every new answer creates newer questions

Profile picture is by @etirabys, and can be found at https://etirabys.tumblr.com/post/184932892964/the-missing-platonic-solids-of-tumblr-first

The entirety of this blog is fictional, except for this post and some answered asks. All material on this blog was, in fact, written by me, the poster.

I left my stuffed rabbit on the staircase when my family abandoned our home. This is all I remember of the last fire; being dragged out of my bed, holding on as tightly as I could to my little spaceship suitcase, looking back as my father carried me out of the house and seeing Bunbun abandoned on the third stair-step, leaning to one side. I hardly remember anything else before the last fire, either. My clearest memories start where natural air ends. When I was eight I went down to the memorial room, where water trickled all night and all day, stale and artificial, and dipped my hand into it. It was so cold it stung. My father had taken me there before, to say goodbye to my mother and her family; they hadn’t believed him, had chosen not to run even as the smoke grew thicker. I know I mourned for them, but I don’t know why. Bunbun is the only thing I have ever loved which I’ve been able to remember after the ash settled.

Dry as dust, dark as rust, Wanders softly where it will. Thick as smoke, strong as oak, Killed by ice or rotten swill. Deep as stone, sharp as bone, Taking all the strongest men. Sweet as blood, tough as mud, Soon to find you yet again.

In the months after Riversend Smite’s public self-immolation, hysteria rose to a fever pitch, and handwritten flyers such as those pictured became common in most large American cities. Fig. 1: “School’s Out! Time to Face the Wrath of your Lord; She Who Wields The Flame Everlasting, She The Maker Of All Things, She Who Looks Without Mercy Or Warning.” Fig. 2: "Summer Reading List: 1. The Verses of the Last Dawn 2. A Complete Guide to Outdoor Survival 3. The Tale of Our Glorious Prophet Riversend 4. The Last Story 5. The Only Story 6. The End Of All Things 7. How To Continue In The Infinite Murk Beyond Death” Fig. 3: “June is the Month of Blood. June is the Month of Water. June is the Month Of Which You Shall Never See The End.” Fig. 4: “She will get You as She did RS”

The salesgirl laughed when I asked whether it would be unsafe for me to buy the dress. “It’s blue,” she said. “What’s wrong with a nice ice-blue? It’s in fashion.” I bought it, the bills creased from their time in my pocket, dampened by my sweating fingers. She told me to have a nice day. I think the name-tag on her black workers’ uniform was Citrine or Honey or Daffodil; a good name, a proper name, a name as gold as summer wheat. I would never have an opportunity to wear the dress, though I loved its swirling skirt from the moment I saw it; my mother, ever vigilant, seized the bag as I passed through the door, and scolded me severely for having purchased it. “No child of mine will wear a mint-green dress,” she said, and whisked it away. (I would find it, several years after she died, in a box in her closet, pictures of my great-grandmother packed safe within its folds).

LILY PAVLIVA: Aster, Theo, you really tried that? THEODORE HU: Listen. Listen. Real people have their metaphors and their jokes and their nicknames for certain full moons in June, I get this now, but, y'know... shit, I was young, and dumb. LILY: Mm. What did your parents say? THEODORE: Oh, they were furious. I nearly drowned. They hadn't taught me to swim, and I put my face in our garden pond and fell in trying to sneak a taste of the sky. LILY: Oh. THEODORE: Y'know. It's almost prophetic. Moon, stars, all the same. LILY: Mm. That's poetic, but also a lie.

User !!mOon()L0sTT posted to [Land.0f.L1v1ng] 3 days ago:

Six doves, dead on my porch this morning. [View image]. I think the rest of us are soon done for, in accordance with the prophecy; expect to see my name in [Land Inaccessible] within a few days. This after the seven stars I saw around the moon the previous night leaves me in no doubt as to the truth of the prophets’ words. Death is coming. She laughs in my ears. I’ll be learning her song three days hence, and then sitting down to wait. You should too.

User !!D3ad_or_/\l1ve posted to [Land.0f.L1v1ng] 3 days ago:

Those are rock pigeons.

User !!mOon()L0sTT posted to [Land.0f.L1v1ng] 3 days ago:

MACKEM MILLER: Why do you have to? TAEK T. MILLER: Kem, sweetheart, you know the wind's coming in. I'll be back as soon as it starts to cool down again. Don't worry. Be good, okay? Listen to Ma. MACKEM: It's not fair. Just because Da-- TAEK: Sometimes things aren't fair. I gotta leave now, okay? Wrett'll flip his-- he'll be upset if I'm late. MACKEM: Tell Wrett he's short and dumb. TAEK: He's taller than me! MACKEM: [laughing] You're short too! TAEK: Such disrespect, for your poor suffering big brother. And with all the things I do for you. Love you, Kem. Be safe.