saw where they found treasure, or when they finished clearing the ceiling, or where they finished gathering the last remaining shards. He realized then what really mattered with this place, and why it mattered to him: Memories. So many memories were made here, good and bad. That’s what mattered. And even though nobody would be able to make more memories of this once memorable location, he and his crew would still hold onto these memories, discuss them, remember them, cherish them. He smiled as he walked towards the train where his fellow co-workers were waiting on him, happy that he was able to work for a business as kind as the Cave Filling Corporation. Because no matter what happened, he knew that he and his crew would always be able to be the last ones to find such memorable locations. And if he was the one to have the last memories of those places, he happy to have the responsibility of keeping them alive in memory.