#take comfort in the small things

[dark66angels]

Mortals forget so easily.

Over time, storytellers change the tales just a little. A change of phrase here, translation errors there- until the new ones are so different from the old legends that their entire meaning can change. Gods change with them, of course. No one is immutable.

But We hold our history longer, can pull from it in seemingly unknown ways. Like Dionysus and his maddening rage from his previous wild iterations; like the Grimm dogs, those lost little grave guardians that just want to greet their visitors... Like the rest of the demons and devils that used to be worshipped as spirits and deities.

I suppose I'm lucky in a way- still being worshipped as a god so many generations after my first devotees have passed through the veil. My more powerful siblings have almost forgotten me, leaving me to do my work as I please: quietly.

And I was lucky to still be worshipped, though it was a more humble affair than the bonfires of hospitality and feasting of my youth. I was getting just enough prayer that when it stopped... I noticed. Smaller beings likely wouldn't have heard their devotion to begin with, larger ones wouldn't have noticed if a few went missing. I knew each of my congregation, and I knew exactly when something went wrong.

The first night I lost someone, I didn't question it. Mortals die all the time, and I recognized that spark as an older one- an old hunter, living alone with his wolf in a wooded cabin. He had prayed to me every day in a way that reminded me of my past saints, and so I had blessed him as such.

Blessed him to always have a good meal, even if the crops and meat weren't the best. To always sleep well on whatever pelt and straw was his bed that night. Small comforts, but meaningful ones.

I accepted his spark into my arms when he found me, and thought not to question why such a hardy man had died so suddenly.

The next time I felt a loss, it was heavier. A family. I had checked on them just the week before to fluff their pillows and brighten the stars and liven up the flowers.

Afterwards, when I visited their shrine, it was broken. As was their home. Torn and burned and trashed. Their flowers were trampled, pillow feathers were tossed. A trail of rampage to and from the homestead, heading west, away from the forest.

Something was wrong.

It took a couple days, for the rest of the prayers to slow. Word had gotten to the mortal king that the lands were being invaded and destroyed. The mortals were worried about dying; which given their short lives, I could not fault them for. More worried about surviving than they were about enjoying.

But the powerful gods did not care. Us weaker ones could not convince them at council to care. They had more than enough prayer, were practically dripping with the devotion of their worshippers. We only had so much, some of the younger ones already growing weak. Something had to change, something had to be done.

Even gods can forget easily.

I spoke to my most precious devotees - ones that had stayed at home: spouses, children, feeble parents. Anyone who in these moments were asking for their loved ones to have at least a warm meal, a soft pillow, a warm coat, sturdy shoes, a kindness, a comfort.

I spoke to them and, already knowing the answer, asked if I could take a comfort from them to bring a comfort to their loved ones. They all agreed. Mothers gave the apples from their porridge, fathers gave the soles from their shoes, parents gave the first sunlit sigh from their mornings, children gave the feathers from their pillows, brothers and sisters gave the initial warmth of a beloved pets' hug.

They each gave up a small comfort, returning the blessing back to me, amplified tenfold by their appreciation of the kindness and their love.

And so, I blessed those that had gone to war. I blessed them with good food, and soft beds, and sturdy shields, and sharp blades. I blessed them with a good forge and good falcons. That their commanders could see the field, and see the ambush. And blessed a quick death to those that met it.

In return for their kindness, and oh how kind my worshippers are, I pulled on my history. I remembered the blazing fires of my past: how those that refused to give refuge had burned, how those that turned away the sick and weak had drowned, how those meant to shelter the lost and spurned them instead had gotten lost themselves... And...

l cursed their enemy. I took my blessings away from those that threatened my mortals. Their food turned sour, no matter how fresh their meat. The feathers withered in their pillows and their blankets tattered. Their coats and shoes grew more worn by the day. Their steel rusted and crumbled, shields caving and swords shattering.

And oh, how that was a kindness all on its own. The enemy soldiers turned on their commanders when they had no good food, nor bedding, nor clothes, nor protection. They turned on their commanders and turned away from my worshippers, my mortals, my lands. The war ended before my families could lose anyone more.

*

When my soldiers returned home from the fields, I ensured the blessings I had sent with them returned as well. Food was better shared with loved ones, pillows always felt softer, mornings were a little brighter, and pets were always happier with a full family.

I was not expecting the gratitude I felt in the weeks after. Countless prayers thanking me for taking pity on a loved one; for giving them a warm blanket in the cold night, or a little more stew for everyone because more was made than they thought.

And there was more prayer, more people offering a simple thank you over a cup of tea or coffee, children thanking me alongside their parents when they got a sweet. I could feel that there were more mortals offering me their prayers, and though it wasn't the blazing worship I knew from my past, it brought me comfort nonetheless.

The more powerful gods had taken no notice of my actions, having been distracted by their own work both on the front lines and in the cities. The smaller ones though... They saw me, and looked on in awe as I grew brighter with worship. Warmer. Strong enough to offer a comfort to anyone who needed it. And when I offered them the kindness to help them find their own worshippers, they accepted, and promised to help me in return. And that was all I could have asked for. A kindness for a kindness.

You’re a deity of something small and seemingly unimportant. You’re the first one the people stop praying and sacrificing to when things get dire. Oh, what fools they are.

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."

"It ain't that complicated!"

How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.

[puppyeared]

doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

[crescentfool]

happy mochizuki monday!!!

[deathsmallcaps]

I need advice.

I’m a white intern working in a mostly white southern(ish) high school. Students of Color number at under 2%, perhaps even lower. It’s a very white, rural community - I grew up in a fairly mixed, suburban northern community, and part of my family is Black.

Several of my white students say rude things to my Students of Color. I’ve told them to knock it off *as appropriately as I can* but I’m probably one of the few adults that actively discourage that behavior.

I don’t want to let this shit fly under the radar, but I also know that if an adult of authority *who will only be here for a couple more weeks* interferes, and then doesn’t stick around, it could make things worse. Additionally, I know these kids are probably very very very used to this ‘system’ and that making a short-term change could be more harmful than helpful.

I asked one of my senior students after a very racist incident *where she was laughing along with the perpetrator but I told him to stop anyway* that I can move him, or her, so she could be more comfortable (admin either does nothing or slaps wrists, especially for seniors). She said it was fine and that he was always like that.

I must emphasize, I think they were bantering (they talk so much I think they consider each other friends?), but it was also wayyy fucking out of line, especially in a school setting. And the guy says so much out of line shit I’m surprised he isn’t rocking a full set of dentures to replace the teeth he ought to have lost by now.

Another student took me up on my offer to move people, but I ended up moving him, which sucks because he was the victim in this situation. Unfortunately, I have to keep his aggressors in their spots, as they are highly rowdy in all the ways and require a lot more supervision than he did. And the class is really full. These were also all freshmen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that affected the victim’s reaction.

So I’d really appreciate advice as to whether I should let it be, or continue as is, or step it up even more, from People of Color in largely white, especially rural, communities. Like any advice from current or previous educators, especially Educators of Color would be appreciated, but specifically southern/rural ones would be wonderful. I’m going to talk to my family members about it, but they’ve lived in more Northern settings their entire lives and they may have less … applicable (?) experience to the situation.

Again, I’m an intern, I’m going to only be there until winter break 2024, and I don’t want to fuck things up for these kids in the long run with my northern ally ‘sensibilities’. Thank you!

[emry-stars-art]

I don’t know if you know this but I love a good royal au just as much if not more than a mer au… so when someone mentioned it at the beginning of May and i went for the thematic mermay instead I vowed I would come come back to the subject. Sketch dump time

Enter young king Aaron and prince Andrew, who recently were assigned new personal guards but Andrew is starting to realize every other word out of Abram’s mouth is only a half-truth if not an outright lie… what could he possibly have to hide

[spotaus]

Hi guys, this is usually what a doodle page ends up looking like <3 (oh, and @ancha-aus thought you might like this! Not writing but certainly fuel to my fire lol-)

This one is New Age filled!!! (Close-ups abd Lore beneath the cut!)

1) Night and Cross!

Night is actually very clingy once he's a teen. He doesn't usually realize it, but around the castle he'll snake to be closer to his Knights so long as there's no one he needs to keep his composure infront of is nearby. Cross is the one who's not used to physical touch (when it's not Ink ofc) so Night in his personal bubble makes his heart melt but also scares tf out of him <3

2) Error and Night's Meeting!

Error was carrying his whole life on his back and trying not to get arrested for unintentional property damage at this point, so when he saw the chance to get back at his brother and prove he was strong enough? Yeah, he got that on chance instantly. And was VERY smug when Nightmare chose him. (Also, Error is wearing gloves, so less Haphephobia)

3) Dream and Blue designs!

I think these are good tentative designs! Dream probably has a more regal fit, but he likes to play up that rugged exile look- He's inspired by Archers, while Blue takes on that classic Knightly-vibe. Their equipment is mostly stolen from Night's troops or brought with them from Blue's home kingdom.

Also, Dream is approx Killer's height at this point, shorter than Cross and *much* shorter than Apple!Nightmare. (Hc that Skeletons tend to be tinier in stature thanks to weird monster beauty standards. Horror and Geno's fam are outliers.)

4) Horror and Dust designs!

Horror is naturally a very *large* monster. He's very malnourished when Nightmare meets him, but by the time he's a Knight Nightmare has made sure that's no longer the case. He actually loves comfy, simple clothes, but to play up the whole 'strong mysterious' bit he wears a more barbaric Knight's garb. He doesn't mind acting scary, it's more fun that way :]. Dust is very very small, and envies horror sometimes for his size, but his tiny stature let's him control his body and move a lot quicker. He's very much based on a rogue, and usually covers the lower part of his face w/ a black cloth, and the upper part w/ his hood or mask. Dust only removes both to bathe, eat, or relax in a safe location. (Ignore that I can't draw the stupid gaster blaster lmao-)

These last two were space-fillers, but Cross and his Borzoi (Windmill, otherwise known as Milly (Killer named her-)) and really bad first wips of Ccino! I think Ccino was a chubby, happy toddler, but lost a lot of 'weight' (bone mass? Magic?) due to stress and pressure and bad eating habits. So it isn't until a while after the Coronation that he starts to relax abd feel safe enough to eat normal meals (Nightmare used to guilt him into eating snacks together, but as his boss (and younger brother) he can encourage it more often). By the time Killer shows he's still not quite healthy, but he's better. As more weight is lifted off his shoulders, the better he is. (That 'beauty' most people saw was a more stereotypical slimness, but Killer never stopped seeing Ccino as beautiful-) I think he never looked traditionally underweight, so no one noticed, and it was only much later that Night processed it. (And maybe it's why Dream hardly recognized him later on-)

[what-have-i-unleashed]

a little something before bed :]

so some time before killer leaves the gang, when cross has only been in it for a short while (couple weeks maybe). killer sneaks into cross' room (the doors in the palace are never locked) and sits on the bed next to cross' sleeping form (cross is wide awake the moment he hears killer enters and killer knows it but pretends to not know anyway). and killer starts to talk. about his plans. his future. his... regrets.

basically cross is the first one to know that killer is going to defect. he doesn't tell nightmare or anyone else of course. and near the end of the one-sided conversation, killer drops the bomb.

"dusty... he's a bit of a loner, you know. always so broody. always a recluse. when i'm gone..." killer trails off, and cross strains to listen, anticipating. "when i'm gone, take care of him for me, okay?"

[gilded-gheists]

My feelings towards ao3 this morning.

[bonefall]

wait, why can’t a decent amount of the members in proto-thunderclan not hunt?

A lot of them have serious physical disabilities! It's enough that it poses a logistical problem, which they are committed to overcoming together.

Thunder Storm's three legs makes him slower than his companions. He's ferociously powerful, but like a male lion, he has to rely on his "lionesses" to slow a large animal.

Bright Storm has asthma from her heroics trying to save SkyClan cats from a fire. She's taking that from Gray Wing, who is famously the first major death now. Like her son, she has a difficult time with chasing prey.

Bumble is dyspraxic. She's a terrible hunter and fighter and struggles with self-worth because OTHERS used it to dehumanize her, and continues to, even after an entire society forms out of love of her.

Sunlit Frost has permanent nerve damage in his arm from the fire, and ends up working so hard that it makes his disability worse. A bite on the good paw from Snake becomes infected after he refuses to sit out from digging graves after the First Battle; I am planning a chunky B-plot about Sunlit coming to terms with the fact he has to retire early.

That's FOUR major members of a small group with physical disabilities that make hunting hard or impossible. They have a lot of logistical problems that I will actually be exploring solutions to.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I have a question: in the lights out au, did Wally ever attacked/snap at anyone for Barnabys arm? He seems like the violent type🤔

oh no! never! he's not the violent type At All - with aus, i like to adhere to canon as much as possible, and from what i can gather... Wally is quite the pacifist!

so in this au, he's occasionally violent, but only by Necessity. out of a need to protect his friends. he doesn't enjoy it in the least, and in the early stages of the timeline, he himself got hurt quite a bit due to his hesitance to fight back / inherently peaceful nature. it takes him many years to get to the point where he attacks perceived threats on sight. it doesn't come naturally to him, and he Never looks forward to it - even when he's used to it. he avoids conflict when he can & does his best to prevent it

[deoidesign]

I'm sorry if what I say is wrong in any way, I don't mean to offend you, it's just something I'm not completely sure about. Does Adam use he/they or they/them pronouns? I think I saw a post of yours where you said that Adam uses he/they, but it was a while ago and now I'm not completely sure (and I don't want to use the wrong pronouns)

I know you don't mean anything by it, but I am sad that so many of the asks I get start with people saying "I'm sorry, I don't want to offend you" or some variation thereof, followed by completely normal questions. I think I may have been responding too harshly to too many things and given the impression that I'll jump at people for being wrong...

But asking clarifying questions is always okay. I mean, it's also okay to be wrong and even offensive. What matters is if you learn from it when someone points out that it was wrong or offensive. I won't stop telling people they're saying something hurtful if they are, but I don't want that to lead people to be scared of me or something.

Correcting people is always just about correcting them, not hurting them. It's okay to need to be corrected, were all learning new things every day.

Anyways Adam uses he/they, you remembered correctly

[jankwritten]

Jasico Bingo Challenge: Comfort Food

Jason has just managed to slump onto the bench at table one for lunch when, seemingly from thin air, a brownie materializes before him. 

He stares down at it. It is smooth along the top, ribboned with cracks like all the best brownies he’s ever had in his life. 

He imagines this is how Tantalus feels. To be so close to something he wants so bad, knowing that he won’t be able to reach it, not really. That he can try all he wants, but surely wherever the brownie appeared from, it will just as fast disappear if he reaches for it. 

Jason, unfortunately, has a lifetime’s worth of training in not reaching for it. 

Moving over so the temptation isn’t directly before him, Jason pulls forward his empty plate and, with a pitiful sigh, summons the lunch he’s eaten every day since he turned ten. 

The brownie follows him. 

Jason tries not to notice, because, frankly, admitting he’s being haunted by a pastry is a step too far, even for his standards. He does not notice when a brownie shows up on his nightstand after he’s had a hard time breathing in a normal pattern. (It’s not a panic attack.) He does not notice when a brownie appears beside the ambrosia one of the Apollo kids tried to give him. (He doesn’t need it, he’s fine.) He looks the other way when a brownie shows up on the napkin he’s handed for s’mores at the campfire. (He can’t eat the s’mores either.) 

He can handle it. He can handle the constant, demanding temptation. He will not succumb to it, gods dammit, he’s stronger than whatever fucked up test the fates are throwing at him. If this is one of his Herculean tasks, so be it. Jason will endure. 

Nico throws himself to the ground at Jason’s side. Peleus, around the other side of Thalia’s Pine, snorts. 

Jason simply shuts his book and directs his attention to the dramatic lump of Hades spawn at his hip. “Yes?” 

“You keep disappearing,” Nico mutters. “I’m exhausted.” 

Something warm and fluttery beats into Jason’s chest. “You were looking for me?” 

Nico lifts his head up just enough to give Jason a flat, dead look. Then, he flops back over. 

Jason tries not to be too pleased. Nico was looking for him, which means Nico was actively seeking him out, and by his lack of urgency, it doesn’t seem like it was for anything more than hanging out. They’re friends now, or to the point where Nico will admit they’re friends, but Jason is still getting used to Nico showing up around him to just…be around him. Sure, with the others it makes sense - Percy loves getting attention from his friends, and Piper and Leo demand his attention so they can all three silently sit together in a room doing their own thing. Nico is more distant, to put a name on it. He’s fiercely loyal and everything, Jason knows Nico’s always got his back, but he’s not really the kind of guy who likes to hang out. 

When he does, though, of his own volition? It feels pretty damn nice. 

Which is why Jason feels so awful when he looks down to his book on his plaid picnic blanket, and spots a fucking brownie, innocent and perfect on a pristine napkin. 

His stomach turns. He closes his eyes immediately and tilts his head up to breathe. 

Gods. Not a fucking second goes by that he’s not being tested. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Jason reopens his eyes to the foliage overhead - the pine needles are lush and thick, dappling the sunlight enough to create comfortable shade. He inhales, and exhales. “You ever get the feeling the gods are screwing with you, specifically, on purpose?” 

Nico scoffs. “Yes. All the time.” 

Jason peeks down at him and, though he does smile, it fades fast. He sighs, tilting his head all the way back to the tree trunk. 

The tone of hanging out shifts and Jason feels pathetic about it. Nico sits up. 

“What’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“It is not nothing, you- tell me.” 

It really feels like nothing, compared to what Nico’s been put through. A stupid brownie sitting in his peripherals for the last three days has nothing on walking through Tartarus, getting kidnapped by Giants, and being held prisoner in a fucking jar. 

Nico puts a hand on his shoulder. Jason feels infinitely worse. 

“Whatever it is, you can trust me, Jason, seriously. I’m here for you.”

Burying himself alive sounds like a decent option. “You could just open up a crack in the ground, frankly,” Jason says. 

Nico, unfortunately, only looks more concerned. 

Jason supposes if there’s anyone to begrudgingly admit the brownie haunting to, it would be the boy who can summon ghosts. Who is unfortunately also the most likely to be offended that Jason sees this as a fucking trial. Gods dammit. 

“Jason-” 

“Brownies keep showing up everywhere I go!” Jason blurts out, before Nico can start any more well meaning, heart rending shit. Jason buries his face in his hands. “Which would be fine because I like brownies, but I can’t- it’s like they’re trying to trick me, like someone’s got a sick vendetta against me, or, like, the gods are trying to teach me to not give in to what I want!” 

Nico’s stretching silence is, frankly, not reassuring in the slightest. 

Jason hunches down further and waits for the retreat. For Nico to say something soft but cutting about how he has to handle real problems while Jason gets chased around by fucking dessert foods. 

This is it: the most humiliating moment in his life. 

“You…can’t eat brownies?” 

“No,” Jason says, muffled. “I’m allergic to fucking tree nuts.” 

More horrific silence. Here he is, Jason Grace, whining that his hardest trial in life is a fucking nut allergy. 

Nico’s hand moves from his arm. Jason’s stomach sinks to the pits of the Underworld. 

“I had no idea,” Nico says, under his breath. “Since when?” 

Jason lifts his head back up, though he refuses to open his eyes. His face is hot like a sunburn. “I think since I was a kid? I-I forgot, y’know, with the amnesia, but I would get these awful stomach aches after eating stuff, and I’d feel like I couldn’t breathe right and- I talked to Frank about it a few months ago and he told me I was probably allergic to something. Reyna confirmed it.” 

“Oh,” Nico says. 

Jason, hating himself deep in his lungs, looks at his friend. One of his best friends. Likely about to be ex-friend. 

Nico looks…constipated. 

“I know, it’s stupid,” Jason says in a rush. “I made it sound really serious and it wasn’t, it’s nothing like, you know, bad, it’s only annoying. I mean- it really sucks, y’know, this thing I love keeps appearing but I don’t know if I can trust it to not make me sick, and it’s like- like some god out there knows all that. It just sucks.” He’s such a loser, isn’t he. 

“Jason,” Nico says, again in that soft, almost pitying tone. “It’s- It’s not a god.” 

“What?” 

Nico swallows, and shuffles around on the blanket. He folds up his legs, and then tangles his hands together and looks down at them. 

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d say Nico almost looked…

“I’ve been the one sending you brownies. I know you like them, uhm, and I wanted to help you feel better. Cheer you up, I guess.” 

…guilty. 

Nico looks back up at him, through his eyelashes, then immediately back down. “I didn’t know you were allergic,” he says. “I-I’m really- I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re the brownie ghost?” 

This time, Nico looks up with fluttering eyelids, a confused wrinkle to his brow. 

Jason stares back at him as his stomach launches back up from underground, as his chest squeezes and his shoulders lift, “you’re the brownie ghost!” 

“I, uhm, sorry?” 

There was no god taunting him! No awful portent of an oncoming apocalypse! Just a misguided friend trying to do something nice, oh, gods, Jason could touch the clouds right now. 

Nico was being sweet! To him! 

“Are you mad at me?” Nico asks. 

Jason only barely refrains from bear hugging him. “No! Nico, gods, no, I-I thought- I mean, you heard what I thought, but- you were trying to cheer me up?” 

“I really didn’t know.” 

“No, I know you didn’t. I know you wouldn’t do that. Oh my gods, that is such a relief, you don’t even know. I was so freaked out-” Jason stops himself, catches the pinched up look on Nico’s face. “It was a really, really nice thing, with context. 

Nico doesn’t look totally convinced, but he drops his shoulders, relaxes his fingers. “I’m still sorry.” 

“Already forgiven.” Jason looks down at the brownie again, and laughs. “You’re incredible, you know that?” 

He doesn’t have to look to know Nico’s ears are red, to know he’s shaking his head to himself either in disbelief, or an attempt to shake off the compliment. But it’s true, no matter what Nico tells himself. He’s incredible. 

“Whatever,” Nico mutters. Then, after a moment, he slumps all the way back to the ground, and sprawls. 

Jason tosses the brownie to Peleus and dusts the crumbs off on Nico’s shirt. 

When Nico cracks an eye open to glare at him, Jason grins, with one last petty swipe of his hand. 

(Later that night, after the campfire, Jason settles into his cabin, still smiling about how silly he’d been. When he rolls onto his side, there is a brownie on his nightstand, lit by the yellow glow of the only lamp. 

Written on the napkin, in shaky, unpracticed handwriting, it says, “no nuts. I triple checked.” 

Jason has never eaten anything faster in his life.) 

[poisonouspastels]

Thinking about Rana introducing Groda to other people bc she has to be forced to socialize eventually. And like, Groda meeting Sunny eventually and immediately clocking that he's missing an arm and trying to subtly tug on Rana's shirt almost instantly while being very clearly panicked but still trying to hide it. And Rana eventually pulls her aside like "What?? what is it?" "You didn't tell me he was missing an arm!!" "...Why would that matter?" <- understandably getting the wrong impression from this "Because I've seen it before." "Oh."

And that was the day that Rana learned Sunny's arm was ripped off by Groda's Warden at the worst possible timing.

[headphonemouse]

Ch. 427

Shin Yoosung pulling out premature grey hair on my head tackled the boy immediately.

I can't believe I forgot about kdj's premature grey hairs. Post epilogue dokjoong bald4bald

[crescentfool]

beaming everyone on the dashh with good brain day vibes!!! i hope that you all can remember to extend self-compassion to yourself whenever you're feeling down about something 💙