#HouseDoors

[gxminglife]

Doors and Windows Unlock the beauty of doors and windows with these inspiring design ideas.

[vrystalius]

I loved Sanemi's ask about meeting his in-laws,can I request an ask about Sanemi meeting his only daughter's boyfriend? (Sanemi has 7 sons and one daughter) 💚

❕Sanemi’s reaction to his daughter having a boyfriend

You and Sanemi’s daughter have a boyfriend. What will your husband think?

Note: I’m glad you liked it!! This was again very fun to write, so thanks for sending in that request! <3

Pairing: Father!Sanemi x Mother!Reader

— Sanemi bawled his eyes out at every single birth of his eight kids. He held the bundle of joy in his arms, ugly crying and sobbing. If he were to go back in time and tell himself that good things are coming, he wouldn’t believe himself. Sanemi always wanted to have a big family with many kids and he feels incredibly blessed to have one with you. Three of his eldest sons already moved out, much to Sanemi’s grief. But luckily they stayed close to his and your house, so you, Sanemi and the kids can easily go visit them.

— Now, Sanemi only had five kids that live under the same roof. Among them, his only daughter. He never thought of himself as a girl-dad when he heard the news of you being pregnant with a girl. He’s gotten used to roughhousing, lots of fighting and yelling from his boys, so Sanemi wasn’t not sure if he’s going to be able to even bond with his little girl. But turns out, it was no trouble at all.

— He adored being made all pretty for her doll parties, make-up clumsily being applied to his face. Sanemi loved playing princesses and fairies with his daughter, going so far as to dressing in one of your floral kimonos for this roleplay.

— But Sanemi’s favourite thing is to braid her hair for hours and hours on end and to just enjoy spend the time he has with her. He knows that his little girl is going to grow up and become not so little anymore, and he cannot mentally prepare himself for that.

— So when his girl brought over her boyfriend for the first time, Sanemi was devastated. Who is this boy? For how long have they been knowing each other? Were they dating behind his back? What are they doing in her room with the door closed?!

— You had to calm Sanemi down and hold him back from barging in and dragging that damn boy out of his house.

— But when the boy was in his way to leave, Sanemi stopped him by stepping in front of the housedoor and blocking the exit. He glared down at that boy, scanning his whole body and face. Sanemi looked extremely intimidating with all the muscle he (still) had and the several scars decorating his body and face.

“You better behave, boy. I don’ wanna see my daughter sad, ya hear?”

— Sanemi practically growled at the boy. Your daughter’s boyfriend would’ve wet himself if you didn’t scold your husband and told him to leave that poor boy be.

— Sanemi just doesn’t want to see his little girl growing up. He wants to continue to play fairies with her, braid her hair and help her organise her doll parties. He wants to keep his precious girl’s heart safe and far away from heartbreak…

— And he swears that if any boy dares to even touch his girl the wrong way or even attempt to hurt her, Sanemi is going to scramble his old and dusty katana out and give it one last taste of blood.

💠

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s my masterlist for the hashira.

Here’s my masterlist for the demons.

[my-islam-reminder]

Narrated `Abdullah bin `Umar رضی اللہ عنہ :

Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said, "While a man was dragging his Izar on the ground (behind him), suddenly Allah made him sink into the earth and he will go on sinking into it till the Day of Resurrection." Hadrat Jareer bin Zaid narrates that he, accompanied by Saalim bin Abdullah bin Umer, was at his housedoor, so he said: I from Hadrat Abu Huraira رضی اللہ عنہ and that he heard it from the Prophet ﷺ.

Narrated by Sahih Bukhari in his bookImam Bukhari

Hadith (Sahih)

[candacehughes]

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[mgdoorinstallations-blog]

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[luxurioushomeinteriors]

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[inventariophoto]

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[mgdoorinstallations-blog]

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[thegrapeandthefig]

Hello! How are you? I'm in love with your posts, and I learn a lot from them. Thanks for sharing your knowledge! But could you help me, please? Can you tell me how the Greeks asked for spiritual protection for the house? I know it was usually for Hekate, but I don't know how I could be asking. Thank you!

Thank you for the kind words, I'm glad you find my posts helpful.

Edit: This got very long, and I promise I do answer your question eventually, just please bear with me.

There were many ways one could protect their home, and as I said in my "spiritual protection" post (which I assume is the one you read before asking this question), a lot of different techniques revolved around the house's threshold. I'm going to avoid repeating too much what I already said in that post and add that a lot of it comes down to a set of religious habits that were protective in nature.

Let's start with the Noumenia and the action of cleaning/replenishing the khadiskos in honor of Zeus Ktesios (+ the libation to the Agathos Daimon on the 2nd). More than monthly praise to the divine Father, it is in essence a protective ritual meant to protect the pantry - your food. So here we have a first domestic ritual that very likely included a prayer and sacrifice.

In parallel, the beginning of the month marked the time where one would tend to the statues (hekataia for Hekate, herms for Hermes):

In fact, it seems likely that the immediate outside of a Greek house could well be cluttered with statues: as well as the pillar of Apollo Agyieus, we have evidence that it was common to find hekataia and herms, representative of Hekate and Hermes respectively:

ὥστερ Ἑκατεῖον πανταχοῦ πρὸ τῶν θυρῶν. they’d [personal law courts] be on doorsteps everywhere, like the shrines for Hekate. (Aristophanes, Ckouds 804)

ὁσοι Ἑρμαῖ ἦσαν λίθινοι ἐν τῇ πόλει τῇ Ἀθηναίων (εἰσὶ δὲ κατὰ τὸ ἐπιχώριον ἡ ἐργασία πολλοὶ καὶ ἐν ἰδίοις προθύροις καὶ ἐν ἱεροῖς) the stone statues of Hermes in the city of Athens – they are the pillars of square construction which according to local custom stand in great numbers both in the doorways of private houses and in sacred places (Thucydides 6.27.1)

Porphyry tells us that these hekataia and herms would be cleaned on a monthly basis (De abstinentia 2.16). There are no identifiable archaeological remains of any of these statues in situ, but Faraone points to evidence of ‘a shallow recess off the street in front of the housedoor… [which] seems ideally suited for statuettes, presumably fashioned from perishable materials.’

- Kerr M. D., Gods, Ghosts and Newlyweds: exploring the uses of the threshold in Greek and Roman superstition and folklore, 2018

So we have to imagine that the presence alone of the statues had their own protective/apotropaic properties but also the monthly tending of it. We could go as far as to imagine that the monthly cleaning was accompanied by a prayer and offering. It honestly doesn't seem like too much of a stretch.

We need to understand that, despite me titling this last post as "spiritual protection", there really isn't much of a distinction between the "physical" and the "spiritual". The statues at the door of the average Greek household protected as much from the spiritual (eg. the restless dead) than the mundane (thieves, mice, illness, etc.)

And this is only for domestic cult. Athens had a fair amount of festivals dedicated to purification, and therefore, protection. The most relevant one for your question is the one(s) that involve the eiresione, aka a branch of olive or laurel that is adorned with wool, dried fruits, nuts, sometimes little flasks of oil or honey. It’s part of at least the Pyanepsia, but some people associate it with both the Pyanepsia and the Thargelia, and I would even be tempted to add the Delphinia, all festivals to Apollo.

During the Pyanopsia, an eiresione would be carried by a young boy during the procession to the temple of Apollo, where it would be placed at the door. That being said, it seems that people made their own at home, and kept it close to their house door:

several passages of Aristophanes which show that any normal house in Athens might be expected to have one outside the front door all year round; […] The orator Lycurgus associates the origin of the custom with an ancient famine, and says ‘decorating a large olive branch with everything that the seasons produce at that time they dedicated it to Apollo in front of their doors, calling it eiresione, making first fruit offerings of all the products of the earth, because the suppliant branch placed with Apollo ended the famine in our land.’ –Robert Parker, Polytheism and Society at Athens, 2005

So here we have an example of a protective device that doubles as a ritual tool and is intertwined in both personal and state-cult. Placed at the door for a whole year, it is then replaced at the next Pyanepsia where the ritual would be renewed. Again, we find something that is close to this type of formula (imo) "ritual involving an object"+"sacrifice"+"prayer" like with the monthly sacrifice to Zeus, but here, the eiresione seems to provide more long-term protection.

One could point out also the presence of other apotropaic devices, like phallic imagery. Pompeii stands out in this matter for the Roman example but the practice is present in Greece as well:

Phallic imagery in public monuments and in ordinary domestic and commercial plaques can be found at different times and places throughout the Greek world. A relief of a phallus was discovered on the island of Thera in the Dorian, Hellenistic colony (Figure 1). This engraved, rock-cut, large phallic plaque (1.4m) is placed in the doorway of a residence from the Oea on the island of Thera next to the Greek inscription τοισ φιλοισ (for my friends), an inscription that reflects the “benevolent inclusion of friends within the apotropaic protection.”2 When the phallus is accompanied by this type of inscription, [...], the strength of the apotropaic phallus is further reinforced, sometimes promising “retribution in the precise form taken by the evil to be warded off." - Claudia Moser, "Naked Power: The Phallus as an Apotropaic Symbol in the Images and Texts of Roman Italy.

But there were others that weren't necessarily linked to a deity, like some plants, such as when Dioscorides (Ist century AD) tells us this about the red squill: "It does also ward off evil when hung whole on front doors." (De Materia Medica; II, 171, 4)

-

While I wouldn't advise the red squill method (toxic plant), I hope you can see from my long answer that methods were varied. If anything, it shows the ancients were very much concerned about their protection -spiritual or not-.

I do not know your situation, so I can't tell you which of the options will work best for you. Personally, I have an eiresione at my door (+ a lot of phalli around the house due to the gods I worship) and more recently I added the tending of the khadikos to my routine. But you could choose to have a representation of Hekate, Hermes or Apollon at your door (even one that is aniconic, if you need discretion) and do a monthly ritual to the chosen deity, giving your thanks for the protection, pouring a libation, cleaning it. Choosing the right epithet during your prayer to communicate your request clearly (such as Thyraios or Hermes Strophaios -the latter being more against thieves) is a good idea.

I hope this helps, and that examples I gave can inspire you to figure out what it is you want to do.

[frodopotter7]

Part 2 (the Demon and the Detective)

Back to Part 1

Back to the Series

It was 8 am as the Detective awoke. He ropped the sleep out of his eyes. As he looked at the clock, he jumped out of bed immediately. Shit, Roy would have been worried about him. Art got dressed and stuffed all the notes into a briefcase. He run down the stairs and got into the next bus. In the police office he ran immediately to Mr. Haleey's office.

When he opened the door he saw Roy, who nervously walked around the table. "Art!", he yelled. You could hear the relief but also the anger in his voice. "I thought you were dead! You could have called me." "Not at 3 am. I am sorry Mr. Haleey, but I have new information. The murder is a man, who is about 5.4 tall." But Roy didn't listen:"Mr. Garfunkel you could have died! You can't just ran after a possible serial killer! I was really worried. I could have lost my best agent!" Art wanted to shout back, but Mr. Halley stood above him and he needed the allow to search in the area of the bridge. He kept calm and said:"Mr. Haleey I do apologies deeply, but I am really sure he lives somewhere near the river in Queens. This should be the Maspeth Creek." "Okay, we will do that.", Roy agreed with a bitter undertone. But before that they had to take care of the paperwork. Art got the information that such a sickness with black eyes and fog not exited and he must have been just overworked. But there was also a good massage for him. His theory with the woman being an criminal was correct. They found out that she was a marriage cheater and her real name was Rebecca Lee.

Around lunch time they finally could go out. Roy was already bored as they arrived. They knocked on every housedoor to check if there lived a man around 5.4. Of course they just said, they wanted to ask for an allybe by all the housmembers because of the events of last night, which already stud in the newspaper. They were done as the sun was already coming to earth and the sky was bathed in an orange red. And they had found no one. Not even on man in the whole area was so small. Not even a little bit further away, where other police units had searched. So Art had roused everybody for literally nothing. Oh, they all were so angry about him, even Roy was not amused. He pulled Art aside. "Mr. Garfunkel I think you should get a break from work. The case is just to complex. You're getting too involved." "But Mr. Haleey...",Art started, but Roy interrupted him. "I don't want you to get hurt. You seeing things that are not existing. I give you a day off. Tomorrow you have free. Take some rest. I'll give you a easyer case." Art nodded. He felt tired and lonely. Roy and the others left. He stayed. Art was just standing alone on the road of the street where the crime scene was. Art sighted. He could have cried, but he was a grown up man.

All of the sudden he heard a guitar. The sound was so beautiful. He just had to follow it. He ended up by the blue bridge. The song seemed to come up from the bridge. Art interest was aroused. There was a small riverside path which Arthur climbed down. In this whole mystery he already forgot the fact that he was fired from the case. Suddenly he heard a low screaming. But although he was under the old wooden bridge there was no one. The screaming and the guitar play which got more and more aggressive came out of a little hill. Art nocked against the grass. It was no grass it was metal. Art immediately searched for a opener in the ground. Then he felt a Tab on the left side. The Ring of the Tap was so small that his fingers barely fit trough it. He pulled it up. The secret metal plate that resembled a manhole cover was open and Art turned around. His feet felt a ladder. So he climbed slowly and as quiet as possible down. It was extremely foolish to go without anyone knowing in a murderers hideout, but Art couldn't tell a soul. Roy was pissed of him. Everybody was pissed of him. He should just left this case and not even fifteen minutes later he climbed down in the fucking base of a killer.

As he touched the ground he closed the hatchway. He had to duck his head and be carful not to pinch his curls. Yes, this was definitely the hideaway of this strange man from yesterday. Art switched on a flashlight, which he always had in his pockets of his coat. Art had to lower his head so as not to bang it on the ceiling. The passage under the earth was simple. There was just the naked grey walls and some wall lamps which were switched off. Garfunkels heart was throbbing very loudly. He panicked extremely, but he needed to stay calm. Luckily the guitar playing and screaming continued and Art could follow something, because there were a lot of junctions in the gangway. Art memoized the path exactly. Than as the sounds were the closest. He pulled out his gun and hid behind the last corner. He peeked into the large room. The screaming echoed on the walls. The ceiling was high above and Art didn't needed to duck anymore. There were lots of pipes and papers an the walls of the dark room. Art had already switched off the flashlight. There was also two of the wall lights which donated some light. But Art was turned with his back to the happing in the big room with some big columns in it and more entries on the sides. So the Detective put a little sticker on his entries. This big maze must have been an very old drainages system, which was forgotten and hadn't been used in years. Art listened carefully. The song sounded aggressive and Art had never heard it before. Although he was really keen on music. Singing and music was his only thing besides work. So he listened.

The man, who had scratchy voice and screamed, bagged for mercy. But than there was this horrifying voice. It was a dark, cold and absent mind voice. Art stand up the hair of his back. Every word made the room shake. "You fool! Shut it! Did you gave mercy to the old people as you exploded the retirement home? You want to feel how it feels to explode? Fine I can make you explode like your bombe. But it just will kill you. Bye, bye life. Any last words to explain why you did this?" Around Arts brown shoes he saw this strange black fog. It was everywhere on the ground. But before he could thought about it, the tortured responded:"I had a reason. I did it for the duty of America. What are you even? A monster? A devil? A demon?" "I am so much better. I am something powerful. I am the justice. I am something that would be way too much for your puny brain! Tell me and I might have mercy. What do you mean with 'duty of America'?" Art noticed that there was something playful and amused in his voice. The suffering from this young man was just a funny game for him. "This idiots had Jews in their ranks." Art felt his heard skipped a beat. His moth popped off. This men was the murderer of the retirement home. He had seen the case on the wall of the police office. Art as a Jew himself was shocked by this. There were in the sixties, when did people woke up. But still torturing was always wrong. Art was just quietly thinking as suddenly he heard the spooky voice even louder and it didn't sounded playful anymore. It sounded angry and serious:"You might think you're above me. What you think isn't always true!" Art knew what would happen. So he unlocked the gun, came out of his hide and drew on the mysterious killer. In this short second he just saw a young man lying on the ground. His arms and lags were full of deep scratches. And this serial killer was floated in the air and this black fog came out of him as if he made it with his guitar. The man had black empty eyes and worn a black suit. More Art couldn't see. "Stand still or I will shot!", he shouted.

Next everything happened so extremely fast. The thing hit the guitar strings. The suffering man on the ground screamed in pain and with a explosion he was torn into pieces. All of his body parts and blood splashed around, which also splashed on Arts coat. Without even thinking Art shot the thing in the shoulder. He screamed and dropped on the ground. The fog disappeared and the man or demon cried in pain. It was a heart touching scream and sounded different to the voice before: more human. He rolled over in a pool of a blood mix between the death man and his own. Arts feet were standing in the blood lacquers of the men next to the rest body parts. He still had his gun pulled out. "Hey. Put your weapon away." But instead the man who was with his back to Art, so he just saw the black blazer, just pushed his guitar away. Art came closer. "Don't do anything." He wanted to see the man from the front. But he crawled back in the safety of the shadow behind a pillar. The man really didn't behaved normal.

"I can't kill him." The man said, but with a normal and actually beautiful voice Art thought. The man didn't seem to talk to him, but there was no one else. "I know we have to. But he is so...He is too good." But than he seemed to talk to Art:"I am not going to kill you. You are a good person. But he was a murderer." "Well you killed him." "I know." The man still cried. "He killed... old people because they were..." "I know brutal. The woman also wanted to kill her boyfriend. But this is not the way to solve the problem." "You are an angle." "What?" "You're hair is blonde and curly. I imagine an angle just like this. What Religion do you have?" "Well I should ask the questions.",Art said and crouched down to comfort the other man. Comfortable? Oh, man. What have I come to? Being nice to a killer. Art thought. But he also wanted explanations. He needed to be carful. Any wrong word and that was it. "I know. That's why you came." "And because I heard screaming." "And music. But firth answer my question." "I'm Jewish. Happy?" "Satisfied.", he said with a litte colder voice, but than it changed back:"Sorry, I just can't control the shadow in the dark. He is a part of me." "That's not possible." "Oh, it is. And you should know the best. Cause you saw my magic. That means you are more intelligent than the others. You are special. An angle. A cat." "A cat?" "The Cheshire Cat, who came in the rabbit hole." "Well, than you should be the white rabbit." "Very true.", the man sounded as if he smiled. "Hey, can you smile? If you smile for me, than I will come out of my hide." "First you ask me the question of my religion and than this." "Please.", the man bagged. Art imagined a puppy eye look. He smiled. A weirded thought. A murderer with a puppy eye look. In that moment a pale face appeared behind the pillar. Art looked up.

The face was somewhat angular and with high chariot bones. He had his head again inclined like the day before. His skin was a whiter shade of pale as if he had never seen the sunlight. His hair was short and a mix black and dark brown. He also had short bangs on his forehead. But the mystery was his eyes. They were dark brown and looked so full of interest. And not like before. More like the ones of a human. Art couldn't help it. But this man definitely looked attractive. Well besides the eye bags and his pale skin which made him look sick. Art had never felt an attraction to anybody. That was one of the reason why he was a such a good detective. He couldn't be tricked by feelings. If this was dark magic, than the demon, man or whatever maybe just scanned his head and transformed to Arts desire. With this thought Art could keep a cool head. "You smiling.", the man said happily. Did he blushed? "Yes I am.", Art said confused. What did this creepy good looking thing wanted? "So you had questions." "Yes." "Do you really want to ask them here?", the man ask and turned his head to the other side. "Why?" The man giggled:"You are so funny." "Why?" "Because you asking why this is a bad place to talk. We are literally standing in the remains of an idiot." "What are those papers?" Art tried not to be distracted. "My songs. I need to write them to create the magic. Oh and crimes. I also need to find the right people." "To kill them." "You could say that. Can't we go out?" "What?" "Sorry, again. I can't control what I'm saying. This shadow in me is trying to direct me." Art nodded. "I think that's were you don't understand anymore.", the man said. "Yes." "Okay, as I said I need to clean up here and this is not a good place to talk. I could meet you tomorrow evening in a restaurant." Art raised his eyebrows. "You are still bleeding and you have a bullet in you're shoulder and just killed a man. And the only thing you are doing is asking me out?" "I am not asking you out. God, this is not supposed to be a date. This is supposed to be a inquisition... I mean why should I...Ahhhh." He lay back down on the ground. Art immediately came closer.

"Should I help you? I could call a  ambulance." Art softly turned the man on his back so that he lay  correctly. Art wanted to touch the wound, but the man hold his hand above it. "Hell no! Not a hospital. Do you want to kill me?! Can you just put out this fucking bullet! I can't heal myself, if this is still inside of me!", he said, but his voice was tensed. Art wanted to ask, but he had to do it. This thing or man was his only answer to everything. So he carefully put the hand away and tried to fish out the bullet in the wound. The man was screaming in pain and clawed in Art's coat. But Art kept calm. Medically he done everything wrong. He groped after all around in an open wound without even knowing how. Then finally he got the bloody bullet out. "Got it.", he said with sweat on his forehead. The man smiled. Art wanted to notice that the wound was still fully open. But than it closed itself. The bloody wound was disappearing and than the man stud up as if nothing happened. "What the hell?", Art yelled. "Thanks. So tomorrow." "Morning." "Oh no. I'm sleeping at daytime. We don't like the sun." "I know, but I have time and I want to meet you tomorrow right here. And don't even thing about playing any games!" "Yes, Sir.", the man nodded and grinned slightly. Art on the other hand was bitter and didn't know anymore if he could ever trust this whole thing. "What's even your name?", Art asked suspicious. "Paul Frederic Simon. You can call me Paul." "My name is Arthur Ira Garfunkel." "Artie." "You are a murderer who I should bring in prison. And you already giving me a nickname." "Yes.", Paul giggled. "That's not a game.", Art said strict. Paul nodded and understood. "So you going to leave now and get your sleep. I clean up and we see us tomorrow morning, when it rains." "Rains?" "You will see." "I can't just leave you. You killed a man and I saw it! I have to take you with me!" "But you are not allowed to work in my case anymore." "Where did you know?" "That's pretty obvious and it wasn't even my plan. Why do see my magic?" "I have no idea. But I will not leave you alone." Paul put his head again to the side. "Are you always doing that, when you are confused?" "Confused and interested." "Okay. We cleaning up and than I take care of you." "With the gun?" "This is just my threat." "Oh, you humans are so simple-minded. Always this dumm weapons.", Paul's voice was deep again. "Just do what I say!" Paul nodded again. He grabbed his guitar and played a very fast song and than everything was clean. Well not clean. Everywhere was this dark fog. The blood and body parts were gone. But a dark liquid was dripping down on the ground. "What how?" "Dark magic. Tomorrow more." Art looked down to his dirty coat. His beloved brown coat full of blood as well as his hands. "Gimme you're coat." Art looked shocked at Paul. "Never!" "Trust me." "You are a serial killer!" "Yeah, a demon, a devil... trust me or it's ruined." "This coat is my award as an detective." Paul walked behind him and gently took his coat. Paul wanted to play a much softer song, but Art grabbed Paul's hands. "No I don't want that this liquid ruins my coat." "I will be extra carefully." "Do my hands firth." Oh, Art had no idea what was going on, what was he even doing. Paul touched gently Arts hands. He rubbed them slightly. Paul wanted to started to sing. But Art pulled his hands back. "No. Stop this. You are a murderer and now coming with me. Give me your guitar!" Paul stood still. Art toke the guitar and handcuffed him. Paul didn't defend himself. "You don't know the way." "I am an detective. I know the way." Art dragged Paul back to the opening. "You can't order a taxi with me in handcuffs." "I know. So you playing my friend. Playing shouldn't be so difficult for you." Paul nodded. Art looked the handcuffs and crawled in Pauls arm. Than he ordered a taxi.

Continue:Part 3