#“I should have been a potato farmer.”

[muggertime]

Meanwhile, in some other dimension.

#overwatch #mirrorwatch #moicy #moira #mercy #my art #“I should have been a potato farmer.”

[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

It almost worked. But instead the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her assassination had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on murder was a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

#ramblies #writing #story #funny story #true story #horses #horse #horse girl #ffs foibles #pony

[astonmartinii]

loving on a sunday | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x reader

y/n and lando, the grid and an honest attempt at a sunday roast

masterlist if you want to leave a tip x

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 601,239 others

yourusername: warning !! do not own a nice country house and farm because you will get lumped with the annual post season grid dinner, SEB PLEASE COME BACK I CAN"T TAKE THIS RESPONSIBILITY @landonorris what are you going to do when they find out you can't cook?

view all comments

user1: learning that lando can't cook is the least surprising thing in the entire world

user2: i'm sorry post season grid dinner? brb just going to cry my eyes out why haven't we heard of this before

user3: for my mental health i need photographic evidence asap

landonorris: way to bait me out in front of the whole world, thanks babe

yourusername: i'm sorry but if this crashes and burns i need people to know that it was your fault (because it defo would be)

landonorris: where is the faith? you back me to win every race but won't back me to make some roast potatoes :(

yourusername: babe when i was sick you burnt the soup so bad we had to throw the pan out

landonorris: I TRIED I WAS STRESSED YOU WERE SICK

yourusername: awwww babe, but it was le crueset and literally cost more than my life

sebastianvettel: it's been an honour to host it but i know you and lando will do great, send me all the photos !

yourusername: thank you seb, please come visit the farm at some point xx

landonorris: see i knew seb would have faith in me thanks mate

user4: lando's gf being a farm girl makes so much sense but also no sense what so ever

yourusername: tis the south west babe it's either banksy or farmers and nothing in between

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername and 1,023,677 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: should be peeling potatoes right now she's too pretty

view all comments

user10: oh to be a kitty cat being cuddled by y/n

yourusername: you're such a smooth talker babe but those potatoes won't peel themselves

landonorris: my years of being teammates with carlos has come in clutch

yourusername: you still suck at flirting i just love you so i still swoon, any other person would probably laugh in your face

landonorris: gonna ignore the insult and focus on the fact that you love me

user11: i swear every time i see y/n she's with another animal i've never seen before

yourusername: my farm is a safe haven for any animal, if they find themselves there they'll leave with a full tummy and a good load of cuddles

maxverstappen1: if lando is on potato duty does this mean we won't get them? they're my favourite part of a roast y/n PLEASE STEP IN

landonorris: oh wow i see how it is

maxverstappen1: i'm dutch i'm so serious about my potatoes

landonorris: i also don't fuck around about roast potatoes HAVE FAITH

user12: can we start a petition for lando to stream this? like at least the cooking portion

yourusername: watching my nervous breakdown live would not be ethical

landonorris: it's true she threw a carrot at my head the first time she cooked for my family

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and 590,455 others

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

oscarpiastri: officially a farm boy for the week (also known as third wheeling for seven days)

view all comments

user15: omg oscar went early? my mclaren heart is so full

yourusername: so so happy to have you here osc!! though you're not any more trustworthy in the kitchen

oscarpiastri: i'd defend myself but we've all seen me fail to boil an egg

yourusername: you tried your best !! but you've mastered the english tea which is a massive asset

oscarpiastri: i think i'd lose my seat if i couldn't make a cup of tea

user16: obsessed with y/n dragging everyone for being menaces in the kitchen

user17: love how oscar was like: post lando? no. post ducks? yes.

landonorris: mate you asked to come early don't complain about third wheeling now

oscarpiastri: i know i asked to come early but if y'all could lay off the soft porn for two seconds would be appreciated

landonorris: don't pretend you don't enjoy it mate ;)

yourusername: lando don't be mean :(

landonorris: i'm sorry oscar, i'm sure you don't enjoy watching us be happy

oscarpiastri: thanks i guess?

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,034,560 others

charles_leclerc: sad to announce i've been banned from the kitchen:( even banned from making drinks as well

view all comments

user18: this is defo the banning i agree with, we all saw the vlog with the pesto pasta

user19: tbf i've come to the conclusion the one person y/n would let into the kitchen is seb

yourusername: you're not wrong

user20: i need a chick in my dungarees right now

yourusername: why are you complaining about a free pass to sit on the couch and have someone else cook for you?

charles_leclerc: well when you put it like that ....

landonorris: let me revoke all of my previous complaints

yourusername: you know i like to treat you baby

charles_leclerc: why thank you y/n but that's an inappropriate thing to say while in a relationship

yourusername: it was in reply to lando's comment charles 😭

landonorris: guy forgot he could read for a second

charles_leclerc: MY BAD

user21: i know charles didn't come to a farm in all white

yourusername: i regret to inform you he did (it's all designer as well)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 702,340 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: sunday roasts are my love language, so happy to host the grid dinner with the love of my life

view all comments

user23: at first i thought she was being a bit too serious about this but that roast looks like it BANGS

user24: legit i need one asap

georgerussell63: carmen wants the recipe please and thank you

yourusername: bring her to the farm next time we're free and i'll teach her in person

carmenmundt: thank you darling

yourusername: anything for you

landonorris: ummm what about the guy you called the love of your life in the caption?

yourusername: i love you but i've tried to teach you to cook way too many times

user25: i'm sorry lando is so sexy

user26: forget lando, every pic i've seen of this house is the sexiest thing in the world

carlossainz55: thank you for hosting y/n and lando!! i had a great time see you on new years

yourusername: no worries chilli

maxverstappen1: the roast was the best thing i've ever eaten, i'll only dock points because i had to top and tail with daniel

yourusername: i didn't see you complain when i walked in on you guys cuddling

danielricciardo: you told me you loved it :(

maxverstappen1: i did !!! i enjoyed all of it, especially the roast though

landonorris: second to a roast @danielricciardo that's tough

landonorris

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,208,943 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: so honoured to host the grid dinner and take over from such an inspiration in seb!! but mostly thanks to y/n for hosting at her farm and putting together an amazing dinner and weekend - also thanks for not killing the grid, i defo would have

view all comments

user27: i would've given a kidney to be there for real

lewishamilton: thank you for having us and for the sick nut roast

yourusername: we love you and roscoe !! and vegans are always welcome on my farm

user28: ROSCOE WENT?

yukitsunoda0511: thank you y/n i no longer think that english food is an abomination

yourusername: wow thank you yuki, i knew it would be hard when your only exposure was ... milton keynes

landonorris: wow my girlfriend is a miracle worker, and you're welcome yuki san we loved having you

user29: watching lando go from rookie to hosting the grid dinner, i'm soft

oscarpiastri: i love it here i'm sorry you're not getting rid of me

yourusername: no worries osc, you can stay as long as you want

landonorris: no complaining about third wheeling though, you're basically our child now

user30: experienced racer and rookie teammate friendships are so special to ME

danielricciardo: glad i managed to get my seat back just for this roast tbf

landonorris: not cause you missed me?

danielricciardo: eh i guess so

yourusername: just let me know when you're in england and you can come over for another

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris insta au #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

[irisintheafterglow]

No Prey, No Pay (opla!zoro x you)

summary: after steering him to a successful bounty, zoro can't stop thinking about you. he decides to do something about it. (Part 2 to Parley)

wc: 1.67k

cw/tags: domestic zoro crumbs, idiots in love but they don't know how to express it, canon-typical violence, zoro is so himbo i love him

note: thank you for all the love on my first two zoro posts!!!! i'm so so so happy y'all liked them; this is one of the first times in a while i've actually been super giddy writing a character. i really hope he's not too ooc, i tried to keep his himbo-ness intact. hope you enjoy!!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

“Here to try killing me again?”

“Oh,” is all he can sputter out, frozen on the doorstep of the Lady’s manor. The stout, shriveled old woman before him was not who he was looking for. To make matters worse, the flower he’d picked from the hillside on his way up the driveway suddenly seemed like a gargantuan beanstock in his fingers. His face was warming but, for the life of him, he could not figure out why. “You’re not–”

“Nope. They’re in the Farmers’ Market,” she deadpans without hesitation, eyeing him with all the amusement of a PhD candidate reading a children’s book. “The Farmers’ Market I created, by the way.” 

“Right,” he replies shortly, turning abruptly on his heel and letting his eyes widen in pure horror when she can’t see his face. He tosses the flower into a nearby planter, well aware that she can still see his every move. After several misguided attempts to navigate back to your isolated piece of land in the East Blue, he approached the ornately decorated door with a little more excitement than he expected. Having the Lady whom he’d tried to kill a few weeks prior be the one to open the door was another funny twist of irony that caused him an odd feeling of embarrassment, like he’d dropped you off after a date ten minutes past your curfew. “Thank you for your time.” 

“Tell me, pirate hunter,” she called to his back patronizingly. “Why grace us again with your oh-so-menacing presence?” 

“I’m wondering the exact same thing,” he mutters, irritated at his failed attempt to find you on the first try. 

“When you find them, tell them to pick up more sweet potatoes. I thought we had enough for dinner, but we could use a few more now that you’re here,” the Lady instructs him and her words take a few seconds to register in his mind. But, by the time he’s turned around to ask her what she meant, the door is already shut and he’s too proud to knock again. 

As if the mortification on your porch wasn’t enough, it’s nearly impossible to find you in the milling swarms of people in town. The people part naturally for him as he passes, sneaking anxious glances at the three swords on his hip. Whispers of his occupation and intentions float around his ears but he pays them no mind, determined to spot you. Again, he wasn’t sure what he was doing there in the first place; but, no matter what anyone else said, he did know one thing. By some unexpected turn of Fate, he missed you. 

“Shopping for produce while you hunt? I didn’t know you could multitask.” The teasing lilt of your voice appears behind him and he can’t help smirking. You’d found him before he found you, even though it was his job to find people. “Word to the wise: the vendors will upcharge you because they know you’re not from the island.” 

“What if you’re there with me?” When he finally turns to face you, his eyes flick to the canvas bag slung over your shoulder. It’s stuffed with fruits and vegetables, along with a jar of honey from the beekeeper just up the road from your house. 

“They’ll upcharge you more and insist you pay for my stuff,” you reply nonchalantly. “Now that I think of it, maybe we should walk around together.” You brush past him and re-enter the bustling square like he was the last thing on your mind, when really he was the only thing for the past week. You’re certain he’d follow behind you and your theory is confirmed when his voice comes from over your right shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’re wearing the bracelet,” he observes, easily slipping into place next to you as if it was natural to be by your side. With the sword-clad bounty hunter next to you, it was much easier to navigate the market without bumping every resident of the island. 

“Mhmm, I told you I liked it,” you say absentmindedly, stopping at a stand and picking up a vibrantly colored fruit from the stack. Observing it for bruises and finding none, you signal the seller that you’d like to buy the piece in your hand. His farm-worn hand stretches out to you and you fish around in your bag briefly for coins. But, before you can place the money in his hand, Zoro’s fingers are already dropping an unnecessarily large quantity into the shocked farmer’s palm. You gape at him and his unchangingly blank expression, shaking your head in disbelief when he glances at you, eyes shining arrogantly. “Where’d you get all that money and why did you do that?” 

“Bounties,” he answers plainly, “and ‘cause I wanted to. Next stand?” You’re still slightly frozen from pure surprise, but he shrugs carefreely and tilts his head toward the rest of the vendors.

“Feel like enlightening me on why you’re here again?” It’s the fourth or fifth stand he’s accompanied you to and, at this point, you were just window-shopping. Since he joined you on your errand, you hadn’t spent any more money; before you could pay any of the sellers, they were already thanking you profusely for your generosity with a pile of shining coins in their hands. Zoro proved to be a very patient companion, respectfully giving his opinions on which piece of produce looked bigger or more appetizing. With most of the required items on your shopping list successfully in your bag, you find yourself drifting over to the stalls of mundane things like pretty flowers and colorful crystals. 

“There’s a Marine defector turned intelligence smuggler hiding somewhere in the area. Thought I’d knock out two birds with one stone.” You turn over a piece of aventurine in your fingers, admiring it from different angles in the sunlight. Your breath hitches slightly when Zoro’s face dips down next to yours, watching the crystal from the same angle. 

“What’s the other bird?” You glance at him from the corner of your eye. 

“Visiting you,” he replies without hesitation, plucking the crystal from your fingers and tossing more coins at the vendor. You don’t stop the laugh that escapes your mouth and you swear his smirk gets more self-assured as he drops the rock into your bag. At a point when you aren’t looking, he swings your bag onto a broad shoulder as easily as if it was a piece of paper. “Also, we need sweet potatoes.” Your eyebrows raise in amusement at his slip. 

“We?” You have to fight down another giggle when his face becomes slightly pinker, imperceptible if you weren’t already staring at him. “Since when were we anything?”

“Your boss said she needed more sweet potatoes. Don’t shoot the messenger.” 

“I wasn’t aware that you went to go see her.”

“I wasn’t either, and then she opened the door instead of you,” he admits and you chuckle at his expression of distaste. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have–get behind me.” Before he can finish his thought, his arm shoots out in front of you, effectively halting you a split second before a knife darts across your vision, embedding itself into the wooden post next to you. The surrounding market-goers break into chaotic panic and you have no choice but to press your back against Zoro’s to prevent getting swept away. Emerging from the crowd, a lethal-looking group of fighters encircle you two and your hand finds the hilt of your saber. 

“Pirates?”

“No. Bounty hunters.”

“Friends of yours?” You eye the group warily as the marketplace empties, people running into the nearest building they could find to spectate the upcoming battle. 

“I’d call them ‘occupational competition’ on a good day.”

“Ah, great,” you huff sarcastically. “What’d you do to piss them off?”

“Exist,” he deadpans and you hum in assent. 

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” you mutter and you start to pull your blade from its sheath, anticipating the fight ahead of you.

“Don’t.” The single word halts your movements and your stomach drops in fear of what he’s sensing.

“What?”

“Let me handle this,” he says in a low tone that makes your skin break into goosebumps. “Can you hold the bag while I deal with them?”

“You sure?”

“Yep. This won’t take long,” he says irritatedly, scowling at the rival hunters that interrupted his day.

“Alright. I’m gonna go get sweet potatoes, then.”

“Third one down on the left. I’ll meet you over there,” he promises before moving faster than you can comprehend, whirling and downing the two attackers in front of you without even drawing his swords. They howl in pain when you stab your blade into their feet for good measure before leisurely making your way further down the street. As you walk, Zoro clears the path for you, mercilessly incapacitating every enemy with ease. By the time you find the sweet potato stall, there’s only one persistent fighter still giving the swordsman problems. You don’t feel any ounce of fear, however, as you pick through the salvageable gourds while the clashing of swords rings out behind you. Eventually, the street quiets and Zoro returns to your side as if nothing happened at all. “Good?”

“I’m fine,” you say truthfully, running your thumb over the bruise of an otherwise good potato. “You think this one’s still okay?” After peering at it and deeming it safe, he nods.  

“Yeah, it should be fine. If anything, you can just cut off the ugly spot.” There’s a splattering of red just under his eye when you meet his gaze. Your fingers unconsciously come up to wipe the speck of blood from his cheek and his skin feels just as electric as the first time you touched him. 

“Cool. I’m done shopping then, so we can go back home.”

“We?”

“You’re staying for dinner. It isn’t a request,” you command lightheartedly and smile when his steps fall into line next to yours. 

“Mmm, I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #opla!zoro x you #opla!zoro x y/n #opla!zoro x reader #opla x you #opla x reader #opla x y/n

[star-anise]

You just posted like ten different things about potatoes in the span of maybe five minutes, and I gotta know your take on "The Martian".

Like, the (fictional) man alone on a planet literally only survives because of potatoes shrink-wrapped in plastic for a Thanksgiving meal. If they weren't slated to be on Mars for Thanksgiving, he would have died.

And Andy Weir (author of the original novel) did such a good job with the science of every other element to the story, I honest-to-god believe that potatoes could actually manage to grow in Martian soil (even if that's not been proven for certain afaik).

Which means..... could potatoes terraform Mars into sustaining life??? Are potatoes the key to the universe???

Haha sorry for going so hard on them! Those were mostly all posts from 2020 when gardening and fantasy worldbuilding were lockdown fixations for me. One of them blew up recently so I wanted to give The People more of the content it seemed they were looking for. I don't actually know a lot about potatoes. I just think they're neat.

I do not want to take apart the concept of "colonizing Mars" as some kind of woke gotcha. I want to take your question seriously and charitably. However, I just am the kind of person who's like "Hmm, 'colonize', we should really stop and unpack that word," so let's do that, without forgetting the potato element.

(What "I don't know a lot" means: Potatoes were a crop my family grew several acres of for a few years on our farm before we switched our focus to sheep. I am about 50% as reliable as a horticultural brochure on various potato diseases and growing condition issues. I have listened to two University lectures and read perhaps four historical journal articles beginning-to-end on how the Columbian Exchange affected early-modern Europe, that and half as much again on medieval and early modern European farming practices and population changes, and perhaps three science/history articles specifically on the domestication and proliferation of the potato. I am a white Canadian who actively seeks out information and training in Indigenous history and culture in the Americas, but that's probably still only equal to like, two Native Studies classes in university. I know more than the average person on this topic, but I am also not an expert compared to people who have devoted serious time to learning about this.)

But I have some intuitions in a couple of ways:

The Martian is probably being wildly over-optimistic about its potatoes. They would probably have been irradiated into sterility before being vacuum-packed, and I don't think you can split and propagate them that quickly or successfully. However, potatoes can definitely grow in all kinds of conditions (including under my sink).

They might not be the world's healthiest or happiest potatoes, tho. Soil quality definitely affects the end product. Presumably Watney, being a botanist studying Mars' soil composition, knew how much he had to ameliorate his soil with latrine compost (which would definitely have needed a LOT of processing, since human waste is generally not good for plants, but maybe he used chemicals to speed that up?) to get good soil. However, we would probably need to add a LOT of shit to Mars' soil (and air, and water) for it to host plant life.

Mark Watney makes a joke about having "colonized Mars" because "colony" is Latin for "farm" and he farmed on Mars so haha, funny joke! And we talk about colonies on Mars partly because that's what science fiction did, and a lot of science fiction has been into that colonialism aesthetic. But colonialism and empires actually aren't great, not just because they necessitate huge amounts of racism, oppression, and genocide—I know, you asked me a fun question about potatoes and did not sign up for this, I'm not here to drag you, hear me out—but because they're also really sucky models for agriculture and successful societies generally.

My British ancestors tried to be colonial farmers in a place that is sometimes colder than Mars (Canada's Treaty Six), and let me tell you: IT SUCKED. Most of the crops and herbs and vegetables and flowers that settlers here brought from home and are used to? DON'T FUCKEM GROW. For the Canadian prairies to become conventional farmland, farmers and scientists had to scramble to find, or produce, cold-hardy varieties of everything from wheat to roses. A lot of flowers and plants that are unkillable invasive zombie perennials in other climates don't survive our winters no matter hard we try. The trees and flowers that hold cultural or sentimental attachments for us often don't grow here. The climate is so harsh and population is spread so thin that we cannot do the 100 mile diet and eat foods we're familiar with, and can hardly even manage the 1000 mile diet. (Not that I try, but, my family did once look into it)

A huge number of colonial homesteads, where the pioneers go out on their little covered wagon and build little houses on the prairie? Failed miserably and got bought up by land speculators. My own family came out to Alberta in the 1880s and moved around from land assignment to land assignment, like, six times before settling at their current place in the early 1900s.

Meanwhile: POTATOES

Potatoes are less than ten thousand years old! I am not any kind of expert on archaeology, please nobody throw things, but humans showed up in the Andes (think: high, cold mountains) of South America roughly 9,000 years ago. There are hundreds of wild potato varieties, but they generally produce fairly tiny tubers. It took active work of Indigenous Andean people around 8,000 years ago around Lake Titicaca to cultivate specific strains of potato, doing oldschool genetic modification to make them bigger, more delicious, and hardier. From that cultivation effort around a single species of wild potatoes, they produced thousands of cultivated potato varieties.

Ancient Andean farmers and botanists also played a big part in cultivating quinoa from wild amaranth, as well as producing modern food crops you probably haven't heard of, like oca, olluco, mashua, and yacon, and also coca, which may get a bad rap because it's what cocaine and coca-cola are made from but you cannot deny it's got kick.

Basically, Indigenous people of the Americas (South, Central, and North) went all in on botany and plant cultivation. Plants that we take for granted now have mostly been developed by Indigenous people in the past few thousand years: Tobacco, sunflowers, marigolds, tomatoes, pumpkins, rubber, vanilla, cocoa, sweetcorn, maize, and most kinds of pepper except peppercorn. These things were not found; they were made, by careful cultivation of the world as it was.

This gives us a vision of the future. Colonization, and industrial agriculture, both lean us towards the vision of a totally uniform end product, with the same potato varieties grown on each farm because we have made every farm the same. Instead we could embrace biodiversity and focus on privileging local knowledge and considering the interactions of environment, plants, microbiota, and people. We could create potatoes that were happy on Mars. We could create Mars that is happy to have us. We could create a society that can accept what Mars has to offer.

A lot of why we dream about colonizing Mars is the idea that the Earth itself is dying, that we are killing it, and we need to abandon this farmstead and seek out a new frontier. I acknowledge that shit is bad, but I don't agree with that framing. I am increasingly persuaded that there is a third path between ecological destruction and mass exodus, and I think we need to reject European colonial mentality that creates the forced choice. I find far more use in privileging the knowledge of people who live on and with land than their landlords and rulers, and I especially find value in Indigenous knowledge of land management practices and food production.

I am absolutely not saying that Indigenous people were or are wonderful magical ~spiritual beings~ who frolicked in an Edenic paradise that only knew death and disease once white people showed up. This isn't noble savage bullshit, nor am I invoking people who existed once but whom I have never met. I am saying that I have Indigenous neighbours, colleagues, relatives, and elected representatives. I have learned about mental health, leatherworking, botany, and ecology from Metis and First Nations elders and knowledge-keepers. And like. They have good and useful shit to say.

This is about culture, not race. It is not that their biological DNA means that they know more than me about how to get food from this landscape. It's about cultural history and what we learn from our heritages. What have our cultures privileged? Like, Europe has historically been super into things like metallurgy, domesticating livestock, and creating dairy products. If I want to smelt iron or choose animals to make cheese from, European society would have a lot of useful information for me! And what Indigenous cultures in the Americas have historically focused on instead of cows and copper* include 1) getting REAL familiar with your local flora and figuring out how to make sure you have lots of the herbs and grains and roots and berries you need, and 2) how to make a human society where people can live and have good lives, but do not damage the environment enough to impair the ability of future generations to have the same sort of life.

*Several indigenous American cultures did practice various forms of metallurgy. It's just one of those proportional things, about what societies really go for

Conclusion

I think we could use the processes that formed the potato to find and foster forms of life that could survive on Mars. It would involve learning to think that botany is a sexy science, and understanding just how rich and complicated the environment is. To oxygenate the atmosphere, we'd have to get super enthusiastic about algae and lichen and wetlands. We would have to learn to care deeply about the microorganisms living in the soil, and whether the potatoes are happy.

We'd have to create an economy that counts oxygen and carbon dioxide production on its balance sheets. To learn how to wait for forests to grow back after a fire, instead of giving up in despair because the seedlings aren't trees yet. To do the work now and be hopeful even though we might not see the payoffs for decades, or our victories might only be witnessed by future generations.

So yes, I think we could totally plant potatoes on Mars

But I also think that if we ever got there, we'd have turned into the kind of people who could also save Earth in the first place.

Which makes it a good enough goal in my opinion.

#staranise original #agriculture #potatoes my beloved

[goddammitjosef]

Napoleonic era dashboard simulator

👑 le-emperor12 Follow

Just crowned myself Emperor. Will have fun restoring this country. Hello all.

🎨 daviddraws Follow

Love ur face

🥐 soft-fuzzy-french Follow

welcome to the throne slut <3

🎨 daviddraws Follow

Hey thats our Emperor like?? Plz have some more respect

🥐 soft-fuzzy-french Follow

im not french

12.5k Notes

Gals-Glitter-Glory-deacivated82725184

Marguerite Georges call out post ♡

I've been seeing a lot of fans of the Agrippina opera on my dash and it disappoints me that you still will support such an awful and vile woman. Georges is known to br the opposite of a "girls girl". She conflicts with all but herself. Not to mention her VARIOUS affairs with the tsar of Russia AND Napoleon, AND her lies of sleeping with the Duke of Wellington. For shame. Go unfolllow. Agrippina fans DNI.

🍑 mgeorges-offical Follow

saying i should be cancelled for not being a "girls girl" then slut shaming me is crazy tbh

🍑 mgeorges-offical Follow

SHE DEACTIVATED 😭😭

4,900 Notes

🇫🇷 best-french69 Follow

🥐 soft-fuzzy-french Follow

LETS GO SLUTS

67 Notes

🌹LaureJ Follow

Sometimes I feel like my husband doesnt love me... He writes to me like I was a nun, not a wife!

👑 le-emperor12 Follow

Lol look what he writes me

#ᵗᵃˡˡᵉʳʸʳᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵍⁿᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ

424 Notes

🇬🇧 DukeOf-Wellington Follow

New header!

👑 le-emperor12 Follow

YOU THIBK UR SO GREAT CUZ YOU HABE BAOATS

🇬🇧 DukeOf-Wellington Follow

Dude... respect the DNI

6 Notes

✒️ Propaganda-Booty-Art Follow

JHSJSJS DONE WITH A NEW PIECE

✒️ Propaganda-Booty-Art Follow

hey guys. Why did alexander like and unlike this

68 notes

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

so my dad just got killed um

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

fml im gonna run away and become a potato farmer

DO NOT REBLOG

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

i miss my grandma

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

God doesnt hear me when i pray

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

every hoe on my dick

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

DO NOT FUCKIGN INTERACT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

WHO THE FUCK RESTORED THE BOURBON MONARCHY I TOLD YOU TTO CROWN NAPOLEON'S SON OHMYGOD

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

im sick lol

🇷🇺 romanovs-offical Follow

Hello, this is Nicholas, please ignore the posts before this, that was my brother, hes dead.

#napoleonic shitpost #napoleonic era #napoleonic wars #napoleon bonaparte #alexander i of russia

[aerbunny]

valley posting hours

🌄 officialtrasheater

its always "uve been here for 13 straight hours" and "dont u have two husbands, a wife and two kids" and "im going to need u to get out its been an hour after i closed" and never "what level in junimo cart are you in!!!?" #GamerRights

🌄 officialtrasheater

"papa please come home from the mines. papa please come home from the saloon we miss u." not now sweetie daddy's gaming

#when will they release junimo cart to mobile #its the slime level btw. if u even care.

134 notes

🦇 prairiekingmaster

anyone else think this thang looks delicious. idk man,, its sorta like rock candy y'know.......

🔮 sewing-magik follow

please do not eat rocks 🙏 they are literally for external use only, and do not provide any of the effects they should after injested. be careful my sillies 🙏✨️

🦇 prairiekingmaster

mmmmyummy sk good yum crunmchyumm yummy dilecious so gooyummmmm bite eat tasteuuuuyyyhey why domy insides hurt

#abby says stuff #dude ik. ........im just craving chips..........giel......okay goonightzzzz

43 notes

🦇 prairiekingmaster

anyone else think this thang looks delicious. idk man,, its sorta like rock candy y'know.......

#abby says stuff #girl dinner..... #hungryposting #u know how starting a new anti-psychotic is

43 notes

🌄 officialctrasheater

yeah i put those shorts in tht soup. i regret nothing. honestly it was kinda funny #wish i cld do it again

#LAWL #if anything he ratted on himself tbh

12 notes

🏛 officialmayorlew follow

🎀 citygirlatheart follow

I dont think anything is gonna beat what the farmer brought last year 🤭🤫🫣😝🩳 ..... Anyone else remember that?

🏛 officialmayorlew follow

Please. Don't bring that up again. It was clearly very embarrassing for everyone involved, and I would very much like to move on from that. Thank you.

68 notes

🛹 shredder2002 follow

is anyone looking for a band to play at their venue next month? ours is low on gigs and i've been dying to play for a group again, hmu in dms if ur interested in an indie rock alt hyperpop queer + woman ran band to play at ur next wedding ✌️🤙

🏍 mechanics420

heres our spotify btw! check our shit out!

🦇 prairiekingmaster

boosting!! im apart of this!!!! lead singer speakin to ya live >:3

19 notes

🏍 mechanics420

honestly she kinda ate w/ this

#seb.txt #we're really in it now mx. way

3 notes

#diary #stardew valley #sdv #post simulator #might do more in the morning tjis was silly

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 5

TODAY is the day I am going to get groceries and seeds. Unless for some reason he is closed Thursdays now as well.

I lay in bed for a few more minutes before getting up and notice how sore I am already feeling. I groan and rise slowly out from the comfy blanket. I get up for another day of farm life and throw on the same. Exact. Overalls. I really need another pair or two if this is going to be my standard fit. However, I put on an old, red t-shirt which is more of a tank top now since I ripped the sleeves off in high school. I didn't like the way the sleeves constricted my biceps. I throw on a red ball cap to cover my unwashed hair that I threw back into a loose ponytail.

I begin my walk to town square once again. My legs are going to be ripped from all this walking. Scratch that, all of me is going to be ripped from the work I'm doing.

I slept in today, which means Pierre's should be open. I triple check the sign next to the door before even trying the door.

"It says it's open today. Hopefully my timing isn't wrong or something." I yank the handle of the building once again. This time, it opens.

I waltz inside and take a glance around. Shelves are jam packed in every spot you could put one without completely overlapping the other. The aisles are just big enough that nearly two people could fit back to back.

"I take it you tried to come here yesterday, Danny?" Gus chuckles as he heads over to me. "I noticed you triple checked the hours of operation."

"I sure did. Out of all the days I decided to come here it was on a Wednesday," I roll my eyes and smile.

"Happens to me all the time. I lose track of the days and bam, I show up on a Wednesday. But what can ya do? Allows me to get a good walk and keep these legs in shape," Gus looks down at his legs and back up at me. "You have a good day, now," he nods his head and exits through the glass door.

Carefully, navigating through the aisles, I begin to grab items I'll need for the farm. I had made sure to grab a basket from the stand near the entrance before so everything had been piling up in it.

My basket consists of parsnip, cauliflower, and potato seeds. As well as some bean starters.

"This should be enough to get me started," I mumble.

I saunter over to explore the groceries, filling my basket with everything I think I'll need in the next few days.

"Ugh, you again?"

The sudden voice causes me to spin around so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. It was Haley.

"Yes, me again. Can I not shop at Pierre's?" I snap back.

"I didn't say you couldn't. I'm just disappointed I have to see you again." She rolls her eyes and struts down the aisle closer to me.

Suddenly, I'm feeling flustered and forget what I am looking for. There is a long, awkward silence between us as we both scan the opposite shelves of the aisle. Oddly enough, she doesn't walk away.

"You look like a plumber by the way."

I snap my head back to look at her, "What does that mean?!"

We both start looking over my outfit. I don't know what part of a red shirt, red hat, and blue overalls is giving "plumber".

"Are those the same overalls from the last several times I have seen you?!" she gasps in disgust, turns her head, and pretends to gag.

"Yeah and what about it!?" I poke back childishly. I adjust the basket I'm holding to my other hand. Haley's eyes seem to light up as she seemingly watches my arms as I transfer the basket between hands. Her eyes flicker back up to meet my gaze and she blushes and turns away. I look at my arms to see if I have dirt or mud on them. There is not even a speck.

She sheepishly turns back to the shelf once again. I continue to forget what I am looking for and scan the shelves up and down until I find whatever it is. I hear a few noises from Haley fumbling with the items on the shelf behind me. That is, until I hear a can hit the ground and notice it roll to my feet in front of me.

When I turn around this time, her feet are stepping on the lowest shelf while her one hand is stretched upward to the top shelf. She senses me looking at her in confusion and turns to get down too quickly. Her ankle rolls as she tries to step off the bottom shelf which causes her to stumble and nearly fall. Actually, she would've fully fallen if it wasn't for me standing nearby. She involuntarily latched onto my arm to stop herself from falling all the way to the ground.

Haley realizes what she is doing after a moment and shoots right back up. To save face, she shoots me a scowl and just says, "ew," while brushing her hands on her pink skirt as if I'm just that dirty. To her dismay, her cheeks are flushed pink so anything she is trying to do to insult me is not working.

"Do you need some help there, pretty lady?" I tease. Her cheeks go bright red now instead of just the light pink. It's fun rubbing it in more when she is already flustered.

Since I am significantly taller than the little rat, I reach up to grab the item she was aiming for. She watches in silence with her arms crossed and while tapping her foot rapidly against the ground.

As I toss the item into her basket, I meet her gaze. I am so much taller than her, that she has to crane her neck to look me in the eyes. She is shorter than the average person. I am just sightly above average height.

She squints her eyes in annoyance and looks away. We both go to leave the aisle finally, but walk in the opposite direction of the other. Causing us to crash shoulders.

"Watch it you big lug," She hisses while unapologetically looking me up and down the same way she did in the saloon. My face suddenly goes warm as if I am blushing. I notice her smirk which signals that must be the case.

We try leaving once again, but manage to get past one another this time. She shoots me an unreadable look over her shoulder as she turns the corner to the next aisle.

What is this woman's deal? I say in my head. Shaking my head, I carry on with shopping. I hear the bell above the door ding meaning Haley must've just left. I walk over to the guy behind the counter with my stuff in the basket and let him start scanning.

"Well if it isn't Miss Danny, the new farmer! I'm Pierre, owner of this wonderful, local general store. I see you've found the seeds! A little agriculture could really inject new life into the local economy. My wife, Caroline, and I have been dying to meet you. We hear you have already met our daughter Abigail?"

"Yeah at the saloon the other day. Her and her friends were hanging out in the arcade when I went for dinner," I reply.

"That's great! I hope you enjoy living here. It may get boring at times, but trust me when I say the next day will be an interesting one!"

Pierre finishes up scanning and bagging my items. After saying my goodbyes, I am on my way back home to figure out what to do with, and where to put all my groceries. I don't exactly have an oven, or fridge...or a kitchen in general.

#sdv #stardew #stardew valley #Stardew Valley Haley #Haley Stardew #haley x female farmer #haley #haley sdv #stardew haley #fanfic #haley fanfic #haley stardew fanfic #stardew fanfic #sdv fanfic #fanfic stardew

[memethebum]

Started a new was supposed to be a oneshot for Halloween AU for October!!

This one is a 1800s mutual pining fake marriage AU hehe

————————————————————————-

“Are you alright?” Maka whispered before tightening her grip on his arm.

I dunno, am I? Soul thought as he looked to the side and noticed the way Maka’s eyebrows had been slightly furrowed in worry. However, his attention soon wandered towards how radiant she looked due to Marie’s handiwork in makeup and picking out a perfect dress to borrow for their wedding.

“Ye-yes, why wouldn’t I be?” Soul coughed out while watching Maka flash a smile at the crowd that’d gathered to watch them leave the courthouse.

“I don’t know, I just…thought you were acting a little off,” his wife replied, causing him to let out a long sigh due to how hard he’d been suppressing the urge to imagine all of this being real and not merely a favor between two friends.

“Oh well, I suppose I should try smiling a lil’ more. Wouldn’t wanna displease my wife,” he added before gently placing one of Maka’s hands within his own and feathering a kiss onto her knuckles.

The young man then looked up to see her gaping at him while he wondered if the soft blush across her cheekbones was a figment of his imagination.

“Hm, well I’m glad to hear it,” Maka whispered before grounding her feet to a halt and reaching up to peck him on the cheek, eliciting a set of gasps from the crowd.

The stopping point allowed Soul to get a perfect view of Blake, who seemed to flash him a wink before displaying the newsletter he’d been milking for the past week.

A Leaflet for Love

Soul Evans, one of our town’s most humble and prosperous farmers, had asked for a special section to be printed into Miss Maka Albarn’s copy of the Death Tribune this past week. It read as follows:

I am twenty two years old, have a rather peculiar set of teeth, believe in the wealth of Mister Deathman, and the merit of the crops which our town produces. I have taken up a State lot, cleared up eighteen acres last year, and seeded ten of it down.

My buckwheat looks first-rate, and the oats and potatoes are bully.

I have got nine sheep, a two-year-old bull, and two heifers, besides a house and barn.

I want to get married.

I want to buy bread-and-butter, hoop-skirts, and waterfalls for some person of the female persuasion during life. That's what's the matter with me.

But I don't know how to do it, as my world would shatter if none other than Miss Maka Albarn would give me the pleasure of being my wife.

————————————————————

1 week ago

“I just…don’t understand what I’m supposed to do sometimes, Soul,” Maka exclaimed before taking a swig out of a large wine bottle and passing it over to him.

“C’mon, you’re Maka Albarn, the toughest woman ta’ ever live,” Soul mumbled back while shifting the arm he’d snaked around her back.

He then took a large swig from the bottle while Maka slumped further against the pine tree they were seated under. The summer had graced the town with a cool evening breeze, which allowed the pair to have a perfect atmosphere for their nightly chats.

“Women are women to the lot, especially when it comes to business. Am I just supposed to waltz up to any investor, curtsy, and say good morning my name is Miss Maka Albarn and I’m inquiring about opening the first ever department store in Death City by myself,” she huffed, earning her a chortle from Soul.

“Well that’s where you’re wrong. I’m gonna be there to help you through it silly,” he added before regarding her with a shark-toothed grin, only to watch as her eyes became glazed over in deep thought.

“Hmm, help me out. That’s it!” the young woman yelped, eliciting Soul to jump at her sudden outburst.

“Soul….” she murmured before placing the wine bottle onto the ground and clasping both of her hands onto his own.

“Will you marry me?” Maka added while giving him an ardent stare, only for it to go unnoticed as the young man tried to wrap his mind around what she’d just said.

“Wha-“ Soul attempted to stammer out before feeling Maka’s grip on his hands begin to tighten.

“You could be the investor for me! I mean, you already have all this land and-“ Maka added, although Soul’s mind was too busy replaying those four words she’d uttered a moment ago.

Heh, kinda funny how I think about that stuff all the time. Me marryin’ Maka, her starting a business, us harvesting these fields every year until we’re an old married couple. Too bad…I can never really give her that life Soul mentally lamented before Maka slowly released his hands with a sigh.

“I-I mean only if you want to. It-it’s a request so please don’t-“

“Let’s do it,” the young man voiced while feeling a gentle warmth begin to creep up his chest once Maka’s emerald eyes settled upon his large grin.

“…Really?” she whispered, probing Soul into pressing his forehead against hers.

“Yea, if it means that much to ya’, let’s get hitched,” he added before Maka tackled him to the ground and hastily planted a set of kisses across his face.

#I swear I’ll get back to ASP after this #that is if my seasonal depression doesn’t make this the last ever fic I write lol #but ye always wanted to fake marriage AU so bwahaha #soul eater #soul x maka #maka x soul #soul eater fic #ao3 fic #meme attempts to write

[aalinaaaaaa]

EXCITED TO SEE YOU AROUND can I hear about The Practice of World-hopping from the WIP tag pls

— @outpost51

Thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️

I'm excited to receive this ask! >D (And also apologies for it being months late lmao)

Anyway, one thing I should mention is that all the faerie portals in my works lead to Ireland. This is because I took inspiration from Irish mythology, where there is significant overlap between people and faeries in the various stories.

Without further ado, here's the entry in question:

A popular past-time for both fae and humans alike, but for different reasons. Fae do it to visit their compatriots living beneath the forts and fairy trees scattered throughout Ireland, as well as to gift or trick the humans living above.

Humans do it to either go ‘home’ for a while, or to go out and get a taste of a slightly different culture. Teens especially find it handy as they can hang out without the contents of their conversation spreading beyond their intended recipients.

This practice has been a reflection of each world’s histories, causing minor pockets of influence on each other’s cultures. It is also a source of conflict and sadness, for within the human settlements of Emaryia, there is an expectation that newcomers should not leave. Leaving is frowned upon because the people are afraid of the repercussions that could happen should the faerie denizens of their world find out that people in the mortal realm know definitively of their existence. This is partially brought upon by pressure from the faeries themselves, who don’t like it when humans leave (without at least being spelled).

For those that know what life in the human world is like, some miss it, others don’t. Those who entered during the famine years were the most susceptible to getting trapped as the food was a godsend to them and their families. These people may have desired to stay a few years or forever, not knowing when things would improve in Ireland again. But a few years turned into decades and longer, as people settled into their new lives and forged new communities.

Similar occurred when the first laws prohibiting Irish culture and language were introduced. Those that entered (though far fewer than during the famine years) were grateful that they could celebrate their culture and customs without worry of being harassed by the British. However, there were some split sentiments amongst people who believed that the right thing to do was return to Ireland and fight to preserve it there. People who thought otherwise were sometimes deemed as ‘cowards’.

From there, a pattern emerged. World-hopping fae copped on rather quickly that they could lure/deceive/manipulate people with great success during periods of historical turmoil. Some of them (the wandering sentinels most notably) were called upon by their underground compatriots when their forts and trees were threatened by planters, farmers and landlords. During the time of the famine, some of the underground fae were afflicted by the same blight affecting the potatoes, and for those that were guarding and blessing the land, their sickness lead to the land suffering too.

It is to be remarked that the fae were generally anti-British, for they found that the Brits had less respect for them as well as the Irish people, and they did not appreciate their liberal use of iron, especially in the Industrial Age. Though some will trick, prank or even harm the native people, they only do so out of playfulness or offence. For a lot of fae it is not their way to spite people for no reason (bar the ones who do have a malicious nature).

Cut to the later times, when English-speakers started rolling in. There was a stigma against them that they were British, or at the very least, that they held pro-British sentiments. When it became more widely known that it was actually a result of the Irish language being exported and erased, there was a sense of horror amongst people. Some people became determined to return and set things right, others decided not to. Those who were more savvy realised that the people of Ireland would not understand Emaryian Gaeilge, due to its slang and other derivations from the original language. While people would walk in with standard fluent or schoolbook Gaeilge, if they spent enough time in the other world, they too would have picked up Emaryian Gaeilge. This version is an amalgamation of the four dialects plus extra words and slang to describe the concepts and experiences unique to humans living there. It is remarkably known for its anachronisms, wildly varied accents and borrowed terms from faerie languages. There are also far less anglicisms in this version.

#caointe na mná #the lady's lament #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #writeblr #ask game #writing ask game

[fumblingmusings]

Okay but this post when Eva/Evelyn just fucking decides she's had enough of her politicians, kings and queens and every other nation who is giving her headaches.

Just ... Fucks off to a secluded part of England, maybe where one of her homes use to be, and fucking decides to be a farmer kind of Barbie and the Diamond Castle style.

She doesn't tell ANYONE, just fucking disappears one day, and it takes everyone a while to begin worrying ab where their little European Island Nation has gone

"meetings have been calm and quiet recently", " yeah, you're right. ", "... ", "... " , " WHERE IS ENGLAND?! "

Which results in them just half-heartedly trying to find her, and only when something absolutely serious and possibly life threatening is happening in the UK do people actually start to worry

This woman has become a popularly known woman in the little village she's been hiding, for her gorgeous garden and her flowers she displays out of her home for people to take. Just living a relatively calm life under an alias name, tending to her flowers and veggies, walking down the streets and roads in the evening, feeding the local cats and dogs

And when they do find her and try to convince her to go back bc something they are too cowards to handle but a nation can do;happens, she just tells them to piss off.

"But you're our nation!"

"Never have you lot ever listened to me when it came to matters of my home, why should i help"

"Because it's your duty!"

"Not anymore, I'm a gardener, I sell flowers now, so either help me pick these tulips or bugger off"

"So you don't care about the economy or the people?!"

"No"

"..."

"please leave, you're stepping on my Lavender"

The life of a nation is to feel perpetually in the state of

at who's in charge you know?

But yes! I have a half written chapter that I don't really know what to do with, from 1948 where Evie has been quite settled living in the house Alfred bought her. She babysits for the woman next door and knocks on people's doors to give them the carrots and potatoes she's grown and, in general, is quite settled, making quilts and sewing Alfred new suit shirts because he's forever tearing them not paying attention. And then one day, Alfred is like, 'Listen, about Germany, I need you to come with me and help me fly food and coal over the Soviets heads...' and she's like Ah. Sounds fun. Always up for annoying the Russians. She needed a break, and she got one. Now, back to it.

I love the idea though that every nation has that moment where they go: 'you know what? I'm not doing this. fuck off. leave me alone. I don't get paid for this. you use me as a scapegoat. i am removing myself from the situation. which is healthy. apparently.'

I like to think some nations do thrive in their respective civil service. Maybe they really like it (cough cough Ludwig). Maybe other's fucking loathe it and would rather float around like a wisdom sprouting tour guide (Francis). Others take up odd jobs here and there, like Feli does art commissions maybe. Others live like college students (Alfred). Some maybe have genuine jobs (lol. get a real jobbbbb) like Estonia is a software engineer perhaps. Evelyn becomes a midwife. I like that for her. She's done it for hundreds of years and uses her hygiene knowledge, and it involves babies. She is content.

#q&a #fanfic ask

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

Me: I built a perfectly functional town wall in survival so I’ll just pop into creative and make a prettier one and tear down the old one

Me five minutes later: as long as I’m here I can fix up the janky terrain generation and paths and get rid of that huge hole people keep falling into and getting suck in.

Me ten minutes later: I should clean up my messy lighting too, and fix up a couple of the houses I half tore down earlier.

Me fifteen minutes later: I should make a few more iron golems we only have one. Four should be good, And if I’m gonna make them I should give them name tags, here we go, Terry, Tony, Tiger, and Thor! and if I’m naming them I can name my horse too…

Me thirty minutes later: Oh! I’ll name my farmer villagers so I know what trades they have without checking, you can be Potato Paul, you can be Carrot Carl…

Me several hours and about 60 nametags later: and you sir are Wizard McWizardpants, and you are Gandalf the gey… and maybe I should make some lore for my 25 cats I spawned trying to get one of every coat color

Me three days later: and you are the clan leader Stormstar, your deputy is Nightgaze, our medicine cat is Lilymoon the ONLY BLACK CAT I MANAGED TO SPAWN…

And I also have three skeleton horses named “HONSE???” Because I was naming villagers and a bunch of skeleton archers on horseback just???? Fucking spawned in my village???? I’ve never had that happen before. If I didn’t accidentally kill one they would have been the four horsemen but. Me n Tony got a bit carried away.

#minecraft #it started as a couple small errands I swear #just making the fence less ugly and getting rid of the torch spam #and now I’m naming everyone in town #they have LORE #there’s an entire warrior cats clan #someone take the anvil away from me I should not have this power

[luulapants]

Ok, you wanna learn how to make the best sweet potato hash browns you ever had in your life?

You need:

Coffee (may sub with tea)

Oil (olive, coconut, vegetable - something mildly flavored)

Cheapest sweet potato at the store

Eggs (I use local eggs from Mike at the farmers market, which are $5/doz but they were also $5 before the avian flu bc that's just how much eggs cost when the guy selling them to you knows the chickens personally)

Paprika

Cinnamon

Garlic (fresh, jar, or powdered)

Fresh veggies (whatever needs used)

Hard cheese

Other seasonings (follow your heart)

Salt & pepper

Bread (optional)

Instructions:

Put on some coffee, strong

Grate the sweet potato directly into a bowl of cold water.

While that soaks, take however many eggs you want out of the fridge and leave them on the counter to warm up. I pulled out three because I needed to use up the last of the carton because I bought a new carton I didn't need yet because I wanted to talk to Mike.

Pour the coffee into a mug.

Drain the sweet potatoes, then fill the container with cold water again.

Get a skillet on the stove. A large skillet might be best, but I use a small one bc my big skillet died a horrible death. Coat the bottom in oil and turn the stove on medium heat. If you're using fresh or jar garlic, add it now. Drink coffee.

Drain the sweet potatoes again. Once the oil is hot (or garlic spitting), press them out in the pan to create an even layer.

Scrub out the grater and potato bowl while that heats up. After breakfast you will thank you.

Over the hash browns, sprinkle one part cinnamon, two parts paprika. If using garlic powder, four parts garlic. How much is a part? When sprinkling the cinnamon, you should be like, "shoot, that was almost but not quite enough to evenly distribute it over the whole pan," but it's going to be okay. Look me in the eye. It's going to be okay.

Drink coffee. Stir the hash browns until they're a relatively uniform color with the spices intermixed. Press them flat again.

Now it's time to get out your vegetables. "Vegetables!" you say. "But luula, I thought we were making hash browns!" Listen. Hash browns are not a meal unto themselves. They are part of a culinary experience and the only way to enjoy cooking is to learn to time out making different things at the same time.

Prep your vegetables. This is the step that makes people hate cooking, so I recommend buying the same vegetable a LOT, looking up tutorials on the best way to chop or prep it, and practicing until it's so quick and easy that you don't have to think about it. Then move onto a new vegetable. I'm cooking shiitake mushrooms and asparagus this morning bc asparagus is in peak season and on sale and because the woman at the mushroom stall at the market is cute. The mushrooms I just cut in half. Drink coffee.

Pause to stir the hash browns, making sure to scrape up anything sticking to the bottom of the pan. If your pan isn't nonstick, you can deglaze with a bit of cold water.

The secret to asparagus is DON'T chop the ends with a knife. Pinch the hard end between your fingers while holding the supple end in the other and bend it until it snaps. Throw away the hard end that snapped off. It will look like a lot to throw away, but that's because most people under-trim their asparagus. Those ends are a gross texture and will ruin your asparagus experience.

Stir the hash browns again and scrunch them off to the side to make room for your veggies. Add more oil to the empty spot.

When pan cooking veggies, the order of operations is starchy > firm > soft > watery. Starchy things like potatoes take ages to cook, which is why your hash browns have been in that pan since the dawn of time. My asparagus is firm, so that's going in next, until it's bright green in color. My mushrooms are soft, so I add them in once that happens. They just need to get warm, really. If you are cooking with watery tomatoes, those go in at the very last second if you cook them at all. Season the veggies with whatever speaks to you. I used thyme because thyme and mushrooms is a dope combo. Drink coffee.

In the time it takes your veggies to cook, you probably need to stir the hash browns once more, and by the time they're nearly done, you should have some good crunchy bits in the hash browns. Turn the heat all the way to low, then scoop the hash browns onto a plate. Cover the plate. Leave the veggies in the pan.

If you're making toast, put the bread in while the pan is cooling down.

Add more oil to the empty spot where the hash browns were. It's time to cook the eggs. Carefully crack eggs into the pan.

If you want cheese, sprinkle it on top of the vegetables. I used Parmesan because it crusts onto asparagus nicely. Salt and pepper the whole pan. Cover the pan. Drink coffee.

The secret to eggs, and the reason you want low heat, is they need to be cooked over easy. If you want your yolks cooked through, just bake a cake. The other secret is that you should flip them when the bottom layer is solid white but the top is still clear and runny. Focus on flipping each individual yolk, not the whites. The whites will follow.

If you're making toast, butter it or whatever you're doing with it while the eggs finish cooking.

Turn off the heat. Scoop everything onto the plate, taking care not to break the yolks. Serve with whatever is left of your coffee.

#recipe #cooking #how to cook

[superblycaffeinated]

Year One: At Home In the Dark masterlist

warnings for series: mentions of alcohol/being drunk, mentions of violence/blood imagery (with warnings for specific chapters), mentions of anxiety and depression symptoms (with warnings for specific chapters), swearing - please do not read if you may find any of this triggering and take care of yourself.

“The proverbial saying ‘All’s fair in love and war’ expresses the idea that, like war, where any strategy is accepted, affairs of the heart are also no-holds-barred contests.”

Chapter One:

“Your mission, should you choose to accept is-“

Groans fill the room and Rebecca Baxter rolls her eyes at everyone. An amber bottle pressed to her lips as she nudges his shoulder. A silent, ‘Can you believe them? They’re absolutely no fun.’

Zachary Goode snickers into his own beer, a silent response of ‘No, you’re just overly dramatic as usual and Cam has probably had too many glasses of wine for this.’

“Alright, alright, fine.” Bex waves her hands and to look at him fully. “Truth or Dare? Clock’s ticking Goode.”

Maybe it’s the way he hasn’t felt this light in a long time - maybe ever, that they’re all together again for it too. Summer evening wind blows at his hair that’s gotten a little too long. From their spot on the porch, he can hear the hum of crickets and cicadas, smell the familiar scent of leaves that are ready to turn for Autumn in the air. He doesn’t even have shoes on, he can’t remember the last time he didn’t feel the need to be ready to go. Or it could be the way his heart does this funny thing of swelling and aching in the same beat when Cam blows hair off of her cheek, giggling like she’s eighteen again as Liz pours more wine.

Or maybe he’s just drunk.

“Truth.”

Yeah, definitely just drunk.

The entire circle falls silent, cups and bottles half suspended to parted lips, laughter trails off as eyes widen. Every single one of them can hear each other’s heartbeats, the distinct ping of water from the faucet hitting ceramic inside and down the hall, and the ticking of the clock just inside the dining room.

Cammie sits up straighter, wiping at her lips. “What?”

Bex sits back against the porch column hard. Liz props up on her knees - clearly criss cross applesauce is too child’s play for what’s at stake here. Macey narrows her eyes at him from her spot on the couch above the other two girls as she tosses back the rest of her wine. Even Preston and Jonas look at him with furrows forming above their brows.

Jesus, they’re all so dramatic.

He rolls his eyes and turns to Bex. “You gonna ask me the question or not?”

“But you, you never pick-“ she looks around the group and he marks the date in his calendar. Rebecca Baxter has been rendered speechless and actually physically appears frazzled as she drums her fingers on her knees and looks at the stars. “I mean, what do I ask? I never thought I’d actually get the chance.”

Cammie narrows her eyes and points at him, “Ask him where he hid the M&M’s because I know he did.”

Zach grins, blowing her a kiss that she rolls her eyes at but smiles into her wine glass because of nonetheless.

Bex waves off the suggestion, not serious enough of course. She snaps her fingers and Macey moves to the edge of the couch cushion. “Oh! Private jet and the Russians!”

Bex counters, “Finland, embassy with the Duchess?”

Cammie laughs, “Idaho, potato farmer?”

Jonas shakes his head. “Nah, don’t waste it on that one, I have pictures.”

Zach makes a mental note about finding and deleting those, beginning to hum the jeopardy theme song. He’s definitely drunk, because he should have been noticing the one girl who was far too silent. He should have known that when Elizabeth Sutton is quiet, that means she’s thinking big things.

“What about when he fell in love with Cammie?” The question is calculated, lazy almost in her tone, but it catches him off guard and Liz is far to perceptive to let it slip. His eyes widened, pupils dilating. His breath changed just so, stuck in his throat. His heart rate increased. Damn stupid beer he was never drinking ever again.

The two men opposite him groan at the suggestion and the four women turn on him. Hawk eyes, lioness’ stalking their prey. He was done for the minute the question was suggested. He has one of two options as he sees it now. Lie his ass off to the room of people who know all of his tells or plead with the love of his life.

Zach shakes his head, staring directly at Cammie. “Cammie, no, please don’t make me talk about this in front of everyone? You hate attention, it’s complicated and-“

She hums into her wine glass interrupting him, “I dunno, Zach, I think high school Cammie really needs some answers. You messed with her head quite a bit.”

Shit, bad move. Should have lied right away - ‘I loved Cammie the minute I laid eyes on her in that DC mall. Truly love at first sight, I just had to figure out who that Gallagher Girl really was’ is not gonna cut it now, they’re far too hungry for juicy gossip like they’re back in school.

“We’re married!” He holds up his left hand to prove the point, grasping at anything to make this all go away. Zach gestures out the entrance of the porch, “Our children are asleep down the hall!”

Cam only levels him with a look he’s grown to know very well. It’s the look she gives the kids when they lie and say they brushed their teeth before bed. He’s busted.

Liz stands, the girl closing in on him until his back hits the porch railing. She nudges his chest as she speaks so threateningly for someone with ducks all over their pajama’s. “Spill, or I get the truth serum.”

“You know, I forget that you’re the scariest one of the bunch sometimes Lizzie,” he gulps as Jonas cackles from his spot on the ground.

The four girls simply raise their eyebrows, and he admits defeat. His hands lift to the air beside his head. “Okay, okay, but I need another beer for this.”

Giddy with their victory, everyone settles into comfortable positions, eager to not let him get away with anything but a good and long story.

Zach avoids the creak of the floorboard as he heads into the kitchen, listening intently for the sounds of his children stirring at all. His hip hits the fridge closed in just the right spot, pulling the opener from it’s drawer.

He looks at the fridge as he leans against the counter, a picture of him and Cam in front of Gallagher on the day of Rachel and Joe’s wedding held up by a hand painted magnet. Red splotchy paint covering the words ‘World’s Best Dad’ glazed and shiny from a kiln. It’s not that he doesn’t know when he fell in love with her, he does, it’s just not so simple.

The bottle cap pops off with a hiss, then a click of it hitting the counter. He watches the green metal spin, slowing as it gets closer to meeting the flat surface of the countertop.

“Goode!”

Zach snatches the copper coin he’d been spinning against the tabletop before it flattens and stands, hands held into fists behind his back at attention.

An armed guard with flushed cheeks and a forehead dappled with sweat marches towards him.

Oh swell, it’s Jeff.

At Blackthorne, any guard calling your name in that tone isn’t gonna be great, but Jeff has this way of spitting when he talks, of not realizing what the words personal space mean, and probably has never ever heard of breath mints and their miraculous powers to ward off coffee breath.

Zach’s fingers fiddle with the coin behind his back. He’s getting better about the whole restless energy and showing it thing, but he figures it’s not dire circumstances to be on his game right now. His mind wanders through the possibilities of what today could be about. One of his bedsheet corners wasn’t tight enough, someone found the little yellow package of chocolaty goodness in his sock, or perhaps Jeff didn’t get his coffee and donut this morning and he just feels like picking on someone.

The cafeteria grows more silent as everyone decides that the show that’s about to go down has got to be better than eating the mystery meat on their trays.

“Sir?” Zach questions, staring at the spot just above Jeff’s left ear. A thing Jeff positively hates, causing him to continuously look over his shoulder and wonder what the hell Zach is staring at - but a thing that fills Zach with a small amount of joy.

It’s the little things.

Jeff does just this, head whipping around so fast he’s surprised the man doesn’t give himself whiplash. Jeff’s gaze darts across the wall and back to Zach. Beady, narrowed eyes meet his, Zach’s lips twitch slightly, revealing too much - another thing he’s still working on. But Jeff is fairly harmless and hasn’t quite mastered the art of interpreting Zach’s smaller tells.

“Visitors,” Jeff snarls and Zach’s shoulders fall.

Fuck.

The room grows even more silent, the quiet din of metal silverware hitting their trays and cups hitting wood vanish completely now as the unmistakable red head of hair floats through the cafeteria towards him. Shoulders straighten, voices cease, and breaths are held with each click then clack of black pumps against the concrete floors.

His mother is here, and she’s brought friends.

“Hello darling, miss me?”

Catherine Goode commands attention, she just does. A room full of hormone crazed teenage boys was already going to be acutely aware of a woman wearing a black dress accentuating her curves walking amongst them, they were already going to stare, Zach knows this. But Catherine has something else, the strong voice of a soldier mixed with a soft femininity enveloping each word she speaks, making you think each word is somehow meant only for you. A perfect way to get what she wants that he’s seen in action enough times to know she’s mastered skillfully. Her loss ratio is zero, she has the control every time.

For everyone except her son.

“Can’t say that I have, Cat.” Zach presses the coin between his thumb and forefinger, the indent of Abraham Lincoln surely going to be preserved in his fingerprint forever. He knows it’s a shot in the dark. Sometimes she’s pleasantly surprised by his resistance, dare he say almost impressed. But most times, it ends poorly for him.

Catherine Goode’s eyes - his eyes - narrow, her playfulness disappearing with an art that Houdini would envy. “That’s no way to talk to your mother, Zachary. Let’s go. I have people I need to introduce you to and we have something important to discuss.”

She gestures to the men behind her as she speaks, before stepping closer. Her head dips - like a snake ready to attack. He visualizes it perfectly before it happens, a hand wraps around his bicep, squeezing. Not in a loving, motherly way, but in a warning - strike one. Her voice lowers as she hisses, “Behave,” while fingernails dig into his skin leaving small crescent moons. The snake is playing with it’s food before it tightens it’s coil and removes his oxygen.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinds his teeth, jaw clenching as the toes of his boots tap together when he straightens to formal attention again.

She smiles, satisfied with his submission and pats his cheek a little too harshly before turning on her heels and clicking away. Her fingers curl behind her head as she walks. “Gentleman.” Then they waggle out to the faces of the cafeteria in a wave, “Boys.”

He hates that he ducks his head, that he follows her blindly. His gut twists as he counts the cracks in the concrete he already knows the number of, knowing that if he were to lift his head, his classmates - if you can even call them that - would be looking at him with eyes full of pity. Sometimes he envies the ones who have nothing, it has to be better than her. But then, it’s like she knows he’ll have a thought like this. She’ll do something almost nice, she’ll make him feel guilty. How dare he wish he didn’t have her, there were good times once upon a time right?

He shakes his head, no, this is what she wants. He simply follows, choosing to hold his chin up in defiance of any pity that he can feel hitting the back of his uniform as he walks out of the cafeteria.

The men she’s brought follow closely behind her. Suits. Not terribly expensive, they’re not big deals. One is slightly taller, a thick brown mustache. This man watches his mother with sharp blue eyes, he’s not fully under her spell it would seem. As Catherine smiles and gestures into a door, the man nods and enters. The slightly younger and shorter one gestures for Zach to enter first. He’s blonde, strong shoulders, with brown eyes that look at Zach in a way that makes him feel like he’s under a microscope. This man closes the door and stands in front of it and Zach would bet his next few meals that he was Secret Service.

Mustache man sits with a groan loudly in a chair as his mother leans up against a low bookshelf. A fairly empty classroom that wasn’t used much these days. While the weather was nice, it was strictly outside for use of the range, running drills, and perimeter and mountain trail runs. Classroom time was for the bitterly cold days that even the teachers and guards knew wasn’t worth making the boys get frostbite over. Catherine fiddles with a cup of pencils, a finger swiping over the top of the shelf and leaving a streak of clean wood in its wake as her mouth pinches in disgust.

Lovely place you send me to school, huh, mom?

“Well, Zach,” mustache man’s voice is gravely, it leads Zach to believe the man used to smoke. The fact mingles with the face in his brain, a connection trying to surface to the forefront of it. Mustache man continues while holding his hand up at a height not too tall, “You’ve grown! You weren’t more than ye high last time I saw you I think.”

Zach’s always hated this greeting. What was a person supposed to say back to that? Thank you? That’s how time and puberty works? That’s what happens when you get three meals a day and stop wondering when the next one will be?

He mashes his lips together in a thin smile with a nod. He’s pretty sure that was a better move than opening it and saying any of that.

The man looks to Secret Service man and then his mother before giving another nod. “Right, well, you must be wondering what we’re here for.”

No, I love being humiliated by my mother in front of groups of people and then following her and two strangers into a dusty classroom to sit in silence, dude. I live for it, it’s my shit.

Again, not saying that, so he remains silent. Mustache man claps his hands together, looking to his mother for further instruction so it would seem. She smiles at Zach, her salesman one - the one he knows she pulls out when she really wants her way.

“Darling, these men, they have a proposition for you. A mission.”

He stands up a little straighter, unable to help himself at the word mission. A real mission? Involving his mother? The men furrow their brows slightly as Catherine continues and his apprehension and curiosity fight bay-blades style in his head - whirling around and knocking edges, unsure of who’s going to pull out in the lead just yet.

“They need some information. Some information that they think only you may be able to get for them.”

Zach waits, knowing his mother is just getting started. She’s setting a trap, complimenting him, loosening some stones in his closed off exterior, weakening it until it’s ready for a final strike. He rolls the grooved edge of the coin between his thumb and forefinger.

Catherine walks along the wall, her hands clasped behind her back. Her heels click against the tile, gaze lost on the tattered map hung on the wall. She leans in, feigning inspection as she speaks again. Her tone somehow lazy but dripping with an authoritative quality that when combined, made you lean in and feel the need to listen carefully. “As you’ve most likely come to know in your training, it’s important, in some missions, to get close to a subject. To have a relationship with them, to make them an asset.”

The mustached man cut in, “An asset is-“

“A person within organizations who provide information to outside sources. Yeah, I know.”

“Zachary.”

Warning number two, he won’t be given a third.

Silence fills the room again at her sharp use of his name. Zach’s head bows and the other two men focus on her - it’s her happy place, he knows this. She controls the room, two grown men with their entire attention fully on her and her son’s submission, she’d bask in it like it was the sun on the beach for hours if she had the time.

Zach begins to flip the coin, impatient for the details of how this all affects him, what exactly it is he’s being asked here. He watches the coin arc in the air and land in his hand several times, waiting for her big finish.

Her slender and skilled fingers intercept the coin on his next toss. Her green eyes hold his and this time, even he can’t deny them as she delivers his very first official mission.

“We need you to get some information from Joe.”

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #zachary goode #catherine goode #zammie #bex baxter #cameron morgan #liz sutton #jonas anderson #preston winters #macey mchenry

[singular-yike]

The Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine

I already got my preamble over in my last post, so there's no need for one here, let's get right into it!

Right after the visiting the Kamishikimi Kumanoimasu Shrine, we went to the nearby Shirakawa Spring (白川水源 lit. "white river water source").

So here's the shrine within the grounds of which the spring is found, the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine (白川吉見神社), located on the souther foot of Mount Aso.

Below: The entrance of the shrine, as marked by the two komainu statues and the shimenawa bound torii gate. From this website on the shrines of Kyushu.

My visit to the shrine

Like I mentioned, we headed here right after leaving the Kamishikimi Kumanoimasu Shrine from my last post.

Unlike that shrine, this one's rather more famous (or rather, its spring is famous), and so has a car park located conveniently next to the shrine's entrance, as well as a gift shop selling local goods and souvenirs.

Below: My own image of the shrine's entrance.

As you could see, I only caught the un-shaped komainu statue, i.e. the one with its mouth closed, this was cause stand any further back and I'd be out on the car road. So instead:

Here's another one with the a-shaped komainu, i.e. the one with its mouth open. Together, they are said to form "Aum" (or perhaps more commonly "Om"), a sacred syllable in many religions, Buddhism included.

Anyways, we passed through the gate, we walked along the shrine road, which had a few souvenir shops and little rest houses as well, and even this little stall!

"Everything is 100 yen!!" It's an unmanned shop probably where local farmers leave their excess crops to sell, here we see bags of potatoes and eggplants.

Passing the shops and stands we move into an area where the trees part, coming face to face with a river. This is of course the eponymous Shirakawa (白川), "the white river".

Below: A section of Shirakawa I saw on the way to the spring.

Finally, we arrive at the shrine proper, passing by a toll gate. The shrine's been getting more and more visitors due to its fame, and so started collecting a modest fee of 100 yen per visitor (of high school age and above) for environmental conservation.

Before passing the second torii gate and going to the shrine building, we find a lowered platform that allows visitors to get near the river.

Below: The lowered area.

The tray on the left of the wooden bench has various funnels and ladles, allowing visitors to get their own bottle of pristine Shirakawa spring water. I myself took a sip of the water, and it was refreshing indeed~.

Notably, the river itself also serves as where visitors cleanse themselves before paying respects at the shrine. Shinto deities abhor defilement and impurities, thus it is customary to cleanse oneself, typically with water.

A good number of shrines have a fountain, called a chouzu-ya (手水舎 lit. "hand water pavilion"), where one is expected to wash their hands and mouth, to purify themself before meeting the shrine's god.

However, this shrine simply uses the natural spring water that flows from within shrine grounds. After all, why use the man-made when we have access to the gods' blessings directly?

(Do note though to be careful not to let water spill back into the river, and definitely do not spit water that's used to cleanse your mouth back into the river. The floor around will do.)

Below: The entrance of the shrine proper, pass the shrine road, from the same site previously mentioned.

Having cleansed myself, we go through the shrine's second torii gate and towards the shrine buildings. The engaku (on both gates actually) reads, plain and simple, "Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine".

Below: The second torii of the shrine, pass it is the shrine proper.

Right after we enter, on the left is a typical man-made chouzu-ya fountain, on which reads "seishin" (清心), "to purify one's heart" or simply "pure heart, which is how one should conduct themself before the gods.

Below: The shrine's proper chouzubachi, taken from the same site once again.

Of course, as you see from the image, it doesn't even have a ladle for you to get water from it. They really do expect visitors to cleanse themselves with the river, after all.

As you can see from the image of the torii gate, the road branches into two. We went on the right path first, which leads to the shrine's greatest treasure: The Shirakawa Spring.

However, before reaching the spring, we come across a small hokora (祠), a small-scale shrine where local folk deities are often enshrined. This particular one enshrines Suijin (水神 lit. "water god") the god of the spring.

Below: The roadside hokora.

Anyways, passing the hokora by we reach the spring itself!

Below: The Shirakawa Spring.

The spot in the middle that's especially blue is where the water was gushing out from, and oh how clear the water was! And look at the moss growing on the river bed! It really was an awe-inspiring sight~.

Here's a video, which hopefully shows off how water gushes out from the riverbed (don't mind the cicadas lol it was prime cicada season).

After marvelling at the spring, I took a quick look the shrine buildings. Starting with: The prayer hall. The flags being displayed out front read "Yoshimi Shrine" (吉見神社).

Below: The prayer hall.

The white building to the left of the shrine is the shrine's mikoshi storehouse, mikoshi (神輿) being divine palanquins in which the gods' spirits are housed during festival parades.

Below: A glimpse of the palanquins as seen from outside.

Next, I went to the right of the prayer hall, and took the following side-shot of the shrine building. Here we can get a glimpse of its main hall too, where the gods are housed.

Opposite the main hall, on the right, is a smaller subsidiary shrine also under the management of the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine.

This one is simply classified as a keidai-sha (境内社 lit. "shrine within [shrine] grounds"). It used to be that these subsidiary shrines are divided into two types:

Sessha (摂社), colloquially called "auxiliary shrines", where gods related to the main shrine's gods are enshrined; and

Massha (末社), "undershrines", where unrelated gods are enshrined.

It used to be that auxiliary shrines are at a higher rank than undershrines, but this class system has now been discarded, any some shrines no longer list out which these subsidiary shrines used to be. This is one of them.

This particular shrine is a combination of three, first among which is a Tenman-guu Shrine (天満宮 lit. "Palace of Tenman"), which enshrines the famous scholar god Sugawara no Michizane, or Tenman Tenjin (天満天神).

Below: The subsidiary Tanman-guu Shrine.

Alongside the great Tenjin, two deities long since worshipped by local villagers are now also enshrined here, they are two particular aspects of the bodhisattva Kanzeon (観世音): Safe-childbirth Kanzeon (子安観世音) and Horse-headed Kanzeon (馬頭観世音).

Below: The statues of Tenjin, Safe-childbirth Kanzeon and Horse-headed Kanzeon (in order), enshrined within the Tenman-guu Shrine. From this shrine-themed website.

Safe-childbirth Kanzeon is said to impart, as the name suggests, safe childbirth; While the Horse-headed Kanzeon (who funnily enough doesn't have a horse head here) is said to protect travellers.

Combined with the scholar god Tenjin, this is a surprisingly potent shrine, covering a good chunk of our early lives.

One might note that Kanzeon, perhaps more commonly known in her Chinese rendition as Guanyin, is not exactly a Shinto deity, but rather a Buddhist figure.

This should come as no surprise if we look at Shinto and Buddhism's history in Japan, where they were, for most of its history since the introduction of Buddhism, viewed as the same thing.

And thus it's actually not uncommon at all for Buddhist features to be found in Shinto shrines, nor vice versa. That's all I'll say here, so as not to derail things, though if any of y'all are interested I could certainly write on that as well.

In any case, that's the entirely of the shrine explored, and we head off to our next destination.

History

Now that our tour is over, we can move onto the history of the shrine.

This shrine, being a comparatively larger scale shrine, has a clearer history than the last one, well-kept by the shrine's records. So, here's the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine's history, as told by the shrine itself.

Below: The sign on which the shrine's history can be found.

Official Shrine History

Year of Establishment: Unclear

Since ancient times, this shrine's has been considered the protector shrine of the Shirakawa Spring as the undershrine of the Aso Shrine (阿蘇神社).

The great spring gushing out from the center of the shrine is considered one of the greatest views of Higo (肥後 the historical province the Aso region is found in).

Its water flows through the Nangou Valley (南郷谷) to the west, then through southern Kikuchi (菊池) to finally supply water to the several thousand hectares of water paddies in the Higo plains (肥後平野) in Houtaku, Kumano.

In the 6th month of Genroku 14 (1693), the 5th lord (藩主 hanshuu) of Higo, Lord Tsunatoshi Hosokawa (細川綱利), visited this shrine when out hunting on the mountains.

He declared to the district administrator (郡代 gundai), "This shrine is where the spring god who supplies the fields in my land resides, and my gratitude for their grace is great indeed. With haste, build a shrine building here." Thus was the origin of this shrine.

It is said that the shrine curtains featuring the Kuyou (九曜 lit. "nine stars") emblem were offered up by Lord Yoshikuni Hosokawa (細川韶邦) (future first han-chiji of Kumano) during one of his visits, during the Kaei era (1848—1853).

Alternatively, it is said that it was offered up by the 14 generation's Lord Morihisa (護久) and Lord Moriyoshi (護美) during one of their visits, during the first year of the Meiji era (1868).

The current shrine building was built and completed in December of Meiji 42, as the previous building had burnt down in a fire a year prior, in Meiji 41 (1908).

Also, several old trees of several thousand-years old fell during a typhoon in Shōwa 21 (1946), reducing the number of shrine trees to what you see now.

It's said that the shrine's spring is why the Kumano prefecture was called the "Shirakawa Prefecture" during the early Meiji era, why the local region is called "Shirakawa" and also gave its name to Shirakawa Village.

The Later Collection of Japanese Poems (後撰和歌集), compiled in Tenryaku 5 (951), contains the following poem:

Many years have passed, my black hair too, seems to have gotten old. Just as how I now draw water from the Shirakawa. — Higaki no Ouna (檜垣嫗)

The spring water has long been spoken of respectfully as divine water that grants "longevity without ageing" and "dispersal of current illnesses".

Overall History

And that's everything that's written on that sign! There's a bit more to go though, expanding on what the shrine's own records along with other records tell us.

To start with, we're actually going back to that poem by Higaki no Ouna. If it is true that the name Shirakawa came from the shrine, this would mean that it needs to be at least as old as the Later Collection of Japanese Poems, in which the poem is found.

Higaki no Ouna's Poem A bit of context for the poem, Higaki no Ouna is poet said to have been a prostitute known for her refinement. This poem is said to have been composed by her as she was fetching water from the Shirakawa river, lamenting how she had fallen into ruin with old age, having to fetch water herself rather than being able to have someone else do it for her. Here both "Shirakawa" and the phrase "draw water" are kakekotoba (掛詞), or "pivot words", a technique used in Japanese waka poetry where kanji carry two layers of meaning, one literally from the kanji and one from its reading. Yes it's basically a pun, in a sense. But it's elegance comes in how it allows the poet to use less syllables in the poems, while at the same time expressing more. This brevity is considered key in these poems. The two here respectively point to "white hair" and "teeth that emerge as one becomes old", both pointing to how old Higaki no Ouna now is.

The collection was compiled in 951. means that the shrine has to have existed in some capacity by the late Heian period (794—1185).

However, according to the Aso Shrine's records, the undershrine mentioned in the shrine's records was not establiished until the end of the Tenshou era (天正), around 1573 to 1593.

Thus it is thought that this place had been home to a water god faith even prior to its establishment as an undershrine of the Aso Shrine.

Whatever the case, during its time as an undershrine, its resident water god was Himemiko-no-Kami (比咩御子神), the goddess of the 3rd palace of the Aso Shrine.

The next notable part of the shrine's history is with Tsunatoshi Hosokawa, you might notice that the above sign makes it sound like he ordered for a shrine to be built where a shrine already existed.

It's not exactly clear what the passage means by this, though it could mean that it didn't have a proper shrine building before this.

Skipping ahead, it is in the 1st year of Meiji that the shrine gets to its current form. It was re-assigned as a Yoshimi Shrine (吉見社) during this period, replacing its old head shrine of the Aso Shrine with the Kusakabe Yoshimi Shrine (草部吉見神社).

Alongside this change, the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine adopted the Kusakabe Yoshimi Shrine's head god, Kunitatsu-daimyoujin (国龍大明神), and changed its water god to be Mitsuhanome-no-Mikoto (罔象女命).

Mythology

The mythology of this shrine isn't going to be as interesting as the last one, since there's no particular tale behind the shrine or the spring's origins.

So instead, let's briefly go over the shrine's main blessings, as well as the various gods it's once enshrined.

Blessings

According to the sign above, the shrine has 2 main blessings: Safety at home and Safety in traffic;

Additionally, it's also known to be particularly responsive to two types of prayers: That for school admissions and rain.

Gods

As mentioned in the history section, the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine likely had three generations of gods, starting with an theorised water god before formal shrine worship, though there's nothing much to really say about this one, so we can move on to generation 2.

Next the shrine was formally established as an undershrine of the Aso Shrine. The Aso Shrine's head god is Takeiwatatsu-no-Mikoto (健磐龍命), grandson of legendary 1st Emperor Jimmu.

You might recognise this to be the very same Aso-daimyoujin (阿蘇大明神) mentioned last time. We are in the Aso region after all, it only makes sense that the "great shining god of Aso" take central stage.

The Aso Shrine is mainly divided into twelve "palaces", and Himemiko-no-Kami is the goddess of the fourth palace.

She is Takeiwatatsu's aunt, through marriage to his uncle, and was taken to be the the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine's water goddess while it was under the Aso Shrine's jurisdiction.

The shrine was later reclassified to be under the Kusakabe Yoshimi Shrine's lineage, which is actually not too surprising when you consider that this shrine's head god is Kunitatsu-no-Kami (国龍神 lit. "country dragon god"), Himemiko's husband.

Kunitatsu is perhaps more readily known outside of Aso as Hikoyai-no-Mikoto (日子八井命), Emperor Jimmu's eldest son.

At the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine, he is eulogistically titled the "Great shining god Kunitatsu" (国龍大明神 Kunitatsu-daimyoujin) and seems to have replaced his wife's role as water god of the spring.

This would likely be because he is worshipped as a water god at the Kusakabe Yoshimi Shrine, making him a better fit for this role than his wife, who doesn't seem to have any connection to water (though admittedly I couldn't find much on her to begin with).

Finally, it is also at this stage that Mitsuhanome-no-Mikoto (罔象女命) was added to the shrine's pantheon. She is famously the water goddess born out of a dying Izanami's urine, but not much else is known about her beyond this.

Still, a water goddess is a water goddess, so she fits right in at the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine.

Ending

And that concludes my dive into the Shirakawa Yoshimi Shrine, this one's quite a bit more dry this time, perhaps due to the shrine having less of a colourful story, but it's still a wonderful place, so I hope you enjoyed all the same~!

#japan #japanese mythology #shinto shrine #shirakawa yoshimi shrine #you would not believe #how much time and research it took me #to understand that poem #I'm not remotely familiar with classical japanese after all lol #100% worth it though imo #my curiosity must be satisfied

[theridgebeyond]

Having worked in a hospital, I can confirm that New Amsterdam is the most accurate representation of the medical field in media because:

A. All physicians are drop-dead gorgeous. In my rural hospital serving local seniors and potato farmers, we had two Canadian hospitalists who were out of everybody’s league. One ran marathons and the other wore heels and curled her hair every darn day.

B. We all hate the corruption and injustice of the system. My first day I got to listen to my clinical instructor fight insurance about a woman in stroke rehab. They wouldn’t cover it. I don’t think she ever fed herself or dressed herself ever again, even though she would have been capable of recovery had she been given the proper interventions.

C. THEY SHOW TRANSFERS. Only the cool transfers, but STILL!

D. Distracting your coworkers (and yourself) when you should be documenting. Check.

E. Scarfing down a Milky Way bar because you only have 2 minutes between patients and you haven’t eaten all day. Also check.

F. They hardly have time to pee, let alone get steamy in the on-call room (looking at you, Grey’s).

G. Neurodivergent doctors being kickass neurodivergent doctors, while also dealing with stigma (or rather, avoiding stigma by not disclosing their neurodivergence).

I’m only halfway through season one but like, this show is it.

#new amsterdam #medical drama