#Summit Terrace

[artisthomes]

The F. Scott Fitzgerald House, also known as Summit Terrace, in Saint Paul, Minnesota, United States

[cozy4countrycottages]

Summit Terrace,the home of American novelist,F.Scott Fitzgerald,author of the glittzy,decadent novels,The Great Gatsby,and Tender is the Night.

Summit Terrace,599 Summit Avenue,Saint Paul,Minnesota,55102,USA (NRHP)

[quillthrillswriting]

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︵‿presenting...quill's kataang week!‿︵

︵‿︵︵‿︵︵day two: protectiveness/ bodyguard︵‿︵︵‿︵︵

︵‿︵︵︵‿︵︵‿‿hosted by @kataang-week︵‿︵︵︵‿︵︵‿‿

summary:

stuck in her tower for all eighteen years of her life, katara had come to peace with her own lonely, repetitive existence, her only company being her mother, hama. at least, she *was* at peace, until a certain airbending thief happened along her tower, caught her eye, and forever shifted the path of her destiny. OR: kataangled. and yes, i came up with that brilliant wordplay all on my own.

:D the following are excerpts from "all at once, everything is different, now that i see you":

In all of her eighteen years of gazing out into the same meadow, the same night sky, Katara had never quite managed to piece together why every year, on her birthday, the night sky came alight with glowing lanterns in hues of soft silver and blue. As much as it tugged at her, she didn’t mind the element of mystery too much. After all, a girl who grows up never leaving the confines of her tower is a girl used to looking out into a world of mysteries. Katang spent her days pouring over old scrolls, gleaning bits and pieces about the world from what she could see through her window.

To be entirely honest, it wasn’t all that much. A modest meadow, a bubbling brook, the occasional frog-squirrel or cat deer. Still, it was more than enough for her to feel utterly enchanted by. Each and every time that an animal walked by, Katara would imagine how it would feel to be one of those wild things, chained to nothing, bound by your own will. 

Katara certainly wasn’t.

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Aang made quick work of the tower walls, the uneven brick providing natural foot and handholds as he scaled the rough, mossy stone. When he finally reached the summit of the spire, he heaved himself over, his breath rough as he dusted off his palms. He tugged off his thin overshift, revealing his one-shouldered monk’s robes as he did. Aang scratched his neck absentmindedly as he took in his surroundings. He was surprised to see that the tower was furnished, lived-in, even. He recognized waterbending forms painted on most of the walls. There were even lit candles softly flickering away in various nooks and crannies, casting warm light over the room.

Wait. Alarm bells rang in Aang’s mind, urging him to further examine the situation he had found himself in.

  If the tower is abandoned, then who lit the-

The next sound he heard was a deafening thunk as a thin sword buried itself in the wall next to his head, leaving a deep cut along the shell of his ear. 

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She wanted a reason to snap back, to make some snide comment, but Aang’s eyes were so open, his expression so… trustable that she simply couldn’t stomach it. 

Katara knew that should’ve been telling him to leave. She should’ve asked him to apologise, to be on his way. In all her years of solitude, she’d never dreaded being alone, but something about Aang leaving and her never being able to see him again sent a pang of something like homesickness straight through her. 

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“I see that you need time to process all of this.” Aang stood, his eyes shining with sympathy that only made Katara feel more guilty over how heartbroken Mother Hama would be were she to find out about her new doubts. “I’m happy to give that to you.” She trailed like a ghost behind him as he strode to the window, tugging a wooden glider from his back before standing atop the edge of the terrace, grinning at her softly as she clung shyly to the carvings of the doorway. “And I understand that you don’t know me, that you have no real reason to believe me.”

He turned to the side, saluting her teasingly. “So I’ll be back, same time tomorrow, so that we can get to know one another a bit better.”

“Aang!” She shouted, rushing to the edge of the terrace as he snapped open his glider, plunging downwards. “No, you will not .”

“I can’t hear you! But I totally agree! I’m looking forward to it as well!” His whoops echoed through the field as he did a couple loop-de-loops. 

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Aang stepped through her window, right on schedule, with an injury he claimed he had gotten while sparring, Katara’s only response was the word “Again?” 

“Hey, If being injured is what it takes for you to let me stay even a few minutes longer, I’ll take it.” Aang grinned, shrugging as he tugged up the end of his top to reveal the bruises patterning his ribs. Katara did her best to focus on the injury itself, and not the muscle rippling over Aang’s side, as she settled into the stool next to him, leaning over to run her hands over the purple-and-blue skin. “I like your company.”

I like you. The response materialised in Katara’s mind before she could suppress it, and the longer it sat there, the more right it felt. I like you.

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“So, what else does a thief carry with him in his bag?” Katara had been strangely curious about what Aang considered precious enough to carry around with him in his satchel, but after fishing through playing cards and a set of spinning marbles he’d been very proud of, her interest was considerably less piqued.

“Oh, I don’t think I ever got a chance to explain what I took to end up in your tower.” Aang fished around until he tugged out a velvet box, passing it over to her with both hands. He continued on, talking about the castle security and his plans to pawn the necklace to feed and house children displaced by the ongoing conflict with the Fire Nation, but his words faded away as Katara opened the box.

I know you.

There, nestled in silk, was a pale blue pendant on a deep blue velvet ribbon. Just looking at it for a moment was enough for her to feel entirely off balance. Vague memories hit her, one after the other, of looking up at a ceiling of moon symbols carved in diamond, a hanging mobile of seals and icebergs. The ornate arches of a castle, the corridors and gardens of a grand estate. 

I know you.

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The world tilted, and suddenly, neither Katara’s will, nor her body, were her own.

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♥ feel free to check out the entirety of this fic & my ao3 here! ->

to see the rest of the kataang week submissions from the other extremely talented and lovely members of this community, head over to @kataang-week :)<3 thank u so much to the wonderful mods for making all of this possible!

[deadmotelsusa]

The Foodergong Lodge originally opened in 1960. After closing as a hotel, it reopened in 1983 as The Terraces, an 80-bed drug-and-alcohol rehabilitation facility, primarily for adults, before shifting its focus to juveniles in the late 1990s.

It closed its doors in 2009 as Summit Quest Academy, a behavioral facility for problem youth, amid concerns from area residents and the state Department of Public Welfare. In 2011, it reopened as Retreat at Lancaster, an inpatient mental health clinic.

Pictured are photos of it as the Foodergong compared to a present day view, pulled from a virtual tour on the current clinic's website. Located in Ephrata, Pennsylvania.

[someone-will-remember-us]

It would have been easier for Caroline Darian if her father, Dominique Pelicot, were an unremitting bastard: an absent or distant dad, a man who battered her mother, took no interest in his kids or just soured every family occasion. Then the daughter of France’s most notorious mass rapist could consign him to Hell without a backward glance.

But for both Darian and — it would seem from this account — her mother, Gisèle, it is the ambiguities that magnify their pain. This slim book comprises the diary that Darian, now 45, kept in the weeks after the police revealed that Pelicot had been drugging Gisèle and pimping her out to strangers for ten years. Yet amid her revulsion at his limitless depravity are sweet reveries. There is her father taking her to dance classes; urging her to the summit as they cycle mountain roads in Provence; putting Barry White on the car stereo as she and her brothers cram on the back seat for family holidays; singing beautifully at her wedding and making the perfect speech at Gisèle’s 50th birthday, calling her “my one, my all”.

After their father’s crimes were revealed, Darian and her brothers, David and Florian, packed up the rented house in Mazan, where their parents retired and the rapists came, in just two days. Everything was jettisoned: furniture, photographs and her father’s paintings, including a female nude entitled Under My Thumb, which Darian personally destroyed. Gisèle left for a new life with just two suitcases and her dog.

Harder to discard are the idyllic summers, Pelicot teaching his grandson to swim, and drinks and board games on the terrace. When you discover your father drugged and photographed you naked and may have raped you too (which he has always denied), where do you file the innocent memories?

This quandary divides Caroline and her mother. Darian describes Gisèle as a “medieval queen” whose “innate elegance extends even to refusing to say a bad word about our father”. Gisèle, who lost her own mother aged nine, maintains an outer serenity. Darian, who is more visceral and volatile, collapsed after the news and was admitted briefly to a mental ward. She was aghast when her mother fretted that her father would be cold in prison, and took him a bag of warm clothes, or when she declared: “I want to remember the good times.” Gisèle was trying to reconcile two warring thoughts: that her husband is a monster and that she once loved him deeply. Otherwise, one supposes, she would have to junk her entire life.

Pelicot’s crimes hit his family like a cluster bomb, a central explosion containing a multitude of smaller blasts. How can Darian tell her young son that the grandfather he texted before every football match is dead to him now? How will she forgive her mother for refusing to countenance — because the thought might have tipped Gisèle into insanity — that Pelicot raped her too?

All families are strange, but quirks read as normal when you’re a child. Now with open eyes Darian sees that her comfortable middle-class upbringing was a façade, that it was only her mother’s middle management job, which came with a five-bedroom company house near Paris, that kept them afloat. Her father, an electrician who dabbled in property, set up companies that always failed.

Papers her brothers discovered reveal that Pelicot defaulted on huge loans that he took out mainly in his wife’s name. Gisèle let him handle all admin, never wondering why he always rushed to gather up the post. Besides being raped 200 times by at least 73 men and left with four STDs, she faced bankruptcy too.

Darian sees what she missed as a girl: that this wasn’t a close marriage, but a coercive one, and her father manipulated Gisèle under the guise of loving protector. They all believed him during those ten years when her mother suffered blackouts and memory loss — a side-effect of the pills he fed her — that it was her grandchildren who had tired her out.

Now moments that seemed inconsequential loom large. Darian recalls her father angrily hauling her mother off her feet by her blouse, coming home from school aged 14 to find bailiffs had taken all their furniture including beloved heirlooms, and her father helping himself to cash she had made from summer jobs, saying it was his right.

Pelicot starts to come into focus: a grifter, an amoral chancer, someone who always had secrets. The most powerful memory Darian dredges up is of her mother’s old friend Pascale coming to the house to say that Pelicot had propositioned her. “Your husband isn’t the man you’ve always taken him to be,” she warned. Pelicot threatened to beat up Pascale, and Gisèle never spoke to her again.

Finally we learn the probable source of Pelicot’s character. His own father was a terrible man: a caretaker at a rehabilitation centre, he was a big, leather-jacketed bully, a lazy tyrant who took Dominique out of school at 13 to bring in a wage. Within weeks of his wife dying he made their foster daughter, who was 30 years his junior and had severe learning difficulties, his new spouse. Darian notes that this poor girl ripped out her own hair and needed permission to change the TV channel. There is a whiff of Fred West here, yet Darian’s parents sent her to stay with them every summer holiday until she was old enough to complain.

Darian has written this book to launch her campaign against “chemical submission”, the use of drugs within controlling relationships, which is seldom picked up by police. This account does not include the four-month trial that ended with 51 men including Pelicot convicted of rape. Nor does it mention Pelicot’s earlier crimes: an attempted rape in Paris in the 1990s that Pelicot has admitted to and a rape-murder he has denied, for which he will soon stand trial. “I’m convinced we still have more to discover about my father,” Darian says darkly, and the French police, who are checking his DNA against decades of cold cases, would agree.

But this book, although fragmentary and brief, is the story of how families can absorb horrible deeds and not merely function, but seem outwardly happy. Pelicot’s sons put up with him, although he was always cadging money after another failed scheme. His youngest child, Florian, still came to family parties after his girlfriend walked in on Pelicot in the daytime, his office door wide open, masturbating at his laptop. The last text Darian’s husband sent to Pelicot was a jolly message about the Tour de France. For the sake of family harmony, or for their mother, or because he could turn on the charm, they seem to have tolerated him as a bit of a rogue.

Yet all the while Pelicot was defiling everyone — his wife, his daughter, his sons’ wives (whom he filmed naked with spy cameras) — and violating everywhere they felt safe, raping Gisèle in her marital bed, at Darian’s home and at her beloved holiday cottage on the Île de Ré. And still three years ahead of them loomed the public ordeal of the trial, which Darian will cover in a future book. But what we have here is a primal scream of shock and disbelief. She may never call Dominique Pelicot “Dad” again, but the horror is that is who he remains.

(archive)

[matrixbearer2024]

Was watching Miniminuteman with a friend and they pointed out how that line of thinking might actually be very similar to how Modernity AU Ford views conspiracy to a degree. It's food for thought to his curious mind but push it as fact and he would rip you a new one. I love the idea and honestly, it's hilarious just to think about.

"'A pyramid is any series of terraces that lead to a summit.'.... No???"

"I COULD BE HOLDING A TIERED CIRCULAR WEDDING CAKE AND GO 'OH MY GOD IT'S A PYRAMID!' NO THE HELL IT ISN'T!"

"That definition is all sorts of confusing why does it even exist? Google has a better definition for a pyramid based on MATH. Where did this come from??? WHY?????"

This man would tweak his ass off watching Filip Zieba and Ancient Apocalypse. Like Ford loves conspiracy and the weird(case and point, he loves game theory and that's just all sorts of random sometimes), hell- he'd sometimes actually look into it himself when there's a possibility of something being there but shove it into his face like it's indisputable fact without any good evidence to show for it will actually make him flip the fuck out and not in a good way.

Sometimes Stanley takes advantage of this and actually feeds his brother those pseudoscientific theories on TikTok or YouTube just to get a rise out of his brother cuz IQ actually does look like a funky cartoon when he's losing his shit over people calling a mountain a pyramid HAHAHAHAHA

[hello-vampire-kitty]

Servamp chapter 130 translation "Chaos"

READ THE CHAPTER HERE

Translation notes

Iduna's lines where she talks about the shoes was a challenge xD Hopefully I managed to convey what she was explaining. Also it's cute that based on the kanji reading, Iduna would say that she "invents", instead of simply saying "made" something.

Nicco displayed a new ability and if there are Italian fans reading this, please let me know whther I got it right or not. From what I read "vivi" is the imperative of the verb "vivere" (to live)? Or does it mean something else? Please let me know!

Regarding the ability's name based on the kanji reading, I believe it's related to The Divine Comedy.

The word poet is mentioned and I thought it could be about Dante Alighieri but what about the six crowns?

The only connection I found like I mentioned, was in The Divine Comedy regarding the word "crown" 冠 which I found on the Japanese wiki page of the literary work, specifically in the translations for the "terraces of Purgatory".

There might be different terms in the Japanese adaptations of the Divine Comedy, but on the wiki the levels/terraces are adapted using 冠 which doesn't mean just crown like the one you wear on your head, there's also the meanings: peak, crown, crest, summit (the top or extreme point of something, usually a mountain or hill).

So, it could be a reference to the 6th terrace of Purgatory which represents the sin of Gluttony. This is how it's adapted in Japanese 第六冠 (6th crown) 暴食者 (gluttonous).

The last note is about a word in the third speech bubble that has two readings but unfortunately I couldn't make out the furigana reading that was made up from 2 kanji because the first one was…"squashed". Seems like it was a complex kanji and the print of those kanji were quite small, I could only make out the 2nd one…

Because I couldn't make out that one kanji, I relied on the word from the other reading which is 空想物 the first two kanji meaning "imaginary", "fantasy" and the last kanji means "object", so it describes Pandora as an illusion, a creature of fancy. Given the meaning of that world, I looked trough the dictionary to see if I can find the word in the furigana reading and I found the following: 観念 概念 凝念 想念

I looked trough words that ended with the kanji that I was able to read and all of the words I listed had similar meanings: concept, notion.

So yeah, that's how I managed to find the meaning of what it says in the furigana.

I hope these notes were helpful!

[salantami]

The Inca "Stairway of Death" - It leads to the summit of Huayna Picchu in Peru at 8,850 feet (2,700 meters). Created 600 years ago, these perilous stone steps provide access to the peak where the Incas built temples and terraces. The vertical climb is a testament to their architectural ingenuity and endurance, as they transformed the rugged landscape into functional spaces while connecting the sacred site to the sky.

[fortheloveofarchons]

Aether brings Xiao to a special area near Mt. Laixin

A special chapter to make it up for Xiao's bday!

C.W.:

- Fluff and angst - Kong | Aether is a ray of sunshine - Pining Xiao | Alatus - Mild sexual content - Light-hearted - Mentioned Lyney and Verr Goldet

.

.

.

Dear Xiao, 

I’ve recently finished my exploration around Chenyu Vale, and the place has delightful scenery! 

I’ve gone through the journey of tea leaves, hiking through mountains of mists, and fought a lot of new creatures. Recently, I’ve stumbled upon a location that reminds me of a place called, “The Orchard of Pairidaeza”, also known as the “Eternal Oasis” back in Sumeru. 

I want you to come with me to witness this familiar feeling I have felt when I explored the Eternal Oasis. 

I thought about calling you at that said time, but if you have free time you can come early if you wish! I don’t want to rush you into things. 

I will be waiting for you near Mt. Laixin. If you look at the next page of this letter, I have the coordinates for this specific place. 

From your traveller, 

Aether. 

What’s so special about that place in Chenyu Vale? A question that Xiao has pondered for the whole afternoon. What was originally a letter that was held in Verr Goldet’s hands, was something special that Xiao had to skim through the letter three times just to be sure. 

An invitation to explore the area around Mt. Laixin. 

A special area, Xiao’s eyes highlighted those words.

Although Xiao hasn’t really ventured deep into Chenyu Bale, he remembered how the gentle breezes carry the fragrance of tea all across the mountains of Liyue, filling the air with the savoury scent. Some say that Chenyu Vale is the fog-robed peaks of the south. The faint perfume and ancient song of jade drifts together along the rivers past Qiaoying Village to the bustling port of Yilong Wharf.  

In a flash of thick dark mists, Xiao teleports himself from the top of the roof of Wangshu Inn, to a place where the first view he sees is the glowing floating jade on the summit of Mt. Laixin, where an arrow of a blue light shines through the sky. A few Sacred Simulacrums that looked to be carved as jade owls were placed on some lands, their shade of jade glowing brighter under the moonlight. 

“The Chiwang Terrace…” Xiao admires the glow of the jade light amidst the destruction of the terrace above, where concrete and jade float into the air around the summit.

Just then, he hears the angry groan of a lawachurl. Xiao immediately turns his head down from the top of a boulder he was standing on, donning his mask, summoning his spear in thin air, prepared for whatever obstacle he’s about to face–

“Wiiinnnddblaaaadeeeee!!” 

He sees a flash of a yellow light, the outlander’s blade slicing through the lawachurl’s defence with lethal precision. The clash of steel and rock clashes through the air, and Aether immediately jumps up into the air… and pierces his sword directing into its chest! 

With a sorrowful groan, the lawachurl slumps to the ground, its body slowly disintegrating into ashes, gleams of blue and white light casting out of its body. With a heavy heave, Aether stabs his sword onto the soil, sweat dripping down from his chin and neck. 

That serious look of his changes instantly when he sees a gigantic precious chest in front of him, now unlocked for all its glory. 

“Yippie, new loot!” Aether gleefully runs over to the chest, and slowly opens it, revealing all of the artefacts, some mystic enhancement ores, and moras. Xiao slowly walks towards him, his footsteps quiet as he observes the outlander admiring the success of his victory against the lawachurl. 

“Why would anyone want–” Xiao stops himself and changes his sentence, looking at the mountains of Chenyu Vale that are shrouded with clouds. “Forget it, it’s not my concern.” 

Aether’s ears perk up from that familiar voice, and he quickly turns his head to find Xiao behind him, standing within a distance. 

“Xiao! You’re here.” Aether gives him a bright smile, and runs over to him. “I’m glad, I was really worried that you wouldn’t come.” 

“Why would you be worried?” Xiao asks, his jaw flexes and creases form around his eyes, and Aether knows he’s tense. “Do you perhaps not remember, or trust my promise? I told you before, if you ever need me, call me.” 

“I know, I know.” Aether sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Even though you have accepted my calls many times, my mind couldn’t help but always think of the second scenario.” 

“...Hmph.” That made Xiao let out a scoff, turning his back away to avoid Aether from seeing his face. 

I’ll never understand mortals’– and your expectation of disappointment. 

Seeing this action from the Vigilant Yaksha, a big, imaginary bead of sweat falls down on Aether’s head from the guilt of his words. Aether slowly walks towards Xiao from behind, in tiptoes. 

“Oh Vigilant Yaksha, I’m sorry!” Aether calls out his name from behind. 

The yaksha ignores. 

“ General Alatus… Heed my apology, pleaseeee~” Aether purrs the title, turns it into a caress, and Xiao shudders. He could feel Aether’s voice near his ear, and he instinctively turns his head to the side. 

“Xiao Xiao~” Aether whispers in the nape of his ear, making Xiao’s back shiver instantly. Xiao immediately turns away, his expression a mix of fluster and frustration, and a pink hue escapes his ears. 

“What exactly do you want to show me?” Xiao diverts the subject. 

“Come with me!” Aether gives Xiao an excited smile, takes his hand, and runs with him… 

Onto the lake. 

As the moon casts its silvery glow upon the tranquil surface of the lake, Aether steps upon the water, as if defying the laws of nature itself. As time seemed to slow down, Xiao looks down to see Aether’s footsteps leaving shimmering ripples and glows, the faintest whisper of light trailing behind like ethereal footprints upon the surface of the water.

He gazes at the outlander’s back, whose golden, braided hair flies gently in the wind, and the scent of Qingxin touches Xiao’s nose. 

Back in the present time, each of Xiao’s steps reveals the gentle glow that emanated from his feet, casting a soft luminescence upon the water. 

It was as if their very beings were infused with starlight, a celestial aura that illuminated the darkness with its radiant glow. 

Despite the brilliance of their glow, Xiao observes how they remained untouched by the waters below, their feet suspended above the surface as if borne aloft by unseen forces. 

Aether releases his grip, spins, and turns to him with a smile, his hands on his back. 

“Tada! What do you think? I’ve been doing some quests and I managed to find this place!” Aether asks. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

Aether’s movements were fluid and graceful, his feet scarcely disturbing the stillness of the lake as he glided effortlessly across its mirrored surface. 

With his heart doing physiologically impossible things, Xiao manages a sentence. “Yes, it is certainly unique compared to the other areas of Liyue. Truthfully, it has been a long time since I have ever heard of Chenyu Vale, so I haven’t…” 

Xiao looked down to find not a drop of water dared to mar his boots, nor did a ripple disturb the perfect reflection of the moon above. 

“Xiao? Have you ever danced–” 

“No.”

That immediate answer made Aether cast Xiao a long and measuring look, and Xiao keeps his face schooled into a mask of neutrality. 

“...Back then, on some carefree nights,” Xiao explains. “Bosacius would force me to join with them, and I would always refuse. As a general yaksha, it’s silly, senseless, and unwise.” 

“So?” Aether asks, shrugging his arms. “It’s just the two of us, so your reputation won’t be destroyed by some silly dance. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with dancing. I’m almost certain that the other adepti have danced before.”  

Xiao’s heart pounds. Blood surges through his veins. 

“Aether, are you asking…” 

Aether gives him a bow, Fontaine style, and extends a hand up to him.

“Shall we dance, Vigilant Yaksha?” 

Beneath the shimmering glow of the moon, its silver rays painting a celestial pathway upon the surface of the tranquil lake, two figures stood…

[waltwhitmansbeard]

chapter three

She throws herself into her work. It’s all she can think to do. It’s a hard pivot from the checked-out mess she’s been these past months, but if waking before the sun and working until she passes out long after it sets is what it takes to not think about what is barreling down the pike at her, then that’s what she’ll do. 

And there is work to be done: Pyrah is still more or less in shambles after Thordak’s devastation, and with their neighbors in Vasselheim suffering such public demolition of their own, no one is paying much attention to the tiny druid village in the middle of nowhere. Closer to home, the people of Zephrah are starting to chafe under the pressure of the countless refugees that found their way to the Summit Peaks after that reanimated titan corpse ransacked half of Vasselheim; the druids of the Abundant Terrace sent hundreds of fleeing citizens through tree trunks during the siege, and a good number of them ended up here, far from their homes that have since been destroyed. 

Then there’s the matter of the Council. Word spreads quickly that the Voice of the Tempest is no longer catatonic in her bedroom, and it doesn’t take long before communications start coming from Emon requesting her presence. Keyleth knows what they want. She doesn’t want to give to them. So she adds it to the pile of Things She Will Not Acknowledge and pushes on. 

Everywhere she goes, ravens follow her. It’d be funny, if humor were a thing she was capable of these days. They circle above as she walks through town and perch outside the nearest window of whatever room she’s in. They’re silent, most of the time, until she’s been up too late or gone too long without eating, at which point she gets a rumbling caw of reproach. 

Fuck him. Just absolutely fuck him—ravens? Babysitting her wherever she goes? What the shit is this? Everyone wants her to move on, to heal, to get over it, but she’s carrying a dead man’s baby and being haunted by birds who don’t approve of the way she’s taking care of herself and the fucking Council won’t get off her back—is this healing? 

If her neighbors find the sudden influx of black birds in Zephrah unsettling, they don’t say anything about it. Rather, she notices a small uptick in visitors to the little shrine to the Raven Queen constructed less than a year ago, the one Keyleth has yet to go back to. She can’t imagine what they’re doing there—Zephrah isn’t exactly a religious town—but even though absolutely everything grates on her nerves these days, she can’t deny the begrudging appreciation that at least the work he put into making that thing isn’t going to waste. 

So she and her ravens go to work, supervising the construction of makeshift housing as the refugees wait for their homes to be repaired in Vasselheim and organizing the collaboration between Zephrah, Vesrah, and Terrah to deliver aid to Pyrah. She goes to meetings and stays perfectly on task, and when she’s done she goes home and accepts whatever work will occupy the biggest possible chunk of her brain. She wears loose clothes, even though she’s only just starting to show, and she figures out a script she can follow to avoid answering questions with any kind of substance. She affixes her face into something neutral, pleasant, even, and at night, she falls asleep in a bed that feels cavernous, suffocating and cold. 

She survives. It is what she is so very good at, after all.

continue reading on ao3 please consider donating to my ko-fi

[kyokosasagawa]

conspiracy theory

katekyo hitman reborn is inspired by buddhism in the same way houseki no kuni is and the ending is a cop out, sure, but its a inspired one.

(disclaimer: im not a buddhist)

we already know about mukuros bullshit. we're going to ignore him. throw him to the curb for now. we'll get back to him.

no, specifically i'm talking about the tri-ni-sette.

we know that seven is a significant number in KHR. I think it's not just because of the rainbow having seven colors in it.

i think its because of the lotus sutra.

in buddhism, there's a scripture called the lotus sutra. in the lotus sutra, there's seven treasures mentioned. they're gold, silver, lapis lazuli, seashell, agate, pearl, and carnelian.

its in black and white and looks like generic gemstones, but then you notice the fucking pearl. and we all know who the the seashell is---we don't even have to mention it.

"aight so you think the gemstones correlate to some buddhist gemstones. what else?"

I think all of serious!khr is inspired by the lotus sutra, actually!

specifically starting in the kokuyo arc, we're introduced to the six paths of reincarnation. mukuro introduces the concept of buddhism into the KHR world, to the possibility that its real.

"The Six Paths[1] in Buddhist cosmology[2] are the six worlds where sentient beings are reincarnated based on their karma, "

but more importantly, there's more to this!

in the lotus sutra they talk about something very funny!

"From the depths of the Avīci Hell Up to the summit of existence, The ray of light from between his eyebrows Illuminates the eighteen thousand worlds, Which shimmer like gold, And, throughout all these worlds, The births and deaths of the living beings Of the six transmigratory states of existence, And the good and bad deeds, Through which they have received Good and bad consequences, Are all to be seen from here."

it talks about the ray of light from between his eyebrows, which shimmer like gold

it talks about the six transmigratory states of existence

Notice the concept of "being reborn up or down the scale"

it talks about consequence, which we see constantly in the KHR-verse. especially with the Shimon family, including Enma, who is named after the King of Hell---including the Avīci Hell.

"The buddhas, the Sage Lord (Narendrasiṃhā), Who teach the subtle and supreme sutra Are also seen. Uttering soft sounds With their pure voices, They teach innumerable myriads Of koṭis of bodhisattvas. With their voices, deep and enticing Like the sounds of Brahma They make the people eager to hear them.

O Mañjuśrī, Heir of the Buddhas! We entreat you to rid us of our confusion! The fourfold assembly is joyfully Looking up at you and me. Why did the Bhagavat emit this ray of light? O Heir of the Buddhas, now answer! Resolve our confusion and gladden us! Why is he emitting this ray of light?

"Will the Buddha teach us the True Dharma That he obtained while he sat On the terrace of enlightenment (bodhimaṇḍa)? Will he predict enlightenment to us? It is not for a trifling reason That all the buddha lands, ornamented With various jewels, And all the buddhas have been made visible. O Mañjuśrī! You should know that the fourfold assembly, Nāgas, and devas, Look forward to hearing What you shall reveal.”

with that, peace out and chaossu.

[connectparanormal]

Ghost at Mount Nemrut

Massive stone figures and King Antiochus I of Commagene's lost tomb-sanctuary are famous at Mount Nemrut, a distant and mysterious ancient site in northeastern Turkey. Local traditions warn of ghosts haunting its windswept terraces and jagged peaks, despite the site's well-documented history and culture. These spectral legends of myth, history, and folklore enhance the mountain's spooky ambiance. The haunting begins with the place's history. Mount Nemrut, approximately 2,100 meters above sea level, was the tomb of a monarch who wanted to immortalize himself by uniting the gods of Greece, Persia, and Anatolia. He designed the gigantic stone heads scattered around the terraces, now severed from their seated bodies, to immortalize his holy ideals. However, the mountain's solitude, years of neglect, and terrifying magnificence have inspired ghost stories. Locals and visitors often feel an unexplainable presence, as if the past souls linger among the stones, tied to the mountain by history.

Many ghost legends include King Antiochus. Legend has it that his soul reviews the decaying ruins of his once-magnificent hideaway on moonlit nights. It is said that a person, silhouetted against the sky, stood motionless atop the huge mound that covers his tomb. Others hear whispers on the wind or footsteps without anyone there. These traditions claim that the king, who aspired to unite celestial and mortal realms, may still be tied to the mountain, his restless soul safeguarding the location he erected to defy time. The laborers and artisans who built Mount Nemrut's magnificent monuments add to the melancholy. Historical records reveal that a massive workforce and physical labor were required to build the complex. Folklore suggests that some of these men died during the process, devoured by the mountain's demands. Their ghosts roam the terraces in the twilight, doing their unending job. Generally, these stories narrate faint hammering sounds or evoke a sense of shadowy surveillance. Visitors to Mount Nemrut report strange lights near the summit. People frequently attribute the pale, ethereal lights to the spirits of ancient priests who performed rituals at the location. The sanctuary held rites honoring the gods and the king's divine heritage. Some think these priests' spirits continue their sacred responsibilities after death. The lights move in patterns, as if reenacting old rituals, or hover around the mountain's giant stone statues, according to witnesses. The natural setting of Mount Nemrut enhances its eerie reputation. The peak is typically misty, especially during dawn and twilight, when light and shadow create a surreal environment. Wind whistles through stone statue crevices and along rocky slopes, sounding like voices or melancholy screams. This spooky audio and the lonely beauty of the place create a sense of discomfort, as if the mountain is alive with mysterious energies.

Skeptics say Mount Nemrut's ghost stories are the result of hyperactive imaginations spurred by its remoteness and eerily majestic beauty. They attribute sightings and noises to natural phenomena like wind acoustics and light optical illusions. However, those who have witnessed these phenomena know that conventional explanations rarely convey the mountain's immense mystery. Whether one believes in ghosts or not, Mount Nemrut legends show a strong link between past and present. They remind us that the site is more than an archaeological marvel; history, myth, and the supernatural meet there. The spirits of Mount Nemrut, real or imagined, demonstrate the strength of the human imagination and our urge to find meaning in the unknown. The weight of millennia presses down as the sun rises over the mountain and its ancient stones catch the first light of day, as if the ghosts of Mount Nemrut are watching, waiting, and whispering their stories to the wind.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Who would have thought that launching your campaign at the Four Seasons makes you unlikeable & bad w/money🤦‍♂️

DeSantis Chief Admits They’ve Spent Too Much on ‘Ineffective’ Campaign. 🤡

$87,000 on the most lavish location in Utah

Ron DeSantis’s campaign manager, Generra Peck, admitted this weekend that the Florida Governor's anemic bid for the Republican nomination has been "ineffective" and wasted too much money. The comments, ironically, came during yet another billionaire donor summit at the lavish Stein Erisken Lodge in Utah, setting the campaign back a further $87,000. A single night at the cheapest room in the hotel is listed at $666. 

Price on hotel website.

Peck told a roughly 70-stong reception of high dollar donors that the team would be slimming down and adopting an “insurgent” posture, as the group quaffed cocktails on the terrace adjacent to Utah’s famous Twin Peaks.

Private Jets $$$

$700 on CHICKEN dinners🤦‍♂️

Kids say the Darndest Things to RD "Trump is your Daddy!"

[sarvodayaholiday]

Unveiling Bali's Must-Visit Gems: A Traveler's Guide

Embark on your journey hassle-free! For any travel-related query, trust Sarvodaya Holiday. Visit us at www.sarvodayaholiday.com today!

Bali, often hailed as the "Island of the Gods," is a mesmerizing destination that offers a blend of natural beauty, cultural richness, and adventure. With its lush landscapes, stunning beaches, vibrant culture, and warm hospitality, Bali beckons travelers from across the globe. If you're planning a trip to this Indonesian paradise, here's a curated list of top places to explore to make your Bali experience truly unforgettable.

1. Ubud: Cultural Heart of Bali

Nestled amidst terraced rice paddies and lush rainforests, Ubud is a haven for art lovers, nature enthusiasts, and spiritual seekers. Explore the town's vibrant markets, where you can shop for handmade crafts, textiles, and intricate artwork. Visit the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary to observe playful macaques in their natural habitat, or rejuvenate your body and soul with a yoga class or traditional Balinese spa treatment.

2. Uluwatu Temple: Cliffside Serenity

Perched on the edge of dramatic cliffs overlooking the Indian Ocean, Uluwatu Temple is renowned for its breathtaking sunset views and traditional Kecak dance performances. Explore the temple grounds, adorned with intricate stone carvings, and witness the mesmerizing sight of the sun sinking below the horizon as the waves crash against the cliffs below.

3. Tanah Lot: Iconic Sea Temple

A symbol of Bali's spiritual heritage, Tanah Lot is a majestic sea temple perched atop a rocky outcrop, surrounded by the shimmering waters of the Indian Ocean. Marvel at the temple's timeless beauty as it appears to float on the horizon, especially during sunset when the sky is painted in hues of orange and gold. Don't forget to explore the surrounding area, where you'll find local markets and cultural performances.

4. Tegallalang Rice Terraces: Picturesque Landscapes

Located just north of Ubud, the Tegallalang Rice Terraces offer a glimpse into Bali's agrarian heritage with their intricate system of stepped rice paddies. Trek through the emerald-green fields, marveling at the stunning vistas and interacting with local farmers as they tend to their crops. Capture postcard-perfect photos of this iconic landscape, which has graced the covers of countless travel magazines.

5. Nusa Penida: Untouched Paradise

Escape the crowds and discover the raw beauty of Nusa Penida, a rugged island located southeast of Bali. With its pristine beaches, towering cliffs, and crystal-clear waters teeming with marine life, Nusa Penida is a paradise for snorkelers, divers, and nature lovers. Visit iconic landmarks such as Kelingking Beach and Angel's Billabong, or embark on a scenic hike to explore hidden waterfalls and secluded coves.

6. Seminyak: Chic Beachside Retreat

Indulge in luxury and relaxation in Seminyak, Bali's upscale beach resort town known for its trendy beach clubs, boutique shops, and world-class dining scene. Lounge on pristine beaches, sip cocktails at stylish beachfront bars, or pamper yourself with a spa day at one of the many luxury resorts. After dark, experience Seminyak's vibrant nightlife with live music, DJ sets, and beach bonfires under the stars.

7. Mount Batur: Sunrise Trekking Adventure

For outdoor enthusiasts seeking adventure, a sunrise trek to the summit of Mount Batur is a must-do experience. Begin your journey in the early hours of the morning, hiking through the darkness to reach the summit in time for sunrise. As the first light of dawn illuminates the landscape, revel in panoramic views of the surrounding mountains, crater lakes, and distant islands—a truly awe-inspiring moment that will stay with you forever.

Conclusion

From the verdant rice terraces of Ubud to the pristine beaches of Nusa Penida, Bali offers a diverse array of experiences that cater to every traveler's preferences. Whether you're seeking cultural immersion, outdoor adventure, or simply relaxation in a tropical paradise, Bali's top attractions promise an unforgettable journey filled with beauty, adventure, and enchantment. So pack your bags, embark on a Bali trip, and prepare to be enchanted by the magic of this timeless island destination.

[pix4japan]

Autumn's Tapestry with an Azure Canopy over Distant Peaks

Location: Koyodai Observatory Terrace, Narusawa Village, Yamanashi Prefecture, Japan Timestamp: 15:11 on November 15, 2023

Pentax K-1 II + DFA 28-105mm F3.5-5.6 45 mm ISO 100 for 1/250 sec. at ƒ/11

Enduring chilly temperatures, I patiently waited for the dispersal of the cloud cover. Finally, nature relented, revealing a breathtaking spectacle as sunbeams streamed through the parting clouds, casting a warm glow upon the peaks of Mt. Ryugadake and Mt. Kenashi. If you look closely, you can see sunlight reflecting off the surface of Lake Mototsu, situated to the right of thee two small summits.

To capture this view, you needs to gaze southwest from the rooftop terrace of the Koyodai Observatory in Yamanashi Prefecture.

For those planning to embark on a journey to this location, I've detailed access points such as the nearest bus stops and the two primary parking lots in my latest blog post, accessible here: https://www.pix4japan.com/blog/20231115-koyodai.

In addition to practical information, I delve into the quaint history of the observatory in a quick two-minute read, and for those craving a deeper understanding, I've included links to all my source materials. Join me in exploring the beauty and history that converge at Koyodai Observatory.

[niemernuet]

i honestly don't care which blossoming romance prompt you chose just give me the franjo/arnaud content i'm in such dying need of i'm begging you🫠🫶🏻

Thank youuu so much for your prompt. 🥰😍 Your genius truly is unsurpassed! I chose nr 22 "playful teasing", and while it's just a short text I really think I'll have to continue it at a later time because these two are just too sweet. But first of all:

And now:

The last remains of the ski slopes lie like white ribbons wrapped around the brown mountainside. The artificial snow has withstood the spring sun another day, and only the brown patches further down in the valley reveal the constant struggle to keep it that way. It is long past the operating hours of the ski lifts, and all the tourists have been chased off the mountain because tonight the restaurant at the top is closed for the public. Outside, on the big terrace overlooking the vast summits, most of the younger club members are waiting for dinner, some with a cheap little plastic trophy in their hands, some smoking, and all of them drinking. Justin and Daniel intercept Arnaud just as he steps out of the warm restaurant with another bottle of chilled wine.

“Perfect,” Justin says, and holds out his glass. “Just what we need.”

“Actually this one’s for…,” Arnaud says and points towards the group at the other end of the patio but Justin does not let him finish.

“They don’t seem to be lacking,” he says over the shrieking and laughter wafting over from the other side, and cocks his head with a pleading smile. “Meanwhile look at us!”

 Arnaud grins, and with an exaggerated sigh fills their glasses. “I apologise. I know it’s hard for older people to walk the long distance to the bar. I hope they’re not too heavy in your hands. Do you need a straw?”

“I always forget what a funny guy you are,” Daniel answers, and clinks his newly filled glass against Arnaud’s. “Have you thought about switching to slalom? We could have a blast together.”

Arnaud laughs, though the joy in it is missing a bit. “One: Why are you even here? This is not your ski club. And two: I might actually take you up on the offer, so don’t tempt me.”

Justin and Daniel shoot each other a quick glance before Justin plucks the bottle out of Arnaud’s hand, and puts it down on the nearest bar table.

“To answer your first question: Partners are invited too,” Daniel says. “Maybe if you’d make an effort you could also have someone next year.”

Arnaud snorts into his white wine. “Yeah, right. We’re not all as lucky as you two.”

“Damn, I guess you received the list for next season’s groups as well?” Justin asked.

Arnaud puts his glass down. The sun has set behind the mountains, and the soft yet cold wind manages to creep underneath his thermal undershirt. “Am I so easy to read?”

“Only when you’re wallowing in self-pity,” Daniel answers. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. I’m sure Alexis will still be there, right?”

Arnaud’s shoulders slump as he laughs. “Of course he is but he will be more than busy with whatever is going on between him and Gilles and Elian…” He breaks off, and with a frown stares into the distance.

“Are they…” Daniel begins cautiously.

“I don’t know!” Arnaud exclaims, and throws up his hands. “I’m not even sure they know themselves. Also, they’re nowhere near the worst part of next season…” He stares at them with barely hidden desperation as his sorrows burst out of him:

“We’re getting another Bernese! Can you fucking imagine, another bore like Lars? I mean, he’s a nice guy and all but he has no problems to spend an entire day in silence, and you know who has to be silent with him when Ralph’s off facetiming his kids for the hundredth time and Alexis and Elian and Gilles are off who fucking knows where doing who fucking knows what? Exactly, me! And now imagine there’s a second guy next to Lars and it will be just the three of us and every time I will try to keep a conversation going I will only hear ‘huh?’ because apparently my accent is so very difficult to understand.”

The first people are filing back into the restaurant and throw curious glances in their direction but Arnaud does not care. Not when he finally has someone who understands what he is going through.

Justin laughs, throws his arm around Arnaud’s shoulder, and softly guides him towards the door. “Let it all out, kid! We have all night.”

-----

Lodgings for the second groups, with the athletes not part of the national team yet, usually have to do with less.

“But this is a new low,” Arnaud mutters to himself as he leans deep into the closet, one of the shelves wedged between his foot and the wall, and pulls at the rusty bracket. The musty smell that lingers in the entire room fills his nose to the brim in there, and he can feel the dust bunnies under his fingers as they press against the wood.

“FUCK!” he yells when he slips off the bracket again. He pulls out his head, and inspects the damage to his skin. A short knock at the door is the only warning he gets before it bursts open, and a mountain of bags tumble inside.

“Sorry, this stuff is killing me,” the guy following behind pants as he pushes through the door, and drops his things at the foot of Arnaud’s bed. He puts his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. A few strands of his long bangs cling to his sweaty forehead.

“Third floor without a bloody elevator, are you kidding me? We really have to make it into the national team this season, this is unacceptable. Hi, I’m Franjo.” His eyes turn into two narrow crescents as a big smile spreads over his face. He holds out his hand, and Arnaud only has to extend his because the room is not big enough to keep a reasonable distance anyway.

“Arnaud,” Arnaud says after a moment that is just a tad too long.

“I know,” Franjo says, still smiling, and begins to kick his suitcase and bags towards the other bed.

Arnaud blinks at him. He is wearing shorts, and the shirt with their organisation’s logo has wrinkles where the backpack pulled it up.

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d be with Lars again?”

Franjo looks over his shoulder. “There was…a change of plans…as I understand it.”

Arnaud frowns, and Franjo rolls his eyes.

“Don’t tell him I told you but he doesn’t want to bunk with you anymore because you talk too much. He’d rather be with Ralph because he says he talks a lot too but only to his phone…or the kids in his phone, I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“Though I can’t say that you do, at least so far.”

Arnaud blinks again, his mouth still hanging half open. “You’ve been in here one minute,” he finally manages.

Franjo stops kicking his bags, and opens the zipper of the biggest one. “True, I give you that,” he concedes. “Also I’ve heard you yell ‘fuck’ out in the hallway so I guess I’ve interrupted at a very inconvenient time. Sorry about that.”

“I did not…,” Arnaud exclaims, sputtering indignantly until he realises that Franjo is laughing.

“Very funny,” he mutters, and hopes that the ancient, unsightly drapes keep enough of the sunlight out so his burning cheeks are not too visible. His hopes at his embarrassment staying hidden shatter though when Franjo turns around, and steps right next to him.

“Thanks,” he smiles, and takes in the large gap between the shelves in the closet. “Is there something wrong with it?”

The faint smell of his aftershave cuts through the mustiness emanating from the closet, and it takes all of Arnaud’s self-control to answer within a socially acceptable time. “It wobbles and tilts back as soon as I put a stack of clothes on it. I think the brackets aren’t on the same height but I can’t get them out.” He looks at the superficial scratches along his index finger, and the small scab that is already forming over it.

“Oh no, what happened to your dainty fingers?” Franjo asks, and again Arnaud sucks in air before he recognises the wide grin on Franjo’s face. “Let me try, this looks like a job for a pro.”

“Of course, as soon as I find one,” Arnaud snorts, though he does take a step back until he bumps against the nightstand.

“Ha ha,” Franjo says, his head stuck into the closet. “I’ll have you know you’re…come on you little bugger…aha!” With a triumphant laugh he stands up straight again, and holds up the rusty piece of metal that used to carry one corners of the shelf for the last few decades.

“See?” he says, and holds out his hand towards Arnaud. “That’s why you need a carpenter for a job like this. Though I don’t think we can put this back in, it is totally rusted…” He sticks his head back into the wardrobe, and examines the other three brackets. “I’m sure one of the service men will have a pair of pliers to get the rest out. And the supermarket’s still open, if we’re lucky they’re carrying a box of those…and if not we could go to Sion tomorrow after the training…”

“You really are one?”

Franjo breaks off, and tilts his head until he can look at Arnaud from the inside of the closet. The hair on top of his head is longer than the rest, and falls over his eyes.

“A carpenter?” Arnaud asks.

“Of course,” Franjo answers. “And what are you? Other than a fast skier.”

Arnaud shrugs, and awkwardly crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I work in a bank part-time in spring and summer.”

“A banker?” Franjo laughs, and takes a step back, away from the old hole in the wall. “That’s good, you can calculate the depreciation of the new brackets, and whether they fit in our budget while we go to the supermarket.”

Arnaud laughs, staring at the rusty piece of metal in Franjo’s palm. For a second he wonders what it would feel like if he put his own hand in his, and again takes too long to realise that Franjo is staring at him.

“Unless you want to stay here?” Franjo asks. “But it’s not like we have to be anywhere until dinner.”

“No, no!” Arnaud hurries to say. “I’d love to come along.”

With a grin, Franjo turns around, and tears the door open. “Cool.”