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hiraeth-sonder · 2 months

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Delusive Masks - Nasu

Yan! Tamamo no Mae x Reader

Old foxes aren't the best servants, they're wily and complex, and most of all, possessive

TW: Mentions of violence in the form of burning, general toxic manipulative behaviour, not really proof read

//The brainrot hit so bad that I wrote a bad fever dream. A whole bunch of liberties taken with the way being an onmyoji works and with characters as per usual. Poem is from 陽成院歌合, topic of 夏虫の恋 and is number 06 of the whole collection

あふことを, いつともしらぬ

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To be a good person is not difficult, to be a good onmyoji perhaps less so. For many people, merely getting the skill and natural ability to qualify as one is already a kind of privilege, it taints the way they view themselves, creating grandiose splendours that they can transcend beyond the mortal principles. Yet when one becomes powerful enough to summon shikigami beyond weak spirits imbued into paper dolls, it gets to their head. They suddenly, foolishly believe themselves capable of nothing short of miracles. How fast they fall, turning themselves into cruel masters, bidding their servants to acts no better than the very yokai they seek to exorcise, kicking upon their shikigami to which they had entered that sacred contract.

You are grateful for many things in life, the first that you had good parents that supported your wishes, the second that you could become a practising onmyoji, and the third being your master’s consistent and persistent hammering of humility and altruism. No lesser or greater than any being that walks upon this world, whether human or spirit, your duty was to protect the innocent and excise the guilty. Of course, he had worded it much more eloquently than such, but the motive was still present in his orotund words.

Your shikigami are as equally deserving of respect as you are, unconditional kindness could very often make the difference between an evil spirit and a good one. You have stuck by such truths for as long as you have started, even when the only spirits under your command were Ubume and Zashiki Warashi. It became a promise of kinds, that you would always do right by them so long as they showed the same sentiment in return. Eventually, you ended up with quite a few of them, a good entourage of them you knew you could trust. Yet, it was rather difficult for people to take you seriously without certifiably powerful spirits, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that there was a certain gap between the perceived disciple of the great Abe no Seimei, and the reality that you were.

There was some part of you that did resent that expectation, partly that others should have no right to comment on your ability solely on your patronage, and partly because it felt too close to home. Of course you knew it was shameful to be so powerless when you study under one of the best practitioners, it is only natural you did.

The smell of incense fills your nose as your eyes adjust to the dim room, a talisman before you laying on the wooden floor. With a brush in hand, dipped in ink and poised for use, you calm your pounding heart. You have already summoned a few shikigami before, yet at this very moment, you could feel nothing but inexplicable foreboding. It made no sense, with your current living quarters more than protected by both your and your shikigamis’ efforts, yet you could not merely shake off the tenseness in your joints and the roiling in your stomach.

It hurts, everything still hurts. Your hands from all the preparation, your knees from kneeling on such hard floors, your head from everything that has been and shall be. It is as though your body only knows to bear suffering, pain from which is borne from being mortal, pain borne of the pure action of breathing.

Still, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Picking up your brush in a ramrod perfect posture, the incantation so familiar to your lips spill out as ink stains the talisman. Your voice starts soft, barely a whisper in the wind and as your hand scrawls and scrawls with a fervour not quite known to human consciousness, it rises until the only sound in your ear is your very own words.

The moment your brush lifts off the paper and the ink settles within, placed within the circle, it resonates and glows, bursting with light and into flame as it burns into a brilliant blaze. It threatens to engulf the summoning room, grazing at the ceiling as even the fire from your candles are absorbed into such a violent inferno. You can feel the heat, practically licking your skin and singeing the ends of your coat, sweat beading at your brow as you shield your eyes from the bright display.

Even when the flames dim, what is before your eyes is merely the shaping of the firestorm into nine distinct tails, a vulpine silhouette that eventually reveals a tall figure, draped in silks and brocades. With an elaborate fox-like mask hiding the top half of his face, this spirit which presented himself as both court official and decadent noble snapped open his fan to further hide his jade white visage. Among the cool night, all you could feel was the radiating heat from his form, even if he retracted his flames, it was as if there was nothing beyond him and his fire.

The high wooden geta clacks against the wooden floorboards, elegant footfalls approaching you ever closer as he steps out of the circle. He makes no effort to lower himself to your level, fervid eyes burning behind the mask as he tips his fan beneath your chin and lifts it. The spirit takes a gander at your appearance, scrutinising your every feature with an intensity far beyond mild interest.

“This place has experienced great change since I’ve last been here,” The old fox’s lips curl into a smile, the peek of sharp canines peeking from behind. His voice is sultry, a minacious bite to his words, “Onmyoji, we finally finally meet.”

No matter this first introduction, dealing with this great spirit will be much more complicated than any you have ever met. A venerable kitsune in which vagary destruction lay right at the snap of his fingers, no matter what kind of fate he deems worthy for your mortal self, it is exactly because you are mortal that you should meet this trial.

Bowing, you raise your clasped hands in front of you and dip until you feel your back screech for mercy, “Tamamo no mae-sama, it is an honour to meet you.”

“Do take care of me, little lady,” He croons and a shiver runs through your bones, no matter how gentle his words were.

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なつむしの, おもひはかぎり

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“Master, I did not think you would arrive so quickly.”

Your hands are steady as you tip the lacquered teapot, fragrant tea pouring in a steady stream from its slender spout. The dark liquid a blend you rarely take out other than to entertain your master, there is a certain trepidation that comes with such an act, one you are not sure when will finally leave you. The joints of your fingers ache, throbbing even as you lay at rest.

“It is so wrong for me to worry for you?” He raises a brow, azure eyes regarding you with some placid gleam.

Despite your admittedly out of place nerves, your master has done nothing to warrant such, that in spite of his graceful and aloof poise, Seimei may likely be one of the kindest people you have ever met. You understand that a person can in no way be entirely benevolent nor evil, for that is what makes a sentient being sentient, but there is merely something about him that brings forward ease within a person.

You only shake your head, an abashed quirk tugging at your lips. Watching him take a sip from his cup, your mind drifts back to the message you had sent. A letter that was hastily scrawled and messy beyond reason, the paper carried the distinct stench of smoke and ash, it was a moment of panic now that you could look upon the incident with a much clearer head. The minute you had situated the old yokai in conditions appeasable to his own tastes, you remember sprinting back to your room, sweat clinging to your skin and staining the paper as you wrote, informing your master what had just occurred and asking for his guidance.

“Of course not, I just thought you would have taken more time to get here,” You hum, your voice lowered and sheepish. “Were you not at the capital when my letter arrived?”

Your master only nods, “Your words were so fearful, I thought you had come across a great trouble.”

He takes a moment to partake from his drink once more, a silence falling upon the sun-lit room as birds chirp in the nearby trees and the sound of your shikigami going about their lives ring from the distance. You rest your eyes upon his form, noting the seeming flawlessness of his presence. Sharper features that hinted at some otherworldly grace, just the most minute sign found in the form of the slight furrow of his brow revealed the distress that plagued him. Then, his long lashes flutter open, and your master merely seems to smile, relief all but seeping from his eyes.

“I am glad you are well.”

Averting your gaze, you thank him under your breath as heat flushes at the tips of your ears, not quite certain whether such bashfulness stems from troubling him or emotions else explained.

You can only move the conversation of topic away from that moment, putting on a facade of ease, “I thought you would have more insight about him.”

The expression on his face shifts ever so slightly, a sudden hardness in his eyes as he grips the teacup just the little tighter.

“He…has experienced a great number of losses due to both divine and human action,” He manages to breathe out, the sound almost all but serene if not for the lengthy pause between his words. Your master inhales, as though to continue his words, yet he only sighs, “I am afraid that is as much as I can disclose for now, it is not my place to tell what he does not wish to be revealed.”

Just as you think to pry just a little further, Hana’s voice echoes from beyond the closed doors, asking for your presence. There is a concern tinging her words, and judging by the pattering of rushed footsteps, this was a matter that required your immediate and utmost earnest attention.

“Master, I must apologise but…” Your eyes glance between him and the door, chest tightening ever so slightly as blood rushes through your veins.

Seimei merely shakes his head, an assuaging expression on his face as he waves you off, “Do not worry about me, go ahead.”

Nodding, you rise as quickly as possible, rushing off as you are swiftly carted off to the issue. The white haired man remains in his seated position, taking in the scent of his tea as he closes his eyes. He hears the silence of the wind, with neither bird song nor liveliness of existence. Seimei finishes the rest of his tea, herbal and heady fragrance greeting his senses for the last time before he places it down alongside your abandoned cup.

He takes a breath, not bothering to open his eyes as he speaks, “Uncle, I know you are there.”

From beyond the door and announcing his entrance through soft clicks, a masked man deigns to show his face as he lowers his fan. With his lips almost permanently lifted in mirth, the scarlet markings that painted his mask aided with the unease that your master suddenly feels creeping onto his spine. He is unfamiliar with this sensation, especially from the man before him.

“Seimei, its been a long time,” The old fox croons, insouciant tinge to his voice.

Without missing a beat, your master finds a new urgency within him, “What are your intentions with my disciple?”

“We have yet to see each other after so long and this is your first question for me?” Tamamo hums, an unexplainable expression on his jade white face. His fan taps against his jaw in a rhythmic manner, voice much more playful and recondite than Seimei would have liked, “She called out and I responded, nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you have any malintention upon her, I fear I may have to take action.”

Not quite a threat, for even he is unable to deny their relationship, but more so a warning. This tension between the two of them has an unspoken depth, one that had existed long before this clandestine reunion, and with Seimei’s admittedly almost obvious concern for your wellbeing, it only seems to sour so.

The old fox smiles, and the younger finds that he does not enjoy the way those golden eyes seem to shine with burning regard from beyond the mask. Tamamo only muses, yet despite the airy nature of his voice, behind his lilt was a zealous avariciousness, “I promise you, no harm shall befall her so long as I am by her side.”

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なくやあるらん

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For all that the froglets incident was worth, a situation that had been more so confusing and hysterical for the regional townspeople than any life-threatening catastrophe as you had been led to believe, it was only a mild inconvenience. A few dozen little frogs dressed to appear as great yokais were merely wandering around and acting as if they were the spirits themselves, of course they had also been imbued with some kind of ability that allowed them to recreate such acts, but it was still not some matter that would raze the whole of Heian-Kyo.

Still, that had not meant you expected to return to your abode with said froglets nipping at your heels ready to make themselves useful.

“Master…” At a loss for words, Momo could only cock her head at the image before her.

Rather than being seated at your desk pouring over documents, you were instead making yourself quite busy with some leisurely reading while the froglets dedicate themselves to stacking your books in an order only they seemed to know.

“It’s okay, they are not causing any issue,” You smile, an amused huff escaping your nose when your eyes drift to Susabi Frog balancing on top of Ichimokuren Frog as it just barely pushes a star chart into place, “I am just keeping them busy.”

Turning your attention back to Momo, you place down your book as you roll your shoulders back, the vertebrae in your spine not quite as sore. “Did you have something for me to look at?”

“Ubume asked whether you wanted to join us for lunch or have us eat with you.” Her voice is slightly hesitant, just one step away from wavering.

It feels like instinct at this point, you rest your head upon your palm and squeeze your eyes in delight. If you had to be honest, you did quite miss being able to have meals with your shikigamis, always some lively affair and certainly occuring far too sparsely for your liking.

“It has been some time since we all sat down together and ate, has it not?”

She nods her head, a hopeful expression on her face as her eyes widen in mock innocence, “Mhm! So will you?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you get up and dust your clothes. An excitement fills her as the little blooms in her hair burst open, grabbing your arm and all but dragging you out. Turning a glance to the froglets, you wave them over and they come scampering to your side at the first notice, almost all too excited to follow along. They clamour in the occasional croak or ribbit, asking about this and that. More akin to children, you wonder when that sentiment started.

By the time you arrive in your courtyard, it is all but a wonderfully teeming gathering, noise filling your ears in a manner that only served to coax your heart from its tight cage. Seeing them like this, you are happy that you get to have such a sight, living free from suffering and safe, that was the most important point, that they were safe.

“I see you all are in good spirits,” You hum, an announcement that is swiftly followed by a symphony of ‘Master’s’.

Some of the younger shikigami immediately leap from their seats to your side, to which you only greet them with on overfond smile and a pat on the head. Those busy with serving food or handing out cutlery likewise greet you, not quite able to pull themselves away from their tasks but still sending a smile or a wave. Momo is quick to join everyone else, flitting between chatting and aiding. Ootengu had busied himself with scooping soup while Hana had been floating around ensuring everyone had some kind of meal, leaving one person notably uninvolved.

“Little lady,” The old yokai calls for you, resting his head on his palm as a smile plays on his lips. Sitting beneath the plum blossom tree, he almost looks like the subject of a great painting under falling petals and soft sunlight. Just the view of such makes you almost afraid to approach him, yet still you do so. You are unable to tell exactly whether his levity is real, but you can only assume so by his leisurely tone, “Have the froglets been helping you?”

Glancing at the frogs now being babied by the rest of your shikigami, a notion you did not think they would take up so fast, you only laugh, “They are very earnest, thank you.”

Silence falls upon the two of you and for a moment, it truly does feel that all is right in the world. There is little discomfort in your body, joints no longer cracking at every minute action nor head pounding at every little stimulus that dared to exist. The smell of sweet flowers and delightful aroma of proper food fills the air, and you yearn for nothing more than these days to continue on.

Those froglets, troublesome at first though they may, had ended up being a kind of blessing. For ever since their attempted marauding, you have had little, if any issues that required your action. You spend your days reading and writing, responding to correspondence and finally able to focus on your studies.

It is while reminiscing that Tamamo’s silvery words reach your ears, pleasant and coaxing.

“These few weeks have been rather peaceful, don’t you think?” He tilts his head to the side, meeting your gaze in a single move.

You squeeze your eyes again, a soft sigh escaping you as a smile tugs at your lips, “It has, I can finally get to some marriage proposals I had apparently recieved.”

For a moment, just the slightest second late, you thought the old fox’s expression darkened. Yet just as quickly as it came, it left, and he simply continues on. His eagerness almost resembles that of those older ladies, that crooning voice asking for more and more, ready to give advice you never thought you would need, older yokais surely were no different than mortals.

“Oh? And who is the lucky fellow?” His nails, scarlet and far longer than you remember, clasp around his fan.

“Just another onmyoji, he isn’t from the big name clans that sent their pathetic excuse they call letters,” You sigh, then hold your hands up in clarification, as though to correct yourself from your perceived distate, “Which is good, less likely to be some bigoted oaf.”

Tamamo merely hums, snapping open his fan to hide the bottom of his face, yet there was an odd wry tinge to his words, “How intriguing, our little lady seems to be quite popular to attract even onmyojis from the big clans.”

“Don’t flatter me, they just want to find someone they can continue their bloodlines with.”

Rolling your eyes, an acerbic grin appears on your face as you take a drink from the teacup one of the froglets brought over. Just like those old ladies, he places a hand on your shoulder and with an assuaging tone, a sense of warm reassurance is poured into your being.

“Well, you won’t have to worry. I’m certain you will have no trouble.”

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またまたも, みをぞすてつる

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Kiyohara Genjirou, a practicing onmyoji that had sought you out not only for his pursuit of the craft but admiration as well. So he cited in his first correspondence, and so you would like to believe.

As he wrote to you, you found him an eloquent and diligent man. Genjirou, though not hailing from a noble family nor considered talented enough to join a major clan, wandered through the country aiding when he could. All he had were paper dolls and simple talisman, yet that was all he needed. He had heard tales from those whose qualms you have solved, and had grown curious of your being. It was natural, yet this natural curiosity had grown to longing when he caught a glimpse of you in the city.

The image he described of you had seem otherworldly when you first read it, donned in simple robes and merely another face among the crowd, his eyes had no choice but to follow along your form, entirely unable to pull away from you. As if sent down from the high heavens, even the slightest whisper of your voice had made him understand why men should turn to religion.

You thought of him less fondly, perhaps not an infatuation such as his but an interest nonetheless. He had only sent two letters, the first that had been introductory and more similar to polite courtesy, the second much more personal and akin to courting. Still, you had been touched by his words, further still when you read the last portion. He would make the journey to your estate, to meet you and to perhaps, if you would allow him the chance to, to court you.

It was by no means a demand, but rather a suggestion. Genjirou had gone so far as to write that should you not find him appealing in any manner, that should you deem him overstepping, you were in every right to have him kicked out and his hair cut short.

You remember showing Tamamo the letter, surrounded by the froglets as he read from behind your shoulder. You told him that you would like to meet such a staunch person, and perhaps at the time, you had laughed alongside him when he said that should Genjirou truly act as he feared, then it would not be humiliation that he would bear. There was nothing to worry for, all you had to do was await his arrival.

Yet, despite his staid words and his solemn promises, he never came.

Under the moonlight and through the cold night wind, you can only let out a soft sigh. Your shoulders slump beneath your robes as all of a sudden, your body feels too heavy for your feet. Leaning against the wooden pillars of the front gate, that familiar tightness in your chest returns once more. Yet rather than what feels like your ribs enclosing onto your rapidly beating heart, what occurs to you now is more akin to that sentimental organ squeezing against its cage, yearning to pry straight through to leap out and wither away. Your lungs long for air, forcing in and out and yet it is not enough, never enough.

It is cold, so, so cold. Why were you cold?

Closing your eyes, you feel a presence approach from behind you, then a hand pulls you away from your resting spot. You lay against a warm body, that even through layers and layers of silk and brocade, you do not even have to open your eyes to know who it is.

“Tamamo,” Your murmur disappears into the night, yet it is a call that he hears and responds to.

With your limp limbs that which hang uselessly, the old fox gathers you into his embrace, allowing you to bury your face into his chest. “I thought he was different…”

Methodical and rhythmic, his chest rises and lowers, coaxing your breath to follow suite. Within his hold, there is a warmth that penetrates the skin, enveloping your tendons in loving flame. Tightly held and tightly received, Tamamo lets you dig your nails into him, until your fingertips ache and your wrists cramp up. He merely returns the sentiment, as though it was entirely natural to do so.

“Will you be honest with me?”

As though ashamed to even consider such a thought an option, you can barely muster your voice to above a whisper, “Do you think I’m a disappointment to my master?”

“Of course not, my little lady is very accomplished,” He croons, his voice soft and soothing. “Do you think I would have answered your call otherwise?”

Still enveloped in his presence, you inhale the familiar smell that clings to him. When he speaks to you as such, it truly does feel like all will be right in this world. Desiring nothing more than to keep you safe, this old fox you had once shrinked from has now become your only succour. How fast you had let him in your heart, that he should treat you with the same regard and care you do the rest of your shikigami, and you would become so easily reliant on what he may give you. Ironic, yet undeniably a notion you had grown aware of since his arrival.

“Besides, he is rather foolish to give up on you,” He sighs, an undertone distantly related to triumph hidden beneath assuage and fondness.

That graceful hand cups your face, reverent as though bearing a great treasure. Your eyes flutter open, and it is then you notice that he is no longer wearing his mask, presenting that exquisite face once hidden to you. Narrow eyes of beguiling gold with long lashes, lips that more appeared as delicate petals. No matter the scarlet markings painted upon his skin, it is no wonder that men should turn to fanaticism in the face of such sublimity. You can only stare in awe, how warm your ears flush and how heat roils in your stomach upon the sonorous hum of his voice.

“You deserve much, much better than a human who only knows to lie to you.”

Lying on the beaten dirt path, Kiyohara Genjirou will be buried in an unmarked grave, neither name nor profession known to those who will find him. For all that remains of this unwitting suitor is the stench of smoke and shrivelled corpse, caught too soon in a fox’s tempestuous favour and left to burn in the same blazing rancour that once threatened to engulf the tranquil capital.

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なつむしの, なほあきたらぬ

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Being a good onmyoji is not difficult, it is not some arduous task to respect and love your shikigami, to treat them as one would dear friends and family. Yet, a shikigami that has only lost and lost, when given a second chance to make it all right, what then happens to that good onmyoji is very often known only to those hidden away.

Your master, when he had learned of the events that transpired had taken it with nothing more than a furrowed brow and a sharp exhale. Before he left, he had gifted you a talisman and instructed you to hang it in your room, to which you did. Yet, that very day, it had gone missing from your door. You had no unease at it, after all, he had given you hundreds of protection talismans, what difference was one going missing?

You on the other hand, had come to realise many things about your emotions with the arrival of both dismay and prolonged peace. That old fox who has done nothing but inexplicably care for you, with no explanation nor clarification. It had come out of nowhere, that quiet wistfulness and longing glances, you nearly thought yourself mad yet it was true. Torturing yourself with what could only possibly be, one could only imagine the joy that filled you when you had to do nothing but wait just a little longer, and even that foolish wish should come to be.

Cicadas sing in the distant night, your lover has long retired for the night and lays atop the bed, what you may see now is but his most true form, masks and disguises left at the door. Vulpine ears atop his head along with nine full tails, he once again scoops you into his embrace as even his tails move to cover you.

“Cold…” You only whine, squirming closer as though you could crawl into his skin.

Tamamo only huffs in amusement, no sign of actual vexation, and pulls you in closer. The increased contact brings burning touch falling upon your skin, the old fox noses along some invisible line at your neck, his lips pressing a kiss upon your pulse. He coaxes a sigh from your throat, soft and airy and almost all too practiced. Wholeheartedly embracing the fervid greed within him, you think you feel the prick of sharp canines against tender skin, yet you could care less.

In nothing more than your sleeping robes, luxurious clothes stripped off, legs entangled and limbs intertwined. To an unwitting observer, it would be difficult to discern whose form was whose, so thoroughly ensnared fox and human may as well be one body.

With neither onmyoji nor spirit to separate the two of you, and in this little delusion, not even the heavens will seize you from his side. He has ensured it, he shall see to it that the one he loves will never bear such suffering ever again.

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こひをたのみて

#onmyoji #阴阳师 #onmyoji x reader #onmyoji tamamo no mae #tamamo no mae #tamamo no mae x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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windvexer · 4 months

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Spirit Vessel Theory & Practical DIY (Traditional Witchcraft Flavored)

(Written in response to an Anon whom I think is probably involved in spirit conjure community, which is where conjurers put spirits inside of a vessel for you and ship them to you. Anon requested to know tips on how to transfer a spirit to a new vessel)

✨big heckin UPG ALERT ahead for the ENTIRE POST✨

In this post, a spirit vessel is any object, including a container filled with objects, which serves as a spirit's physical foothold into our present reality.

Three Varieties of Spirit Vessels: Telephone, Body, House

Please note the particular absence of trap or prison: there is no need for any practitioner to trap or seal a spirit inside of a vessel. This is what we do to unwanted spirits to relocate them to a second location, and it's not how we treat our friends.

My categorization of spirit vessels relates to how the spirit is intended to engage with the vessel.

Telephone Vessel: This is the kind I've most commonly seen and heard of in the conjure community. The spirit lives/exists Elsewhere, but the practitioner has given them a link of communication to this physical object.

The practitioner then works over the object to "call" the spirit and ask it to arrive in their location, or visit it Elsewhere, or just talk while they are in separate locations.

In my opinion, the "telephone" vessel is the least impactful type for the purposes of allowing spirits into our lives, but it's great at what it does: serving as a telephone line. However, as I hope this post will go on to show, it's also the easiest to make because the vessel requires the least amount of preparation and care.

Body Vessel: This is when the spirit vessel is meant to be the body of the spirit as it dwells on Earth. When a vessel is consecrated and dedicated to a spirit, it's understood to be the spirit itself. The form that the vessel takes influences the spirit's ability to work in our reality.

Body vessels may end up looking like little figurine versions of the spirit in question, but they can also be containers specially prepared with decorations and objects heavily linked to the spirit's essence.

Direct examples in witchcraft and folk magic include house and kitchen dollies that are meant to help lighten the load of chores or stop food from burning. Such dolls may be equipped with little brooms, multiple hands, and so forth, to assist with chores.

Another example of a body vessel is the Decaying River God. To create this vessel, I made a deal with the river and then embodied a spirit into this intuitively crafted form. Now, that physical object has become the sacred body of a spirit.

Just as the kitchen doll may be given a broom to assist with sweeping, a spirit's body may be equipped with tools to grant them additional influence and abilities in our world. A related example in witchcraft is to put the feet of small, scurrying Earthen animals (such as a rat or mole) into charm bags, so that the spell can scamper to its destination.

Just because the spirit has a body vessel does not mean they are permanently bound inside of that vessel. Accidentally breaking or losing the vessel isn't like harming the spirit (although obviously it's to be avoided).

Spirits which were born Elsewhere are perhaps more likely to come and go from body vessels, but even beings born with the creation of their body may still leave that physical space and return to it as desired.

House Vessel: This is the same thing as a spirit house or shrine, just a step to the left. We might equip the body vessel with objects that grant the spirit additional powers and capabilities, but in the house vessel, I tend to organize things to be a pleasant and enjoyable respite for the spirit, almost like a custom bedroom.

There may be no object or representation that's intended to be the body of the spirit at all. Nonetheless, the space is still one where the spirit may be fully invited and present, and gives them a strong foothold in our world.

The only real difference I draw between a house vessel and a shrine or spirit house is the intent. A shrine may be to venerate, and a spirit house may be a kind act of providing shelter. But the house vessel's intent is to create a space that makes it easier for a spirit to fully Show Up to our present reality.

Which Variety is Best?

This depends on your needs. For the purposes of witchcraft, spirits are often best given bodies that reflect their nature and empower them to carry out your purpose. I also hold this to be true for spells and any other variety of guy.

Spirits whom we're getting to know, but aren't quite sure of yet, may be best limited to "telephone" status.

House vessels - I haven't got a lot to say, except bringing up the point of them.

You can have multiple telephone lines and house vessels, yet intuition advises that really only one Body should do for the average spirit.

Vessels Themselves Can Suck So It's Worthwhile to Put Some Thought Into It

I believe that the more a spirit vessel is the embodiment of the spirit themselves, the easier it is for the spirit to use that vessel to interact with us and our present reality.

An extreme example can help demonstrate this point.

Imagine you've gotten to know a water spirit. A mermaid, let's say, from an ocean world of pure, opalescent waters, where coral reefs are cities and pet jellyfish are decorated with pearls.

Imagine that the vessel for this mermaid is a jar painted red and decorated with symbols of fire, then further charged with fiery energy. Within the jar is rusty nails, polluted water from the side of the highway, and a heaping spoonful of chili flakes.

I would hazard a guess that you couldn't even agree to get that mermaid to use such a vessel as a telephone line, much less use it as their physical body.

It's not that the spirit is snooty - it's that you're asking him to come into contact with things that irritate and burn him. Not only would it require a huge amount of energy to overcome these differences, but the vessel would nonetheless cause him discomfort.

Intuition may even advise that a simple bowl of water would create a vastly improved "house" vessel for this spirit.

But if it's true that a vessel can be incompatible with a spirit, then it's reasonable to assume that a vessel can be made more and more compatible with a spirit, until it is highly compatible and therefore very easy for the spirit to link to it and use it.

To really improve our mermaid vessel, we might embroider the outside of a bag with a representation of a coral reef, place jellyfish charms and imitation pearls inside of it, and often soak the entire bag in cool, pure water.

This may be the perfect vessel for our mermaid, but totally unsuitable to the pollution monster, who wants to live inside of the rusty nails jar.

This is the primary reason why I find simple unmodified single-object vessels to be not that great. (Examples of this would be, a crystal ring or antique object purchased and used without modifying it to the tastes of the spirit)

While a spirit may select such an object from a lineup and request it's use as a vessel, that doesn't mean that it's going to be an effective vessel.

Especially combined with beliefs in witchcraft about the magical impact of modifying vessels to encapsulate the power of a spell or spirit,

I believe that an unmodified object for use as a spirit vessel is like casting a candle spell with a plain candle to which no herbs or energies are added, and all you do is imprint your raw intent and light the candle.

It'll maybe work, but not nearly as well as it could.

Therefore I believe the form of the vessel matters beyond whether or not the spirit personally likes it, and extends into the realm of sorcerous technique - spirit manifestation is affected depending on if the spirit vessel is made well or made poorly, and especially how much it is physically personalized to the spirit.

Creation of a Useful Vessel

In all cases: Modify the object(s) of the vessel as much as possible to reflect the nature and known qualities of the spirit. As much as possible, work with the spirit to choose modifications, or, work with known lore or with the assistance of spirit workers or diviners.

In the case where a single object (such as a stone) must be used:

Tie the object up in a net where each knot represents a foothold for the spirit to cling on to, or, where each knot ties up a bundle of energy of the sort of thing the spirit likes. (Can be then worn as necklace)

Paint or carve the object, even in a hidden area.

Add additional decorations and embellishments to reflect either the nature of the spirit, or to represent useful tools that the spirit can use to access the object.

Carve out the middle and add bits of paper (with name and permissions written on), and stuff with relevant herbs.

Sight-unseen, I wouldn't recommend single object vessels if you can't heavily/permanently modify them.

In the case where a container vessel (such as a bag, box, or bottle) may be used:

Decorate the exterior, and if space permits the interior, of the container to best reflect an environment enjoyable to the spirit. Consider various techniques: painting, embroidery, carving, burning, and so forth.

Selectively include objects which reflect the spirit's nature, including dried plants, stones, feathers, seeds, bones, and various objects from nature; also charms, trinkets, and tokens (factory-made is fine); also prayers or poems, or drawings or artwork, all of these things symbolic of the spirit and attempting to demonstrate its nature and totality

Include a written sigil or signature of the spirit, and it's name or known names, and epithets. Often best done in fancy magical ink if any is on hand. (I use Sharpies; no need to over-think it)

Charms, amulets, plants, prepared powders or oils, or otherwise, for the purpose of facilitating spirit manifestation and ease of travel between worlds; examples may include specially prepared threads to symbolize links and roads, special spirit-calling powder, magnets to "draw towards," symbols of the Crossroads or of safe and easy travel, and so forth.

In the case where the spirit is likened to an earthly animal, bones or preserved body parts are a very good addition.

In the case where the vessel is itself in the form of a body, such as a figurine or doll:

Hand-craft or heavily modify the creation to represent the vibes as much as possible

Dress, accessorize, ornament, and decorate the figure to represent the spirit or it's known attributes and purposes.

As handicrafters known more about their trade than I do, I don't want to over-comment. Make them a little body. Yes.

Inviting the Spirit to Utilize the Vessel

Unfortunately I will decline to try and provide a specific step-by-step ritual, mostly because I work more intuitively and don't actually have one written up.

But I'll do my best to explain how you can go about it, and some things to consider.

Basically, you'll want to conceptualize four steps:

Final magical preparations

Consecration

Dedication

Invitation

I'll try to explain the reasoning behind including these things, and of course, you'll want to modify or change all of them according to your preferences and needs.

In all cases: Use your magic to make the vessel lovely and filled with spiritual virtues that resonate deeply with the nature of the spirit. This is necessarily vague; a troubleshooting primer for energy work is beyond the scope of this post.

The timing of this work is very well done on special days where the spirit-roads are open, on full moons, or on Mondays.

In cases where the spirit already has a vessel and you want to give them a new one, there is no difference in operation. Make profane and reclaim the old vessel afterwords according to your desires.

Fill the vessel with two types of energy: The first being dense caloric energies from foods, especially oil, nuts, seeds, eggs, and fatty meat. This can be done by placing a food offering next to the vessel and dedicating the food to the spirit.

The second being ethereal and subtle energies, such as produced from blessed incense or energy work. This can be done by blessing and offering incense as you normally do, or channeling your personal energy into the vessel.

Consecrate the vessel: Perform any charm or ritual in your practice which delineates an object as being sacred and separate from the everyday, and turns the object into a Spirit Vessel. (Add'l details below)

Dedicate the vessel: Perform any charm or ritual in your practice which functions to formally gift-give an object to a god or a spirit.

Sometimes, a consecration and a dedication are done in the same ritual, especially when a god is concerned. E.g., "Witchfather, by your name this wand is made holy (consecration). I give this wand to you; it is yours, and when I use it, your hand guides it (dedication)."

The most simplest format of this is something like, "by [the powers I believe allow me to make thing sacred], I make this object sacred [and perhaps I sprinkle some saltwater or whatever formula I believe is necessary to help me make things sacred]. This object is now the vessel for a spirit. Now, it is a Spirit Vessel."

The above being the idea of a consecration; the dedication then being something like,

"[Spirit Name], I invite you into my world and my life. I give you Permission to dwell in this Spirit Vessel and make it your body and your home. I give you Permission to walk in this world through the conduit of this Spirit Vessel. It belongs to you, it is you."

(The above dedication perhaps also revealing something about why "telephone lines" may be a safer bet, the dedication for those being something like, "[Spirit Name], I invite you to observe this vessel and place your fingerprint upon it, so that when I work over it I call out to you, and you can hear me easily no matter how far apart we are.")

Anyway, put some real thought into exactly how much you want this spirit to manifest in your life, because spirit experiences - even when desired and invited - can be very intense and scary, especially if up to that point your experiences with spirits has been limited.

Invite the spirit into the vessel: If not included in your dedication, also formally invite the spirit.

"[Spirit Name], I've prepared this special Vessel for you, and given it to you. I have prepared the way with earthly and aethereal energies, so you may be well-fed and have the power to move within our world. [That's the offering bit innit]. Come now at this time and here in this place, and claim this Vessel as your own."

Etc., something like that.

At this time, the ritual is over with and you can commune with the spirit as desired or close the ritual down in your normal techniques.

Again, if there is an additional/old spirit vessel you no longer want to use, try talking with the spirit about what to do with it; but you can just let it "run dry" and then carefully undo the magic on it. After that, do with it as you please.

#answered #spirit vessels #spirit work #witchblr

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swisccfinds · 5 months

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50 ONE LEVEL CAREERS: Storytelling careers megapack by isy's the snake

Here is yet another career mod pack, but this one has no promotions, you just work and your job level stays at 1. As the title say this mod is best for story telling!

creator's notes-

This mod requires XML Injector by Scumbumbo. You can find it here. Pay attention if you don't already have it for another mod! In that case, you do not need to re-install it. Be sure it is updated for the last patch.

XML Injector is a mod required for some mods to work. So, you install it as any other mod in your Mods folder, no more than one subfolder deep.

This mod has been updated for the version 1.99.305 of the game (second update after Horse Ranch).

It doesn't required any DLC to work. Base game compatible

I've adopted this mod from the amazing ItsKatato who, due to her hiring at EA, couldn't continue to mod. I have made some changes: • I have changes all the pics of the careers — now they all show Sims (please check the credits paragraph at the end to see who was the amazing raccoon who helped me); • I have updated the mod for the Horse Ranch patch; • I have cleared ALL the tuning errors; • Fixed the description of some careers who appeared to be missing.

Now, here we go with the explanation of the mod (originally written by ItsKatato, edited by me):

Katato said: "Have you ever had a story planned out for your sims but you can't find the perfect career for them? Most of the time when I find the career it ends up being a complicated career with a bunch of promotion tasks and extra stuff. Well, I've made a pack of a bunch of single-level careers. All your sim has to do is go to work, that's it. This is perfect for the non-important sims in your life, like the forgotten children of your legacy challenge." In short: those are 50 careers you can use for NPCs Sims or random Sims you do not want to care about. As Amethyst said: "Go to work, make money, leave me alone". Your Sims won't need any task to perform to upgrade and get a promotion, as well as they do not really need an ideal mood to go to work since it won't change their performance. They just go and do their job. And now the list of all careers:

1. Anesthetiologist 2. Cartographer 3. Chiropractor 4. Compliance Officer 5. Data Scientist 6. Dental Hygienist 7. Dentist 8. Diagnostic Medical Sonographer 9. Financial Advisor 10. Financial Manager 11. Genereal Surgeon 12. Genetic Counselor 13. Home Health Aide 14. Information Security Analyst 15. IT Manager 16. Interpreter And Translator 17. Lawyer 18. Marriage And Family Therapist 19. Massage Therapist 20. Mathematician 21. Mechanical Engineer 22. Medical And Health Services Manager 23. Nurse Anesthetist 24. Nurse Practitioner 25. Obstetrician And Gynecologist 26. Occupational Therapist 27. Operations Reasearch Analyst 28. Optometrist 29. Oral And Maxillofacial Surgeon 30. Orthodontist 31. Orthotist And Prosthetist 32. Paralegal 33. Pediatrician 34. Personal Care Aide 35. Phlebotomist 36. Physical Therapist 37. Physical Therapist Assistant 38. Physician 39. Physician Assistant 40. Pilot 41. Podiatrist 42. Prosthodontist 43. Psychiatrist 44. Registered Nurse 45. Respiratory Therapist 46. Software Developer 47. Speech-Language Pathologist 48. Statician 49. Substance Abuse And Behavioral Disorder Counselor 50. Veterinarian 51. Web Developer 52. Wind Turbine Technician

lets give some of our love and support to isy!

download

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theblackdahliaemporium · 1 year

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Dealing In Death: A Quick Guide To Death Magick

On the surface that might sound kind of scary, even downright evil, but I assure you it’s the farthest thing from. In this blog I will attempt to give you an in-site into the basics of death work. Please know that every witch does things their own unique way, so for the purposes of this work I will be trying to explain things in as unified a fashion as I can. This is intended to essentially be a starting point to bounce off of.

«~ • ~»

• Death Energy •

Death energy, simply put is energy called from death and death symbols. It’s about stillness, endings, and the deconstructing and reconstructing processes. It’s about using what’s in the past to fertilize what’s new and grow something that has purpose in the next step of your life. It’s about the acceptance of inevitability and what we can’t change to bring about what we can. Many practitioners call on death energy in everyday spell work the same way you would any other energy. In that sense it’s not to different from life energy.

«~ • ~»

• Cemetery Work •

For a lot of death witches, doing work in a cemetery or graveyard is a must, although there are those that don’t, a great deal more either do or will do when they get the chance. Lots goes into this type of work though and a thorough study on the subject should be done before pursuing this type of magick. However, some key points to remember are to always be respectful, obey the laws and rules of your land regarding the resting places, and listen to what the dead tell you.

It’s very important to recognize that there are always going to be practitioners that have their own unique rules on this subject, but the best way to know if the dead favor something or not is to ask them. What rules you inevitably believe should revolve around what the dead are comfortable with. That said, some of these rules are shared amongst practitioners. I have compiled a list below with some of them. Remember, this is very basic and what a practitioner adds or changes is up to them.

Typically these are the oldest spirits in the cemetery and are in charge of maintaining order. Most offerings include things like coins, drink, bread, or apples.

It’s important to let the spirits know what your intentions are. Will you be doing magick at the crossroads, magick at a grave, or foraging? The gatekeeper should let you know through energy what is acceptable. Remember each Cemetery is different and has different rules over all.

Gifts on a grave belong to the spirit dwelling there. It’s okay to pick up things like trash, or moldy flowers in still water but, rocks, dried or fresh flowers, feathers, etc should be left alone.

Try not to walk near the headstone of a grave (you’re walking on their body. Try to stay near the feet and always say excuse me politely if you have to step on it), always ask for a spirits help never demand it, and always bring them an offering as a thank you.

If you’re gathering dirt, sticks, or plants from a cemetery, even if it’s not on a grave, and you get a feeling like you shouldn’t touch it, then don’t. Spirits will always let you know what they want to keep. Obey that or it’s theft.

Being polite and thanking your hosts is always a must in general and can bring good energies between you and the dead. Especially if you intend on going back to work at that Cemetery.

«~ • ~»

• Necromancy •

Another common staple amongst death workers and arguably one of the most misunderstood practices. Simply put, this practice is divination with the dead. It’s all about connecting to and asking the dead for answers from the beyond. Lots of that used to be done in the cemetery and as a result many wild and fantastic rumors about zombie creation were formed, but that’s far from the truth. There were indeed many radical understandings within the practices history however but as science matured so did the knowledge on what this practice actually was.

While necromancy is still done in cemeteries even today, it’s not a must. Calling fourth a spirit can be done a number of ways and will definitely alter and change based on the witch. Some working maybe more cultural than others, and some may be more complex. The uniqueness of these practices can number well into the double digits and is always interesting to learn. Some of the most common spirit summoning techniques (aside from going directly to someone’s grave) are the spirit board, a mirror, and the pendulum. As for how these spirits are called, that too can differ from witch to witch. Most often though, it can involve candles or crystals as an energy source, a personal item or favored item like food, and/or the spirits name. It can be as simple as physically calling out to the abyss, beckoning the spirit forward or as elaborate a ritual as calling in the four directional guardians or a guide to lead them to you.

Regardless of how it’s done, it’s always a good rule of thumb to be respectful to them. Don’t demand from them, ask instead, and offer gratitude and an offering when you end the session.

«~ • ~»

• Deity and Spirit Guides •

Lots of death workers may worship deity just like any other practitioner. However the deity they are generally more drawn to are often either associated with the underworld or a psychopomp, like Osiris, Hades, Anubis, or Hecate. However they may also be a deity tide in some way to the personification of death, much like Thanatos.

Even if the witch chooses not to utilize deity they can still conjure up spiritual guides of some sort. These guides can be something as common as ancestral spirits or even animal spirits. Most common animal guides often have some death association and symbolism to them. So animals like Black cats, bats, vultures, owls, crows and ravens are quite popular.

«~ • ~»

• Bones & Body Parts •

Its not uncommon to see bones on the altars of death witches. Many beliefs around these tools and what they represent circulate within the community. For some specific animal bones it’s believed you can use that animal spirit and energy. Other beliefs revolve not around the animal itself but rather the type of bone, as each one has its own unique symbolism attached to it. The possibilities are near limitless and for most death practitioners they are a very necessary tool within the craft. Some practitioners even collect additional things like insect exoskeletons, animal skins, and preserved body parts like a rabbits foot.

DISCLAIMER! People should be made aware that it’s always encouraged for all materials to be ethnically sourced. Any form of unlawful collection or cruelty is frowned upon and not condoned within the community.

«~ • ~»

• Conclusion •

As started above, these are just some of the basics of death work within the pagan community and serves as a starting point to bounce off of. It’s very important to do your own research and come to your own conclusions regarding this craft and always remember to obey your local laws. Death work can be very fulfilling but not when it’s done under illegal circumstances.

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tobiasdrake · 29 days

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Fun Fact: As Saiyans go, Raditz isn't just weak; He's a talentless hack. Nappa is much more talented at martial arts, but his skills are undermined by him being a complete fucking moron.

Raditz is our introduction to the particularities of the Planet Trade Organization - or, well, the Saiyans since the PTO didn't quite exist as a concept yet when he showed up.

Toriyama only came up with the PTO later in the arc. It's honestly kind of funny; Vegeta's referred to as the "Strongest in the Universe" a couple times in this arc because the idea for Frieza doesn't exist yet. The original plan was that the Saiyan race are the ones doing planet gentrification on their own initiative, but they were almost all wiped out by a meteor so if we take out Strongest in the Universe Vegeta, we'll put an end to it.

So all this stuff like the spaceship pods and Scouters that was original Saiyan equipment and methodology got retooled into being PTO equipment and methodology.

But I digress. We meet Raditz and he's unlike anyone we've seen before. He immediately starts shit with Piccolo because they're both assholes, and we see how he operates.

He has a little doodad that reads off someone's "Battle Power" into a flat, easily digestible number that even a child could understand. This is the industrialization of martial arts, simplifying it into something that can be replicated and mass-produced.

It's the difference between teaching swordsmanship lessons in your dojo versus handing someone an AK-47 and telling them to go shoot the enemy.

This is the key distinction between the Saiyans and Earthlings, that made Goku - A Saiyan raised on Earth engulfed by their martial arts philosophy - so formidable. The Saiyans and by extension Planet Trade's culture is built on capitalist efficiency. Their warriors are carefully measured, analyzed, and matched with suitable challenges. They aren't trained. In fact, Vegeta scoffs at the idea of it.

They're battle-hardened.

They measure their fighters and quantify their abilities into a number, then select the right target that matches that number. Those warriors become stronger through fire and frenzy, rather than by studying principles of martial technique.

Consequently, upwards mobility doesn't seem to be a thing. Nobody in the PTO got to where they are by working hard and improving themselves. Every single one of them is naturally gifted, coasting by on whatever privileges their birth afforded them. Especially Frieza.

They aren't practitioners of an art. They're cogs in a machine.

Raditz believes these distinctions made Goku weaker.

He has no idea. The limitations of the PTO's methodology is a recurring theme in the Saiyan and Namek arcs.

Raditz is a low-class Saiyan. By virtue of being a Saiyan, he's still unbelievably powerful compared to the terrestrial races of the worlds he's sent to. But power is all he brings to the table; He's an unrefined juggernaut who coasts by entirely on Big Number Go Brrrrr. Philosophically, Goku is unimpressed.

Coming from Goku, that's a pretty sick burn. He's already lost to Raditz once; He knows how Big Number this guy is. But he can't bite his tongue at Raditz's oversimplification of his art.

As a fighter, Raditz delivers what he promised. All he has going for him is Big Number Go Brr... but it's a really big number.

Raditz is impossibly strong, impossibly fast, and his basic-ass ki blasts are impossibly powerful. The gulf between Goku and an adversary has never been so huge before.

And yet, for all his power, he is repeatedly startled and befuddled by Goku and Piccolo's training and technique. These weaklings are breaking out abilities he didn't even know were possible.

Raditz watching Goku power up the most basic ki concentration technique on Earth and exclaiming "WHAT IS THIS SORCERY!?" really tells you everything about the PTO's methodology, doesn't it?

Raditz falls for every trick and every shenanigan that these guys have spent their careers honing, forced to rely solely on tanking attacks with his tremendous Numbers.

This dipshit hasn't even trained the weakness out of his tail.

Goku was fifteen years old when he trained his tail and eliminated this vulnerability.

Raditz is less proficient than Goku was as a child. This isn't even the PTO's flaws manifesting through Raditz, either. Nappa and Vegeta trained their tails.

"LOL What kind of a useless clown doesn't train his tail?" ~Nappa, probably. Oh, wait. No. Actually.

~Vegeta literally.

Raditz is limited by the philosophy of the Planet Trade and he's also on the weaker side of Saiyans, but he also sucks even without taking power levels into account. He brings absolutely nothing to the table. He reads someone's number to tell him in advance if they'll fall down when he punches them, and then he punches them if the number tells him he's clear.

Raditz isn't a fighter. He's a bully with a gun.

For his part, Nappa is a more advanced version of Raditz. His Big Number Go Brr is even bigger than Raditz's and he's familiar with more advanced techniques beyond "Throw this ball of ki at your face".

As a front-line fighter, Nappa is unbelievably tough. Blow after blow and attack after attack, he never gives as much as it feels like he should. No matter what they do to him, he keeps getting back up and coming back, more bloodied and bruised than ever but ready for another round. He is unbelievably resilient.

Fighting Nappa feels like an exercise in futility. You're going to have to kill this man to put him down because he'll accept nothing less. Even when Goku takes the field, he finds himself at a loss with Nappa's absolute unwillingness to take the hint and lose consciousness already.

Nappa is a brick wall. Goku only finally manages to end this by breaking his spine so he can't keep getting up again.

That is what Nappa brings to his table. Though it's worth noting that his Sisyphean endurance is something Vegeta shares as well. It's not unique to Nappa. Fights with Vegeta are every bit as much of an ordeal as this bout with Nappa was.

Saiyans are hard to put down.

Nappa's biggest weakness, however, is simple: Like Raditz, he's coasting on his brute strength. He doesn't pay attention to what's happening around him, and is easily blindsided by sudden attacks from other fighters in this brawl.

Or baited into incredibly poor decision-making.

For all his Saiyan might, the Earthlings would have killed Nappa well in advance of Goku's arrival, if he didn't have Vegeta to watch his back. I'm half-convinced the only reason he trained his tail is because Vegeta told him to.

Nappa is very much a follower. He does what he's told. He's honestly a better Saiyan than Vegeta in the sense that he. Like. Cares about other Saiyans? His kneejerk reaction when Vegeta suggests taking Earth's Dragon Balls is that he wants his friend back.

And he's filled with eugenic fervor for the glory of the Saiyan race when he finds out what mixing Saiyan and Earthling physiology can do.

Fun little side note: "Super Saiyan" was originally the term used to describe Gohan's hybrid abilities before it was recontextualized to mean something else on Namek.

It's honestly interesting to look at their interactions and realize that Vegeta is a cruel, monstrous, selfish bastard even by Saiyan standards. Vegeta is uniquely wicked within this culture of for-profit colonizing murderers.

But Nappa defers to Vegeta every time. Vegeta tells him, "No, you're wrong," and Nappa pivots to supporting whatever Vegeta just said instead. Nappa obeys.

But he doesn't listen. Vegeta and Nappa were following the action while Raditz was fighting Goku and Piccolo. They saw all of the strange anomalies that occurred, that Raditz couldn't comprehend. Vegeta spends this time thinking about what this means for Earth and re-evaluating his assessment of the foes to come.

And he adjusts accordingly. From the moment they arrive at the fight, Vegeta pegs overreliance on the Scouter's readout for the vulnerability that it is.

Like. He says this. He acknowledges that he understands. And not five minutes later:

BUT THE NUMBERS, VEGETA

THE NUMBERS SAID NO

Even then, Nappa flat-out ignores The Numbers if he doesn't like what's printed on them.

Nappa and Vegeta both disregard the printout this time, but in different ways. Vegeta observes that Earthlings suppress their ki, presenting a smaller number than their true ability. So when the Scouter says 5000, that means Goku's true level is likely well beyond that.

Nappa observes that Goku is probably weak so that's stupid and you're wrong.

Nappa just does things. He doesn't think or pay attention to what they're doing. He destroys a city as soon as they arrive, and Vegeta immediately lays into him for what a fucking idiotic thing to do that was.

He's a beast on a chain, barely restrained by his deference to Vegeta. Powerful, seemingly unstoppable, but needing Vegeta to hold his hand and walk him through the higher concepts of combat and martial arts.

An absolute fool. But a Saiyan elite fool.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #nappa #raditz

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 8 months

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hey iit's me again! (can i be your 🌼 anon?)

Thoughts on yan!CEO with caretaker reader who is looking after his sick father (home service i dunno what's it called) and she does some little chores here and there casually. Yan!CEO is so used to seeing her around his mansion that it starts to feel natural along with his father pressuring him to get married because the father thinks he's nearing his end. So when the father really dies tragically (bcoz ✨taruma✨) he only sees reader as his salvation and he convinced that she'd look after him even though she didn't do anything significant with lot of effort.

Yandere! Hospital Chairperson x Caretaker! Reader

OOH MY FIRST ANON! Hi :3

Btw, forgive me, the CEO thing will be changed into something other than, well, CEO. My yandere! CEO is already taken! But, with the help of my friend, we got to a little discussion, and decided on a Hospital Chairperson. Why? You'll see hehe

Yandere! Hospital Chairperson name: Xavier

It's always Xavier.

"Xavier, can you write up the last patient's records?"

"Xavier, please do the time of death."

"Xavier, fetch the files for me please."

It's like he's being worked around like a horse around the hospital.

He has to run up and down the building, right to left on this huge private hospital. Sure, he was a newbie, a fresh graduate from medschool, but did these people had to work him to the bone?

It was almost abusive, the lot of them.

"Father, it's so hard..."

He would usually complain to his father who was the hospital chairperson.

His father laughed lightheartedly before giving a few loving pats on the head. Xavier gripped the handkerchief in his hand.

"it's because they rely on you, Xavier. You're very strong and independent, yet kind and understanding. You are very dependable."

Xavier wanted to protest, that he knew his father was the one to order for him to be ordered around like that, but he pursed his lips.

Xavier Signet. The heir to the hospital conglomerate that is his father. Ever since his mother died, his father did his best to raise him to be a well mannered man despite being absent most of the time due to his job. His father made sure to teach him good manners, to have great academics, and to not be spoiled and always appreciate hard work.

Hard work was something not unfamiliar with the Signets, they were new money after all. From a humble clinic to something as well renowned as the Signet group of Medical Facilities. They were medical practitioners to a tee, and valued other people's lives more than their own.

Xavier gritted his teeth as he held down the fountain of profanities and complaints as his father waved goodbye to him.

Nevermind the handkerchief in his hands, spots of blood in it, a sign on Xavier overworking himself too much.

What his father didn't know is that Xavier is not the angel he thinks he is. His superiority complex that borders on God complex made him boil inside with defiance and insults as he took every single work his higher ups throw at him.

He wanted them dead. So much.

But he can't.

Yet.

Fast forward five years later, and his father lied on the bed, sick and weak.

Xavier bit his tongue while holding his father's cold, wrinkly hand. It was so rough and dry. Obvious from the years of hardwork and patients he had to go through.

"Dad..." Xavier whispered. "You know you can't move already, so please. Let me hire a caretaker for you."

His father coughed, love brimming his eyes for his son.

Xavier matured into a well endowed person. One who was steadfast and an amazing leader, but also a great listener. He's the perfect man for the chairperson seat.

"Alright. You can hire one, son." Ever the fool for his offspring, he nodded.

Xavier hired you, a seemingly gentle and sweet soul, someone who knew how to take care of an elderly.

At first, Xavier was only curt with you. Professional, at most.

He was so busy with his work that most of the time, his relationship with you slips his mind.

It made him open up to you sometimes, while he drank his scotch.

"ah... Those bastards. Really? They want to siphon more money from our patients? Are they out of their mind? Isn't it enough that they stomp on the new residents, but also the patients."

You furrowed your eyebrows, listening to Xavier's whiles.

These were one of the days were you noticed that he drops his nice and angelic facade and into this arrogant, yet empathetic guy.

"Tch. They're not even fucking geniuses. All they do is pocket money, invest, and splurge. They don't give a damn to patients. Like who the fuck do they think they are?!" Xavier rambled more, the scotch making him blurt out his real thoughts onto you.

Sympathetic, you finished folding the clothes of his father and gently walked up to him, and then patted his head with a rub.

Xavier gasped, suddenly feeling that everything was at a standstill, slowly looked up to your peaceful face that was highlighted from the lights of the living room.

Oh god.

"Sir Xavier, those bastards are really something. They're public servants, they should be nice and caring. But all they knew is money." Your sweet voice infiltrated his ears, making his arrogant and superior walls crumble in just a snap.

He was so starved of affection.

Then, your hands caressed his shoulder and rubbed them, making his tense form go away.

Oh god.

And as he grabbed your form and cried into your arms, he knew that things will never be the same.

Xavier rubbed his temples as he listened to the whines of his constituents. Apparently, they wanted to invest in commercial businesses also, but it was a failing start up company with the asking money of 200,000 dollars in exchange of only 10% of the company.

They're seriously fucking him over if they think he'll agree to this obvious scam.

It's been two years since you got in their life.

In his life.

And everyday, he looks forward to coming home into your arms and crashing his low energy body in your embrace.

It was weird, really. At first, he was so stand-offish, but now he was treating you like you were his wife.

That, and also his father continued to pester him to get a wife, since he wanted Xavier to have children before he passes away.

And when he ranted to you about that, you laughed heartily and rubbed his head once more, making him lean into your touch.

"I look like your spouse if you think about it!"

And those words permeated into him, and latched itself into his bones.

Yeah, maybe.

He glared into one of his subordinates and they trembled.

"S-sir, I swear, it's a good investment!" The subordinate said, but their hands are shaking and sweaty.

"No. Get out."

They hastily bowed and ran outside.

Due to your encouragement, he learnt to not hide his true nature and not just grit and bare the shit thrown at him.

"You're the chairperson! And you're just going to let them walk over you?"

You were right. He was at the highest position. So why would he?

So now, he's the one making life a living hell for them. Exacting revenge like a bloodless villain. Even attacking their personal lives.

He worked hard for this position. Too hard. Now it's their time to work hard to maintain theirs.

Then, all of a sudden, his phone rang. He looked at it, and his eyes softened. It was you. With heart emojis in his contacts.

"Hello y/n, how's father?"

But then your panicked voice made him drop everything and drive as fast as possible to your side.

And he saw you crying at the foot of his father's bed, tears streaming down your lovely face as you wept.

His hands trembled.

This time, he's the one to comfort you as he whispered reassuring words.

He looked up at his father's corpse, silently wishing him goodbye as tears also starting to leak from his eyes.

Now he had no one but you.

He held you closer, a numb feeling erupting from his chest as he felt your tears wet his shirt.

Painful sobs of the both of you permeated from this seemingly quiet and cold room, finding one another for comfort from the loss of a dear father figure.

Xavier had to take a break from work.

He felt so numb, leading the wake and the funeral of his father.

As much as he hated him due to his extreme ways of teaching him manners and discipline, he was still his only family left.

His ears rung whenever his father's "friends" sent condolences in a professional, yet fake way.

Time was a concept, and now, he was looking down at his father's grave.

His father didn't want a mosoleum, just a simple grave besides his wife's, Xavier's mother who died in childbirth.

And you were beside him, gripping his hand.

When did the line blur from employer to employee?

Who knows?

But both of you needed each other.

He needed you.

You were the only one left on his side, genuinely.

And he'll be damned to let you go, his only anchor to prevent himself from going apeshit and letting blood spill.

He gulped a cry.

"Y/N, darling, where are you?"

You stilled, hearing his weary voice come from outside of your room. You gripped your clothes and hastily placed all of them in your bag and sliding it under your bed.

"Oh here, Xavier!" Your voice, strained yet giving the outmost genuine tone you could muster. Yet a slight shake can be heard.

"Thank god, I thought you left me. Haha." He opened the door and saw you, sitting on the bed with a wry smile.

He approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist, cuddling close. You bit your cheek.

"Xavier... Um, is it possible for me to go outside to shop?" You asked, rubbing his hair. Wanting a semblance of freedom and a chance to escape.

Xavier's head shot up and he shook his head desperately his grip on you tightening.

"no no no! Silly, definitely not. If you go outside, you'll catch some sickness out there that will probably kill you. And we don't want that, do we? We want you living healthy and long." Xavier desperately reasoned, clinging to you. You bit your lip and nodded slowly.

Ever since his father died seven months ago, he refused to let you go. He was crying, begging for you to stay, for you to take care of him. He even went and upped your salary just for you to stay with him.

But what use is your money if you're essentially locked inside his house?

He refused to let you go at all, scared that you'll get sick and die.

And then he would be truly all alone.

He doesn't want that at all.

He still wants to marry you, to make a family with you. To be with you, his only pillar left.

"I get it, Xavier. I'll stay put." A lump appeared on your throat as you saw his genuine smile of relief.

You were so torn with guilt and desperation for freedom.

You wanted out,

Yet also wanted to stay put and take care of the man.

So, what will you choose?

Spread your wings, while potentially setting off the ticking time bomb that is Xavier, or stay, and accept that being confined in this mansion with no one but Xavier as your only... Friend.

But one thing's for sure.

No matter what you choose,

You'll always end up in his arms.

It's an illusion of choice,

He's always the end game.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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tytarax · 4 months

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Dance of the Damned

It had been a very hard week for ______, she had to catch up on her work. Therefore, she did not visit heaven or hell as such. No one had communicated with her in all this time, so her boredom was monumental, as well as a tiredness that she had not felt in centuries.

She decided to sit for a moment in her favorite chair in the living room of their cozy house. The radio was off, which seemed strange since Al usually left her some music to fill the loneliness, but nothing... there was only silence... Thinking about Alastor, she looked at the photo next to the radio, in which the two of them were. Photo taken 2 months after Alastor arrived in hell.

90 years ago…

BANG

A very loud shot rang in _____'s ears, but this was not just any shot at just any random person. Someone killed one of the most famous serial killers of the time in New Orleans by a gunshot to the head.

At that moment the woman was going to collect the souls of small children in a hospital, but she preferred to go first with this famous murderer.

_____: I can't let a lost soul like his terrorize the living... it's better if I take him away now.

Arriving at the scene of the shooting, she found this man lying on the ground, Alastor, a famous radio host, murderer, and practitioner of cannibalism and voodoo. His soul had not yet detached itself from his body, surprisingly. But that wound on her head looked painful, so she _____ decided to end his well-deserved suffering, causing the separation between soul and body.

Finally, he opened his eyes, having a confused look... but she was even more confused when she saw the big smile plastered on his face.

Alastor: What just happened?

_____: Um… hello… Alastor

Alastor: Hm? Oh, how are you dear! What is a beautiful lady like you doing here today!

_____: Yes, how are you... you just died from a shot in the head... I am death, and I have come to take your soul.

Alastor: Well, that is interesting! Who knew that death itself would be a beautiful woman!

_____: Sure… you know where you're going, right?

Alastor: Hm? But of course, darling! I'd be surprised if you took me to heaven!

_____ was more than confused, but what a strange attitude this man had. In her entire existence, she had never found someone so relaxed about his death. Well, Jesus was one, but that's another story. Coming back to reality, she noticed that the man's smile had gotten a little smaller, but it didn't disappear.

Alastor: Before I go, dear, could you do me a favor?

_____: A last will? Yes, I don't see why not...

Alastor: Could I see my mother one last time?

_____: Uh… sure. Lead the way, I'm not sure who your mother is.

Although it is understood that she has very extensive knowledge, she does not have knowledge of the relationship between all human beings.

_____ escorted Alastor to his house, where there were some men at the door, and who seemed to be his mother also at the door.

Alastor's mother was an elderly, dark-skinned woman with a very humble face. But at that moment, she was more than devastated, it seemed that she had just received the news of the death of her son, it was moving even for _____. She looked up at Alastor and was surprised. She wasn't smiling… That pleasant and disturbing smile was gone.

When the men left, the woman fell to the ground, she was crying her eyes out. After all, a mother shouldn't watch her child die, it was usually the other way around.

Alastor's soul approached her mother, and he knelt beside her. _____ moved away a little out of respect for the moment. But she couldn't help but listen to Alastor and the words he gave to his mother.

“Mother, I want to say goodbye to you. Because the time has come for you to walk the path without me. Don't cry, please. I would like to see you smile again. I want you to know that I can never forget you and only the wind knows what you have suffered because of me. There are so many things that I never told you in life, that you are everything I love, and now that I am no longer with you, I will take care of you from the other side."

Alastor gave her one last hug, and although, indeed, he was not physically there, her mother calmed down a little when she felt his presence.

Then he got up, and without looking directly at _____, he told her that he was ready.

_____: It's going to hurt a little, it's a long fall – she said as she opened the portal to hell.

Alastor, without saying more words, crossed the portal, and _____ stayed there, looking sadly at the woman.

Giving a sigh he walked away a little and decided to take human form. Hiding her wings, transformed into a shorter, younger woman with brown hair and gray eyes. She approached Alastor's mother and helped her with what she could.

“Thank you, dear… you are an angel”

After that particular day, _____ returned to his routine work, keeping that woman's words in mind.

The days passed, and _____ checked on Alastor's mother from time to time, she realized that her health was worsening due to the depression of Alastor's death. She was getting worse and worse... until 2 months after their first meeting, the woman died. And it was no surprise for _____ to send her to heaven, she was such a pure woman, so kind and humble.

Taking into account her situation, she _____ decided to go to hell to find Alastor to inform him of the death of his mother.

She looked for him, she asked for him... ______ had no idea what Alastor looked like in hell, the last time they saw each other he was simply a more ghostly version of the human version of his.

Until she finally found him, a red demon, with a very big smile, ears and antlers of a deer. He had grown a little since the last time, but he was still no taller than _____, she has been 2 meters since her beginning.

Alastor recognized her and invited her to his “house." He told her about what had happened in hell, and how he was becoming a well-known demon in the ring of pride. In addition to asking _____ that he always wanted a photo with her, but he didn't have the opportunity. So a couple of pictures were indeed taken, one for Al of her and one for her.

Alastor: And tell me, my dear, what is the reason for your visit!

_____: Well... I'm afraid to tell you that your mother passed away today...

---

And since then... I have not seen Alastor with a genuine smile.

I was inspired by the song "Desde mi cielo" by Mägo de Oz.

@lofasofabread

@randomgurl2326

@22carolina08

@luleck

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fem reader #death reader #Alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust

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whitherwanderer · 2 months

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some changes

Just a little heads up that Sif and Dug are both gonna be undergoing some slight character changes! Me and @shroudandsands talked extensively about their current dynamic and where we want these two to end up, and we both agreed that in their current form, Sif and Dug are a lot of fun, but it's not exactly good for them. We want to try and give them a more mutually fulfilling relationship by shifting their dynamic and creating stories that are not only fun to write but are also healthier for everyone involved, including our characters.

I’ll start with Dug. Instead of having two knives and a mysterious career, he’s now a free paladin and a sworn protector, especially of Sif. Instead of being the least willing participant in a battle, he’s now valiantly leading the van and fighting for all things good and right as the Warrior of Light. He’s not Mr. Perfect and he doesn’t do everything right, obviously. Cooking and cleaning are not his strong suits, but that’s why he has his lovely wife!! He loves her so much and he's so thankful he has her to take care of him after every battle, physical and emotional.

You can already see some of Sif’s more obvious changes too. Rather than a wandering alcoholic bard, she’s now an amnesiac practitioner of white magic and Dug’s most faithful supporter on and off the battlefield. She has taken a vow of pacifism and has sworn to never harm another in word or deed because she’s a healer (and that’s her husband’s job). Little does she know that she is also a Lightwarden who escaped Norvrandt through the rift, which is amplifying her healing abilities beyond what she would ever be capable of, but it's also slowly killing her each time she uses her magic.

Rather than constantly bickering, these two will now be actively supporting each other in a much more wholesome way. While Dug is making all the tactical decisions, Sif is making all of the more domestic ones, balancing their relationship evenly and playing into their natural strengths. They are loyal to their friends and especially to each other, dote each other before every dungeon boss, and if I write one more complete sentence of this, I will probably be found dead at my desk so this bit is over. I take no pleasure in knowing I wrote any part of this. Have a good one, y’all. 💕

#[ ooc ]#[ the longest road ]#[ the worn edge ]#[ dust to dust ]#new tags tbd....

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adventure-showdown · 6 months

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What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 3 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

The Daemons

Synopsis

The Master, posing as a rural vicar, summons a cloven-hoofed demon-like creature named Azal in a church crypt. Seeking to gain the ancient titan's demonic power, he gathers a cult and then corrupts or controls the residents of Devil's End to bow to his will. Dark elemental forces begin to disturb the village on the eve of May Day: unexplained murders, a stone gargoyle come to life, and a nigh-impenetrable infernal energy dome. With the Master fully prepared to destroy the Earth, the Doctor and UNIT — aided by a benevolent practitioner of witchcraft — battle the wicked rites of a secret science wielded by an alien from another world.

Propaganda

what is the most important quality of a good doctor who story, to have a strong plot, something to say, something new to try. all of these are positives, yes, but sometimes the best doctor who stories are just fun. sometimes they feature the master pretending to be the leader of a satanic cult pretending to be an anglican priest, remote control bessie, an alien who's basically the devil, a living gargoyle, a witch, and the doctor escaping being tied to a maypole by pretending to be a wizard. truly, this is the heights of doctor who, it is beyond fun to watch, i love it so much. If that’s not enough, then surely the fact that this has THE ‘the brigs an alcoholic and mike yates is gay’ moment (anonymous)

An Unearthly Child

Synopsis

Barbara Wright and Ian Chesterton, two humble teachers during 1963, are surprised by a bright student named Susan Foreman. Confused by the contradictions in Susan's knowledge, Barbara had decided to visit her home, only to learn that the address on record is a junkyard. She and Ian decide to wait at the location until Susan or her grandfather show up. There, they discover a junkyard inhabited by her grandfather, simply known as "the Doctor", and he doesn't want them lurking about.

When the teachers refuse to leave, they discover that an ordinary police box is actually bigger on the inside. The Doctor decides they know too much about his and Susan's otherworldly origins and takes them on a journey across space and time in his TARDIS, the place he and Susan now call home.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

#round 3 #the daemons number one who story of all time baby #it has its all #the master pretneds to be the leader of a satanic cult pretending to be an anglican vicar #the village is called devils end #theres a white witch #the doctor gets tied to a maypole #he pretends to be a wizard #bessie is remote controlled #the devil is defeated by the power of platonic love #bok my guy bok shitty living gargoyle #the brigs and alcoholic and mike yates is gay #unit are at their absolute best #its so fun to watch #also its set on may day #name a better piece of television

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the-sorcerer-shark · 3 months

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So this topic has been refreshed in my mind since I went to a rock shop yesterday. For one, everything is way over priced, like low grade 1x1 inch amethyst should not be 30$ and little gemstone bead bracelets should be like 10$, not 25$-70$. I would like to preface this by saying I am getting my degree in geology and have done so much research. But my real qualm is that all these shops literally make up and mislabel rocks all the time and everyone, especially people who use it for their practices, just buy into it. Common things I see being mislabeled or just made up include: -'Blue/turquoise obsidian':

No! That's literally just glass, or at the very least not obsidian. Blue obsidian technically exists but its 1) super rare and expensive and 2) looks almost completely black but has a blue/steelish iridescence. -Literally any color of sardonyx than black/brown/red/white:

This is either dyed or just some other kind of agate. Sardonyx is a combination of Sard (red/brown/orange) and Onyx (black/white). There was only one instance in which I saw anyone say that sardonyx can be green, and it was some dude on Reddit with a picture that had no source or citation. - 'Citrine' Obviously citrine is real but so many people sell fake/heat treated amethyst Fake:

real:

Real citrine tends to be muted yellow and brown, and not very foggy or white. It also has a consistent color throughout. Heat treated amethyst is typically super vibrant in color and bold yellow, gold, or even dark brown. They are inconsistent in color and tend to be darker at the ends, and have white bases. -Aurora/angel aura and titanium quartz

This is just some other kind of quartz that they put some chemical coat on to make it look like that, its not naturally occurring. I just see so many people being misinformed online and in stores, and these are like the most common ones. Also I want to say that I don't care that people are BUYING these, it's not necessarily hurting anyone. I hate seeing people gatekeeping rocks or like yelling at inexperienced practitioners for using the wrong kind of rock but then go on to use heat treated amethyst as citrine (which are chemically different). Literally almost every kind of rock in a rock store is quartz, like aventurine, onyx, sardonyx, agate, jasper, etc. Like telling someone they cant use carnelian and they have to use sard instead is dumb because they're literally both quartz. If you only care about the color of the rocks for your practice, then leave it at that. But telling someone they can't use a specific rock because its going to give them like bad vibes is so necessary and just wrong.

#rocks #minerals #gems #gemstone #pagan #metaphysical #crystals #paganism #wicca #geology

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beatingdrumspouringwine · 4 months

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Dionysian Festivals in History

You'll never believe who procrastinated on their thesis by writing this. (It definitely wasn't me, if anyone's asking.)

One of the more common difficulties that comes with being a Hellenic Polytheist (or, really, any follower of a pre-Christian religion) is a lack of knowledge about how certain festivals were practiced. This problem is especially true in the worship of Dionysos, where many of the practices were unwritten about, due to either common societal knowledge of them, or a more mysterious aspect to them.

I'm going to go over a crash course of historical festivals to Dionysos (using @thegrapeandthefig's Attic Calendar, as is usual), and explain what each festival is, and how it would have been celebrated historically.

We start off at the start of the Gregorian calendar year with Lenaia. This year, it took place from the 22nd to the 29th of January, which translates to the Attic calendar as the 12th to the 19th of Gamelion. There isn't too much information known about what the festival specifically entails, although there are some hints about it on what are known as Lenaia vases. The vases show scenes related to Lenaia and Anthesteria, but scholars are able to differentiate it by looking at what is depicted on the vase (if it's wine, it's Lenaia). Obviously, the drinking of wine was a pretty important part of the festival, as Dionysos' epithet "Lenaios" means "he of the wine-press". There may also have been elements relating to Dionysos' infancy.

The beautiful thing about Lenaia is that it was so vaguely celebrated, historically speaking. There was wine, and perhaps some plays put on, but other than that, a lot of the festival can be left up to the practitioner.

After Lenaia comes Anthesteria, falling this year on February 20th to the 22nd (Anthesterion 11th-13th), and about which there are a good number of resources. This festival was supposed to be* a springtime festival, which was separated into three days: Pithoigia, Choes, and Chytroi, which can be translated as "Jar Opening", "Jugs", and "Pots". It is strange that Anthesteria covers so many themes - new wine, love, and, at the end, death. However, the article Athens' Festival of the New Wine, by Noel Robertson, offers some important insights on this. It seems that the festival commemorated the myth of Icarius and Erigone, which, for the sake of space (and my own time), I'll link to here: Britannica - Erigone. In short, this festival follows their gift of wine, the drinking of this new wine among the mortals, and Icarius and Erigone's deaths at the hands of shepherds, who did not understand the gift they had been given.

Pithoigia: As the translated name suggests, this is the day of the opening of the wine casks which, up until that moment, had been *fermenting throughout the year. From these casks, the Athenians would libate the first wines out to Dionysos. This was also a day where wine was enjoyed by all, not just by Dionysos - Robertson mentions that in ancient Athens, this was the day during which the wine was mixed.

Choes: Choes is day two, which is the day of Jugs. For lack of a better word, this was the most boisterous day of the entire three-day experience. People of all ages and social classes engaged in wine-drinking contests, while in secret, rites were performed in which the wife of the current king was married to Dionysos. There *was also a tradition in which public shrines were roped off, although this seems to be related to the story of Orestes, who was considered to be an unclean man. Strangely enough, despite the boisterous and celebratory connotations of the day, it was also considered to be an unlucky day.

Chytroi: This third day of Anthesteria likely commemorated the deaths of the two followers of Dionysos who were given the gift of wine-making from Him: Icarius and Erigone. Icarius was killed by shepherds, who believed him to be poisoning them, and Erigone killed herself after finding her dead father. This is where the (with *context, somewhat grim) tradition of swinging at the Anthesteria comes from. This was also the day in which the wine was ritually mixed. This, from what I can gather, means that the wine wasn't necessarily mixed for use among mortals, but rather mixed and consecrated to Dionysos Himself.

Ultimately, Anthesteria is an incredibly complex festival, and I've barely scraped the surface on it in this post. The days are a bit mobile in celebratory orders as well, as it seems that many of the fine points of the festival can be moved around.

The next festival we encounter in the Athenian calendar is the City Dionysia, or Greater Dionysia. This year it falls on March 19th-25th (Elaphebolion 11th-16th). Thankfully, this celebration is one with a lot less ambiguity about its traditions, mainly because it's turned out a lot of things which have stuck around in the world, and remain to this day, such as the Greek plays. In short, this was a large festival which took place in Athens, and involved the production and showing of multiple comedies, dramas, and satyr plays. As the patron of the theater, obviously Dionysos' name was attached to it.

Beyond the theatrical aspect of it, many sources show that Dionysian processions were a pretty big part of the historical celebrations. To be perfectly honest, my view on it is almost like a weeklong Dionysian Mardi Gras.

From here, we have a massive jump of almost half a year to the next festival, which is Kybernesia. This year, it takes place on September 10th, or Boedromion 8th. I have my own hot takes on this long span in which there are no Dionysian festivals, but that's going to wait until another post in which I can truly unleash my full opinions upon the world.

The Kybernesia is celebrated in the modern day as a Dionysian festival, but in all the academic sources I found, it is listed as an Athenian naval festival. One source says that it linked to Theseus after he sailed from Crete, which would maybe explain the potential Dionysian connection, as it was on this journey from Crete to Athens that Theseus abandoned Ariadne on the shores of Naxos. However, if anyone else has a more in-depth source on a Dionysian connection to the Kybernesia, I'd be really happy to see it!

At some point during the month of December was held the Rural Dionysia, which is similar to the City Dionysia, but just... more rural, more rustic, perhaps a bit more rowdy. Its celebration was determined by various local governments, so there's a lot of flexibility on when it can be celebrated. According to @thegrapeandthefig's calendar, "Popular choices [for celebration] include the 7th, 8th, 11th, or 14th."

This is where the current list of Dionysian festivals on the Attic calendar ends. However, it's definitely not the end of celebrated Dionysian festivals in general. There were plenty more outside of Athens which don't have as many resources on their historical celebrations (Lampteria being one). I might go over these festivals in some other post, but for now, y'all get the Athenian calendar!

*supposed to be in spring refers to the fact that, for most folks living in the northern regions of the Northern Hemisphere, it's almost definitely still winter when the Anthesteria rolls around.

Sources:

Lenaia:

Wikipedia - Lenaia

Sarah Pierce - Visual Language and Concepts of Cults on the "Lenaia Vases"

Anthesteria:

Britannica - Anthesteria

Noel Robertson - Athens' Festival of the New Wine

William Nickerson Bates - The Lenaea, The Anthesteria, and the Temple [Limnais]

B. C. Dietrich - A Rite of Swinging During the Anthesteria

City/Greater Dionysia:

Britannica - Great Dionysia

Kybernesia:

Valerij Goušchin - Athenian Synoikism of the Fifth Century B.C., or Two Stories of Theseus

Stephen D. Lambert - Parerga III: The Genesia, Basile and Epops Again (just a note: if you read through these resources, the information on Kybernesia is hidden in the footnotes or only mentioned once in the text.)

Rural Dionysia:

Leonhard Shmitz - Dionysia

Credits:

Thanks to @just-another-dionysus-devotee for suggesting this as a topic! It was really fun to research this topic!

And the divider design in this post is from @cafekitsune

#dionysian #dionysos #hellenic polytheism #dionysus #hellenic polytheist #dionysos deity #hellenic pagan #dionysus deity #hellenic gods #hellenism

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sonorousabyss · 1 year

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𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗲, 𝗘𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗿𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮 𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀

AN: Some sweet innocent soul decided to comment on the last Electro Hashira Post inspired by our resident Out of Pocket Anon, and I'm here to make it everyone's problem. /pos Warnings: Mild Spoilers for the Mugan Train Incident. The reader takes inspiration from Ei aka the Electro Hashira from Genshin Impact.

𝗔𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗘𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗿𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮:

The Electro Hashira had an older sibling that he lost to demons, and following their death he fell into this rather black-and-white frame of thinking, powered by his rage.

In his opinion? All demons were evil, slaughtering and consuming the innocent for often no reason at all. The demon slayers were their just and proper persecutors. A righteous force that did them all mercy. Such atrocities warrant a fate far worse than death, after all.

Even before the existence of the demon slayer corps had come to his attention, M/N had stuck to his vow to do what he could to hunt down and slaughter the being responsible for the death of his sibling, alongside other countless innocents. This hunt led him to witness many atrocities, and he eventually gained an apprenticeship when a demon slayer took note of his prominent inexperience in their line of work.

That is to say, said demon slayer watched as M/N quite literally nearly got himself killed challenging a demon with naught but a rusty handaxe and a kitchen knife (they weren't very successful in their endeavor at first, evidently).

M/N was fairly quick to make a name for himself as a trainee with extreme discipline and determination, going above and beyond to succeed in trials his mentors put him up against. No one form quite seemed to fit him, though, which led to him receiving tutelage from several different practitioners.

He ended up creating a form derivative of thunder breathing (alongside a few others) that felt just right, dubbing it "Electro Breathing". This aggressive and dangerous breathing form (and his stubborn attitude) were what he became known for as he climbed the ranks.

Despite what others might've thought based on how cold and indifferent he seemed, he greatly admired the Hashira as a lower-ranking corps member. They were able to kill upper moons- a feat he could only have dreamt of accomplishing when he started from the bottom. This admiration was hidden by the sometimes harsh critiques he'd give when analyzing their decisions during missions.

He... Well, let's just say that he found some of their techniques a tad too heavy on the flamboyant side. A tad too extra? Yeah, that was an understatement in that aspect.

...

Okay, sometimes he just didn't like their attitudes. Was that a crime?

*cough* *cough* Hypocrite *cough* cough*

Of the Hashira, he got along with Rengoku the most.

That said, he actually respected Shinobu more than his fiery counterpart. Or rather, he respected her sadism.

Something about slowly poisoning a demon to death as opposed to chopping their heads off directly just seemed to speak to him. It was cold- and as he saw it? Well deserved. Needless to say, she was one of the few Hashira he took open criticism from and listened to.

Despite his unseemly attitude, M/N actually took on at least two known Tsugokus in the pursuit of eternity. The eldest is currently missing and presumed dead by the corps, while the youngest is still in his care and just as thick-headed as he is (if not worse). Sometimes he struggles to get her to listen to him. And he's her mentor.

One of the things that disturbs Tanjirou the most about M/N is that he has been known to put an end to those turning into demons without hesitation. It's rumored that he's done it several times, and hasn't flinched once.

He's also someone well-known for putting his subordinates out of their misery when he deems them beyond recovery. M/N justifies this by declaring it an act of mercy- something that people within the corp have mixed feelings over. At least a few of the deceased are those Shinobu would have liked to at least attempt to have treated before he so promptly took their fates into his hands.

He's one of the few Hashira who routinely takes time out of his demon-hunting schedule to mourn those lost in his pursuit of eternity. Who exactly these 'lost' are is subject to much debate. In reality, he's mourning both his subordinates and the innocents caught in the crossfire of their never-ending war. He does his mourning at his mansion, which he has dubbed his "Plane of Euthymia" Post-Mugan Train Incident, at least one of the rooms in his house is dedicated to Rengoku, a shrine there in his name. He visits his younger brother from time to time in order to check in and see how he's doing. The boy's pursuits are beyond his understanding, but he does his best to sit and absorb what Senjuro tells him.

As for his feelings about Nezuko and Tanjiro's situation, he was naturally opposed to the entire thing during its first revelation. You could find him nodding along with Rengoku and pitching his own eloquent complaints about the situation.

The only thing that kept him from intervening (unlike some people) was the Master's will, which he respects above all others. And even then? That was pushing it. A demon? Allowed to live?

Not in his domain, that's for certain.

It was only when Tanjiro began to grow on him during missions that he begrudgingly began to withdraw his opinion, if only because he bore witness to that creature protecting humans.

It's out of what little respect he and the boy have established between each other that he keeps his current Tsugoku as far away from the both of them as physically possible.

Tanjiro has been quoted making note of the fragrance that M/N deliberately wears, and it's so subtle that people thought he was crazy for calling it out in the first place.

The fragrance reminds him of sakura blossoms and (unsurprisingly) wisteria in full bloom, though the former's scent is far more prominent. He has thrown Inosuke through a wall more than once at the Wisteria House. This is canon. I do not make the rules.

....Shinobu was less than pleased.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I had loads of fun. May your day be as pleasant as the ocean's abyss is deep. For those who are new here, I take requests. You can find the rules here.

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justbusterkeaton · 1 year

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Buster’s Best Loved Stunts

Steamboat Bill Jr. 1928

Two tons of house front falls on top of Buster in what is surely his most famous stunt, if not the most famous stunt of all time. His salvation comes in the form of a small upstairs window, wider than his shoulders by only a couple of inches.

Were he to fail to stand exactly where the nails that had been driven into the ground to mark the spot, were he to move forward even slightly, he would be killed instantly.

Co-director Chuck Reisner couldn’t bear to witness the scene. “My father, who was a very religious man, a Christian Scientist, had a practitioner up there,” his son, Dean, remembered, “and they were praying all day because here comes this stunt and my father couldn’t bear to see it. He and the practitioner were off praying in one corner and waiting to find out whether Buster came through it or not.

“Two extra women on the sidelines fainted,” Keaton said in 1930, relishing the memory, “and the cameramen turned their backs as they ground out the film.” The thrilling shot came off beautifully. “But it’s a one-take scene and we got it that way. You don’t do those things twice.” He would later claim that the house scene was one of his "greatest thrills," before noting, "I was mad at the time, or I would never have done the thing."

Cops 1922

Although by his own admission Buster only ever had one day of schooling, he must have learned a little about physics along the way.

I don’t know how else he was able to convince himself that he could perform this iconic stunt Cops without ripping his arm out of its socket.

No special affects were used here, and no camera trickery either. Just incredible timing, incredible strength and somehow managing to factor his height and weight with the speed of the car and deciding to risk it.

The Navigator 1924

This scene was originally intended to be filmed in a swimming pool, but Buster wanted deeper water, so after destroying an indoor pool in Riversdale California by over-filling it with water and cracking the bottom, he decided to film in Lake Tahoe where the water was deep, very clear but very cold. Buster could only stay underwater for a few minutes at a time.

As always Buster insisted on doing it himself despite the dangers and even had a special divers helmet made with a clear front screen so that the audience could see his face and know he wasn’t cheating them.

The General 1926

In what filmmaker James Blue would call “a moment of almost almost pathetic beauty,” Buster sits dejectedly on the coupling rod that connects the great metal wheels of the General and remains there, frozen in place, as the engine begins to move towards the tunnel. For this stunt Buster only had to sit very still, but as with the Steamboat Bill stunt, it also required nerves of steel.

“I was running the engine myself all through the picture. I could handle that thing so well I was stopping it on a dime. But when it came to the shot, I asked the engineer whether we could do it. He said “there’s only one danger. A fraction too much steam and the wheel spins, and if it spins it will kill you then and there”. We tried it four or five times and in the end the engineer was satisfied that he could handle it. So we went ahead and did it”

Our Hospitality 1923

Two stunts could have resulted in Buster’s death in Our Hospitality.

The film climaxes in a daring rescue of the heroine Virginia, whose boat is being swept downstream through the rapids. As usual, Buster had refused to use a double. As a safety precaution, wire was attached to his body and to make sure he would stay within camera range.

When the cameras started to roll, he plunged into the fierce current of the Truckee River and began to swim. A few seconds later, the wire snapped and he shot forward, tumbling over rocks and boulders, swallowing great mouthfuls of foam as he was borne toward the rapids. It took all his strength to maneuver himself to the river's edge so that he could grab an overhanging branch.

The cameraman did as was always ordered to by Buster and kept filming. When he was found ten minutes later, Buster lay in the underbrush along the riverbank facedown in the mud, his feet still dangling in the water. He did not move when they pulled him out. His first words as he lifted his head were: "Did Nate see it” Nate was Natalie Talmadge his wife and co star. She had seen it.

The footage of the accident was used in the final film.

Back in Hollywood, he completed the rescue sequence on the lot. A waterfall was constructed over the swimming pool. To create the distant valley below the falls, a miniature set was planted with hundreds of tiny trees. As Virginia's boat plunges over the falls, Willie uses a rope to swing out over the waterfall and grab her at the last moment. Although a dummy was substituted for Natalie, Buster performed the dangerous stunt himself. Hanging upside down underneath the waterfall, he swallowed so much water that a doctor was called to give him first aid.

Sherlock Jr. 1924

The film critic David Thomson described Keaton's style of comedy thusly: "Buster plainly is a man inclined towards a belief in nothing but mathematics and absurdity ... like a number that has always been searching for the right equation”

Many of Buster’s stunts comprised of a perfect combination of “mathematics and absurdity” including this stunt from Sherlock Jr. which involved his holding onto an upright roadblock gate that swings down, with him jumping onto an oncoming car at the right moment. It has an almost James Bond like quality of humour and coolness about it.

Seven Chances 1925

Buster did not want to do Seven Chances. He was not happy with the script but was compelled to make it as the studio had already bought it.

At the first test screening he was disappointed by how disengaged the audience were. The only time they seemed to perk up was towards the end of the movie. He is being chased by the pack of brides and runs down the side of a hill to get away when some boulders start falling behind him. He manages to dodge them just in time.

Buster took note of this reaction and just went with it. He had papier-mâché boulders made in various sizes and created a whole new scene carrying on from that point. It is one of the most memorable moments in the whole movie.

Although the boulders were fake, due to the size of some of them if they’d hit him they would no doubt have caused some damage. Buster had to be super fast and super nimble to avoid getting hit. Fortunately he was both.

I sometimes wonder if this scene influenced the famous boulder scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Sherlock Jr. 1924

"Of course all my weight pulls on the rope, and I pull the spout down and it drenches me with water. I didn't know how strong that water pressure was. Well, it just tore my grip loose as if I had no grip at all and dropped me the minute it hit me. And I lit on my back with my head right across the rail right on my neck. It was a pretty hard fall, and that water pushed me down....I had a headache for a few hours.... I said, 'I want a drink.' I turned at the next block coming back from location-it was out there in the [San Fernando] Valley someplace. I went in to see Mildred Harris, Charlie Chaplin's first wife, and I went into her house and she gave me a couple of stiff drinks. During Prohibition, see, when you couldn't just stop anyplace to get a drink. So, that numbed me enough that I woke up the following morning, my head was clear and I never stopped working”.

-Buster Keaton

Reader, he’d broken his neck.

Three Ages 1923

“So, my scene was that with the cops chasing me, I took advantage of the lid of a skylight and laid it over the edge of the roof to use as a springboard. I backed up, hit it, and tried to make it to the other side, which was probably about eighteen feet. Well, I misjudged the spring of that board and didn’t make it. I hit flat up against the other set and fell to the net, but I hit hard enough that I jammed my knees a little bit, and hips and elbows and I had to go home and stay in bed for about three days. And, of course, at the same time, me and the scenario department were a little sick because we can’t make that leap. That throws the whole chase sequence, that routine, right out the window. So the boys the next day went into the projecting room and saw the scene anyhow, ’cause they had it printed to look at it. Well, they got a thrill out of it, so they came back and told me about it. I say ‘Well, if it looks that good let’s see if we can pick it up this way: The best thing to do is to put an awning on a window, just a little small awning, just enough to break my fall.’ ’Cause on the screen you could see that I fell about sixteen feet. I must have passed two stories. So now you go in and drop into something just to slow me up, to break my fall, and I can swing from that onto a rainspout, and when I get a hold of it, it breaks and lets me sway out away from the building hanging onto it. And for a finish, it collapses enough that it hinges and throws me down through a window a couple of floors below. Well, when this pipe broke and threw me through the window, we went in there and built the sleeping quarters of the fire department with a sliding pole in the background. Well, it ended up…It was the biggest laughing sequence in the picture…because I missed it in the original trick.”

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