#the smallest sapling

[deepslumbrrr]

Hello Again + About My Book...

Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening, my friends. It's been a while, huh? What a year it's been!

What's that? It's only February, you say?

Well, it sure is! And what a year it's been! Longest January of my life, I tell you.

Anyway, I'm popping in today because I want to talk about my book, The Smallest Sapling. Been a long time coming, eh?

There's a lot that I want to talk about, so if you're interested at all, details to follow below.

So, first and foremost, I want to thank everyone who has ever shown any interest in my writing career. My first book was exactly that—my first. There's more to come, but that's for later. For now, I have some information to share about my debut Fantasy novel.

Even before it was finished, a few people approached me with questions. They wanted to know the process. They wanted to know how exactly one writes a book in [Current Year].

Well, friends, I'm here to give you some news:

Writing the book is the easy part. Everything else? Ha, well... not as simple, I'm afraid. I'm thankful for the challenges I faced, however, and the lessons I learned from them.

Let's start with some stats:

As of today, February 1, 2024, I have sold twenty books, whether they were digital e-books or physical copies (paperback or hardcover).

And in totality, this is how much money I've made from my book in that time.

This might be well and good, until you consider...

...I've spent almost as much money on advertising the book itself!

I'm unsure if this is normal for new authors, especially those who self-publish. I'm unsure because, naturally, I've never done this before now. I wanted to take some advice from others before jumping into the deep end, so to speak. Sink or swim; learn as you go! That was my thought process.

I will say, however, that I am very proud of my work and what I've accomplished so far! As I said, I've learned quite a lot. I want to share what I've learned with all of you, especially those who have approached me and spoken to me about wanting to write a book themselves. I'm the first of my friends and acquaintances to do something like this, and I'd like to be a lighthouse for anyone lost at sea.

In a separate post coming soon(?) I want to talk about the writing process itself. That is to say, how to write a book, how to self-publish your book, and I'd like to share advice with my friends, contemporaries, and anyone else who is interested!

And, in the end...

Writing this book was, honestly, not very profitable at all. However, I'm not discouraged in the slightest. This is what I expected, after all.

Something important I learned: I am a little shy when it comes to just talking about my book to other people, even off the web. I know I didn't advertise as much as I could have. That 20 could have been a 30 if I was a little more assertive and little less shy.

This is also why most people try to go the traditional route when it comes to publishing their novels. They get big companies to do the heavy lifting for them, which is commendable, but just as perilous!

(More on that later!)

But whether I made ten dollars, or one dollar, or even no dollars, I don't regret it one bit. The journey is far from over, and I love, with all my heart and soul, every single step I've taken so far. It's a winding path, and my head is held high, and I'm chasing the sun.

I wonder what's at the end?

Let's find out together.

Until next time ❤️

[omorinintendoswitchedition]

I wasn’t gonna make this at first but I am God’s strongest Sapling of Light warrior so I absolutely had to.

So, Morositas (I GOT THE NAME RIGHT YAHOO) initially I was disappointed about the scene it was introduced in. Compared to Superbia allowing Don to defeat her father and break the responsibility of Bloodfiends in a duel worthy of many tales (that I must admit made me tear up a bit) Morositas was very lacklustre in comparison, but after dwelling on it for a bit the scene is actually very brilliant and ties into the Canto’s themes very well

On a surface level, nothing changed. The Sinners still couldn’t beat Lei Heng, just like how Hong Lu couldn’t persuade anyone away from the cuckoo presentation. But you dive deeper and realise something did change. Dante was able to stop the Sinners from being turned into minced meat by Lei Heng in a minute flat and they were able to survive long enough for Jia Qiu to come in, Hong Lu’s pleas were able to dissuade Lin Daiyu, which saved her life. The difference may be small and feel insignificant like a ripple on a vast lake, but there was a difference, the choice did matter. And that’s what counts, even if you make the smallest ripple on the lake’s surface, you have still shifted that lake’s surface even if only slightly. Your choices do matter

Also the fact that we presumably hear Chesed himself before it activates has insane lore implications for Dante. If they aren’t related to lobcorp at all I will be shocked.

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

i don't think we talk often enough about how tender sol is with sunjae.

my case in point is this scene during ep 6: even before sol properly realizes her feelings for sunjae; they bleed through her smallest action. the unsaid gestures of love; the tiny overtures of devotion: these are what k-dramas excel at, and lovely runner is its greatest example.

the way sol switches the fan on for sunjae (a beautiful parallel to an earlier scene where he did the same for her), and is content to marvel at his innocence, his sleep-smeared face. look at the pure delight in her smile — just to be able to witness this ordinary moment with the person she admires most in the world: her literal reason for survival.

how her expression sobers when she realizes he's as still as death: that in the dark waters of the future pooling at their feet — he IS dead. how she instantly needs to physically feel that sunjae is still breathing — how sol measures the butterfly wingbeats of his heart under her hand. how, even in his sleep, sunjae reaches out, recognizing her touch.

i need to keep your heart beating, you can almost hear sol's thoughts. i need to keep you alive.

the unsaid affection in her face is so strong, so palpable in this episode. she's always adored him; and how that sapling of care turns into a tree green-leafed with real, true romantic love — it's just as beautiful to watch the second time around.

[leopardusk]

Making headcanons for all of the brush gods because I like them and wish they got screentime. Some Japanese mythology has been applied here, but most of it is working within the lore of the actual game and just me having fun with animals.

Yomigami (dragon, rejuvination)

While we find all of the brush gods through constellations, they mention hiding in different places. I believe Yomigami was the only one who actually became a constellation to hide after Amaterasu’s first death.

The rest of the brush gods were once animals who later ascended to godhood, but Yomigami actually came from the celestial plane. He’s related to Orochi, perhaps brothers, but rejuvination and destruction soon came into conflict and Yomigami sided with the celestials. He was afraid to fall to the earth after Orochi did and stayed in the sky, choosing to maintain the underworld instead.

Tachigami (rat, power slash)

You’d think that the tiger or boar would be the bravest and most fierce of the brush gods, but that title goes to the rat. He is unbeatable with his sword, and most of the gods have learned that accepting his challenges are a fool’s errand. Most great swordsmen have a shrine dedicated to the rat, though someone not aware might find this ridiculous. A rat, really? Such a small creature? They soon learn that even the smallest warrior should not be taken lightly, and even your most treasured friend is not to be trusted. Kabegami would tell you that.

Hanagami triumvirate. These are the greensprout monkeys, and brothers, Sakigami (bloom), Hasugami (water lily), Tsutagami (vine).

They act as sort of Sakuya’s advisors, helping maintain the plant life around Kamiki village and also heading out to further lands where she cannot go. They also play music, and teach the konohana shuffle and all its variants to anyone in Nippon.

Sakigami is the calmest of the three, enjoying luxury and serenity. He takes his duties as a god the most seriously, and will frequently visit farmers and guardian saplings to make sure everything is in order. His brothers call him lazy and uptight, but he thinks of it as smart and collected. Two traits those monkeys could use more of.

Hasugami is immensely curious, and actually the closest to Sakuya out of the three. He loves hopping from place to place, although never straying too far from home. His clumsiness gets on Sakigami’s nerves, but Tsutagami finds it endlessly entertaining, which Hasugami finds weirdly comforting.

Tsutagami is constantly brimming with ideas, very few of them subtle. He loves making up games that are probably extremely stupid and dangerous, but hey, they’re gods now, might as well make the most of it! Hasugami is his partner in crime, and they’re both constantly working to get Sakigami to lighten up and join them in their ridiculousness.

Bakugami (boar, cherry bomb)

When you first meet Bakugami he seems intimidating and angry, constantly seconds away from exploding and catching anyone in his wrath. But spend any time with him and you’ll learn the truth: he’s just a goofy dad, and he’ll adopt you too if you aren’t careful. He loves his kids to pieces and cares a lot for their safety, but his idea of safe is “blow yourself up and I’ll keep watch.” The Hanagami triumvirate is at their wits end trying to keep him away from destructible things, like houses and sacred trees and people. The triumvirate, however, usually means just Sakigami, as the other two are much more likely to get swept up in his heedless adventures.

Yumigami (rabbit, crescent)

Okay hear me out on this one. Yumigami is Amaterasu’s ex-wife. HEAR ME OUT.

They were together before the destruction of the celestial plane, and Yumigami was actually the one who convinced Amaterasu to visit earth more and see what life was like for humans. Yumigami, who used to be someone’s pet rabbit before ascending, taught Amaterasu about mochi pounding and all the yummy foods humans make.

She was really close with Waka, and was much more interested in learning about his people than Amaterasu was. The moon tribe was gone now, Yumigami was only the keeper of their graveyard, but she promised she would keep their memory safe, the good and the bad.

Orochi had sent one of his minions to lure Yumigami away from the celestial plane with delicious food. Yumigami was so disgusted by its preparation, however, that she chased the demon all the way out. Wrong formula, but the right result anyhow. With only half of the celestial bodies committed to driving out Orochi, the serpent succeeded in his attack and all the gods were forced to flee to earth. Yumigami was horrified to learn what happened and hid on the other side of the sky, away from Amaterasu, afraid she would blame her for not being there to help.

Two hundred years later, Amaterasu finally finds her, rescuing her from the belly of the Whopper. Yumigami apologizes for not helping her fight and tries to leave, but Amaterasu doesn’t blame her, she never did. They make mochi together just like old times, and Yumigami lends the goddess her power, finally letting go of her guilt.

(Also, wolf/rabbit? Eh? Eh?)

Nuregami (snake, waterspout)

Nuregami has been working with the Dragonians since even before she was a god, slithering in the shallows but unable to truly enter their kingdom. She ascended to godhood after helping in a daring mission to save the water dragon when it became trapped on land, bringing it water so it could stay alive and make it back to the ocean. She’s an important figure to the Dragonians, maintaining the mermaid ponds throughout Nippon and making sure life-sustaining water reaches every part of the land (since the water dragon takes care of the actual ocean).

The reason she was in a jar in her encounter with Amaterasu was due to Ninetails’ meddling in the capital. Blight’s sickness and the water dragon’s rampage made the water there sickly, so she was forced to remain in a jar of pure water so she would not lose her powers.

Kazegami (horse, galestorm)

Kazegami used to be a racehorse belonging to a resident of Kusa village. He ascended to godhood after losing his life to win a race for his master, who needed the prize money to save his family’s life. His body was buried under the Gale Shrine, which allowed his powers to be at their strongest there. A giant windmill was later built to take advantage of this.

Kazegami is confident, but not as arrogant as one might expect a racehorse and a god to be. He is deeply loyal to Kusa Village and humanity as a whole, maintaining the wind because he knows how they depend on it. However, he was tricked by Crimson Helm, and unwittingly made a deal which allowed the demon to assume full control of Gale Shrine. Amaterasu’s presence allowed him to come to his senses and find the confidence to break the deal, offering her his power so she could rid the shrine of the demon permanently.

Moegami (rooster, inferno)

One of the proudest gods by far, Moegami is easy to ruffle and will rarely back down from a challenge (a fact that Tachigami often takes advantage of). He’s the most passionate out of any of the gods about destroying evil, perhaps taking a bit too much joy in the “destruction” part. Nuregami often has to keep him in check while Kazegami tries to egg him on.

He was absolutely furious at Amaterasu’s first death, charging right into the moon cave for vengeance. Most of Orochi’s minions had survived, and Crimson Helm had just risen, and Moegami was ill-prepared. The demons lured him deep inside the moon cave and cast a spell on him to trap him (since truly killing a god is something only a greater demon or another god is capable of). He was trapped in those cold dark caves for many years, seething, but also keeping a close watch on the demon’s plans.

Kasugami (sheep, veil of mist)

Kasugami is a wanderer, never staying in one place for long. She’s not a great fighter by any means, preferring to avoid conflict when she can. She’s a bit ditzy and often confused, and nobody is sure if that’s due to her use of time manipulation or the alcohol. It’s probably both.

The sheep used to live in Kamui, and was good friends with Itegami. She was a follower of the twin gods of time, Nechku and Lechku, studying beneath them and learning how to manipulate time herself, to a lesser capacity. She was a loyal follower, but was slowly becoming disillusioned with their plans, and realizing that the gods were not gods at all.

Kasugami helped them create the Spirit Gate, which was her proudest creation and the culmination of all their plans. Creating this powerful relic allowed Kasugami to ascend to godhood, with power over time itself. If the role was open, that meant she had allied herself with demons after all. Lechku and Nechku, realizing their follower had grown stronger than them, sealed her away in a gourd and left her to wallow in regret. Keeping her mind fuzzy by slowing time and alcohol helps her keep her mind off the knowledge that she had helped demons spread their darkness.

Kabegami (cat, catwalk)

Kabegami is a playful deity, always down for a game of chase or a competition of acrobatics. She feels exposed on the ground, preferring to climb to any height possible at every opportunity. Multiple gods have been stood upon in her never-ending quest to avoid the terrible ground.

She and Tachigami were close friends as mortals, but during what was supposed to be a friendly competition ending with a race across a river during a storm, Tachigami betrayed her, pushing her off their raft and nearly killing her in the process. She was swept downstream for a long time, being spat out in the ocean and managing to swim to an island with a large tower. With the storm, being anywhere near the water level was unsafe, so she climbed all the way up the impossibly tall tower, something no mortal before her had ever accomplished.

Tachigami earned his godhood for his ruthlessness, and Kabegami earned hers for her resilience. She would be worshipped for hope despite everything and escape from any situation, and statues of her are erected whenever someone feels a farther reach may be necessary.

Gekigami (tiger, thunderstorm)

Oni Island was once ruled by Gekigami, and populated by many animals. Hotheaded though he was, Gekigami was a great leader and warrior, and kept the animals safe and protected every time the island shifted places. Once he became a god, he continued to watch over the island, striking down any human who tried to claim it.

One day he was approached by another god, a nine-tailed fox. She made a deal with him, allowing her to build a fortress on the island, and keeping the god of lightning enshrined so he would never lose his place. He was tricked, and the fox revealed herself to be a greater demon, but the deal had been made. Gekigami was forced to allow her followers to take residence on the island, and in return a single statue was made to enshrine the god. However, the statue was immediately broken, the lightning crossbow bolt being destroyed, which trapped Gekigami within the statue until Amaterasu restored it.

Also in my specific story Ninetails was able to harness Gekigami’s power and give it to my OC Husko but that’s not what happened in game by a long shot lol

Itegami (ox, blizzard)

While Kasugami was manipulated by demons, Itegami was not so easily fooled. He distanced himself from her (though it broke his heart) and buried himself in his work, helping the Oina survive in the harsh weather. He achieved godhood through firmness and duty, and he learned soon after of Kasugami’s fate. He was furious with himself that he had not stayed by her side when she needed guidance, but he had no idea where she had went, so he remained in the mountains to maintain the weather, harsh but predictable, always able to endure if the Oina stayed true to their customs.

One night, Itegami stood stoic on the side of a mountain, sending down blizzards as was expected of him. He was lost in thought, so full of bitterness and anger that it drew in the demons Lechku and Nechku. Sensing the god was distracted, they trapped him with a curse, sealing him inside his own shell horn. Then, they built a machine that would allow the demons to harness the god’s power. Itegami was forced to use his destructive power nonstop, burying Kamui in a blizzard that should never have happened.

Unbeknownst to the god and demons alike, Kasugami had been freed from her prison and, sensing Itegami’s presence, ventured through Wawku shrine alone and found him. She did not have the means to free him, but she managed to contact the angry god, and tell him that she forgave him. She was never his responsibility, and he should not blame himself for her mistakes. She told him that Amaterasu was on her way, that he would be the final brush god. Itegami still did not have full control of himself, but her words calmed him somewhat.

Once Amaterasu arrived, he nearly attacked her, but Kasugami’s words finally got through to him, and he ceased attacking. He gave Amaterasu his power, but he knew how dangerous that cold could be. So, he called upon all of the celestial brush gods, and they all came, to bestow upon her the ultimate culmination of their strength and love: the solar flare.

Itegami is still of a cold and bitter disposition, but reconnecting with Kasugami and having the support of the other brush gods is helping him move on from his regret.

[poppuppink]

Unripe Apples

Pairing: Enel x reader

(Enel is still a baddie, but I just wanted to add someone who keeps giving this big bitch food because there's no damn way anything will fill his stomach up, besides filling mine with his thunder rod)

Warnings: ENEL, Enel being an egotistical bitch, Reader is AFAB, but I'm planning to change it maybe

Words: 2.5k words

Was there ever a time when a god kneeled? Zeus refused to bow to his father and no god would ever need to look up to their follower's eyes. How special are you to the proclaimed god in front of you, to be on his knees, begging.

Enel was no man nor was he an angel, he held no mercy and not even those who look down on humans refuse to fight him in battle. His staff and gold jewelry clink as he walks on the clouds. Even with his large frame over the people with wings, his presence comes as quick and quietly as lightning.

He was god, in those who follow him and in your own vision. Yet, his own eyes were on you, glinting with curiosity and interest. He'd occasionally hold out his hand out for yours and you'd respond with giving him your family's offering. His body stills, as his outstretched hand only reaches for your hand holding the embellished gift. You only learn to shake for your fate, but all he does is to stroke the freckles on your arm. The servants on his side pry their way to you two, their vicious and jealous presence wanting to get you as far away as they can from their god. The god glares and they fall to their knees in retaliation. He gently takes your offering in one hand as his other strokes your fingertips. The entrancing small sparks pump your heart faster, but your gaze still never meets his. He lets out the smallest huff and proceeds to take the offerings of others quickly with his staff, the aura turning silent instead of egotistical.

Your eyes were always by your feet, your mother and father taught you to keep your spine stiff and to swim swiftly. They gave you a small pouch of kept meat blood, to lure or bait predators in case you were launched far by their god.

"If you ever look up to see unfamiliar rays shining, remember the sun will be your last sight." warned your father

"Learn to starve yourself when the light is brighter than usual, all that you've caught will be offered to him, none will be left to keep you afloat." advised your mother

You were prepared to say the least, using what you had to live accordingly. Even when you can avoid the large jaws hidden in the clouds, eyes still loom over your figure through the jungle. It was not a predator of sharp teeth and claws, it was a god that was looking right at you. You never knew it was the god, but you've learned to ignore it in every task you did with the help of your parents. Your family has soon realized that the gaze is different from what you've experienced, as a matter of fact, the sense of the gaze was only rough when anyone was in your vicinity.

This led to some of your friends to always being cautious around you, their body always on edge as if the world would eat them whole with one wrong move. They soon avoid you on most chances, leading to you tending the garden for comfort. As your field of food comes to fruition, you have encountered the pests that crawls by the fence. The fence wasn't useless, rather, the pest were stronger. They crawled their way through the overlapping branches on the other side, dropping from the leaves onto your crops.

You've decided to hack some of the branches, none of the main ones, but just those that come too close over the fence. With your machete in hand you walked around the fence to climb the tree. It wasn't difficult climbing, rather, it was harder to climb down. The tree was what an average sapling would look like to god, the size was significant in terms of height and thickness.

When you reached the top, your feet were sore from the climb. You finally reached the main branch that pestered your garden. It was not an easy task to cut the wood off, your arm going slack slowly after minutes of labor. It did however fall, the branch creaks with heavy anticipation and a loud resonating thump. You shook along with the tree, your body starved of energy. Sitting on the branch your foot was holding your body with, you let out a large sigh as your back gets accustomed to the bark.

Only your breathing could be heard, the leaves scratching along with the wind. It was only for a few moments, but you were able to catch it. The sound of crunching leaves on the ground closing on your position. You perch yourself off the tree to look down, your eyes searching for the perpetrator. You glance at your machete in one hand as the crunching continues.

Then silence

You can't hear the leaves nor do you think 'it' stayed on the ground. It was in front of you

Before your eyes was the god with thumping drums and a lazy gaze. He was crossing his legs with his staff in one hand and the other holding his chin. You gaped and immediately kneeled as best as you could against the branch. Your gaze facing the ground up above, your body stilling along with your breath.

"What an honor to meet you, my god"

His eyes loom over you as you hold your position as best as you can. It was silent until you heard the jingle of his jewelry and an exaggerated sigh that you tried to barely peak at him

"Tell me, girl, what are you doing up here above the grounds?"

You gave a curt reply in hopes that his interest in you will dwindle and leave you be

"I am cutting down the branches of this tree, my God. The insects use the branch as a means of transport onto our crops."

"Hmm, are you good at farm work, then? Or do you do this for leisure?"

His question only fills you with dread. No question that he wishes to use you for labor and maybe even use you dry for other work. But you were trained to comply with his whims, because who'd be crazy to defy a God who could have you dead at any time?

"I do it in my free time, God. I help with my family's crops and gardening."

"Then can you care for apple trees, girl?"

He got right to the point and you just want to evaporate away from his overbearing sight

"Yes, my God."

"Good then."

He claps his hands together as the golden embellishments clink with one another. In a blink of an eye, the both of you were on the ground as your forehead pressed onto the dead leaves.

You look up in surprise, the sudden transport rushes your heart and sweats you out. In your state of confusion, your eyes finally met with the God's. Instead of the cold gaze, his eyes looked at you like it was watching something of interest. With a stature like his, your neck ached with the other fear symptoms crawling throughout your body.

He looked back at the trees with their branches sticking forth above your garden, realization striking you that your task at hand was never finished.

He sighs through his nose and switches his staff to his other hand, pointing its tip in the direction of the trees you were climbing. Using the staff, he strikes it, letting the sound resonate gently, as quickly as you can blink a white flash comes down.

You freeze in place and the smell of burnt wood fills your nostrils. The slight smoke came from the distinct cuts on where the branches were accompanied by the slight thuds of fallen logs.

Gulping away your fear for even just a second, you bow again to God. Thanking him quietly and meekly.

You can feel his gaze shift from your form and onto your garden, his eyes scanning the growing crops with little interest.

"Girl, offer me something to chew."

As soon as his request left his lips, you rushed towards your crops and quickly chose the basket of apples you plucked earlier before climbing the fence. Using your hands, you carried the basket to god, who has sat on the ledge of one of your garden's crop slots. He was picking at his ear as his large frame looked laughable compared to your garden.

Huffing as you placed the apples before god, you bowed again and waited for his command. Farmers weren't always pressured by god, nor were they enslaved in comparison to the soldiers the god would enlist for fun. In fact, the farmers would sometimes be grateful if they were chosen to serve since the village would be on good terms with god to not cause chaos to the people.

This has happened to your family a few times, but each time becomes more demanding as time goes by. God would only recognize your family nowadays, which in the eyes of others plagued jealousy and anger each time. Soon the village has isolated your family from the rest as your neighbors built their fences higher to hide their scorching gazes on your backs. With this factor, your family felt more enslaved than others under your god. As the village dehumanizes you, you've learned to hate your work to please god.

Crunch

The bite of one of the apples startles you. He continued to eat it as you stayed bowed.

"Girl."

You perk at his voice and find the bit apple in front of your face. He held it out for you, a sign to take it. With hesitant hands, you slowly took it from him in silent confusion. His large fingers are what you touch more as it engulfs the entirety of the apple and you shiver at how his hands are cold as ice compared to yours.

"This apple is fresh, is it not? But there are far better apples I have eaten." He states with a slight tilt of his head

"Yes, my god." You reply quickly as you feel the pricks of his comment change his already narcissistic attitude to that of a scumbag.

"It's good you recognize your place then, this apple is not fit for a God with its taste unappealing to the core."

His hand shoves the apple in your hand to your mouth,

"Eat."

The shock on your face leaves quickly as you take a small bite, your body freezing as his hand still holds yours to ensure him you're following his command

"How does it taste?" Enel asks with bored eyes observing your expression.

You weren't quite sure how to answer his question. He stated how the apple was good, but not enough for a god's standard. So if you appealed to him, you would be in his good graces.

But

The god, Enel, did not like the obsequious people at all. Ironically, he hated them, thinking they were not worthy of a personality that made them appear above others by using methods a spineless coward would use to survive.

There should be no reason for his distaste for these type of people since they fit so well with his demands as a god, but the disclosed eyes of his army and Enel's say otherwise.

"It tastes fresh and that of an average fruit, my god."

Your response acknowledged both the appeal of pride in your family's work fit to please anyone else but a god who deserves something above average was what you thought.

His eyes didn't seem to change in demeanor when he heard you, but the slight shift in his posture to lean forward made you break out a sparse cold sweat.

"But it can be better, it will be."

He said in a chilling voice, insinuating a plan only he knows about, something you know that possibly involves you.

You can only meekly reply with a yes and stand firmly in place. His hand that helped hold the apple to your mouth took it and threw it to the side.

" Girl, be merry, for I will task you to care for this god's harvest and nutrition." He stands with pride and ego, his jewelry jingling in delight as your face pales in comparison.

This wasn't your first time being chosen to provide their crops as offerings to god, but it was the first time god approached you himself. There was usually a messenger, a man clad in white and small gold accessories, approaching your home with his leery smile.

"You have been chosen for ___'s banquet today, our god only deserves the best, so make haste for his holiness' tongue!"

He jeered and left with such grace that you almost mistaken his presence to be a man of goodness.

But why you and why now?

Your god has already insulted the taste of your harvested fruit and even had you confirm it nonetheless. He did say 'it could be better', but how can a fruit be better if this was the best offer you had worked on?

So you rebutted on eggshells

"My god, an honor is it to serve you in harvest work and nutrition, but I am not the best suited candidate for that task."

Your eyes rose to meet his and as if in that moment, you saw why your parents told you the sun would be the last thing you'll see.

Enel's eyes held no emotion, but his stature held animosity to your words, as if he's daring you to continue.

You dare not to and hold your tongue

As quickly as your words held in your mouth, the god's stare slowly but surely went to boredom. The gears turned in his head, as if finding reason to use your statement to offend himself and punish you even when it held no hostility to his position to begin with.

"Nonsense, you have been serving your god's banquets for the past 3 months now, your god knows his word is absolute."

Just as he lectures you, you hear the backdoor of your home swing open.

"Dear?" your mother called out, "You've been working too hard, you can-"

Your mother drops the glass of juice and bows

"My god, what an honor to meet you." She forces as she shakes in place

God doesn't turn his head to acknowledge your mother but continues to stare down at you, never breaking eye contact.

"Woman" he calls to your mom as his eyes keep you in place.

"Yes, my god?" Your mother looks up to meet his request but passes quick glances at you in worry.

"She will serve during this month's banquet. Prepare her in 2 hours and I will get her by then."

The horror on both of your faces doesn't even register as anything but shocked delight in god's eyes. He rises to his full height and disappears without a trace

Just as fast, your legs give up on you as your mother holds you with your father returning home to see his wife and child sobbing.

[beammeupmoony]

A Quiet Night

I'm a little late to the game, but I wanted to do the Valentine's event that @onepiecerarepairvalentines made. It's basically using rare pairs as inspiration for different prompts for a week. I've decided to feature three different pairs.

The first prompt was simply "Kiss". And I decided to try my hand at Sanuso. I'm not gonna lie, I definitely wrote this under the influence, but I'm trying to use these prompts just to get into the habit of writing again. Please forgive any spelling errors.

A Quiet Night

Pairing: Sanji/Usopp

Sanji is on watch, and he catches sight of someone that has been on his mind.

The sound of waves lapping against the Sunny-go filled the night air as Sanji's hair fluttered in the low wind. He stood on top of the crows nest, exhaling a plume of smoke as he stood watch. It was a clear and quiet night, something Sanji was thankful for. His last couple of watches had been rough, weather-wise. The nearly full moon shone brightly as the cook took another pull from his cigarette. Sanji exhaled again, turning at the sound of a door opening. He peered over the edge of the crows nest and his eyes land on the sniper, who yawned as he padded across the deck toward the garden.

The moonlight danced off Usopp's dark curls, the ringlets like small halos framing the sniper. Sanji's lips curl into a smile as he watched the sniper from above. These were moments that Sanji had come to cherish. The thing was he couldn't remember exactly when it had started.

When had his gaze begun to linger on the sniper? When had his laugh come easier at the jokes Usopp told? When had he begun to make the other man's favorites more often? When did he realize how... beautiful Usopp was? Especially in these moments.

The moments where Usopp wasn't putting on a facade or hiding behind faux confidence. Moments where the sniper could simply exist in a relaxed state. It was no secret to the crew that Usopp was insecure. But in moments where Usopp believed he was unobserved, or when he had just woken up, or sometimes when he was drunk, the sniper was completely at ease. A subtle confidence exuded from him, every motion deliberate- like fileting a fish. It was beautiful, simply stunning, and it made Sanji ache with longing.

The sniper reached the garden and kneeled beside the smallest saplings.  Very few of Usopp's plants had to be watered by moonlight multiple times a night to properly retain moisture. At least, that was the gist of what Sanji understood. Sanji watched as Usopp settled beside the sapplings, elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands, curls covering his face from view. Sanji strode toward the rigging and made his way down to the deck. The sniper didn't shift as Sanji approached. When he was close enough to speak, Sanji called, "Oi, Usopp."

The sniper jumped, head snapping up with strained eyes before settling back down, a hand over his heart, "Jeeze, Sanji! Don't sneak up on people like that!"

Sanji raised both of his hands  in surrender, a lazy grin on his face, "Sorry, long-nose. I didn't mean to startle you. May I join you?"

Usopp tilted his head, "What are you doing up this late?"

Sanji laughs lightly, "I'm on watch tonight. Did you forget the schedule?"

"Ah, that's right, that's right." He rubs his face roughly with a sigh, "I haven't been getting much sleep lately. I'm working on a new ammunition, and I'm close to getting it to work, I know I am-"

Sanji eased onto the deck floor beside Usopp and listen to the sniper go on and on about his new ammunition idea. Sanji's eyes stay firmly on Usopp's face, watching him gesture animatedly as he detailed his plan for a new pop green. There are dark circles under the sniper's eyes, but they shine all the brighter as he speaks about his inventions.

"-and it SHOULD go off with a BANG and then SHKSHKSHKSHK!!" Usopp falls backward onto the deck, his dark eyes reflecting the galaxies above them. "It's gonna be great once I get it worked out!" Sanji remained silent, astounded by the universe in Usopp's eyes. The younger man's cheek flushed with embarrassment, "Ah, how long was I rambling? Sorry, I didn't-"

Sanji shook his head, "No, it was interesting. And I know you'll figure it out, Usopp." He wanted to keep Usopp like this, just a little longer. Let Usopp remain relaxed in that beautiful way. Just a little longer with Usopp and the stars.

"You really think so?"

Sanji nodded, " 'Course. You're clever."

Usopp's cheeks remain flushed, and he is clearly pleased. Sanji exhales another plume of smoke and puts his cigarette out before leaning back onto the deck floor beside his nakama. "How long do you have to be up tonight for the watering cycle?"

Usopp sighed, eyes closed, "Only an hour. Every fifteen minutes, I water the plants, and then I can go back to bed."

"I could water them for you. I'm up for watch anyway. Then you could get some sleep," Sanji suggested. Usopp's eyes open halfway and Sanji feels his heart fluttered, "You'd do that for me, Sanji?"

Sanji rolled his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart, "I'm not saving your life or anything, Usopp. It's just watering some plants. No big deal."

Usopp sighed and his eyes close once again, "You're the best, Sanji."

Sanji turned his head away from Usopp, despite the latter's eyes being closer. He had to be certain his own face wasn't tinged pink. When the sniper doesn't move, Sanji cleared his throat, "Oi, you're gonna fall asleep out here if you don't head to bed."

"Mm... nah... won't... jus' wan'a see th' stars... a lil longer..." Usopp opened his eyes partially, the colors of the nebula above swimming in his dark eyes. Sanji turned back to the sniper and his words catch in his throat. Women were beautiful like flowers, like a perfectly plated meal. They were beautiful like gemstones and colors. But Usopp? Usopp was beautiful like fine art. Usopp was as beautiful as a sunrise or a sunset. Usopp evoked yearning, and god how Sanji yearned. He ached with it. How could one person elicit such a response inside him? Sanji would give anything to stop time and stay like this forever. Being permitted to exist with Usopp was divinity.

"Sanji?" Murmured Usopp.

"Hm?" was all that Sanji could muster without his voice shaking.

"Tell me a story," Usopp said softly.

Sanji scoffed, "Usopp, go to bed. You're the story teller. I-"

"Tell me about the all blue."

"Usopp-"

"Please?" Usopp opened his eyes completely, and Sanji felt his stomach take flight. He sighed, "You really wanna know about the All-Blue?"

Usopp nodded. Sanji sat up and reached over Usopp to water the saplings. Once finished, he began to speak about the All-Blue. Sanji's voice filled the silence as the Sunny gently rocked them both. He spoke about the All-Blue at legnth, avoiding Usopp's gaze and choosing to look up at the stars instead.

Every 15 minutes, Sanji watered the saplings, never-ceasing his All-Blue talk. When Sanji no longer felt flustered, he glanced at Usopp and saw that the sniper had fallen asleep. His breathing was deep and even, lips slightly parted as he slumbered, one arm draped over his toned stomach.

Sanji smiled, eyes full of adoration as he reached over the sniper to water the plants one final time. He sets the watering can down, but does not draw back. Instead, he leaned over Usopp's sleeping form.

Sanji felt as though his heart would hammer out of his chest and wake the slumbering man. But the only sound was the waves lapping against the Sunny and Usopp's relaxed, even breathes. The cook leaned down without thinking, and paused close enough to feel Usopp's breath against his own lips. With one hand, Sanji cradled Usopp's face with a feather-light touch. He leans down further and places a soft kiss on the corner of the sniper's mouth. A part of him longed to plant his lips on Usopp's, but if he ever gathered his courage, he wanted to have the truest first kiss with the sniper. That meant that he would have to settle for a near kiss. Sanji's heart stops as he lingers for a moment before pulling back, murmuring, "Mon beau tireur d'élite, repose toi bien."

As much as he longed to stay by Usopp's side, he did have a job to do. He rose from the deck and moved quietly away from the sleeping man. Sanji fought to keep a giddy smile off his face as he climbed the rigging to stand on top of the crows nest once again. He would keep this night close to his heart with all the other stolen glances and laughs.

[messedupinfjthoughts]

# the wild garden

We broke the earth with trembling hands,

and planted seeds across the land.

A wild garden, raw and free,

a woven dream of you and me.

I loved it, oh, how much I cared,

each stem, each leaf, each breath we shared.

I studied soil, I watched the skies,

I watered roots with hopes and sighs.

I dreamed of blossoms yet unborn,

of vines in bloom, of golden morn.

You smiled at first and knelt with me,

but not with wonder; critically.

You judged the way I shaped each bed,

you shook your head at what I said.

You doubted where I placed each tree,

as if my heart knew less than thee.

Still, I believed; I gave, I grew,

I turned blind eyes to doubts you threw.

I cradled saplings, sang to rain,

and nursed the smallest sprigs from pain.

My hands were calloused, my breath was thin,

but oh, I longed to see it win.

You watched. You let the days drift past.

Your hands fell still, your care could not last.

You spoke of beauty, yet withdrew

and left the tending all too few.

or none at all, but just for me And I still tried to hold what used to be.

You took for granted that I'd stay,

and bear the weight you put away.

I carried dreams until they bled,

until the flowers drooped their heads.

Until one morning, silent, gray,

my heart too heavy to obey

I set the watering can aside,

and watched the garden fall and die.

You came when all was choked and bare,

with biting words and cold-eyed stare.

You said I never knew the way,

you said I let it rot away.

You made me ghost,

you made me thief,

I stole your time.

And you gave me grief.

But you, you never learned to see

what gardens truly ask to be:

Not mirrors, nor a gilded crown,

but hands that kneel, that will not drown

another soul with pride or spite,

but lift together into light.

The winter claimed the brittle vines,

the empty beds, the broken spines.

And there I stood, with aching hands,

alone amid the withered lands.

Yet somewhere out beyond the frost,

another heart has paid the cost

And someday, someone brave will come,

to tend the roots with steady thumb.

We'll plant again, with open skies,

and teach the garden not to die.

[blindhades]

So you know how bonsai trees are tended to?

I imagine it's like that. It started with a semi-small sapling and then he kind of grew it into a bed.

If he actually CARVED it, then the tree's actually long dead because even the smallest of cuts to a tree by anything can cause it to start to decay, regardless of tree type.

ohhh this is interesting!! but it's the tree where they first met so i thought it was already a grown tree yk

but the idea of him tending to the tree with so much patience and love is absolutely amazing and i adore it thank you for the mental image anon

[galadrieljones]

Riptide: Chapter 32

❤️ Dragon Age | Solavellan | Abevellan | Amerivellan | Mature ❤️

Chapter 32: Huckleberry Pancakes

*Summary and excerpt under the cut for spoilers*

Sene and Solas reunite after ten (physical) years of separation.

HE TOOK her inside where they sat down on the edge of the bed in the corner of the cottage. It was a one-bedroom affair. Sene straddled in his lap with her long legs folded on either side, like saplings. His mouth quiet on her neck. She could feel his breath and his eyelashes and his breathing slow. Through his grip on her, she could feel his chest rising up and down. Her cheek pressed into his shoulder, he smelled the same, and if she closed her eyes hard enough, it was like no time had passed at all. 

At some point, she looked around. It was like a very small home there, cozy and spoke very quietly of Solas, in all the ways she remembered him and their lives together at Skyhold. There was a stone hearth, and the fire was real, not magical, an iron stove and a countertop with simple cupboards, a small dining table with two chairs, a desk near the fire, stacked up with books and mugs and messy things, and a wine-red sofa with a rug skinned from a bear. Every bit of inventory in the room seemed curated with a kind of richness and care that she had grown accustomed to many years before. For all of his stoicism, Solas had a well-trained, artistic eye and a taste for humble, fine things, many of which he made himself. He liked to nest, forged in his years of constant, uprooted desires, and he understood how to make even the smallest, coldest places feel safe.

She sat back a little so she could look at his face. Hands on his cheeks. He closed his eyes to her touch. She wiped away the tears with her thumbs. "How long have you been here?" she whispered.

"Three days."

"You rebuilt the whole cottage?"

"Yes, vhenan."

She took a deep breath. She had not thought about this at first, that he might have built and furnished a small residence in just three days. She had seen what Abelas could do, and so upon consideration, it really wasn't that hard to believe. But Sene had not spent as much time with Solas in the truest form of his ancient power. He was always so humble, his shows of power as unassuming as he was. In some ways, she didn't know this part of him at all. She could not even really imagine what it meant, or what it looked like. "It's pretty," she said. "I like the rug."

Keep Reading at AO3

Start from the Beginning 💫

[lilith-hazel-mathematics]

Minecraft lowblock

Not my usual type of post, but I found something kinda cool in Minecraft and really wanted to share it. Below is a picture of a skyblock map that I made. I call it "Lowblock", as a reference to low%.

The map consist of exactly 14 blocks: 12 for the end portal frame, one lava block eventually required for a nether portal, and one bone block (at top) required for mob spawning. This is the smallest possible map that's beatable glitchless (excluding trivial nonsense like pre-placed portal blocks). The expected completion time is 6 years.

As with most skyblock maps this extreme, the strategy revolves around the Wandering Trader. The only tile on which the trader can spawn is that bone block. Given how small the spawnable area is, it's extremely unlikely for the trader to actually spawn there. I'll spare the details, but basically, every 20 minutes there is a 1/12294 chance that the wandering trader spawns on that bone block. This means that, on average, a wandering trader will spawn every 171 days. Not minecraft days, REAL LIFE DAYS; about half a year.

Without emeralds, it's impossible to purchase anything from the trader, and you also have nothing to sell them. However, at the crack of dawn, the wandering trader drinks milk. If you kill them at that exact moment, there's a 10% chance they drop the milk bucket. Since on average you'll need to kill them 10 times before you get a bucket, the expected time to acquire a milk bucket is 1708 real life days. About four and a half years.

As of the Java 1.21.5 update, about a month ago, the wandering trader now has a 33% chance to purchase a milk bucket for 2 emeralds. So, on average, you're looking at another 512 real days before you obtain any emeralds. That's another one and a half years, for a grand total of 6 real life years.

Finally, once you do have emeralds, there's a high chance that the trader will also sell logs, and you can buy 16 of them. The planks can be used to make a larger platform, giving enough space to spawn hostile mobs. A larger platform also dramatically increases the rate at which the trader spawns, letting you purchase saplings. This leads into an ordinary skyblock experience, rendering the map beatable.

[ros64]

From @dianagabaldon site

⚠️⚠️ATTENZIONE SPOILER PER CHI NON HA LETTO TUTTI I LIBRI FINO A BEES ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Today is the Fourth (and final) Sunday of Advent. The waiting is almost over, but the anticipation is still to be enjoyed. The final candle (since we’ve used the other labels) is Peace.

Peace is one of those things that you can’t really define (not that people don’t, but—like love—it has depths and shimmering facets of meaning), but you know it when you encounter it. Hence the Biblical quote, “The peace that passeth understanding.”

Peace often comes and finds you in the midst of Things (like realizing you’re leaving for the journey to another city for Christmas in two hours, and you haven’t yet wrapped the presents that you need to drop off at FedEx on the way…), and we often don’t realize that this happens because we carry peace with us, all the time.

Peace is part of our nature, just as we’re part of nature.

Now, I’m a biologist by training, and am also one of those people who (as my father disapprovingly said (manymanymany times), “have your head in the clouds!” (Like this was a _bad_ thing…) Yep. Also on the ground.

Rocks come and find me, and it’s rare for me to come home from a walk _without_ a rock in my pocket. So a few days ago, I was walking with Lucy the dachshund, to whom “walk” means “sniff everything in sight, pausing occasionally to pee on it”, and as usual, glancing over the ground we were walking on, which—being a desert front yard in Scottsdale, was mostly crushed granite. But in the midst of this layer of pinkish rock was the little gray visitor you see in the photo above.

This is a tiny survivor of a volcanic explosion that took place many miles away. Plainly, it’s a rock—but one that’s been through Stuff. It’s been melted by the heat of the Earth’s core, and blown far abroad, with those little holes the scars left by the violent gasses that propelled it.

What could be less peaceful?

And yet, there it is. Basking in the sun, resting among strangers.

No matter what’s happened to it, it remains what it is. It carries peace, because peace is its nature—as it is ours. Wait, and listen for the peace that lives within you to whisper your name.

Merry Christmas!

EXCERPT from BOOK TEN (Untitled), Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon

William washed his face—it was thick with stubble, but no point in trying to shave without mirror or soap—and made his way downstairs.

The smell of food reached him at the top of the stairs and drew him down like a mosquito scenting blood, single-minded in his voracity. And a good thing, too, he realized as he entered the kitchen. He was so hungry that he’d suffered no hesitations regarding his welcome.

In fact, while everyone at table turned to look at him, all the faces bore smiles, whether shy or broad, and he bowed to them, smiling back.

“Good morning,” he said, and the smallest girl—Amanda, that was her name—giggled and pointed her spoon at him.

“Your beard looks like Grand-da’s!”

A ripple of stifled amusement ran round the table, but before he could think of something to say, Mother Claire rose and took him by the sleeve, showing him to a place on the bench beside Frances, who looked up at him demurely.

“I hope you thl-slept well?” she said. Her cheeks were pink, but she met his eyes straight on, and he felt a slight jolt; her eyes were very much like Jane’s.

“Immensely well, I thank you,” he assured her. A trencher appeared before him, piled with toast and bacon, and Amanda’s brother—James? No, Jeremiah, Jem, that was it, a tall, red-haired boy, thin as an oak sapling—shoved a pot of strawberry jam across the table.

“What do we call him?” the boy asked, turning to his grandfather. “Uncle Billy?”

William choked slightly on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. Frances, Claire, and the three little girls _all_ giggled, and he thought Fraser might have done as well, were he capable of making such a sound. As it was, Fraser kept a relatively straight face, and replied, “Not unless he asks ye to. ‘Til then, ye can call him Mr. Ransom, aye?”

William cleared his throat.

“You may call me William for the present, if you like,” he said to Jem. “I haven’t had a great deal of practice in being an uncle, as yet.”

“Don’t pester your uncle,” Mother Claire said, setting down a dish of succulent, glistening sausages, smelling of sage and onion, in front of William. “Let him eat.”

He ate like a ravening wolf, listening to the conversation with one ear, but making no effort to join it. His cup was filled—and refilled—with the very good beer, and he finished the meal replete—well, stuffed like a goose—and wondering whether he might go find a tree to sleep under for a bit.

“I’ll be goin’ to and fro on the Ridge today, fettling my tenants,” Fraser told him, brushing crumbs off his lap. He handed a fragment of toast to the big bluetick bitch who had been waiting patiently by his feet, and rose. “D’ye want to come with me?”

“I—yes. I suppose so,” William replied, taken aback at the invitation. He remembered Mac the groom saying “fettled,” with regard to grooming and feeding horses, but he supposed that Fraser merely meant that he proposed to tell his tenants that he would be gone for some time, and arrange for payment of rents to some factor.

Fraser nodded.

“Aye, good. I’ll say you’re my son, though most of them will ken it already, after yesterday.” He cocked a brow in question. Was that agreeable to William?

That made his full stomach drop another inch or two, but he nodded back.

“Of course. May I take time to shave?”

“Aye. Use the soap and basin in my room. It’s the one in front, on the left as ye go up.”

The room was large and pleasant, the window opened for air, but screened with muslin to keep insects out, and the diffused light gave the room a pleasant, quiet feel, like being inside a cloud, despite the muffled racket from the kitchen below. William found himself breathing shallowly, aware of the unfamiliar, intimate scent of the room. The bed had not yet been made, and while the thrown-back sheets were clean, they held the faint, disturbing musk of recent bodies.

If the intimacy of the Frasers’ bedroom was disturbing, the intimacy of using Mr. Fraser’s shaving soap was more so. It was soft, white Castile soap, and smelled of olive-oil, but also of basil and what he thought was marjoram, and…could that possibly be geranium-leaf? He hadn’t seen or smelt a geranium plant since he left England, and it gave him a brief sense of dislocation, a vivid sense of his Aunt Minnie’s conservatory, redolent with foreign flowers and writhing exotic greenery.

The thought made him feel more settled in himself. No matter what the future held, he still had both a past and a present, and those must be sufficient to keep him in countenance for what might come.

Refreshed and clean-shaven, he came downstairs, ready to see exactly what “fettling” might involve.

Oggi è la quarta (e ultima) domenica di Avvento. L'attesa è quasi finita, ma l'attesa è ancora da godere. L'ultima candela (dato che abbiamo usato le altre etichette) è Peace.

La pace è una di quelle cose che non puoi davvero definire (non che la gente non lo faccia, ma, come l'amore, ha profondità e sfaccettature scintillanti di significato), ma la conosci quando la incontri. Da qui la citazione biblica, "La pace che passa la comprensione".

La pace spesso arriva e ti trova in mezzo alle cose (come renderti conto che stai partendo per il viaggio in un'altra città per Natale tra due ore, e non hai ancora incartato i regali che devi lasciare da FedEx sulla strada...), e spesso non ci rendiamo conto che questo accade perché portiamo la pace con noi, tutto il tempo.

La pace fa parte della nostra natura, proprio come noi facciamo parte della natura.

Ora, sono un biologo di formazione, e sono anche una di quelle persone che (come ha detto mio padre con disapprovazione (molte molte molte volte), "tai la testa tra le nuvole!" (Come se questa fosse una cosa _brutta_...) Sì. Anche a terra.

Le rocce vengono a trovarmi, ed è raro per me tornare a casa da una passeggiata _senza_ una pietra in tasca. Quindi qualche giorno fa, stavo camminando con Lucy il bassotto, per la quale "camminare" significa "annusare tutto ciò che è in vista, fermandosi di tanto in tanto per fare pipì sopra", e come al solito, guardando il terreno su cui stavamo camminando, che, essendo un cortile del deserto a Scottsdale, era per lo più di granito schiacciato. Ma nel mezzo di questo strato di roccia rosata c'era il piccolo visitatore grigio che vedi nella foto sopra.

Questo è un piccolo sopravvissuto a un'esplosione vulcanica che ha avuto luogo a molte miglia di distanza. Chiaramente, è una roccia, ma una che è stata attraverso Stuff. È stato fuso dal calore del nucleo della Terra, e soffiato lontano all'estero, con quei piccoli buchi le cicatrici lasciate dai gas violenti che lo hanno spinto.

Cosa potrebbe essere meno pacifico?

Eppure, eccolo lì. Crogiolarsi al sole, riposare in mezzo agli estranei.

Non importa cosa gli sia successo, rimane quello che è. Porta la pace, perché la pace è la sua natura, come è nostra. Aspetta e ascolta la pace che vive dentro di te per sussurrare il tuo nome.

Buon Natale!

Estratto non indedito dal Libro Dieci (Senza titolo), Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon

Traduzione a cura di

Rilasciato sulla pagina fb di diana per la QUARTA DOMENICA di AVVENTO

William si lavò il viso - la barba era folta , ma non aveva senso cercare di radersi senza specchio o sapone - e si diresse al piano di sotto.

L'odore del cibo lo raggiunse in cima alle scale e lo attirò verso il basso come una zanzara che fiuta il sangue, con la sua voracità. E fu un bene, se ne rese conto entrando in cucina.

Era così affamato che non ebbe nessuna remora riguardo alla sua accoglienza.

Infatti, mentre tutti i commensali si voltavano a guardarlo, su ciascun volto compariva un sorriso, timido o ampio che fosse, ed egli si inchinò a loro, ricambiando il sorriso.

"Buongiorno", disse, e la bambina più piccola, Amanda, questo era il suo nome, fece una smorfia e lo indicò con il cucchiaio.

"La tua barba assomiglia a quella del nonno!".

Un'ondata di divertimento soffocato fece il giro del tavolo, ma prima che potesse pensare a qualcosa da dire, Madre Claire si alzò e lo prese per la manica, indicandogli un posto sulla panca accanto a Frances, che lo guardò pudicamente.

"Spero che tu abbia dormito bene", disse. Le sue guance erano rosa, ma lo guardò dritto negli occhi e lui provò un leggero sussulto: i suoi occhi erano molto simili a quelli di Jane.

"Immensamente bene, grazie", le assicurò. Davanti a lui apparve una teglia, piena di pane tostato e pancetta, e il fratello di Amanda, James? No, Jeremiah, Jem, ecco, un ragazzo alto, dai capelli rossi, magro come un alberello di quercia, spinse sul tavolo un vasetto di marmellata di fragole.

"Come dobbiamo chiamarlo?", chiese il ragazzo rivolgendosi al nonno. "Zio Billy?"

William quasi soffocò con il sorso di birra che aveva appena bevuto. Frances, Claire e le tre bambine ridacchiarono tutte e pensò che anche Fraser avrebbe potuto farlo, se fosse stato capace di emettere un suono simile. Invece Fraser mantenne una faccia relativamente seria e rispose: "No, a meno che non te lo chieda lui. Fino ad allora, potete chiamarlo signor Ransom, d'accordo?".

William si schiarì la gola.

"Per ora potete chiamarmi William, se volete", disse a Jem. "Non ho ancora fatto molta pratica nel fare lo zio".

"Non infastidire tuo zio", disse Madre Claire, mettendo davanti a William un piatto di salsicce succulente e luccicanti, che profumavano di salvia e cipolla. "Lascialo mangiare".

William mangiò come un lupo famelico, ascoltando la conversazione con un orecchio, ma senza fare alcuno sforzo per unirvisi . Il suo bicchiere fu riempito - e riempito di nuovo - con dell'ottima birra, ed egli finì il pasto sazio - anzi, ripieno come un'oca - chiedendosi se poteva andare a cercare un albero sotto cui dormire per un po'.

"Oggi andrò in giro per il Ridge a "sistemare" i miei fittavolii", gli disse Fraser, spazzolandosi le briciole dalle ginocchia. Passò un pezzo di pane tostato al grosso cane bluetick che aspettava pazientemente ai suoi piedi e si alzò. "Vuoi venire con me?".

"Sì. Suppongo di sì", rispose William, colto di sorpresa dall'invito. Ricordava che Mac lo stalliere diceva "fettled/sistemare", riferendosi alla strigliatura e al nutrimento dei cavalli, ma immaginò che Fraser volesse semplicemente dire ai suoi affittuari che sarebbe stato via per qualche tempo, e organizzare il pagamento degli affitti a qualche fattore.

Fraser annuì.

"Sì, bene. Dirò che sei mio figlio, anche se la maggior parte di loro lo saprà già, dopo ieri". Aggrottò un sopracciglio in segno di domanda. William era d'accordo?

Questo gli fece stringere lo stomaco pieno di un altro paio di centimetri, ma annuì.

"Certo. Posso avere il tempo di radermi?".

"Sì. Usa il sapone e la bacinella nella mia stanza. È quella di fronte, sulla sinistra salendo".

La stanza era ampia e piacevole, la finestra si apriva per l'aria, ma era schermata con una mussola per tenere lontani gli insetti, e la luce diffusa dava alla stanza una sensazione piacevole e tranquilla, come se ci si trovasse all'interno di una nuvola, nonostante il frastuono ovattato proveniente della cucina sottostante.

William si ritrovò a respirare superficialmente, consapevole dell'odore intimo e sconosciuto della stanza. Il letto non era ancora stato rifatto e, sebbene le lenzuola gettate all'indietro fossero pulite, contenevano un lieve odore persistente di corpi .

Se l'intimità della camera da letto dei Fraser era inquietante, l'intimità dell'uso del sapone da barba di mr Fraser lo era ancora di più. Era un sapone di Castiglia bianco e morbido, che profumava di olio d'oliva, ma anche di coriandolo e di quella che pensava fosse maggiorana, e... poteva forse trattarsi di foglie di geranio? Non aveva più visto né annusato una pianta di geranio da quando aveva lasciato l'Inghilterra, e questo gli diede un breve senso di dislocazione, una vivida sensazione del giardino d'inverno di sua zia Minnie, profumato di fiori stranieri e di una contorta vegetazione esotica.

Il pensiero lo fece sentire più stabile. Non importava cosa gli riservasse il futuro, aveva ancora sia un passato che un presente, e questi dovevano essere sufficienti a fargli mantenere la calma interiore di fronte a ciò che sarebbe potuto accadere.

Rinfrescato e ben rasato, scese le scale, pronto a vedere cosa esattamente implicava questo “sistemare”.

[raindrop-21]

Day eight of @cirrus-ghoulette 's Whump Month: "Who did this to you?"

Cw: feelings of anxiety, letting oneself almost die, lmk if I missed any

Mountain's been on edge all day, he doesn't know why. The smallest thing makes him jump. Maybe he didn't get enough sleep. He took a nap with Swiss and Phantom, he woke up still feeling the same. What is it? What's making him feel this way?

The day goes by, nothing has happened. He doesn't sleep that night, the feeling keeping him from it. That feeling lasts for the next three days, that he doesn't sleep through. He's awake all seventy two hours. On the fourth day, it's been ninety one hours, it's seven pm. Mountain's outside on his way to the lake for a night swim when he smelled smoke. He looked in the direction of the smell. His greenhouse.

He dropped the towel and water he had with him and ran for his greenhouse. When he got there, he busted open the door in a hurry. Everything was aflame. All his hard work, on fire. It might sound silly, but his greenhouse is the most important thing to him, it's his lifeline.

He looked around and his eyes widened with every burning plant he saw. The only thing not on fire were the fire lilies. The scent in the greenhouse was that of burning plants, smoke, and feral fire ghouls. Someone had most likely summoned them and they got loose. And they chose to terrorize his greenhouse of all things…

Mountain fell to his knees in the center of his greenhouse, the center of the fire, and cried. He cried until he couldn't anymore. No more tears could come out no matter how hard he tried. The fire got closer and closer to him until it touched him.

Earth ghouls, especially plant based earth ghouls like Mountain are especially weak to fire caused by fire ghouls. He didn't stop the fire from engulfing him, in fact, he lied down. If his greenhouse was going to be burnt to the ground, so was he. He doesn't know if the fire got put out or there was nothing more for it to burn when he hears commotion around him. Someone comes next to him, their soft hand caresses his cheek.

Copia.

“Who did this to you, Sapling?”

@thatfuckinjester

[scrunglepaws]

I made a sona. :3 His name is Sapling and he's a bunch of roots, leaves, gayness, and fun.

He was inspired by Treehugger Norns from Creatures 3 and Zerglings from StarCraft. He didn't end up looking much like either, though. At some point I got the idea to shape him like a bird oc of mine and it stuck because it's a fun shape to draw. Then I slapped a heart on his beak/nose/??? and called it a day. Here's the concept sketches as I worked out his design:

- Treehugger norns are known for loving nature and getting overcrowded very easily. Relatable. - Zerglings are adorable/ugly creatures that frolic around, make weird noises, and burrow in the dirt for fun. Relatable. They're the smallest and cutest of the zerg (hence the "-ling"). They're also hivemind killing machines that will rip your face off, but- - Called Sapling because "aww, baby tree! :D" and I'm a sappy person. Also the zergling thing. - Follows cartoon logic, so he has scythe arms (or actual arms) if I feel like it for the situation. Heart nose falls off when sad sometimes. Grows berries for no reason. Explodes into a bunch of leaves if you punch him. Just a nonsense creature. He'll swat your eldritch god with a newspaper.

[nosenipped]

✻　　"　the　wind　is　a　friend　! 　"

i would like to preface that the wind has the tendency to fling jack into places he doesn't know. call it being adventurous, and basically just being rag dolled to—and—from places. most of the time he expresses just the smallest of interest toward something, and it sets him off to someplace new.

occasionally he winds up in places he doesn't know, or where he can't gauge how far they are from a big root sapling. 300 years into this gig and he's still got nook and crannies to explore on his own. he asks the wind for what purpose exactly, and they expectedly, don't answer. everything in this world has their whims, and apparently their personal countdown on what exactly to answer ﹠ when to leave him hanging.

he definitely does trust the wind much more than any other form of nature, they do guide him ﹠ are the ones that allow him flight over ﹠ about places. more often than not, they're the ones that signal his arrival by allowing his laughs to travel along first. the winds are his friends, and are not controlled nor manipulated by him directly, but they occasionally do allow jack usage over their gales.

they're also really adequate gossipers. suppose much like the trees who've been standing tall since decades to centuries, the winds have been to places everywhere ﹠ anywhere all at the same time. they are wherever the sky is visible ﹠ whenever life thrives. while he isn't too keen on gossiping, ( jack personally doesn't enjoy being roped into problems where it doesn't concern him ) they do inform him of his friend's whereabouts when asked.

[thephilosophyofsuns]

Here's another literature term for you: Sublime.

The Sublime is something that evokes awe; both awesome and aweful.

It's this highly esteemed concept, saved for things like God and humanity and nature, but I feel like it's in little things to. In fact, I think it's in everything.

Everything about life is sublime.

Dogs are wonderful and sweet and smart and reckless and stupid and mortal.

Children are smart and loving and beautiful and small and reckless and fragile.

There a hundreds, millions of things in life that are amazing and terrifying, beautiful and heartbreaking—from tsunamis that destroy whole cities to the smallest sapling sprouting it's first leaves.

Life is wonderful and new and love and kindness and pain and learning; growth and change are perhaps the most sublime things in life. It's amazing and wondrous, but it's terrifying because it's so big and new.

Life is awe and terror in its purest forms. Life is sublime

[dots3a]

This morning I had an e-mail exchange with the office of Senator Budd because he responded to my pleas for a ceasefire by telling me he's going to "continue to supply lethal aid" to Israel and then that i should not use e-mail templates if I want to engage in discourse. He said if I had seen what he saw on the October 7th tapes, I'd understand. I have seen hundreds of dead bodies caked in dust and blood. There is nothing you could show me that will change me into someone who thinks dropping bombs -- on anyone -- is a reasonable solution to anything.

I walked outside and the backyard is filled with blooming violets, daffodils, butterflies, various types of bees, and lady bugs. I saw my first wild strawberry flower of the season. The màxkwim has begun to sprout. The strawberry my youngest planted as a seed last year surprised me with flowers already. Each of the berry saplings I gifted myself for my birthday last July has new growth, they seem to be thriving in their new homes.

I am not getting better at straddling these two realities. I cannot sit next to the garden beds without carrying the people I've seen suffering in Palestine heavy in my heart. I can't water seeds that will hopefully grow into something my children can eat, without feeling acute awareness of the illegality of collecting rain water for Palestinians, whose children are starving to death to the sound of gunfire and American bombs -- Israel owns the water that falls from the sky, according to Israel.

I do not understand people who are able to carry on as usual. I do not understand people who are not moved to even the smallest actions of resistance. I do not understand the acquiescence. The acceptance of what is clearly unacceptable. The nonchalance of it all.

I wish there were quiet moments of peace in the dawning spring in Palestine, with children happy with their families among the flowers. I will continue to work towards that future in any way I can. I hope more will join those of us who cannot look away.