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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years ago

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The Rubicon, Part 3: Allegory Of The Cave

AKA, the Force-Sensitive-teenager-that-didn't-go-to-the-Jedi-I wrote-flash-fic-of-on-someone-else's-post-and-kept-going-Whoops-AU

Part 1

Part 2

---

The galaxy has had many brilliant philosophers, among them is Platocca, the Wookiee scholar wrote an allegory of prisoners trapped in a cave, shown shadows of objects, people and animals are projected onto the wall by their captors, as a metaphor for the limits of the senses, and how the shadow of a Rancor is not the same thing as a Rancor itself.

Her disappearance does not go unnoticed- it’s hard to miss when the chateau of a locally prominent political family explodes hard enough to cause a major power outage and the body of their ‘reclusive’ daughter is nowhere to be found. A search is organized, and the scent-akks trace her footsteps out of the house and into the desert but lose the trail at the river, like how a vulpire evades the hunt.

The search expands- her holo is circulated on the local planetary networks, The family is interviewed and they, tearful, plead for her safe return. Her little sister’s tears and begging that it won’t Lifeday without her play particularly well. It gets picked up by the regional channels and soon there is a galaxy wide search for the Missing Girl.

Everyone loves to be a Hero.

The desert is searched by police flyover and volunteer foot teams. Hundreds scour the bare rocks for clues. Someone treks a full hundred miles into the labyrinthine canyons in search of her.

Everyone loves a Mystery.

Interviews are conducted with the family, with her mentors, with her caretakers and doctors. People try to reconstruct the final day before she vanished, someone publishes her school essays and more photos are found- of a shy child, cringing in the back of the Science Bowl team, or trying to hide behind a tree in a family reunion photo.

Everyone loves a scandal.

Ten is not that young an age to enter politics in the Galaxy far, far away, especially not for the now-heir to a prominent local political family and the little sister’s announcement that she’s running for the local civic council wouldn’t be terribly noteworthy, save that it’s done at a rally to raise funds for missing children all over the planet in her missing sister’s memory. By that afternoon, medical records are leaked- seven major psychiatric institutions in under five years, involuntary commitments, ‘experimental’ treatments for an ‘undiagnosed’ disorder- she hurt her siblings, it’s said, she was mentally deficient and home alone- abandoned, when the home “mysteriously” exploded and she vanished without a trace.

Tongues wag, and eventually agree that, best case scenario, it’s a family capitalizing on the tragedy to further their political ambitions But best case scenarios are rare in the Galaxy Far, Far away, and the idea that a family might try to get rid of a troublesome daughter before launching the career of another isn’t even a terribly implausible scenario.

Regardless of the situation, the Sister continues to poll well. Or, perhaps, because of it. Everyone loves to think they’re in on a conspiracy, and if this family is ruthless enough to kill a daughter, well, imagine what they’ll do to the opposition?

She first becomes aware of all this at a funeral.

She had gone back to the oxbow to bathe- having worked out podes that are durable enough for the desert and dexterous enough for her needs, and a steady, efficient gait to traverse the vastness of her new home, she was now experimenting with skin, and while the latest thick midnight-violet mammalian hide performed admirably in terms of thermal regulation and protection against the spines every plant and half the animals here had, it had a tendency to get oily and she thought a nice roll in the sand and soak might be in order.

Instead, the far side of the oxbow was crowded with people, all dressed in mourning white and carrying candles. A pyre was set up on the far bank, and a small, closed coffin sat atop it.

Oh hell. A child’s funeral. Who died? Not one of my classmates? or- no, no there are Sis and The Baby, thank fuck. Mom and Dad too. Front row. Hell of a crowd too. And reporters? Yeah, those are definitely holocorders, for the news. She squinted at the logos on the vans parked just up from the riverbank, having to switch spectra and focal distance a few times before the characters became clear. Big networks! We don’t have anyone that famous, do we? Which unfortunate bastard are you all the way out here for?

She stalked closer, using the harsh angle of the setting sun as cover, long ears cocked to listen. Voices sang monotonously through the traditional funeral dirge, her mother blotting at her cheek with a handkerchief. As the assembled tried and largely failed to reach the final note, The local temple priest lowered the funeral torch, lit the pyre, arthritically climbed both stairs to the podium, and tapped the mic.

“Blessings upon us all, on this sad occasion.” He bowed his head. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of one who was taken from us too soon.” he gestured to the holo broadcast in front of the pyre. She had to shuffle through the underbrush, until she could make out the flickering image against the flame. A girl, about her age, in fancy dress, grimacing as politely as she could.

Poor thing. Looks wretched even in the best holo her family could find. Would we have been friends, this girl and I? Maybe I knew her-

She squinted at the holo, something about it familiar- Gods, they’d even had the same awful bob haircut and itchy, itchy tule dress she’d been subjected to-

Wait.Is. Is that ME?

“She struggled in life, but was beloved by all who knew her-”

What.

“-She was a champion member of the Science Bowl Team-”

They kicked me off the team for ‘cheating’! It wasn’t my fault I knew the questions before they were asked!

“-and her artworks still adorn the walls of our school.”

WHERE? I got told that they were ‘Too Scary’ and ‘Not School Appropriate’!

“She was always unparalleled in character- you could not find a more, sometimes brutally, honest person, and she clung unfailingly to her personal ethics.”

Oh? Oh, that’s what we’re calling it? Because last month in front of the shrinks you called me ‘tactless and prone to blurting things out’ and said I ‘rigidly conformed to arbitrary standards to the point of insanity’! She seethed, a low rumble of disgust.

“We are all aware of her unfortunate medical history-”

Oh. Oh no.

“-but we can take some solace in the fact that she does not suffer anymore.”

Her mother took this chance to bawl theatrically.

There are no words in all the tongues of the galaxy-

“While ultimately unsuccessful, the efforts to find her- hundreds, if not thousands of volunteer search parties, all across the galaxy as this tragedy has brought us all together in ways I no longer thought possible. She is now one with the Nature she loved so much, and at peace. May this pyre symbolize the light she briefly brought into our lives, and let us reflect on our memories of her.”

The Priest stepped back and the line of mourners stepped forward- classmates, muttering about brief conversations in the hall, except a Longtime Bully, who gushed enthusiastically about how funny she was, with her weird turns of phrase and the way she-

She almost retched at the way her Bully imitated the way her hands would twitch when she was frightened, giggling.

Then her mother stepped up.

“We. We knew She was special, from the very day she was born-”

YEAH YOU SURE FUCKIN’ DID, DIDN’T YOU? She seethed, claws digging into the sand and tail thrashing. WAITING AT THE DOOR FOR ME, YOU SAID. BUT NO- NOT, YOU KNEW HOW TO RAISE ME BEST, YOU LOVED ME TOO MUCH TO GIVE ME AWAY, YOU SAID-

She crumpled, flattening against the ground and sobbing, strained hisses as her mother carried on, trying to hold back the tide of emotion before the Pyre exploded or something. She stared at the hologram instead. The girl depicted is a stranger- no really when the hell did Mom even TAKE that?? Fucking. Dress. When was the last time I even wore that thing? Gods, last Lifeday? No, I was back inside for that. It was… Really? Really? You chose a picture two years out of date?

She remembered the dress well. An awful thing made of tulle that didn’t itch so much as actually shred her skin where it wasn’t dangerously compressing her lungs and intestines. She’d been ‘allowed’ home for the holiday, a probation for Good Behavior and the muscles around her mouths ached at the memory of the practiced smile she held for weeks, lest her Mother change her mind about letting her attend the party. She’d made it a full three months before her hand slipped doing the dishes and even though the cut on her hand was small it was just one thing too many and the smile cracked and she ended up throwing the offending knife across the kitchen in a panic.

She looked down at her ‘hand’ now, the scar still there despite the changes. Some landmarks were stubborn like that- she still had the freckles and that one mole, and the scar from attempting to ride a swoop and crashing into the shrubbery instead. Others vanished from her body and her memory without a trace with the shape-change.

…Not that a more current image would really be more accurate but fucking really? That’s the one you picked? I guess I should be glad you miss me at all, but-

Her tail thrashes, chewing on this emotion and the air around her. Her mother is bent over the podium, sobbing. Her grief seems genuine, really. These are ugly, snotty sobs and the air around her cracks and splinters like bone in the Force.

And yet.

…DID she have more current holos of me? I was usually the one holding the camera, but. No, not from last Lifeday, I was inside. Not from Sis’ birthday, I was in the kitchen all day. Not on the Baby’s nameday either, all the holos are from inside that packed fire hazard of a temple and i refused to go in. Unless she took something between when my last camp ended and before they left for the mountains on the ‘normal vacation, for once’...

That really is the last Holo you have of me isn’t it?

And it’s not even me, just your favorite role I played.

Her father pulls her mother away from the podium, and she latches onto The Baby, cradling him close. The Priest shambles up to the podium again, and starts the final prayers. For peace, for a happy afterlife. The mourners got up and filed by the pyre, setting their candles around it before shuffling past the family, offering their condolences.

They lay hands upon her parents, and shake the hand of her sister, wishing her luck with her campaign.

She watched them file by, shrinking and retreating back, cowering in- in what? Fear? Anger? Grief? Disgust? She clawed at her face, unable to run, unable to stay.

Eventually, the neighbors collect Sis and The Baby, and her parents stay, waiting with the priest for the pyre to blow out, as per tradition. Her father stares off into the distance, mother clutched to his side.

“You. You’ve done this before, right?” he eventually stammers, turning to the priest.

“Fifty years of funerals.” the priest nods.

“And. And children?” He asks.

“Some of them, yes.” the priest sighed. “Children are always the hardest.”

Her father stared into the flames.

“Is. Is it wrong to feel… Relieved?”

Her mother wails again.

“I, I just… I keep thinking I hear her, around the house or out in the yard and I keep thinking she’s not really dead but- but it’s dread. I dread having to be on guard all the time or take her to another doctor or suffer another tantrum. I- I loved her, like any parent would but- but-”

“- We couldn’t live with her.” Her mother sighed. “Not really.“

The priest nodded slowly. “It’s not uncommon to feel relieved that our loved ones are no longer suffering. Or to feel some relief from being free of burden of care, even as we mourn.” he tried, over-optimistically.

“It’s not something you say to a child but. Oh gods. Oh gods what a nightmare.” Her mother sobbed.

“Her spirit may yet be with us!” the Priest pleaded.

“Body and Spirit, Holy Father.”

They all looked up.

She stood on the sandy bank of the river, the thin nervous girl from earlier this summer. She held her arms out, silently asking for a hug.

Her father shrieked, and stepped back, her mother cowering behind him. The priest held his own arms up defensively.

Ah. So that’s how it is.

“Relieved? That’s how you feel? The nightmare is over?” Voice high and tight as she grimaced at them, smiling like a primate baring its teeth before an eye-gouging, face-eating assault. “You know what? I can’t blame you. I have to say, this last month? I’ve been pretty relieved too. No white-knucke social events. No more being abandoned so Sis and The Baby can grow up ‘normal’. No more ‘treatments’- you know the last one involved electrodes, right? Of course you did. You signed the wavier!”

Her mother opened her mouth, but choked on whatever it was she was going to say.

“But the biggest thing? No more pretending. No more playing the sweet, stupid girl for you to pity and be pitied for. No more pretending I’m the crazy one here. No more being something I’m not.” She grinned, and began to change again, skin darkening to midnight again, stretching her spine out until she tipped forward, forelegs splashing in the water and making them jump. She stretched to the height and shape that felt comfortable, A deeper shadow of limbs and muscle and teeth and too many eyes, tapetum lucidum glittering above them in the last of the Pyre-light.

Her mother gagged, her father stared, frozen except for the tears, and the priest crumpled back in revulsion.

“I really can’t blame you.” She rumbled, stereophonic now. “-But I won’t let you delude yourselves. I might be free of you, but you’ll never be free of what you did to me.” She grinned mouths full of teeth at them, before turning and walking into he river, vanishing below the surface with a flick of her tail.

Her mother’s screams echoed in faintly through the water as she made her way downriver. There was a spaceport there, and nothing for her here.

---

Now, Platocca rather famously got in a brawl with another Philosopher named Ogg who posited that while the shadow of the thing is not the thing itself, if there's a moving shadow shaped like a Rancor, it's being cast by SOMETHING, and there are better things to do than standing around philosophizing about it. Like finding out what's casting the shadow from a safe distance, on account of the downright-likely chance that the thing casting the Rancor-shaped shadow is, in fact, a Rancor. You Pedantic Twit.

It doesn’t take long for the carrion beasts to come around.

The scandal embroils the galaxy, and the gruesome details of the child’s history are the gossip of the day.

Some can sniff between the lines, and take notice- if it was any of the more common ailments, something would have worked by now. The details of the ‘explosion’ hit the insurance market- no point of ignition- indeed, no fire at all, like someone had swung a wrecking ball out from inside the home in all directions at once. And they dig a little bit and compare her birth date to the public logs of Jedi deployments and make an educated guess or five.

The only vehicle available for rent was an ugly yellow cargo vehicle, but a make and model with an extremely reliable engine and good mileage, which he decided was a decent tradeoff for its abhorrent color. Alas, to rent! He's already in hot water with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild for ‘retroactively purchasing’ a vehicle the last time he was chasing a mark and while the work was undignified, being a Sith didn’t pay like it used to.

He can hear her miles before he sees her. A low, rumbling thrum in the force, sort of crunchy and guttural, but not unpleasant. He stops the speeder in the blazing white light of late afternoon and cocks his montrals, the physical sensation helping him mentally triangulate the noise. It’s constant, steady drone, like she’s meditating. Or asleep. Either way, a sensible thing to be doing in this disgusting heat. Maybe she does have promise.

The bounty hunter’s guild membership is a convenient source of income, but more than that, it’s an excuse to stick his nose into whatever business the Force demands. Need to get into a secure building? It’s fine to put his boot through a window, he’s after a mark! Need to make some dubious contacts to keep himself appraised of the movements of his fellow force-users? People are much more willing to wag tongues about criminal gossip for some coin than snoop on the Sith, but the relevant details are the same.

And now, when he was trekking into the desert after a teenager- he’s just doing some public service, and certainly not looking for an enraged force-user to take as an apprentice! Besides, if she wasn’t up to snuff, he could always turn her in for the money.

He drives on deeper into the thrum, and eventually spots her location- a grove of massive cacti in a small, depressed ditch. If there is water anywhere out here, its in there. Honestly, did nobody know how to conduct a search these days?

About 100 feet front he grove, he stops, and listens. The thrum is much louder now, but he can’t pick out a specific point of origin inside the grove, which is… peculiar. He hopped down and instantly, the thrum ceased.

“Oh, so you do have some wits about you!” he laughed, strolling closer, hands up and saber tucked behind him, hidden by his coat. “Hey, hey- no reason to panic, I’m just a… well, you and I- we’d be kin, after a fashion.”

No response. No scuttling through the underbrush, no tension from nerves. Cool as a cumcuber fruit, watching him.

“Well, maybe not Kin. I’ve heard all about the bastards that you got stuck with for a family. Most of the galaxy has now!” He shrugged, stepping into the shade of the outermost cacti and squinting into the grove. “They didn’t understand, did they? The connection, the POWER that flows through you- it scared them! And honestly, I can’t blame them, if half of what I’ve read about how you blew up a house is true, why, you’d give some of the elders of my sect a run for their money.”

He can feel her gaze on him, taking in every minute movement. No particular direction, almost as though she were circling him. Good, good! She wouldn’t have lasted long if she was completely without talent, of course. Still, let her circle. Let her come to me.

“My parents never understood either.” He sighed, strolling deeper into the grove. “Always insisting that I was breaking things on purpose, that I was being cruel by telling the truth- but why shouldn’t I? They always said ‘Honesty Is The Best Policy’!” He laughed.

“But my Master? He understood. He understood how big and cruel the galaxy can be, especially for people like us. And it’s not wrong for us to defend ourselves! I’ve got just as much right to exist as a vrelt or a tooka! They can’t make people understand growling, so it’s not wrong for them to bite! So what if I had to resort to force when they couldn’t be made to understand?” He laughed, stopping near the center of the grove. It wasn’t that easy to hide in- the cacti didn’t branch much, and the scub wasn’t that dense. She has to be using the shadows, or keeping her nerve to stay perfectly still and pass herself off as a rock.

“..I suppose it’s fair for you to be cautious.” he nodded, reaching into the pockets of his coat. “I mean, the galaxy is full of hucksters and con-artists that think they know what’s best. I won’t pretend that I do, but I know what it’s like to suffer for having a connection like we do. And well, like how I was taken in, I should return the favor to those in need.” He pulled out a bottle of clean water- still cold even!- and a protein bar.

“Here, a token of my goodwill!” he said, tossing them into the scrub. “I’ll be in the speeder when you’re ready to talk.” he waved, strolling back towards the rental.

“...You have The Force too?” She asked.

He stopped, and couldn’t help grinning a bit. He squinted at where he thought the sound had come from, but only found a plain cactus, and no sign of the frail little girl from the posters.

“That’s right!” He nodded. “That’s how I knew where to find you- belongs like us, we’re all connected.” He explained, tapping his forehead and sitting down on the ground, lekku dragging a bit on the dirt. The circling sensation was back, but he definitely had her interest now. He expanded his perceptions- ah, there it was- she wouldn’t know how to shield yet, of course and he could feel the head-tilting sensation of confusion.

“...Do some people have more Force than others?” she asked, on his other side now.

“Yep!” He laughed. “Good trick, throwing your voice like that! But yes, there’s a huge variation in the capacity people like us have in the force. Don’t worry- it took me years of training to get like this, but with practice-”

A sharp chortle of amusement rang through the grove.

“...What’s so funny?” He asked.

“Years Of Training, you say?” She snickered, and he felt the scales on the back of his neck prickle. He could feel her, close, and moving now, stalking and coiling like a carnivore, but he still didn’t know WHERE-

He was suddenly struck with a vision of himself- sitting, lanky and small, laughably small from her perspective. All the weapons on his person were highlighted, including a dark red throb of the Kyber Crystal in his saber, along with the ache in his back and knees, and the tinnitus in his left montral and his name and his master’s name and- and-

“SHIT!” he snarled, instantly on his feet and glaring up at the tops of the Cacti, lightsaber thrumming in his hand. “Rude little bitch, aren’t you? Sneaking into people’s heads without their permission!” he scolded.

Another amused chuckle. “Better a bitch than a braggart.” she gave the impression of a shrug. “Because I know exactly where and what you are, but you-”

He felt something around his ankles. Midnight violet tendrils, like stalks of mycelium sprouted from the ground and wrapped around his legs. He flipped the saber around in his hand, plunging it into the ground-

“-Don’t even know where to look.” She finished and suddenly the cacti all fell inwards on top of him, as the tendrils yanked down, and he was pulled under the sand, choking and flailing.

He could see her now and-

Oh.

Oh FORCE.

She felt like she’d been all around him because she HAD. She was the cacti and the root system that spanned the grove and dug deep into the underground river system, and hell, even the river itself. Any resemblance to a humanoid form was gone, she was now a companion shadow to the environment around her, a branching form more like a plant or subterranean fungus than anything else.

You were right of course, to head to the only source of water. She conceded, and he felt his skull figuratively pop open like a pocket filing wallet, and the midnight tendrils rifle through his memories with a vague disinterest. But you didn’t know that most of a river is underground, did you? I don’t think any rational search party would have guessed how I’ve been traveling, really-

So, a Sith with a day job? That’s… He felt the mycelium of her body wince in the soil around him as he began to choke on the sand. Pretty embarrassing, actually. But, you’re right, money makes the galaxy go ‘round… memories of The Guild application process, how he’d modified his ID card, His Master back on Korriban, the disciplines of the order, assembling his lightsaber-

His lightsaber!

He swung through the dirt and she flinched away from the blade.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’m going to leave.” she laughed, a mouth forming and unforming from the mycelium ad hoc, and she withdrew from around him. He clawed furiously, reaching up with the force, pulling himself awkwardly up out of the soil, spitting and howling curses as he tried to untangle himself from the roots and the pile of toppled cacti over him-

“So long, and thanks for all the snacks!” She called and he turned-

…to see the yellow rental speeder flooring it into the distance.

He patted his coat and realized that the speeder keys, his wallet, and lightsaber were all missing.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

She was too far to reach now, but he could still feel the crystal in his lightsaber, calling out to them. It’s fine, all I have to do was trust in the force and follow the crystal- She doesn’t know what its capable of-

She set cruise control at just under the speed that made the cheap speeder shudder like it was about to fall apart, and leaned back in the driver’s seat, taking a swig from the water bottle and unscrewed the bottom of the lightsaber.

It was a simple enough device really- a small rechargeable battery that fed energy into the crystal, which was focused through a series of lenses and a magnetic field to create a looping blade of plasma. Basically a more refined version of a Plasma Chainsaw, with a magic rock for a laser.

The magic rock pulsed.

She blinked at it.

It was a pretty thing, the color of really expensive rubies or fresh blood, and sparkled more than either. Not with sunlight. With… Potential.

There was a lot of power in her, and this would let her focus it, to carve the world around her as she saw fit, to conquer all that tormented her- Visions danced, of her on a throne, the dismembered bodies of the doctors and orderlies and her mother at her feet-

“Nah.” She laughed, tossing it over her shoulder and out of the speeder. “I don’t want conquest or to cut throats or whatever.”

“I mean, I do.” She admitted. “I absolutely did fantasize about killing her, more than a few times, just to shut her up. But that’d just leave Sis and The Baby without a parent that genuinely cares for them, and they never did a thing to me.” She shrugged. “It’s a nice fantasy, but it’s not what I want.”

Then what? The natural question followed. I really do have unlimited potential. What Do I Want?

She stared at the shimmering horizon in silence for a while, not so much thinking as listening.

“I want.” She started and paused. “I want to be happy.”

“It’s been a relief, to be away from all the doctors and eggshells, and to be the shapes I want.” She nodded. “But that’s not quite the same as happy.”

“It’s boring too.” She added. “Cacti are all fine and good, but hardly good conversationalists. I want-”

“I’m lonely. And sad, and scared about a lot of stuff.” She admitted, and the truth sat uncomfortably on her breast, but it was better than where it had been sitting inside her, aching, before.

“I want a friend.”

She paused, having picked up a thread in the force. A thin one, feeling like only the finest spun fiber, barely tying her to-

She saw the Apprentice from the documentary again, babbling excitedly about learning about how to conduct diplomacy and the the ins and outs of negotiation, and all the people she was going to meet, and the places she’d see and-

“She looks like she’d be fun to talk with.” She mused.

----

Philosopher Ogg got thrown through a window for arguing with Platocca, but was really the ultimate winner because centuries later, when an excitable and somewhat high-strung Jedi Apprentice got up from her afternoon meditations and saw her shadow finish stretching a full two seconds after she did, she did not write it off as a trick of the light or still being groggy from a meditation session that had accidentally turned into an unplanned nap.

She also, in a demonstration of what an early start learning self-control in an emotionally supportive environment could do for someone, did not immediately panic.

“Alright.” She said, watching her shadow where it stood obediently against the wall in the reflection of the window. “Next we have Saber Practice, and then Rhetoric and then it’s dinner,” She listed off to nobody in particular. The ‘Royal’ We’ they used to call it. Very handy when you couldn’t specify exactly who or what you were talking to.

She walked down the hall, watching her shadow in reflections and when it skipped ahead of her as she turned down the halls, keeping a close eye on when it actually met up with her feet as she walked. It was close, within the margin of error between the complex shadows cast by the architecture of the temple and the shadows of other Jedi but…

When she finally stopped at her place in the lineup to do katas, she could swear she heard herself take another step.

“You seem distracted today, young one.” The saber master frowned as she missed her thrust for the third time that day.

“I- yes, sorry master.” she bowed her head. “It’s going to sound bizarre, but- I don’t know. Does my shadow look weird?”

The master stared at her blankly for a second, then turned his attention to her shadow, which lay on the floor beside her in the expected fashion.

“...No.” He spoke slowly, running his chin with concern. “But that’s my perspective. How does it look to you?”

“Like it’s- lagging? Not quite doing what I am- I stretch, but it stretches for longer. I walk, and it does too, but with a different gait. It’s not much but- I suppose it could be a problem with my peripheral vision? I have been having a lot of migraines lately.”

“Hm.” He nodded. “Well. I do not see any evidence of your shadow behaving in any abnormal way, but you should tell your master and perhaps make an appointment with the ophthalmologist. I promise to tell you if I do see anything out of the ordinary, though.” He smiled gently.

“Thank you master.” She nodded, shoulders drooping a bit. It was, most likely, a trick of the light or her eyes, but it was nice to have an additional perspective.

Her next thrust landed perfectly.

Her shadow was largely out of her line of sight during rhetoric, mostly cast under the desk behind her, and it was easier to focus, but there was the nagging sensation that the usually-empty seat beside her was occupied with someone who kept fidgeting and straining to hear the lecture.

“You okay?” her friend asked, taking her hand as they left class together. “You seem really tense.”

“I don’t know.” the apprentice sighed. “I think I might have a problem with my peripheral vision. I keep seeing my shadow flicker or think there’s someone standing-” She stuck out her free arm and waved it in the air beside her.

“Ick.” Nodded her friend. “Yeah, that’d drive me right up the wall. Hopefully you only need glasses or something?”

“Ugh, glasses.” the Apprentice rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure which would drive me crazier- having to clean the lenses constantly just to be able to see or actually being haunted!”

They laughed, and walked together toward the cafeteria.

“So your master’s away?” her friend asked grabbing trays for both of them.

“Yeah, Mirial, so you understand why the council sent an all-male contingent to the negotiations there.” She nodded, grabbing a pair of allpes fruits. “He’s actually probably back by now but messaged me earlier that he’d been up for three days straight so to finish classes as normal and go see friends if I wanted because he’s going to have the mental faculties of a sofa for a few hours once he lands.”

“Oh nooooo-” her friend giggled. “You don’t worry about him?”

The Apprentice shrugged. “I mean, a bit? But this is pretty normal for him- he’s like a loth-cat, slinks away and hides when he’s not well, but he’ll call if he’s in real trouble. Still, I think I’ll finish dinner here and go back to our rooms, I’ve got so much reading to catch up on-”

It was good to talk and catch up on all the gossip for an hour- She’d been one of the first of her class to be picked for an apprenticeship and as much fun as her new freedoms and responsibilities really were, she sometimes missed the camaraderie of the creche. There were the expected interrogations about off-planet missions and OH FORCE THE PADDWORK and learning one-on-one and the splitting of responsibilities between master and apprentice.

“It’s pretty normal that you don’t go on all the missions early on, I know.” She sighed. “But I did miss him this week. The rooms are too quiet without him taking random calls or doing the dishes at weird hours, you know?”

“Yeah, it’s weird not having you snoring at night.” her crechmate nodded, grinning.

“I DO NOT SNORE”!” she yelped, mock-threatening to throw the spare piece of fruit at him.

“We’re kidding! You whistle a bit, at most.” he friend patted her shoulder affectionately. “Besides, if you get really lonely, you’ve got your little peripheral vision fairy for company!”

The Apprentice rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help a surreptitious glance at her shadow.

“Your WHAT?” her crechemate asked.

“I think I’ve got something wrong with my peripheral vision, and it’s faking me out into thinking my shadow is misbehaving or I’m being followed by some sort of sprite that hates rhetoric class.” She shrugged, waving at her shadow, and it waved along with her. “It only gets more boring- tomorrow is Economics, so you should go haunt someone more exciting.” She told it.

“UUUUGH that sounds so annoying!” her crechmate groaned.

“I don’t know- I suppose it’s not so annoying if I think of it as an invisible friend or something.” The apprentice laughed, and her comm beeped.

>I have returned safely to the bosom of the temple once more. Wretched migraine, grab me a snack? XD

She snorted and showed her friends the message.

“He texts like such an old fart!” her friend giggled. “I thought he was like, really young?”

“He’s only a decade older than me, so practically a kid for a Knight, but damn good at it.” She nodded. “He’s Accumulated Great Wisdom For His Years!” she said in her best esoteric philosopher voice. “So he’s the galaxy’s youngest old fart.”

Her friends cackled as she got up, pocketing the fruit and a few snack bars for him, before waving her goodbyes.

He was curled in bed with a pillow over his head to block the light and noise when she came in, but rolled over and reached out towards her anyway. Her shadow stretched all the way across the room and onto the wall his bed was pushed against in the slice of yellow-orange light cast through the doorway, like the spectre had already joined her master.

“Hello Master.” She smiled, sitting on the bed beside him and pressing a juice pouch into his hand. “I missed you.”

“-and I you.” he replied, slowly sitting up and squinting at the pouch an inch from his face. “Melloon! You remembered my favorite flavor!” he beamed.

“You’ll read with less headache with your glasses.” She sighed, handing the small device to him and watching as he unfolded them and blinked, large dark eyes now appearing twice as large through the prescription lenses. “...How did you know you needed glasses?” She asked as he fiddled with the straw, trying to puncture the pouch.

“Couldn’t see shit.” He grunted. “Well, actually, it was when I couldn’t distinguish the letters on the board back in my very first formal classes. I’ve had them longer than I’ve been able to read.” he said, taking a long sip. “...Why?”

“I’ve- all day my shadow’s looked weird.”

He paused, face still scrunched in discomfort. “...shadows in general, or your shadow specifically?”

“-” She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. “-just mine, actually. And I thought I could hear someone walking behind me, and all rhetoric class I had the impression someone was sitting next to me-”

Her master was suddenly sitting all the way upright, staring at her with rapt attention. She winced.

“It’s alright.” he soothed, hand on her shoulder. “But please, tell me everything.”

She sighed, slowly recounting- the way her shadow seemed to lag or not quite match her, the ongoing headaches, the sensation that “-I don’t know, like someone’s standing beside me? I mean, I absolutely could be working myself up over nothing-”

“If it’s bothering you this much, it’s not nothing.” her master nodded, still watching her face. “Even if it’s just a flicker brought on by growing pains, it’s not nothing. What was the first lesson you were ever taught?”

“...Trust your instincts?” She tried,

“Trust your instincts.” He nodded, smiling gently. “...Without looking at your shadow- do you have an impression of what this… companion looks like? Are they tall, short? A sapient being? Or maybe an animal?”

“They’re uh…” She unfocused her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of the person that had been beside her all day. “-They’re… A girl, like me, my age- not me though, she’s… thinner. A little frail maybe? Skittish- no, that’s not right. Like she’s hanging back. Not sure when to come into the conversation kind of awkwardness? And thirsty. Like, dehydrated.”

“Alright.” Her master nodded. His voice had shifted, like he’d sat up more and closer to her. “Anything else? Do you know what she looks like? Has she said anything?”

“No.” The Apprentice shook her head. “Quiet. Listening, but not having an easy time of it. Keeps fidgeting. She- she has a shape, but it keeps changing. Like- sometimes people don’t know who they are, like they have blurry edges around their sense of self? She’s got really sharp edges of what is and is not her, but those edges are always moving. The eyes are the same though. Intense focus, and an eyeshine, like an animal.” She started to tremble at the feeling of that terrible gaze fixed on her.

Her master shifted his weight, gently wrapping his arm around her and pulling her to lean into his shoulder.

“...I’ve seen her before.” the Apprentice realized. “I don’t know where but. I remember those eyes, staring right through me. Something- something terrible happened…”

“I’m sorry.” a voice whispered.

Her head snapped up, staring at the shadow on the wall on the other side of the bed- it had changed- still the same size as her, but they sure as hell weren’t the same species and a pair of holes in the shadow, in the shape and location of her eyes, still staring. The shadow flinched and the Apprentice’s heart race, but, gazes locked, neither could move.

Visions- the brilliant night sky of the desert, electrodes on her temples, a map tracing the route of a subterranean river, a wound (and the knowledge she’d caused it), the furious screaming of a bounty hunter who had meant her some malice- arced across their connection like lighting. And visions from her mind- The flowers carved and painted into the bunk bed posts at her creche, the buzz of a training saber, the warp of her Master’s prescription glasses, the weight of his arm across her back- arced back.

“You!” She gasped. “You’re the girl who- who-” She gasped, tears flowing but she refused to blink, if she blinked she’d be gone-

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!!!” She yelped and whimpered, unable to pull back from their connection, fear and despair and-

“It’s alright.” her Master’s voice settled over them like a thick blanket, and he reached out, touching the shadow’s shoulder, fingers curling around it as she seemed to peel off the wall, in three dimensions now, and became her own being, still a shadowy echo, but herself and not the Apprentice’s shadow. “It’s all alright.”

He pulled her closer, translucent form still trembling, until the Apprentice couldn’t hold it back and blinked, throwing herself at the other girl, wrapping her arms around her strange not-doppelganger, and sobbing- “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have- that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair-”

The shadow screamed, hugging her back and clinging to both of them, smoke-like fingers digging into her robes and hair.

“By The Force.” her master whispered. “Oh no, oh dear-” He stroked their backs as the girls cried in his lap. The shadow girl began to flicker, and his apprentice grabbed at her, trying to keep her with them.

“I- I can’t stay- please- please!” She wailed.

“We will find you.” The Master promised, voice heavy with the seriousness of his pledge. “I don’t care how far we have to go or how long it takes, we will find you.” he promised, clutching the girls close in an embrace, the shadow-girl trying to cling to him hard enough that her fingers drew blood on the side of his face and across the back of his apprentice’s neck, before she succumbed to whatever was pulling her away from them.

The apprentice continued to sob as their connection faded, her Master still holding her.

“...I need to speak to the council about this, and fast.” he spoke, voice still grave. “That- If she was doing what I think she was, he is an immensely powerful force-user.” He swallowed hard, hands trembling. “-A very dangerous thing to be in this galaxy, especially alone. She could fall prey to all sorts with ill intentions…”

She woke up, screaming and clawing at the cheap third-class cabin mattress pad, sobbing, and could only lay there for a second, whimpering and pawing at the blanket that a moment ago had been a robe-

“So uh.” a voice spoke up from the other side of the cabin, pausing to clear his throat.

She looked up realizing she’d gone from a plausibly-normal-but-uncommon humanoid to something three times her regular size with horns, long thrashing tail and covered in spines in her sleep. Pressed firmly to the far wall was the tiny cabin’s other occupant, a man that was actually probably not that old, but looked like he had gone through the garburator of life without the sink running, judging by scars covering his torso and his cautious but strangely calm demeanor as he slowly stood up from where he’d been taking cover behind his mattress, which was now covered with spines.

“-Do you usually sleep-shapeshift?” he asked. “Because if that’s the case we’re gonna need to ask the steward for a lot more bedding.”

“...I was having a nightmare.” She croaked awkwardly, slowly collapsing back to her previous humanoid shape.

He nodded slowly, shaking the spines out of his mattress as they shrank along with her and setting it back on his bunk, opposite hers.

“Not to be entirely self-interested, but that’s an unusual talent you have there, and something I would find immensely helpful in my line of work.” he said, studying her with interest. “Ever considered getting into crime?”

#Star wars #the rubicon #guess it's fic now #fucking dedicated to the bit of not naming or descibing anyone #good luck prospective fanartists

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szynkaaa · 1 month ago

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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�� 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!

#black myth ramblings #black myth wukong #bull king #princess iron fan #princess rakshasi #red boy #sun wukong

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little-de-vil · 4 months ago

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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.

#me #my post #a little ficlet for your troubles #GUYS I AM SO SCARED PLZ TELL ME YOU LIKE IT #I did this partially as a palette cleanser after writing so much D2 lore #Don't get me wrong I LOVE writing lore but it hurts my brain to be so analytical sometimes on something I love #SO I finally finished this instead #This is just a blip in the story tho #The whole thing takes over 30 years starting with Vance & ending in the second revolution #It's very 2-Cutter-centric OF COURSE #thg fanfiction #district 2 #Snowfall Upon Sophroniscus #silly OC Thoughts

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sirenologyyy · 2 years ago

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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?

#ao'nung x fem!reader #metkayina #omatikaya #jake sully #neytiri #ao'nung fic #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #tsireya #neteyam #spider #lo'ak #kiri #tuk #rotxo #atwow ao'nung #atwow #avatar the way of water #sold out of love ao'nung

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awanderingmuse-fandom · 2 months ago

Text

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.

#outer wilds #gabbro #hatchling #off the marshmallow stick and into the campfire #outer wilds fic #the muse writes #y'all didn't think I'd forget just because I'm running sign-ups for Quantum Entanglement Exchange #did you?

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artwithoutblood · 11 months ago

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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.

#samir ask #silas ask

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dollarstoreartsupplies · 1 year ago

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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.

#Danny kahn #escape room #escape room tournament of champions #escape room 2019 #LIKE GOD HE'S SO INTERESTING #I WANNA WRITE FANFIC ABOUT HIM #I don't think he's actually coming back but it would be so easy and make SO MUCH SENSE for him to

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organ-market · 2 years ago

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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 👻

#organmart #om-ghostemoji #cave #caves #personal essay #need more cave representation #elden ring #minecraft #the descent

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yeahyankee · 1 year ago

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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.

#trigun spoilers #trigun 98 #fanfiction #vash x meryl #meryl stryfe #vash the stampede #post show

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