{Hey, have yah ever been a jerk and decided to wait last minute to post something? No, not done on accident but actually do it? Don't lie, yah did that to probably test the will of people and force them to review what should be common courtesy to post way earlier so things can be on schedule. This has been yer Comrade Prof. Dr. Victor PSA today, thanks for coming... A post for @vdux's Haiku contest and @vermillionfox's FoxTales Contest with three(!) 300-word-mono-paragraph entries... Music-aide for today: Hip Shop (Deltarune OST remix).}

- Hitchcock -

Vertigo vision
Knife chinking under showers
- director’s bold eyes

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- Delta Foxtrot -

"Delta Foxtrot, reporting crash-landing clocking three-hundred mikes post-crash. I have yet to successfully contact with surrounding planets and have seemed to fallen and scratch perfectly good nature. However, if I may, we need to send expeditionary forces here to scout out and map this blessed terrain. Delta Foxtrot, this place is like the lost garden of Eve; that's a good thing as we have a chance to truly learn the famed 'State of Nature' these darned philosophers lost sleep over. One problem: it's already inhabited by a figure that resembles us in many ways but acts unlike us. In fact, this be the only giant amongst the whole planet I’ve seen so far. The giant acts so much like the nature around: gentle with the water like the winds are to the trees, resting soundly as still water, skin looking so soft that it competes with the mountains for texture and so huge that methinks this giant plays so nice with nature around. Truthfully, in my space-faring days, this day I found my 'Wanderer over the sea of fog' moment; I begin to understand the ecstasy of such. We needn't even lay a hand so harsh with a nature so quiet like this. Let’s preserve this: not for our sake, nor for the sake of struggle to resurrect our tattered birth-planet; let's do it for our future generations. So they’ll know what the colour green is and to see the purity of blue that flows ever so nicely. To let them hear a bird squawk and fear not a bomb dropping, to hear the flies buzz and not feel sick but... annoyed. To feel what we thought innocence was before and not be tainted as ignorance to a harsh reality. But truly: to know we all can stride towards utopia."

The air is the kindest of all, it always knows when to get out of the way and not interrupt the smooth motion of figures. Yet that's what makes society call it cruel, to not even dare to remind people that they move; hypocrisy only comes about if they dare object to the air being felt all around their bodies and still spout the cruelty of air. However, the "cruel" air had done the wicked act to not cushion the torquing body; making victim of both the disrupted water as it roared across the landscape and the skin of the titan that sang its own self-tearing. With the bruises and cuts so shallow and displaced to the elbows, it would dare call to question if the nerves would screech as loud as if a knife were plunged to the flesh. Here now only Nature dare be the medium of the titan's voice-box with its testament to dare contribute that the nervous system had willingly tortured. With synapses reacting so proudly that the meat and bones ached so worryingly for the titan's stupidity to trip over the flat Earth to only crash into a shallow lake it fell upon. However, the titan's mind dared to silence their ancient teacher and let it's one true friend and helper reach so deeply into those wounds. The soft ebbing of water as it sang its nursery rhyme made the titan's ears so in peace that the whistling wind and the balking birds needn't contribute but added to the jazzy sensation session. The titan's neck emitting bomb bursts internally, the titan's ears shook that the head had remained attached to the body before the mind lectured that the air bubbles, when shifted, squeal in annoyance. With that, the mountains sighed as the head laid down.

All it took was one trip over the pure nothingness for the body to spasm in shock. All it took was one neuron misfiring to alert the body to cease self-motion. All it took was the mind to think it proper to investigate the source of distress, yet improperly did it delivered orders to cease self-motion. All it took was the mind to be distracted with a mental folly pondering why a falling star was crashing fast unto their planet they, the wondering titan, resided on. All it took was the air to be unkind enough to not persuade the mind to realize what the legs and arms have pridefully done to complete the tasker. All it took was the body to not realize the danger of furling, but yet it helped with the torquing sensation it wished to experience even with the mind freaking out. All it took was the hands to flap like the wings of a fattened chicken, thinking to flap the body away to the air. All it took was a simple stressor to fucktuple in importance than what it had truly deserved. All it took was the mountains to not call out to Basiliscus the dangers of spreading wide-n-thin when near them. All it took was the lake to not clear away fast enough, assuming it could, for the titan to feel the whiplash that stung harder than a sharp mountain top or a collective of a billion buzzing bees. But Basiliscus blamed no-one: they blamed not the collective of the body, for it had done the right things under pressure; they blamed not nature, for nature was interrupted by their ruckus; they blamed not the shooting star crashing, for 'twas a contingency; and they blamed not themself, for what else could they have done?