The first time Nicolò saw an elephant was in the middle of a courtyard in Fustat. He was sweat-stained and foot-sore from travel, but all thoughts of a washcloth and a bed were driven from his mind by what stood in front of him: a huge, grey beast with the tusks of a boar and a snout that could move like a serpent. A quick prayer to the Virgin sprang to Nicolò’s lips, though no one else within the wikala’s walls seemed at all perturbed by the sight.
Nicolò took a cautious step back.
“There are no elephants to be found in the lands of the Franks, I take it?” Yusuf said next to him.
Even ten years ago, Yusuf would have said that to needle him, and ten years ago, Nicolò would indeed have been needled—would have snapped that he was no Frank, as Yusuf well knew. Now, Nicolò didn’t even need to look over at Yusuf to know that his expression was a teasing one, for he could plainly hear the fact in the tone of Yusuf’s voice.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Nicolò said truthfully. As a youth, he had heard tales of a fearsome eastern war beast called an elephant, but he had never imagined a war beast that could flap its ears in such a manner. “And who knew a snout could do such a thing?”
“It must be a very useful thing to have,” Yusuf said. He stepped forward and picked up a piece of tree bark from the pile near one of the elephant’s great feet. He held it up to the animal, which sniffed at it delicately with its snout before taking it and wolfing it down in one great mouthful. Yusuf threw his head back and laughed with delight, and then patted the creature—Marzuq, its handler called it—on its huge flank.
Nicolò was startled to realise that this sight—Yusuf, happy and at ease—was as familiar to him now as the elephant was strange. The realisation stayed with him as they shouldered their packs once more and headed in search of a free room on the upper floor of the wikala. When had that happened, he wondered? When had been the change? Nicolò walked behind Yusuf up the narrow stairs, and remembered a time when Yusuf would never have dared turn his exposed back to Nicolò—and would have been right to do so.
There were many nights when Nicolò had lain awake, watching the licking flames of their campfire and wishing that he had never taken the cross: that he had remained at home in Genoa and never known war or another horizon. Now, as he claimed his usual bed in such places—the one nearest the door of the room—Nicolò thought for the first time that maybe there was truly some good to this strange life of his. Of theirs.
If he had stayed in Genoa and fulfilled all his mother’s most heartfelt prayers by becoming one of the cathedral’s canons, well, perhaps one day he might have read some ancient sage’s description of an elephant, buried within a bestiary’s pages. He would have learned what part the elephant played in the Lord’s creation, and what useful lessons a believer could learn from its life. But Nicolò knew now that his untried imagination would never have let him truly picture such a beast as the one that stood in the courtyard below.
Nor would it ever have encompassed all of Nicolò’s unnatural deaths, or stranger resurrections, or the fact that he could come to walk alongside a Saracen and call him friend. I like him, Nicolò realised, watching Yusuf rummage through his pack in search of a fresh tunic. Perhaps it should not have been so surprising or sudden a thought, after twenty years together, but there it was: another impossible thing that Nicolò had been granted the grace to finally see.
“Then he saith to Thomas: Put in thy finger hither, and see my hands,” Nicolò murmured to himself as they went back down together to the hammam. There, Nicolò bowed his neck and let Yusuf pour a jug of water over his head: clear and cold and so very welcome after the long day’s travel. Nicolò closed his eyes. He thought of all of the wide world they had walked so far, and how much there was yet for him to see, and wondered how many new things there might yet be for them, under the rising sun.
SIDE EFFECTS MAY INCLUDE STAMMERING BLUSHING KISSING WALL SLAMMING GOING TOO FAST— I didn’t catch them all but i am DYING
Rebloggingagain because I took a screenshot of the side effects…
“Side effects may include: stuttering, stammering, blushing, kissing, hugging, hissing, going too fast, wall slamming, drunken confessions, crying to Hozier, being the little spoon, banter, involuntary snake transformations, and marriage.
Please call your doctor if snake transformation lasts longer than 24 hours
Medication for demonic use only. Use on humans without adequate millennia of preparation may induce seizures, coma, religious conversion, hallucinations, and hiccups”
Barbatos fancied himself a patient man. He took the antics of the seven Avatars in stride, he frequently bent to the strange whims of Lord Diavolo, even the sweeter tests like Luke; who was so excited to learn from him, yet would turn right around and denounce any affection towards demons. Barbatos rarely said anything beyond gentle corrections if anyone ever went a little too far. He merely smiled and allowed it, more often than not. Part of his duty was to put others before himself.
Barbatos fancied himself a caring man. Although he might not express it as openly as Asmodeus, or as foolishly as Levi, he was confident that those in his favor knew it. He was always sure that their preferred foods and drinks were available for their visits, fresh sheets, just the right amount of blankets, the proper thickness of pillow; anything to make them feel comfortable and at ease. He preferred the company of the knowledgeable and the less excitable, but even for those with higher energies there was a time and a place where Barbatos truly enjoyed entertaining them.
Barbatos fancied himself an observant man. Every new guest was watched closely, some were even asked more direct questions for Barbatos to log away. Even if he wasn’t fond of them, it was important to know who would be coming to his master’s house and what they liked. Preferences, talents, hobbies, dislikes, all locked away into the butler’s mind for those days when the information would finally be of use. He knew never to raise his voice with Luke, to always thank Lucifer for his help whenever it was given, and to avoid calling Mammon rude names if Barbatos wanted anything done.
Of course, the most important one: Under no circumstances should Solomon be allowed in a kitchen.
one thing (and one of my favourite things) i saw a lot when i was on exchange was t-shirts with absolute gibberish or just keyboard smashes on them being sold as if there’s some very deep english quote on them,,, i just think that wwx wearing them and jc (who was sent on exchange to the us or uk when he was a child to learn english) tells him they mean something super cool or deep just to make him look like a fool
lwj probably thinks wwx does it on purpose because wwx is smart right? he knows wwx has been abroad often (to visit jc), he must know. one day lwj buys him a shirt with complete gibberish on it and wwx goes “aw lan zhan this one is so cool! what does it say?” maybe lwj’s faith in humanity leaves him on the spot, maybe he makes something up because he thinks wwx is making a joke
galaxy brain @bi-disaster-wei-wuxian said what if lwj tries to flirt with wwx in english through the shirts he gives him and thinks wwx doesn’t reciprocate because he never really reacts
TheBro Bone Bang is an SPN fandom event which welcomes all ships and fan creations… just as long as the ships are Sam/Dean or iterations thereof and as long as their tongues, schlongs, or other vulnerable body parts are battling for dominance throughout.* Sorry but any fanworks that don’t involve fraternal funny business quite frankly creep us out!! <3
Our first round runs from May-August 2022 and on this occasion we will be accepting prompts in the form of locations. If you think you can handle our extraordinarily reasonable rules thencheck out our FAQ or if you prefer to get stuck in right away, head on over to our AO3!
(*the power play is optional but the exchange of bodily fluids is not!)
Sydney-based street artist Michael Pederson’s creates quirky street art that is so subtle that it’s easy to walk past it without even knowing it’s there. He encourages people to take a closer look at their streets and neighbourhoods, and second guess some signs. “I think we travel through urban space without really seeing it most of the time,” Pederson told CityLab. “I like the idea of interfering with the overly familiar background blur … Ideally with something a passerby might see out of the corner of an eye.”
1x05 except Geralt and Jaskier are already married by the time they meet Yennefer // 226 words of some crack-y nonsense
“Jaskier. Is she flirting with me?”
“Is she - Geralt, are you really asking that?”
Geralt doesn’t respond at first. He turns to look at Jaskier, brows furrowed. Of course he’s asking that - there’s no good reason why Jaskier would still need clarification - except Jaskier continues to just look at him, as though waiting for him to say something.
“We’re married,” Geralt elaborates slowly. “Why would she flirt with me if she knows I’m married to you?”
“You - if she - you think she knows?”
“Yes.”
“Geralt, are you forgetting the part where she quite literally asked you if I was just your friend? To which you responded with… oh, what was it? Right, nothing. You never did respond to that question. And this entire time you’ve really thought that she knows?”
“Hm.”
“Oh, don’t you dare just hm this, husband mine, your absolute lack of words is how we’ve ended up in this situation in the first place! And no, don’t give me that look, either, you know very well I couldn’t have said anything while I was still choking on my own blood.”
A third voice joins them then and they both look over at where Yennefer stands, right in front of them. In fact, she has been standing there for the entire duration of their conversation.
Pigments | wild blueberry stem black | lead white | green river stone | yellow ochre | red sandstone | The colors of Maine
[ID: photograph of each pigment in powder form on a white surface, below the source it was made from - blueberry stems, a bent scrap of lead, and small rocks. End ID]
I fought with this one too long. I need to stop with this dramatic lighting stuff, I had to refill a pen and it spilled EVERYWHERE. this is why I do digital art………
Blocking the haters who have opened up their assholes to express the wet fart of an opinion that Jews are an unrealistic addition to a children’s comic fantasy series whose major initial premise was a dude being turned into a llama ✌️
[ID: Two Pillsbury Doughboys stand facing each other. The left half of the image has a purple background and a watermark for “mrdavid.com,” while the right half of the image has a white background. The doughboy on the left is the normal white doughboy and the text above him reads, “He is risen!” The text below him reads, “Happy Easter!”
The doughboy on the right has matzah for skin rather than dough, and the text above him reads, “He is not!” The text below him reads, “Happy Passover!” /end ID]
