#like there’s a time and place for that and a religious shrine is NOT one of those places

[moriphyte]

if i see one more video of some dumbass dancing at/on a literal shrine im gonna loose it they need to establish vatican level entrance rules for tourists who wanna visit shinto shrines i am so serious i would be happy to jump through whatever hoops i need to if jt stops these people from playing “who can be the most disrespectful piece of shit embarrassment to their home country?” by fucking DOING PULL UPS ON A TORII GATE like what is wrong with you for real would you run into fucking saint peter’s basilica and plank on the altar? no? THEN DONT FUCKING DO IT AT A SHINTO SHRINE JFC

[diluc33rpm]

2/2 How would you describe yourself when you love? Do you love forcefully, unconditionally, gently, quietly, desperately?

religiously. hey all you holy whores you know it’s EASTER SUNDAY 🕳😇👼 time to HOP 🐇 over to Daddy Jesus’s hut🏠 searching every hole crack and crevice 😍 so he can FUCK😫💦 u like a r

[berriblossom]

Oh, Great Divine!

☆| It's time for a SAGAU, more so a comforting one. Reader's gender is ambiguous and gender neutral, archons adore reader, in this sense the Nahida tag is platonic!|

☆ Tags/warnings! | Socially Aware Genshin AU, archons and people of Teyvat treat the reader as a god or heavenly figure, religious references (cathedral of Mondstat and Narukami/ Sangonomiya Shrines of Inazuma) some minor lore for reader, Reader is referred to as "Their Grace" or "My/Your Grace" and "The Great Divine" ALL PORTRAYALS ARE FICTIONAL!! anyway, enjoy.|

Within the lands or nations of Teyvat, for centuries the practice of worshipping an Archon was beyond common, more so for those who wish not to believe in spiritual practices concerning the gods of each element are more on the rare side to find. However even if such existed, there was one thing to never be doubted within the lands of Teyvat.

The Great Divine's presence over mortals and immortals alike.

The creation of Teyvat in many national mythos credits the sole ideas and creation to the Great Divine. Even the archons and the sources of their celestial names were blessed upon them by their divine grace. Depending on which nation you visit, some may say that their archon is specifically blessed by their grace.

In Mondstat, the nation of wind, song, freedom, wine, and bard's ballads, once every 100 years they celebrate the freedom blessed to them by Barbatos and the Great Divine. A tradition stretching for the last millennial to show the love and deeply routed affection given by its people and archon. Yes, Barbatos, or now the "drunken" bard known as Venti among his people. Every festival of a "New Eve" as they call it, is another 100 years for him to show his affection for his beloved divine. Despite his defiance to Celestia and the natural order placed after your departure, he still fully believes in your care and love for humans and archons alike. To Venti, whispering to the wind like he did with you thousands of years prior, even in his wind-spirit form. You'd sit together where now the great tree at Windrise and speak about the future of Teyvat, something despite having the authority over you simply spoke to him as:

"For what will come, Your nation will prosper and learn the true meaning of freedom and song..."

So to this day, he sits under that tree and thinks of the years since, missing your warmth from curling up in your hands as a wind spirit to laughing and humming beside you in his divine form. He has seen it for the last few hundred years, the art, songs, plays, books, and even food and weapons made in your name, and every hundred years he repeats the same. A small prayer from his soul is whispered into the wind as he tells his deep care and love for his dear grace. And the people of Mondstat no different, all gather at the great Cathedral and warmly sing about the Great Divine and Lord Barbatos as they place to wine, food, and gifts at the altar of your image. When alone Venti will sneak in and sit under your statue, missing the warmth of your hands but relishing the love in your image.

In Liyue, the nation of Geo, contracts, and the adepti, the greats divines are influenced by the first contract Rex Lapis made with them over 7000 years ago, even before Liyue was a fully combined nation. Zhongli remembers the conversation you two had, sharing a simple game of wit and tea. Then he was immature to your influence and power but now he relishes in it. Proudly in his vast historical knowledge, preaching his love and the power the great divine holds. How you could shape the sea with a flick of your wrist, how you've created mountains from your fingertips, how your vast knowledge is spread throughout teyvat as a bible to be studied and read over and over again. But mostly what he and all of Liyue celebrate is the contractable care and affection you give him and the people of Liyue.

This time around Liyue is a time spent every hundred of years a new eve of dawn as it is called, one Zhongli and his fellow adepti never get tired of. A time to give gifts of care to neighbors, friends, and even coworkers in the busy harbor. Even the Northland Bank celebrates by lowering interest on loans!

(But only for this amount of time and by the next New Eve of Dawn the Interest WILL reset)

But mainly it is a way to give worship to the Great Divine and their trust in Rex Lapis and his Adepti to protect and serve Liyue. Everything Zhongli has done was for your gratitude and divine love. So when a New Eve comes, he sits anywhere in Liyue, the mountains, hills, somewhere to overlook the harbor, and enjoys a warm cup of tea. Your favorite while imagining your smile as you talk, the games you'd two play. He watches his disciples and Apeti celebrate with gifts, food, and songs at your altar set around Liyue. He sips his tea and awaits your fated return, happy to share more memories and stories with you.

Within the land of Eternity, formerly transcience, Inazuma's style of celebration differs slightly from some nations. The Grand Narukami Shrine would hold a private ceremony, cleansing the sacred Sakura tree and your statue underneath, barhing the precious stone engravings with crisp clean water. Meanwhile the people if Inazuma would be celebrating on their own occasions, firewroks light into the clear sky, dancing ceremonies at the teahouse fill with guest.

However, the new electro archon herself sits alone at the top of Tebshukaku. Quietly walking down memeory lane in her mind. For the last five centuries of the New Eve of Dawn celebration, she'd sit in her space of Euthymia alone in solitude quietly sulking at the idea of your everlasting figure. How her and Makoto would chat down the lane of inazuma speaking about plans of you, speaking of your visions of the nation of electro, Makoto laughing at how embarrassed Ei used to be around you and your divinity. Now Ei smiles solemnly..

She knows now that she as archon must take the mantle, for in your teachings that it the goal of the heavenly principles you've left. Fated to return, she prays that you'd come to her first. She dreams and imagines in her meditations within her quiet Euthymia that you'd hold her. That her loneliness would be cured indefinitely. But for now she waits, with a plate of dango and some ofdly colored tea, shit eats alone as the fireworks set off atop Narukami island, she whispers a promise to herself and her nation on your honor.

"For it will be fate...my grace...you shall return to us...to eternity...we shall be reunited."

Far off in the lands of eternity, however, the island that formed the resistance sings and dances around the bonfire, the resistance army of Sangonomiya and Watatsumi laugh as they praise the late OmiKami, or the serpent god Orobashi. The fire dances as troops tell stories, shrine maidens sing and laugh, and her priestess sits while holding a book. She smiles softly. Kokomi looks above at the horizon and sees the corpse of their late god, she wishes silently to herself and for her ancestors to below the sea. That once the great spirit of life and forefather of the vishaps would return to bring life to the benevolent serpent. But for now, she sits alongside Gorou as they watch the troops enjoy the holiday.

Within Sumeru, however, and alongside it, Fontaine...the New Eve of Dawn has been on the academic calendar differently, which is how some older nations react. For those in the rainforest, it is a blessing of Lessor Lords Kusanali's birth. For the dessert, it is the bringing of a new promise for the scarlet sand kings doubted return. Within the nation of dendro, it is a holiday of now academic activities, no scholars shrouded in work, but a day off. The people worship by their own will and sit in taverns, bars, and cafes to drink mereily while chatting with friends. Some visit your altar within the Akademiya, and others pray at home.

Nahida sits on a branch of the great tree that houses the knowledge many wish to obtain, in her hands an ancient seed of fate, she herself has no memory or knowledge of where it came but holds ot and teasures its existence. For she has a kindling that it is tied to this divine spirit that is expected to awaken. From her small conversation with Apep, the seed is treasured. Hence, she holds it and feeds the growing plant bits of dendro elemental energy. She sighs as she watches the sun set and the cheers from the streets and grand bazars performances. Nilou must be dancing now, she thinks. She hums a small song while kicking her feet, her hands warm with caution. She may not know you yet, but she knows already... Your spirit and divine will watch for her and her nation. The goddess of wisdom has many questions for the great creator of this world, but for now, she just hums and sits happily, a great birthday gift indeed.

Meanwhile, in Fontaine, similarly, it is deemed a weekend off of work. Many go home, some go to the Opera to catch performances of the holiday, others read tabloids of the steambird that some random person in the court has the great divine in their basment all along. All fiction truthfully. Furina reads her book as she makes another plate of pasta macaroni. For the occasion, she bought extra special ragau to taste amazing. She dances around her kitchen listening to soft music. For years her mind would have doubted and even hated this day, anxious fears of disappointment and disapproval looks from her days as stabding archon. Would you have hated her? Did you think she failed fontaine and you? Was her a cursed human taking title of archon an insult to you? Furina had nightmares even of the prohecy and your return to see fontaine gone and underwater. But now, as the prophecy and fontaine were safe and out of fear, she ate and asked a good question this new century.

"What kind of pasta would their grace like..."

Soft rainfall drops onto the steps of the Palais Mermonia, the evening rain was forcasfed but welcomed, Neuvillette wrote on the papers softly, agreeing to a few celebratory events the Opera wanted to hold. Usually Lady Furina would be jumping for the task but here he was. Dread builded in his soul. This time of year brought many pains to Neuvillette.

A new century meant a new set of hundreds of years he gets to oulive humans, melusines maybe, but also the clock inches closer and closer to your return. Neuvillette spent early years of his lofe researching and discovering his species and kind for decades. Figuring that if you are the forefather and creator of vishaps and the sovereignty. Why was so many things done the way they were? Why ddi the power the gnosis and archons hold come from them? Why can't he understand your implications, even such his ancestors didn't wish to think against? What power do you hold and how did aid Fontaine in the end? He knew Focalor and Egeria spoke to you, even asking for forgiveness before your departure, so why? Neuvillette, places his pen downs and stands to look out the window of his office to look down at the streets of the Court of Fontaine, a glass of crisp water swirls in his hand. He sips slowly and sighs, coming to think.

"In this new century...please with it, may you come along too my grace."

In the nation of fire, victory, war and passion, raors could be heard from the stadium of flames as people of different tribes shouted and cheered the competitions down below. Surfing races, climbing achievements, conbat bouts, even break dancing competitions held. Mavuika sits at her throne above as her people cheer and celebrate, raising glasses, foods, gifts, and money even in your image. She slips away from the fesitivites to be alone in the speakers chambers, past the sacred flame, and into her personal get-away. Now empty, she stares at the famous wheel of the sun, Natlan has held for centuries, the same you blessed the first pyro archon with, as their rules of ruilibg were left in your favor. She smiles as she too holds her head high, similar to her ancestors before her.

She remebers before she was even archon, how her parents would tell stories of the Great divines influence, love, and power. That the spirit of victory belongs to the pyro archon yes, but the strength was given by you as well. She remembered your fave engraved in ancients temples and stones around Natlan and now some statues around the lands too. She knows too well her nation is blessed by your, not only for the peoples cheers and vitcories but the long-lasting stay they've had against the threat of the abyss thus far. Maybe when you return and ward off the abyssal threats for good, she top could ask something of you...for that she won't know until she sees you herself.

"Until we meet my grace...may your memeory burn eternal.. and your power live within my people."

-> Did i go overboard, yes...but eh...hoped you enjoy, and also i may make a small series out of this..who knows..

[daryldove]

The Sinful, The Guilty

incubus!daryl x fem!reader

monster fucking, size difference, stomach bulge, happy halloween!

summary: you get more than you bargained for when stumbling across a spooky basement in a seemingly abandoned cabin. 2.3k

It's an unnecessarily humid day, and although you had planned on covering lots of ground, you can't muster the willpower to bother. Now you're deep in the woods, trying to improve your mediocre hunting skills. You can't even remember the last time you ate fresh meat. But you're also already exhausted. It's too hot, the bugs are relentless, and it seems like a storm is brewing, so you decide to only walk as much as you can handle while searching for shelter.

Cabins this far out were few and far between, but as one appears through the trees after hours of walking, you decide maybe things aren't so bad after all. The interior is dusty and musty, but it's a better shelter than you've had ages. And you can't exactly afford to be picky. A small cot sits in one corner across from a cold fireplace. Lucky, after all.

You spend the next few minutes getting settled, spreading your belongings around, already taking advantage of having such a secluded, safe feeling place to call home for a bit. That's when you suddenly trip over something protruding from under the frayed rug. Which fucking hurts. You start rolling over the worn material, ready to give whatever inanimate object a piece of your damn mind, only to stare wide eyes once you expose a boarded up trapdoor. Immediately, it has you feeling somewhat queasy.

It takes an hour, your knife, and more energy than you'd like to admit to finally pry all the boards off. You hesitate, for the first time despite all the work it took, as an eerie feeling washes over you. This is creepily suspicious; maybe you should mind your own business. In fact, being inside the cabin at all suddenly feels… off. You sit back on your heels, biting your lip anxiously as you stare down at the latch. Just as the idea of leaving grows appealing, light rain starts echoing against the wood roof. Fuck. Okay, well… Guess you're stuck here, and you're absolutely not sleeping without knowing what's hiding underneath. With growing hesitation, you unclip the latch and open the trapdoor.

After dropping from the ladder, you shine your torch over the dark room. It's damp and stagnant inside, and mostly empty except for what appears to be a shrine on the opposite wall. Your gaze sweeps over various items, herbs, bottles, and books before noticing the faded pentacle drawn in chalk. Unintelligible symbols are written around the outside. Some freaky religious shrine wasn't exactly what you expected, although you suppose it's better than a rotting corpse.

You reach over to pick up a weathered book resting over the star, a small, broken cross resting underneath clinks at the movement. The text in the book is in another language you don't understand, seemingly different from the markings on the floor. Despite the initial creepiness, there's something oddly sad about it all. You can't help but wonder what occurred here—was this done after the world fell? An attempt at seeking answers or protection? You place the book down with a heavy sigh and a heavy heart.

The storm has picked up by the time you ascend the ladder. Dark clouds blanket the woods around you. You gaze around the cabin, something in the stale air feels like it's changed, like time has stopped. It's probably just paranoia, but you can't shake the feeling. The rain pours down harder, as if it's trying to soothe you, and you close the trapdoor with a thud.

No, something is definitely wrong. Your eyes flick around the dark cabin, a shiver creeping up your spine. You force it back down, but the feeling of someone watching you remains. The deep shadows of the room have you patting around for your flashlight, but it's not where you left it.

You practically jump out of your skin as lightning cracks overhead, briefly illuminating the tall, winged figure standing in the corner.

What the fuck.

You freeze momentarily before scrambling for your dagger, a habit the apocalypse built into you, only to remember you left it in your damn bag. The glowing outline of whoever—whatever—stains your vision, only disorienting you more.

You lunge for where you think you tossed your bag earlier, desperate for the comforting weight of your blade, but creature must realise what you're doing. A strong grip yanks you back by the ankle, dragging you along the rough floor until it has you pinned underneath its broad body. Pure terror rakes your body, your eyes wide and frantic. It's too dark to see any features on the dark mass above.

“I ain't gonna hurt ya.” The deep voice comes as another surprise, but you're not exacly reassured by it. You aren't sure how long you lay there, panting, until its hold on you eventually loosens. The moment it does, you crawl back until you hit the wall. Your flashlight bumps against your foot, and you snatch it up, quickly shining it towards the creature.

He's… surprisingly human-looking, aside from the horns poking through his hair, black wings stretching behind him, and the long, thin tail. He flinches at the bright light, still slouched on the floor. Then you notice something else, the fact he's completely naked. Breathing suddenly feels difficult again as you have to force your eyes to stay above his waistline because Jesus Christ...

“What are you?” There's a noticeable shake in your voice as you ask. The winged man just looks a little irritated, and if you're purposely bothering him with stupid questions.

“Stop pointing that thing at me,” he ignores your inquiry as he squints.

“Not until you tell me.” You can't help feeling proud about not letting your voice shake this time. Although he hasn't hurt you yet, you still feel on edge.

He just scoffs like you're an idiot. “An incubus, darlin’. You brought me here, remember?” A what? You what?

Your eyes scan over him again, inspecting his inhuman aspects as if trying to confirm. Did you hit your head? Wait, obviously this has something to do with that creepy shrine. There was likely a reason it was boarded up; seems like you found it. Your eyes fall lower, not even really processing where you're looking until you notice him smirking in your peripheral. A blush crawls onto your cheeks; that was not your intention, regardless of whatever this demon guy thinks. “Stop.”

“I ain't done anythin’.” He looks so smug at your unease, your gut coils at the sight—with anxiety, but maybe something else, too.

“You're looking at me like you wanna eat me,” his smirk widening makes you regret ever opening your mouth, “what do you even want?”

“What do I want? You summoned me here.”

“I don't know anything about that, okay?” It's getting increasingly more difficult to keep your eye level appropriate. With the initial fear simmering, you can actually take in how attractive he is—which maybe is a given considering he's a literal sex demon.

“Well that's obvious, haven't had a human pass through in a while. I'm pretty hungry.” You can see the truth to his claim, something sinister swirling within his irises. He chuckles as you get lost in them for a second.

“I don't... I'm not…” You don't even know what to do or say next, torn between the urge to flee and being frozen in place. For now you focus on getting to your feet. “Okay. Shit, fuck, okay… Do you have a name?”

The incubus raises an eyebrow but nods, “Daryl.” Less biblical than you were expecting, but you return his nod. You attempt to reassure yourself; this situation didn't have to be weird or dangerous. But once you close your eyes to take a deep breath, Daryl is nowhere to be seen once you reopen them. Your heart drops into your stomach again as you stumble forward a few steps. Were you actually hallucinating? Maybe you really fell down the ladder and received a nasty head wound. Right as you place the flashlight hesitantly on the table, an arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back into a broad, muscular chest. Your breath hitches, and you tense as one of Daryl's hands firmly grips your chin.

You don't even realise you're whimpering quietly in fear until he shushes you. One of his fingers slides between your lips to rest against your tongue. “Fuck… I'm so hungry,” his voice is a raspy whisper against your ear. “Can ya be a good little girl for me?” Despite your unease, you feel yourself throb at the words. Not that you're to blame. He is an incubus, after all. Nothing wrong with giving in, you tell yourself.

The feeling of his cock pressing against your back makes you bite down slightly on his finger. This was kinda fucked up, if you thought about it for too long. But you were already tempted to throw caution to the wind. Maybe it's curiosity, frustration after being pent up for so long, or maybe he's got some crazy demon powers. Did you even care? His finger presses more firmly against your tongue as his free hand trails upwards, tugging and tearing at your top until he exposes your chest. His tail curls around your thigh, trapping you close. The way his thumb rubs and pinches at your nipples makes you squirm instinctively as his hips grind against yours. He continues until you're aching, desperate for any amount of friction, your knuckles turning white with how hard you're clutching the table in front of you.

Eventually, he removes his finger from your mouth, stepping back only long enough to yank your pants down. He drags the moistened finger over your clit, chuckling gruffly as you buck up against his hand. A strangled gasp escapes your mouth. “Yeah, baby girl, ya like that?” He presses himself against your back again, this time sliding his dick between your squeezed, wet thighs. His length presses hotly against your cunt, and you can practically feel him throbbing against you.

You feel any remaining hesitance crumble, giving way to complete desperation as Daryl fucks your thighs. He's massive, bigger than any human you'd seen. Right as you feel your orgasm building, he pulls away again to drag you towards the small cot in the corner. You nearly trip trying to kick off your pants completely on the way. The incubus practically throws you onto the bed, immediately climbing over you to capture your lips in a messy, heated kiss.

His taste is enchanting, distracting you until you feel the head of his dick push into your entrance. You reluctantly pull away with a whine at the stretch. “W-Wai..t,” but he doesn't stop, only pushing in further as he holds your chin. “I got ya, baby girl.” Your head falls back as he thrusts deeper, pulling drawn out moans from your lips. He grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to your stomach. Your confusion dissipates to disbelief as you feel the outline of his length press against your palm with each thrust. You're surprised you don't come right then and there. “H-Holy shit,” you barely manage to pant out.

“Takin’ it so well, it's like ya made for me,” the incubus grunts out. He buries his head into your neck, his fangs dragging shyly across your sensitive skin, as if he's holding back from hurting you. His grip on your hips is firm, dragging you down in time with his thrusts as they grow rougher. Your own hands slide up his body, exploring his strong chest and large biceps. His horns intrigue you, curiously wrapping your hands around them like they're handles. Daryl grunts in pleasure, pushing against you even more. He holds you down, fucking you hard until you're squeezing around him and coming with a yell. A deep, satisfied sigh leaves your lips as he pulls away. Your body already feels weak from the effort.

Before you can relax fully, a hot wetness slides up your folds. “Daryl!” Your voice quivers with sensitivity. You struggle to sit up on your elbows to look where his head is buried between your thighs. His tongue is precise, lapping up your juices and circling around your clit with practised perfection. It seems he's larger than a human in every aspect. He presses kisses up your stomach to your chest, long tongue sliding over your nipple before reaching your mouth. “Ya taste so good,” he whispers against your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, fingers roaming over his wide shoulders as he kisses you.

His strong arms flip you over without warning, pressing your face into the pillow as he shoves back inside you with a grunt. The cot shakes with force as he ruts against you, his chest pressing against your back. You feel caged, completely at this monster's mercy, and it's the hottest thing you've ever experienced. His wings fall around you like some kind of dark waterfall, and his tail snakes up to press against your clit. And fuck, if it isn't the most intense pleasure you've felt in your life—it's overwhelming. Daryl angles deeper, harder, and your mind completely blanks. His fingers slide into your mouth again, holding your jaw open as he fucks with animalistic thrusts. You come so hard the room spins.

Then you jolt awake, not even remembering falling asleep. The cabin is empty, void of any sign of the incubus. Your eyes scan the room as you struggle to sit up. Every inch of your body aches. An acute tiredness spreading through your limbs. As you glance down at your nakedness, at least you can be sure what happened wasn't your imagination.

[demonslayedher]

Determining Ages and Birth Years

Kimetsu no Yaiba’s first official fanbook gave us ages for the many of the main characters, but in a manga where calculating age can be crucial, why are these numbers not so straightforward? Because the Japanese calendar is a mess, and the Taisho period was an in-between stage in many ways. Many new changes were established in the Meiji period but not broadly enforced until the Showa period, including how to count one’s age.

This subject can be terribly complicated, but please follow me below for:

--Historical context for how methods of counting age could differ --Which method I choose to apply to Kimetsu no Yaiba and why --Based on that, a list of my calculations for dates of birth, zodiac signs (Chinese and Western), and because it’s handy, the date each of these characters would have turned 25

In the Taisho period, there are two methods of counting age in play:

Kazoedoshi (“counting years”): Counting the years one has been in alive in, with that year having started on the agricultural new year and counting a new year to one’s age each New Year’s Day after that, like how it is still practiced in South Korea.

Which is to say, you are born at age 1, counting the first calendar year you lived in, and on the following New Year’s Day, you are age 2, even if you have only been out of the womb a very short time.

Mannenrei (“full year age”): Counting only each full 12-month period since your birth as part of your age, like how it is practiced in the United States of America.

Which is to say, you are born at age 0, and after twelve full months have passed, you are age 1.

Kazoedoshi was practiced through most of the Demon Slayer Corp’s history, but the Meiji government enforced a switch to Mannenrei in 1902. However, most people still practiced Kazoedoshi throughout the Meiji, Taisho, and early Showa periods, and it wasn’t until 1950 that the government reinforced the switch to Mannenrei. This is also when, with the influx of American culture due to the post-war occupation, individual birthdays started to be marked with cake and presents. Until that time, people did not pay much attention to their date of birthday besides, perhaps, a passing notion and maybe a shrine or temple visit and a nice dinner (see more on this post). Many people continued to count their own age in Kazoedoshi until 1950, and although some people liked the “oh, actually I’m younger than I thought I was!” surprise (because Manrenrei really was outside of their usual way of thinking), it made centenarians a little sad that they hadn’t actually reached 100.

Similarly, even though the Meiji government enforced a switch to the Gregorian calendar which put New Years on January 1, many people still celebrated a sliding date according to a lunar-based agricultural calendar, like is still done in China. It was likewise later reinforced.

In modern Japan, New Years on Gregorian January 1 and counting age by the Mannenrei system are the norm and standard, however, some customs (especially but not limited to religious customs) are still celebrated according to the agricultural calendar and Kazoedoshi ages. It’s annoying to keep track of and if I had a 5-yen coin for every time I say the Japanese calendar is a mess, I’d have a lot more yen.

The canon of Kimetsu no Yaiba does not specify any of the following: 1. What year most of KnY takes place (but based on clues from the Hand Demon, we can extrapolate that most of it takes place in 1915) 2. Whether the characters’ given ages are according to Kazoedoshi or Mannenrei, and whether the characters’ given birthdates are according to the Gregorian or agricultural calendars 3. Which method the characters use to count New Years and their own age 4. If there are any differences among the cast and how they count these things (like if the city-slickers were with the times and the country bumpkins were not) 5. Whether or not Amane accounted for Mannenrei or Kazoedoshi when stating that all the marked swordsmen of the Sengoku period died by the age of 25

So what are fanfic writers who are preoccupied with canon accuracy to do? How much should the fans of characters who got the mark fret?

After tying my brain in knots (for years, since I attempted tackling this issue years ago and this is my better post addressing the issue(s)), here are the ways that I approach it.

First: I firmly treat most of the events of canon as firmly taking place in Gregorian 1915, with the Final Selection taking place that winter and Muzan’s defeat coming sometime around the very end of 1915 or start of 1916. (See here for how I calculated all the time frames indicated in canon. You’re welcome.)

Second, we have to treat the official fanbook material in the context of how it was published. I think the ages in the fanbook are given in Mannenrei for the benefit of Heisei/Reiwa period readers, but if you really want to dig into it, the characters might interpret their own age differently based on Kazoedoshi, since it was such a prevalent way to count one’s age even for people born in the Taisho period. For example, Tanjirou’s given canon age is 15 (Mannenrei), but if you ask him in-universe, he might say he is 17 (Kazoedoshi).

Even if we assume many of the characters use the agricultural calendar and Kazoedoshi, there is a chance that characters who actively used western technology—for example, Shinobu, who uses textbooks in English microscopes and thermometers that likely came from Germany—had switched to Mannenrei for the sake of more accuracy on an individual basis. It is also possible that the Corp enacted their own standardization to Mannenrei around the time they standardized uniforms and updated the payment structure. If this is the case, it might have required country bumpkins to rethink the systems they had always been used to. Tanjirou, if asked in-universe once he is a Corp member, would therefore say he is 15 (Mannenrei).

The places the Kazoedoshi/Mannenrei difference has more implications is where characters have stated their own age. For example, Himejima seems to use a Mannenrei system (he states that he became a Hashira at age 19, and now is clearly over the age of 25, with his canonical age being recorded as 27. The numbers check out). This makes me more curious about Muichirou, who has a canonical given age of 14, but says in his own recollection that he was 10 when he was orphaned, and 11 when Yuichirou died.

If Mannenrei: It was four years or more ago that his parents died, and then sometime after he and Yuichirou turned 11 on Gregorian August 8, the demon attacked on a hot summer night. If Kazoedoshi: It was four years or more ago that his parents died. New Years passed that winter and he and Yuichirou turned 11. Many more months passed before the demon attacked on a hot summer night. However, if the Corp enforces his Mannenrei age of 14, but being a country bumpkin with a fuzzy memory, Muichirou still thinks of himself in Kazoedoshi, thereby making him think of himself as 16: It was six years or more ago that his parents died. New Years passed that winter and he and Yuichirou turned 11. Many more months passed before the demon attacked on a hot summer night. He nonetheless became a Hashira relatively recently (according to aligning Kyojuro-related flashback material and the second fanbook making passing mention that he hasn’t been a Hashira that long so his impression of the others isn’t that deep). This implies he spent a very, very, very, very long time incapacitated before he could so much as hold a sword, let alone join the Final Selection.

So what if we consider the opposite, that every given age is in Kazoedoshi? That would mean that when the fanbook and Tanjirou say he is 15, we would translate that back to a Mannenrei age of 13. And, dear readers, do you really want to imagine the entire cast being one or two years younger than their given age? I didn’t think so.

It is already very, very difficult to determine the order of Kimetsu no Yaiba canon both due to incomplete histories and canonical errors introduced by outside material (Ufotable animating Kanao’s May 19 encounter with the Kochou sisters with a winter setting, or Hirano-sensei drawing a spread of all nine Hashira in a 1913 setting) or timeline errors introduced in the original manga likely due to oversight (Gotouge drawing Aoi in uniform shortly after Kanae’s death when Aoi is later stated to have attended the same Final Selection as Muichirou, who at the time Kanae died is likely still living with his parents). That is why I assume the following rule of thumb:

When ages are given in-universe or in supplementary material, assume it is Mannenrei, because this is a shounen manga and not a math textbook. (As another case in point, the heights of the characters would have made most of the characters giants in Taisho society, though they get away with just being a bit on the tall side in Reiwa society. Some things are simplified for the benefit of modern readers.)

Assume the characters do not pay much attention to their age, or their birthday, because this is a shounen manga with a lot of dedication to historical settings and folk traditions (and those folks didn’t pay much attention to their birthdays).

Ergo: If the Corp tells its members “this is your Mannenrei age, use it. When we say 25, we have already done the math from our Sengoku period records and we mean 25 in Mannenrei,” the Corp members probably accept that. However, the Corp members might think of it as having two ages for two different purposes. Given the prevalence of Kazoedoshi, in their heart, they might still think of New Years as the time when you collectively celebrate everyone’s birthday.

Since I’m assuming Mannenrei, I’m also assuming Gregorian birthdates, and assuming everyone’s given canon age to be the age they were during the Infinity Fortress battle that took place roughly around New Year’s Day 1916.

Why am I picking this date? Because this is when the first fanbook was published, and it treated canon as it was occurring at that time in publication, so Akaza, Douma, and Kokushibou were not yet given the “eliminated” status (also, Rengoku was given already called “former” Flame Hashira. Shinobu’s demise had not yet been published in the serialization).

I also say “roughly New Year” because of the agricultural/Gregorian calendar issues. The agricultural New Year’s Day in 1916 would have fallen on Gregorian February 4, but because I’m treating this as the Corp having adopted Mannenrei, I’m also having them treat Gregorian January 1 as New Years. Because Ubuyashiki Nichika and Hinaki were singing a New Years song when Muzan strolled in to visit, that leans credence toward it happening around then. More crucially, cherry blossoms are in full bloom “three months later,” which aligns it best with Gregorian January 1, since late March/early April is when you are most likely to get the full bloom of the most common somei-yoshino cherry trees.

It’s also a convenient date and time in the plot to measure by because all their birthdays would have passed for that year, barely including Nezuko’s. (But if Mugen Ressha took place prior to May, like I have calculated before… does this mean Rengoku would have been part of Team 21? My gosh, I’m crying. For this list, I’m treating it as the age he would have been relative to the others on that date.)

Tl;dr: I’m assuming you can treat every canon age as Mannenrei, and totally ignore Kazoedoshi in the first place (unless if it will help you be crafty in your fic, because there’s still a good case to be made for the characters using it).

Now here is the fanfic reference list I promised, including: 1. Their date of birth according to the Gregorian calendar, calculated based their canon age being their Mannenrei age as of December 31, 1915. 2. Their birth year according to the Japanese period 3. The year they would have turned 25 4. Their Chinese zodiac sign (yes, I know there is argument about whether or not you can say “zodiac” here, but this isn’t the place to start a new topic. Anyway, I’ve also included the elements for each year for the deep nerds who anticipate it) (also I’m really sorry, Inosuke is not born in the Year of the Boar, nor is Iguro born in the Year of the Snake) 5. Their Western zodiac sign (yes, I know there was a recalculation of sun signs some years back, but no, I’m not bothering to take that into account, this post is complicated enough as it is) Important caveat: I'm bad at math.

Kamado Tanjirou: July 14, 1900/Meiji 33 (1925/Taisho 14), Metal Rat, Cancer Kamado Nezuko: December 28, 1901/Meiji 34 (1926/Taisho 15), Metal Ox, Capricorn Agatsuma Zenitsu: September 3, 1899/Meiji 32 (1924/Taisho 13), Earth Boar, Virgo Hashibira Inosuke: April 22 (as was written on his fundoshi along with his name), 1900/Meiji 33 (1925/Taisho 14), Metal Rat, Taurus Tsuyuri Kanao: May 19 (chosen for the day she encountered the Kochou sisters), 1899/Meiji 32 (sometime in 1924??/Taisho 13??), Earth Boar(?), Taurus (???) Shinazugawa Genya: January 7, 1899/Meiji 32  (1924/Taisho 13) – by Gregorian/modern Japanese system he is an Earth Boar, but the agricultural New Year wasn’t until February 10 that year, so he might instead be considered an Earth Dog, Capricorn Tomioka Giyuu: February 8, 1894/Meiji 27 (1919/Taisho 8), Wood Horse, Aquarius Kochou Shinobu: February 24, 1897/Meiji 30 (1822/Taisho 11), Fire Rooster, Pisces Rengoku Kyoujurou: May 10, 1895/Meiji 28 (1920/Taisho 9), Wood Sheep, Taurus Uzui Tengen: October 31, 1892/Meiji 25 (1917/Taisho 6), Water Dragon, Scorpio Kanroji Mitsuri: June 1, 1896/Meiji 29 (1921/Taisho 10), Fire Monkey, Gemini Tokitou Muichirou: August 8, 1901/Meiji 34 (1926/Taisho 15), Metal Ox, Leo Himejima Gyoumei: August 23, 1888/Meiji 21 (1913/Taisho 2), Earth Rat, Virgo Shinazugawa Sanemi: November 29, 1894/Meiji 27 (1919/Taisho 8), Wood Horse, Sagittarius Iguro Obanai: September 15,1894/Meiji 27 (1919/Taisho 8), Wood Horse, Virgo

Afterword:

Suppose Amane didn’t do the math to state the Sengoku swordsmans’ ages in Mannenrei terms? What if their records were spotty, or she took Kazoedoshi and applied it to swordsmen who now use Mannenrei?

Well, in that case, Tanjirou would probably die sometime in 1923, and Giyuu & Sanemi sometime in 1917. Ergo, I think I will stick with Amane having done the math and converted Sengoku ages to Mannennei if she was going to tell them all something so important.

Also, using Kazoedoshi would totally mess with the Kimetsu Gakuen AU.

[zhounauts]

ROMEO & JULIET ──── pairing nrk x fmr warnings cursing wc 530 this story is so cringey to me i literally gagged at the last line

“my head hurts i can’t do this,” riki groans, sinking back into his chair.

“oh please, we’re literally only halfway through the fifth scene of the first act,” you chide, bonking his knee, “pick up your book again,”

“this is so ass,”

“what!?” you gasp, “romeo and juliet is so good,”

“of course you would think that,” he teases, turning to look at you, “miss literature nerd,”

“oh screw you mr. haven’t picked up a book since book club in fifth grade,” you snap back, “i’m sacrificing my time to tutor you, so stop complaining and read,” riki grumbles, but he relucatnatly picks up the book again, flipping through it with obvious boredom.

“okay,” you sigh, “how about this? let’s read the lines aloud and act them out, you’ll remember them better,” riki shrugs, “you’re romeo, i’m juliet. now read,”

“if i. . .profane with my. . .unworthiest hand? This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,” riki starts off awkwardly, “romeo takes juliet’s hand?”

“no dumbass, those are the stage directions,” you laugh, “like this,”. you reach over to riki, grasping his hand with one of your own, as you hold the book with your other. you nod for him to continue, not taking note of the red blooming across his cheeks.

“my uhm, lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender. . .kiss?”

“good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this,” you raise your interlocked hands, letting go so that you can place your palm against his. “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss,”

"what the hell does that even mean? why are we talking about pilgrims? is it thanksgiving?? what are holy palmers? holy hands?” riki asks.

“they’re using religious talk to show the purity of their love,” you tell him, “read your footnotes riki, pilgrims as in worshippers. and the holy palmers are when priests put their hands together to pray. come on, keep reading,”

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” riki furrows his brows, the words all jumbled in his head. he glances at your hand, still touching his own.

“Ay pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer,” you watch as riki grimaces, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to make sense of the story.

“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair,”

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Come on, we’re almost done,”

“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take,” riki looks up at you before his eyes go wide in alarm and he flushes red.

[He kisses her]

You meet his eyes, and burst out into laughter at his face. “did you just think we were gonna kiss?” protests explode from his mouth, and he sputters.

“no i—”

“it’s okay you were just in character, romeo,” you tease, “keep this up and i might have to give you a real kiss as a reward,”

[writers-potion]

Aight I just remembered what I was gonna ask. I think It'll be my second ask because I do remember I submitted the same question I wanna ask months ago HAHA

Okay so, I'm writing a story that explores a lot of subjects, one of them is morality

So... How do you make a fictional religion feel "real" in a sense? Like I know there'll be shrines, temples, and stuff but I need to know more than just that.

Take your time and thank you! ✨

Writing Realistic Fictional Religion

Hi! Thank you for the question :)

Please refer to my posts about writing hateful gods and writing deities for stuff about writing gods! I'll talk more about writing religion in general here.

Religious Hierarchy

Think about how you'd want your religion to be structured:

Polytheism: the belief in many gods.

Monotheism: the belief in a single, all-powerful god.

Atheism: the belief in no gods. A belief in nothing is stil a belief.

Are there tiers of gods? (Gods above Gods)?

Is there a "Mother God" or "Father God" that must be worshipped over everything else?

How are religious leaders selected and trained?

What kind of actions (celibacy, vegetarianism) do the believers need to do in order to be a faithful person? Is there a consequence when they don't do this?

Religious Texts

The most important question a religious text should aim to answer is: where did the world (and therefore, us) come from?

Here are some story patterns you can use:

Creatio Ex Nihilo: God creates the world from nothing

Creation from Chaos: God introduced order into a chaotic world

Primal Couple: The first "couple" gives birth to the world

World Parent: A god sacrifices (a part) of their body to construct the world's elements.

Emergence: Before the current world, there existed another world. After a period of time is over, a new world emerges.

Earth-Diver: A deity sends over a person/animal, etc. to construct a world out of the barren land they've created.

This "Origin Story" will dicate the basic values that your religion thinks is the most important.

Religious Practices

You have the freedom to invent your own religious practices. When you are trying to invent one, consider:

The weather. Is the Sun in your world so blazing that all religious festivals are only held during the night?

What can you not do in the name of religion? Are you not allowed to have stuffed animals in your bed? Not eat blue stuff?

Who are the people that work the most during festivals/worship ceremonies? Are slaves exploited to prepare the feast? Are the women the only ones that works while the men sing? Are animals tortured or exploited in the process?

Sacrifices. What/when/how do you offer sacrifices?

You can also think about:

Who determines the kind of religious practices the other people have to follow?

Are the reliigous practice discriminatory and if yes, who do they benefit?

Religious Locations

Historically, religious lands have had the power to have its own rules and be protected. which will provide a good

One Location vs. Many: Is there a shrine in every home/street, or is everyone required to report to the city square every Saturday?

The Ruler's Castle: Sometimes, the king is considered to be the "son of god" and the palace is therefore the most sacred place.

One Unreachable Location: It can also be that in order to be ruly faithful, you need to visit a place that is so unreachable that people die trying.

A Moving Location: Does the god choose their new home every year?

A Constructable Location: If you draw a circle in bone ash, does the patch of land inside it become holy and no ghost can enter it? What if you lack faith and the circle construction doesn't work at a time you need it the most?

Question of Morality and Religion

While many religions preach equality and kindnes, it has been used to justify conflict and discriminate those who do not believe in it.

Does the deity promote such violence? Or is it the bad leaders?

Is the deity uncritical towards such behavior? Or do they actively step in?

Is the God falliable? Like the modern-day presidents, is the god's survival/power somehow dependent on the believers? Is that why they stay silent even when bad things are being done in their name?

Does the god favor rich people?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[a-998h]

Each nations festivals for the Creator.

Mondstadt

It is known as The Ventus Dies Natalis (Latin: The Winds Birthday Festival).

Time of year: Spring

How long it lasts: 3 weeks/ 14 days

Origins: The people of old Mondstadt wanted to honor the creation of the winds. Do to this they planned a festival that at first was a serious religious affair that lasted for a week, before it became a 3 week festival.

Traditions week by week

Week 1

Day 1: The people go to the cathedral plaza or inside the cathedral for prayer and to present offerings of Calla Lillies, Snapdragons, Dandelion Wine,and Fruits of the Festival, Mint Jelly, Moon Pie, and Northern Apple Stew.

Day 2: A tournament between the knights is held from sunrise untill noon. Once the final round has ended, the winner is given a crown of Calla Lillies, Snapdragons, and being honored with the title of Ventus Fortitudinis (Latin: Wind of Strength). The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Bennett for two years in a row.

Day 3: A tournament is held between Mondstadt's archers from noon to sunset. The winner gains the title of Sagittarius Ventus (Latin: Archer of the wind) along with a Calla Lilly and Sanpdragon flower crown. The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Amber for four years in a row.

Day 4: From sunset to midnight a contest for bards is held and the winner gains the title of Vates Ventus (Latin: Bard of the wind). The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Venti for six years.

Day 5: The three winners throw a ball, similar to the Ludi Harpastum games, but these balls have two flower crowns on each ball. The three winners throw the balls and those who cath any of the balls and gain one of the six flowers crowns is believed to share in the original winners good fortune. After this the people good to play games, eat, and drink.

Day 6: This day is most for prayers to local shrines or at the cathedral.

Day 7: People go and either, buy of pick Calla Lillies and Snapdragons and spend time making flower crowns for their friends, family, or lovers. A large feast is had and people gift the flower crowns they made to each other.

Week 2

Day 1: People return to the Cathedral area for another prayer and this time no offerings are put at the statue offering table.

Day 2: Those who are willing with travel out to the separate shrine near the Thousand Winds Temple in order to deliver written prayers of the people.

Day 3: In cetian locations in the more rual areas will have games set up, like wind glider races.

Day 4: This is a day with many bards who share their poems, song, and stories with people in the plaza during one act performances that last from noon until sunset. Once the sun sets, people will spend their night drinking and eating.

Day 5: This is another rest day.

Day 6: drunken partying with lots of food.

Day 7: people gather around campfires or fire places and tell stories.

Week 3

Day 1: The church choir sing a few songs to start off the final festival week.

Day 2: The petals of Snapdragons and Calla Lillies are picked from the flower and case to the wind carrying prayers, often down by those who do not wish to write their prayers.

Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6: drinking, feasting and games.

Day 7: The people all blow on dandelions, making wishes as the fluff blows in the wind. A large feast like at the beginning of the festival is held in oder to cap off the festival itself.

Liyue

The Creator has been celebrated on Lantern Rite on few occasions.

The Creator has a festival of their own called Lóngfèng jié (Chinese: Dragon and phoenix festival).

Time of year: Spring

How long it lasts: 15 days/ 1 week and a day

Origins: When the adepti roamed the land along side humans, they saw how the humans would worship the Creator on the same days of worship for Rex Lapis. Once he was told, Rex Lapis said that the people shall have a festival for only the Creator every spring for 10 days before it became strethed to 15 days over the centuries. The times during Lantern Rite where the Creator was worshipped, happened during times where the spring was to rainy and dark for the typical festival.

Day 1: The citizens gather at their nearest shrine and present offerings of Snapdragons, Violetgrass, Lotus Flower Crisp, Stir-Fried Shrimp, and Stone Harbor Delicacies. This happens after the people say a prayer for good fortune.

Day 2: a parade is held with a dragon and phoenix being made to look like it is dancing by being controlled by a team of performers.

Day 3: There are kite design contests for both children and adults. Once the designing is done, there is a contest for who's kite can go the highest and farthest.

Day 4: A feast is held to honor the Creator's role in making the Archons.

Day 5: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance of the Creators brith from the stars and Celestia.

Day 6: Bouquets of Violetgrass and Snapdragons are traded between those who are close.

Day 7: People place a Snapdragon or Violetgrass flower into the sea as a prayer for good fortune.

Day 8: The shrines are decorated with Snapdragon Violetgree garland and only drink offerings are placed this day.

Day 9: A feast is held to celebrate the Creator's role of making the adepti.

Day 10: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance about how the Creator made the Archons, adepti, and humanity.

Day 11: Prayers are written onto pieces of paper and are then burned, they believe the smoke carried the prayers upto Celestia for the Creator to grant.

Day 12: A contest is held for who can make the best sculpture of the Creator from sunrise to noon. The winner is given the title of Shítou yìshùjiā (Chinese: Artist of stone) and the current title holder is Madam Ping. From noon till dusk a tournament is held to see who is the strongest fighter, it was used to see who would be a good guardian to the Creator, the winner gets the title of Fènghuáng wèishì (Chinese: Protector of the Phoenix), current title holder is Beidou. From dusk till sunset a contest held to test who would be a good advisor for the Creator, the winning title is Míngxīng gùwèn (Chinese: Advisor of the Stars) current title holder is Xingqiu.

Day 13: People tell smaller stories and myths about the Creators interaction with Liyue's archon and adepti at home or on stage.

Day 14: A final feast is held for the Creator's role in making humanity and everything on the mortal world.

Day 15: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance on the death and rebirth of the Creator. Kites with prayers and wishes written on them will be released as the streets are lit with lanterns. In Qiaoying Village, wusho dances are held, in which Gaming is usually the main star.

Inazuma

The festival is called Hana-shin matsuri (Japanese: The flower god festival).

Time of year: Summer

How long it lasts: 10 days

Origins: The yokai started holding a small festival to thank the Creator for giving them life. When yokai and humanity became friends, the yokai shared some of the traditions with humans while making sure they were followed and done properly. Eventually the festival became a common part of life in Inazuma. It became even more important when the arachons of Inazuma were seen in public for the festival.

Day 1: A prayer service is held at Grand Narukami shirne in which special incense are burned and offerings of Dendrobium, Sakura, Sakura Mochi, Sakura Shrimp Crackers, and Tri-colored Dango.

Day 2: Kabuki theaters put on performances that tell important myths about the Creator, similar to the Liyue Opera.

Day 3: Sangonomiya shrine holds a prayer services with the same offerings as the first prayer day.

Day 4: A parade with floats moves through the streets of Inazuma city. Each float follows a set theme for the festival that year.

Day 5: The samurai and Inazuman warriors hold a contest of strength and skill. The winner gets the title of Hoshi no senshi (Japanes: Warrior of the stars), and current title holder is Kujo Sara for 4 years in a row.

Day 6: Onikabuto trading, collecting and fighting amounts children is seen as a way for them to test their strength, Itto is still trying to win.

Day 7 and Day 8: Are the rest days untill the evening, in which there is a large feast.

Day 9: Sakura and Dendrobium flowers are put floating into the sea and a way of wishing or prayer.

Day 10: Fireworks are fired into the sky as way to end the festival.

Sumeru

This is known as Laghayati Parvan (Sanskrit: Color Festival).

Time of year: Summer

How long it lasts: 7 days

Origins: The people of Sumeru believed that since they were closest to nature, that they were closer to the Creator. They treat this time of year like a 7 day funeral service as it is believed that the Creator drew their last in the Avidya Forest, however it has become more light hearted in the last 20 years.

Day 1: People clean their homes and the nearest shrine before leaving offerings of Sumeru Rose, Mourning Flower, Padisarah Pudding and Baklava along with prayers.

Day 2: People get markings on their body in symbolic patterns using an ink made with Henna berries.

Day 3: The people lights bonfires to tell stories about the Creator and Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. People in Sumeru ship them. (After Lord Rukkhadevata get erased, those stories are replaced with stories of a parent daughter relationship)

Day 4: People adorn their homes and local shrines with flower garlands and lanterns.

Day 5: People throw colored powder made with Henna berries at each other and decorate their homes and shrines with it.

Day 6: The colored Henna Berry powder is thrown as a welcoming gesture for the Creator.

Day 7: A clean up of all the colorful powder from the streets and buildings.

Fontaine

This is the Dieu créateur Carnival. (Fench: Creator gods carnival.)

Time of year: Late winter/early spring

How long it lasts: 7 days

Origins: It started as a way for devoted worshipers of the Creator to mark the end of their fasting period. Fontaine kept it like this for the whole time untill Furina became archon. Furina thought the Creator deserved a more fun and colorful celebration.

Day 1: Rainbow Roses and Romartime bouquets are gifted to shrines as offerings along with Fruity Trio and Fontaine Aspic.

Day 2: An 18 float parade goes through the streets lead by the king, queen, and carnivalon on floats. These floats are offer followed with performers from all nations.

Day 3: Another parade during those in costume on the floats throw up to 10,000 flowers into the crowd. During this time boquets of Rainbow Roses and Romartimes are exchanged between lovers, it is believed to bless the relationship with years of good luck so long as the partners are together. This parade is called the défilé de fleurs (French: flower parade).

Day 4: This is a repeat of the parade on day 2 expect the floats are decorated with lights of various colors. Known as Défilé de lumières (French: Parade of lights).

Day 5: On this night, people par take in games and drunken fun while dressed in costumes and masks.

Day 6: This is a day full of performances all having a common theme of myths about the Creator.

Day 7: The days in which people clean up from the weeks events of chaos and fun.

Currently all nations are either starting or preparing a festival to welcome the Creator back to Teyvat. I will explore these a bit more in the main plot line.

[nocandnc]

Edo Period Mina!!

She was scouted by priests from Izumo as a child and has since been revered as a living god (ikigami) with the title of Ashiro-no-mikoto or Ashirogami at times.

She lives a fairly solitary and lonely lifestyle, spending much of her time enshrined in Izumo until she's called to battle. Ashirogami is reserved for large castle-destroying kaiju, which only appear a few months at a time. Otherwise, the fighting is mostly left to regular soldiers.

Hoshina Soshiro is one of those "regular soldiers", but his genius talent with the blade makes him a top pick when she needs someone to man the front lines. Hoshina is also one of the few people who treats Mina like a person. He sometimes helps her sneak out of the shrine to interact with townsfolk incognito.

While she's thankful to protect the country, she misses the simple days from her childhood in the countryside.

Why Izumo? Why a living god?

It's difficult to explain without going into a crazy deep-dive, but to try and keep it short... in this AU setting of mine, there's a slight supernatural element where godly blessings and divine possession take the place of the scientific kaiju weaponry and numbers suits from the canon storyline. As such, the ancient Izumo Taisha (Izumo itself being known as 'the realm of the gods' and home of Ookuninushi who created Japan in myth.) is a close equivalent to the modern day Izumo Tech. It's through it that much of the kaiju hunting and recruitment of potentially blessed individuals is managed.

Mina is blessed by a tiger kami that grants her luck in battle - making her marksmanship with firearms, projectile weaponry and artillery of all kinds unfailingly accurate. She can also invoke kamigakari (kami possession), where the god in question dwells in her body. In this state, she is supernaturally fast and strong. The particulars are vague as I'd to focus more on the characters rather than any religious aspect, but Bishamonten (a god of war and one of the seven lucky gods) is associated with tigers, so if I had to pick... that's probably who's taken a liking to her ^^;;;

I've already rambled too much, so that's all for now! Hope folks enjoy!!

[yanderepuck]

@lulu-the-smol-floof and I spent like 2 hours talking about the religions the guys were, so we looked it all up just to be sure. There are so many more arguments happening

Napoleon: was baptized into the Catholic faith as a child, however, he never became engrossed in the faith

Mozart: Catholic (and fairly religious)

Leonardo: more than likely Catholic. He referred to God as a supreme being. Could also be called a spiritual metaphysician.

Vincent: Protestant (father was priest, also nearly was a priest)

Theo: Protestant (father was priest)

Arthur: Catholic turned atheist(after studying medicine) then got interested in the occult.

Isaac: Born into an Anglican family, by his thirties held a Christian faith. Saw worshipping Christ as God was idolatry, to him the fundamental sin.

Jean: Catholic

Will: Protestant

Dazai: Christian but in the way that God is a punisher (in game possibly more Shinto since we see him in shrines)

Comte: He believes...in something

Sebastian: atheist but superstitious

Vlad: Eastern Roman Orthodox Catholic (going off Vlad in Impaler)

Faust: Protestant (was banned from churches tho)

Charles: Catholic

Drake: Protestant

Galileo: Roman Catholic (supported the church and hoped the church would support him, spoiler alert: they didn't)

~~

Fun lil thoughts now

Jean and Mozart are the only ones who go to church every Sunday.

Because here Leonardo is a pureblood, I think that maybe for a hot moment he was religious but very quickly turned his back on that.

Theo is SOOOOO mad that the three he hates the most are the only other Protestants. He's stuck with Will Faust and Drake.

Will actually grew up in the Church of England, which was possibly more Roman Catholic but when you look at his writing it reflects Protestant more.

Best part is that Faust is Protestant but Vlad has him working in a Catholic church. Vlad doesn't know the difference. Faust gives all his sermons in German and they aren't even sermons. He just bitches about this and gives out recipes, but Mozart is literally the only one who knows

Faust: I fucking hate this city. It's so dirty

Mozart: he's so right

Now bc they lean into Drake being more of a pirate, I don't think this man has much religion to him. He sticks to the pirate code. But I feel like if you showed him a sign of God he'd believe you.

Okay so Dazai. When we first talked about this we couldn't really find anything (I was honestly doing a quick Google search, not a deep dive), so we said he's probably Shinto, at least in game since we see him in shrines in some cgs. @tako-cafe informed me that he was first communist (when growing up) and then Christian, but int he way that God is here to punish/torture us bc humans themselves are sin and cannot escape it.

Arthur went atheist once he discovered science basically.

Isaac is actually right with the idolizing thing. It's actually blasphemous to have depictions of Jesus on a cross, or having a place dedicated to God. But that part sort of got lost bc obvs churches don't want you to know that. Also, he's just a god fearing man.

Isaac: going to church is a sin

Jean, across the room: ITS WHAT

That being said, Christmas Day, aka Isaac's birthday, Isaac and Arthur are the only ones at the mansion in the morning.

Dazai is going bc they have snacks. Sebastian is going because ..well.. we shouldn't trust them all to behave.

Back to Dazai. If we stick with him being Shinto, everyone in the mansion finds it weird as hell. Sebastian has to tell them that "no. This is actually the religion, not just weird things Dazai does"

Meanwhile Dazai is like "I need to go feed the frogs goldfish so that we have good weather"

Oh? Comte? Yeah. He believes. In what? He believes

Also, keep in mind that even tho that most of them are Catholic, they are all from different countries and time periods where being Catholic meant different things.

[jasper-pagan-witch]

hi! sorry to bother you, but i would like to get into pop culture paganism and am intimidated by all the.. everything people are talking about that i dont understand. do you have the most basic, "explain it like im four" crash course for learning PCP? [i feel the need to specify, i dont think im interested in being a witch at this time, i just have a pop culture deity id like to venerate] [i think thats the right word? worship? work with? idk]

thank you very much!

I'll happily help, anon.

WARNING! This post is a very, very basic introduction to Pop Culture Paganism, and I'm writing from my own perspective. There's no way I can cover everything. Please let me rest.

Let's start with some abbreviations:

PCM = Pop Culture Magic, the usage of elements of pop culture in one's magical or spiritual practice

PCP = Pop Culture Paganism, the usage of elements of pop culture (including but not limited to pop culture deities or characters-as-deities) in or as one's religious practice

PCD = Pop Culture Deity, an entity who is worshiped as or is a deity in their source material

PCE = Pop Culture Entity, any entity from a pop culture source (any PCD is a PCE, but not all PCEs are PCDs)

And some of my own definitions (yours may not be the same!):

Veneration/worship = including a figure in your religious practice

Work = creating an agreement with a figure in a magical or spiritual practice, which may or may not be religious in nature

Devotion = worshiping one deity above all others, that deity becoming your patron

All of these have been greatly simplified for ease of use in this guide.

PCP can be done in addition to or in place of other religions. Due to the nature of the phrase "paganism", a polytheist approach is implied but ultimately isn't necessary - there are plenty of pop culture pagans who only worship one PCD/PCE. I practice both PCP and """mainstream""" polytheism.

PCP can be done in addition to PCM, but the two can also be mutually exclusive. I, personally, practice both PCP and PCM.

The primary appeal of PCP is that it is deeply personal. Many people who engage in PCP find that starting their religious practice from the ground up, or in using familiar religious practices from their culture that they're used to, is a lot of fun. Others love the source material(s) that they're drawing from so much that practicing PCP is just a natural way to continue expressing their love for it. There are a thousand reasons to practice PCP.

Some of the """mainstream""" polytheism issues appear in PCP, too. Gatekeeping, cliques, the insistence that deities have to "choose" you...a lot of toxic ideas tend to show up, just because of how online spaces work nowadays.

"That's great, Jasper, but how do we actually do this?" I'm getting there, dear readers, I promise.

Decide your approach. What pop culture source are you drawing from? A video game? Music? A book series, or even a standalone book?

Outreach. Do you build an altar or shrine? Make an offering? Write a poem or invitation? Pray? Wait for the PCD/PCE to reach out first? Do you create them yourself?

Set expectations. What are you going to do? What do you expect? Do you want to communicate back and forth, or just pray and not expect a direct answer? Figure out what you want.

Continue developing. Your PCP practice will likely not remain the same as time goes on. Let it grow, and let yourself grow with it.

Hopefully this is a very beginner-friendly 101 style post! For further resources, please check out my Pop Culture Magic/Paganism Resources Masterpost.

~Jasper

[elvenbeard]

◲ Omikuji ◱

V: "Okay, I told you mine, what's yours sayin'?"

Kerry: "Oh, next year's gonna be my year, baby. Every song's gonna go through the roof, gonna get so many new fans, money, fame... And it even says I'm gonna get laid this very night!"

V: "Uh-huh... does it also say 'draw the most specific fortune anyone's ever gotten'?"

Happy New Year from Vince and Kerry and me :3

I mentioned before that Vince isn't very religious or keen on traditions, not a big celebrator of Christmas either. There is one exception though, and that's going to the Shinto shrine on New Year's to draw a fortune. He always went there as a kid with his father, celebrating Hatsumōde, probably the only real bonding moments they ever had. So, when he later returns as an adult for the first time, it was a very bittersweet moment. Similarly, when Kerry lived in Tokyo still, I bet he also participated in this tradition with his family at least a few times, whenever he wasn't on tour or otherwise occupied.

So, back in Night City now, even better to make some new, happier memories together :D

I also made and alt-version (which was my original idea for this piece actually, but for reasons I changed it slightly XD), below the cut, which is more fitting for my personal timeline of events if this scene takes places on New Year's 2077/2078 :3

I hope you like either picture and thanks for reading all my ramblings <3 XD

He's fine, I promise!!! Or he will be, on the way to recovery xD I touched upon Vince getting some kind of treatment/surgery to deal with the Relic post-Sun-Ending in my fic and in some VP before, and at first I actually wanted to just post this version... but he looks so different with his iconic rattail gone, and I love drawing it, so yeah XD Two versions it is!

Also, since Omikuji vending machines are an actual thing, I think they probably have these in Night City as well... and despite all the wonders and horrors of our dystopian future, I like the idea that you still get your fortunes printed on old-fashioned paper so you can tie them on a tree or string if they're bad luck XD The good old clash between tradition and process I love so much about this world.

Good fortune for your 2024, with money, fame, and getting everything else fulfilled that you're into and hope for xDD

[postoctobrist]

I could just look this up but I think it's more interesting to ask actual people about these things, so apologies

As a person who knows nothing about Islam, I gotta ask - what's the deal with the giant black cube?

Oh man I love talking about our cube! The cube is called the Kaaba, which means ‘the cube’. It is very holy (you are meant to be visualising it as a sort of aiming point every time you pray) but it isn’t secret, and a lot of people assume it is inherently mysterious.

So many pre-Islamic Arabian cities, including Mecca, had a cube. These served as public shrines and housed idols of the pagan gods of that city. A lot of them also housed or had embedded into them meteorites, because something falling from the sky is pretty easy to worship.

Our cube, the cube, is believed to be the site where way back in the day Ibrahim (Abraham, if you want) built a house of worship to God. Over time as monotheism lost out to pagan polytheism its original purpose was lost and people use it as a shrine and copy the form of that shrine elsewhere.

For any Muslim narrative, one of the things that Muhammad does as a prophet is to kick Arabia back onto the monotheism from which it had fallen away (into ignorance, jahiliyyah). So when Muhammad re-enters Mecca he goes to the Kaaba and smashes all the idols inside with a staff while saying that ‘truth has come and falsehood has vanished’ - in some tellings of this he preserves a statue of the infant Jesus and Mary but places it outside. What happens next is a kind of religious compromise where he Islamifies (well, God does, but he’s the one telling Muhammad what to do) bits of the Meccan pagan religion. So the cube stays, the meteorite in it, a black stone, stays, and the Meccan fertility rite of tawaf where people circled the cube naked gets changed so you have to wear clothes and it isn’t horny any more. A mosque is built up around it. Eventually the direction you face during prayer is changed from towards Jerusalem to towards the Kaaba. And from then until now Islamic practice in relation to the cube has not really changed.

FUN CUBE FACTS

It’s not the same building Ibrahim built or the same building Muhammad resanctified. It has fallen down in earthquakes or been destroyed with catapults an alarming number of times and then just rebuilt in a very practical way. The current incarnation dates back to 1626.

It’s not black - in high winds or when it’s being changed, which it is yearly, you can see under the black and gold cloth covering, the kiswah, and see the granite blocks underneath:

The kiswah also doesn’t have to be black. It’s a pretty firmly established tradition now but it’s been red, green and white at various times.

It has an inside. There’s nothing secret about it like the Holy of Holies, every year a bunch of dignitaries get to go in and clean it. There’s nothing material important in there, that being sort of the point:

The little cabinet has cleaning supplies, perfumes and the like. If you pray inside the Kaaba you can face in any direction, plus I like to imagine you unlock a fun little achievement.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Kitsune!Michael Kaiser x AFAB reader

TW: Smut with really little plot, religious themes, dom!Kaiser, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, scent kink, Kaiser wants you to carry his baby LOL

author notes: I didn’t want to write smut anymore and here I am with this one. I also did a damn mood board I can’t even recognize myself anymore. It’s all Michael’s fault. Hope that I will get him out of my system with this one and finally write something else for the other fandoms LOL (and if possible not smut). Anyway it's 2k words of smut, hope you'll enojoy it.

It was an old habit you got from your granny-

“Every month visit the temple we have behind our house, cook some strawberry delicacy and the God of the mountain will protect you.”

Now, it’s not like you fully believed your granny's words, a lovely woman, but that kind soul believed a little too much in rituals.

But you know? Why not try? It was also a good way to improve your cooking skill and jog in the forest.

Every time you bring to the little shrine the food you made you get heart palpitation, the luck to live near such a wonderful forest. It is a small one, and rarely people jogged there, so you often found yourself alone or with some fawns passing by, the gentle wind caressing your face; truly relaxing.

Now it is a habit of yours, every afternoon you would bring to the temple a new strawberry delicacy. Too bad that winter came, and strawberries are nowhere to be found.

“Well, I suppose the God of the mountain will have to accept an orange delicacy this time!”

Imagine the surprise when the next day, near the plate you set near the shrine you found a ticket, made with some expensive paper, the words on it still make you tremble-

“I hate oranges, bring me something better.”

So there was for real a mountain God! You always thought the animals were the ones eating your food- “No, it’s impossible” you try to regain your composure. There is no God, it must have been some dumb kid passing by that wanted to play some cheap trick. Muscles still twitching for the fear you ran back home, not spending more than a minute there, and not noticing a pair of blue eyes following your every step from behind a bush.

The next time you visit the temple it is January, exactly one month from the last time you visited the shrine and you bring the same exact delicacy as last time.

“Can’t you read? I told you last time that I hate oranges!”

The plate falls on the ground with a thud, it isn’t broken, but for sure the food you made is now spoiled. But what surprised you so much?

A guy of breathtaking beauty sits on top of the shrine, he has sharp features, his deep blue eyes adorned by a delicate shade of red eyeshadow, the same color of his lips, plump and soft, you could tell it from afar. He has blonde hair, ruffled and all over the place, but you noticed the tips to be blue, the same shade as his eyes and you can only think about how much you would pay to brush his fingers in between his gold and sapphire tresses.

“Hey! Are you deaf? Reply back human!” He stands up, and you can’t not notice how tall he is, how broad are his shoulder and how fit he looks.

And then you also see the fangs and the nine white tails waving left and right from anger.

“I-Is this a dream?” don’t wake me up “Who are you?”

“I’m the God of the Mountains. Call me Kaiser.”

You nod, a loud gulp breaks the silence between you two.

“I’m so sorry, I thought some dumb kid left the note and-“

“Shut up, I don’t care about your excuses! I protect you and this is how you show your gratitude? With this disgusting-“Did he just throw at you the food you made?  “oranges!?”

“When have you ever protected me you asshole! Never seen you around!” You shout back, trying to clean your chest; what a waste of good food.

“Maybe when I got rid of that stalker that was following you anywhere? Or when that brute of your colleague tried to punch you?”

A flash. Now you understand why all of a sudden that strange guy stopped following you, it hasn’t been going on for a long time so in the end you just thought you had similar routines. And that jerk of your colleague? You were sure he was going to punch you, but in the end didn’t, you thought he just cleared his mind and decided to let go.

“Oh I didn’t think-“

“Yeah, you don’t look like someone that has ever done that.”

Okay, this God is as much good-looking as he is irritating, but honestly, you don’t feel like angering the God even more so you let go.

“I’m so sorry for my attitude. What can I do to make it up to you?”

It must have been your trembling irises, your pupils were already blown wide, your chest slowly rising, up and down, and now pushing on his hard and broad one, faces mere centimeters apart, that gave the God an idea; a delicious idea.

“On your knees”

“W-What, umpf-“

Kaiser pushed you down and was now untying the know that kept his white linen robe in place.

“Be a faithful worshiper and pleasure your God”

At that moment you see his erect cock, such a pure white with two veins on the sides and the tip so engorged and so red, a mouth-watering contrast. You don’t complain and start by leaving kisses on his tip, they never linger, the heath subsiding immediately, never giving the pleasure the God wants to receive.

“Brat, take it”

Kaiser grips your hair and pushes in, the intrusion makes you choke, but the vibration just makes him want to abuse your throat more. You try to suck as good as you can, but you are not used to such a girth, saliva slips from the corner of your mouth, while his hands keep a steady grip on your hair, your scalp hurts, but even more your throat now that your nose brushes the blonde curls of his pelvis. You put your right hand on his hips, trying to set the rhythm yourself while the other massage the heavy balls that keep slapping on your chin.

“Yes like that, I know that you had it in you, whore”

He keeps abusing your mouth, and since you can’t still his hip you decide to use your hand where you can’t reach his length, finally relieving your sore throat.

“Look at you, squeezing your thighs together-“ finally a moan escape his mouth “you can’t wait to have me in you, mh?”

He is right, if he can stretch your mouth so much you can only imagine how deliciously he can stretch your tight pussy.

“Now darling-“ Kaiser pull out, your saliva still connect your lips to his cherry-red tip “pull out your tongue and hands, your God here is gonna bless you”

And he does, with a few strokes, his dick twitch and white hot cum cover your tongue and your open palms.

What can you do other than gulping down and licking your fingers clean? By the look on the deity’s face, you followed the right path.

“You are my fave kind of worshiper” He licks his lips and looks at you with a wicked spark in his eyes “lay down, you need to get ready”

You can’t even start to follow his order, that Kaiser already manhandled you on the ground, tearing your leggings with a swift motion, it would be a lie to say that he didn’t excite you immeasurably.

“Fuck, you don’t even wear panties? You really wanted to be railed in the mountains, bitch” His forefinger caress up and down your outer lips “Hold on me, it’s for your own good.” So you hold his biceps, while the other grip the cold ground.

It’s the last warning before his middle and forefinger start to abuse your wet core, scissoring, and curling against your spongy walls, you can’t help but let out heavy breaths in between broken whines. The God is brutal, doing this more for his pleasure, your drooling cunt must be a signal of how good he is, rather than your own.

“C’mon darling, touch your clit, it’s screaming for your help” He licks the shell of your ear, while one hand massages one of your breasts still covered by various layers of clothes.

You start to circle your clit, trying to follow the brutal peace of his fingers, but you are way too out of your mind to do that, your hips jerking totally off the peace.

You cum, your loud moan eaten by the blonde deity, his hot tongue sucking and licking yours, tasting himself on you, slapping your pussy every time you tried to escape from his mouth.

“So fucking wet, I bet anyone can understand what we are doing, fuck-“ Kaiser licks his fingers clean “delicious, better than everything you ever cooked” he pops them out from his mouth, and sit up, now in between your legs, holding your ankles and spreading you impossibly wide.

A devious laugh reverberates in the forest “Look at your cunt, squeezing nothing, it’s screaming to be fucked dumb by me, right?”

The shame finally overcomes you, this God is the nastiest being you have ever met. So you shake your head, a sigh escaping your mouth.

“Tsk, after all we’ve done you act all shy now? Just say it. Just say you want to be fucked up by me, a God”

You look at the deity, he pulled your legs down, still spread wide, but at least in a more comfortable position, his ears stand up and his tails too, his face is tinted red, and his plush lips are red and swollen; he would look so pure, if going down, you didn’t notice his throbbing cock against his stomach, in need for attention too.

Maybe you just want to be fucked dumb after all.

You finally nod and the God let out a laughter more similar to the one of a hyena than one from kitsunes.

“I knew you wanted this too.” He lifts again your legs now leaning on his shoulder, his hands planted on your sides, and bullies his cock in, a slight pain makes you shiver, but it is nothing compared to the pleasure his girth gives you.

“Fuck, you take me so well darling” His thrusts are restless like his fingers were, the loud claps of his hips against your plush ass fog your mind even more, while he couldn’t stop watching your tits, still bound but still jumping up and down thanks to his powerful thrusts.

“You fuck me so good- Kaiser!” That must awaken something in him, the deity looks at you, pupils so wide that the deep blue can be barely seen and then you see them, the fangs, getting sharper with each thrust.

“Say it again”

“K-Kaiser! Fuckfuck-“ You can only blabber, your hand now gripping his blond locks, pulling a few hair for every cruel roll of his hip, while his hand let your leg go, locking instead with your hand, still tightening on the ground.

“You want to be filled with my pups mh? Get all swollen with my cum-” His fangs get near your neck, your scent intoxicating his brain, each thrust now off peace.

“Yes, fill me! Fuck-“ You reach your apex, your glands releasing such a sweet scent that the deity has to restrain every fiber of his body not to mark you forever as his.

“Fuck take it all, I want you f-“ The God couldn’t finish, the mere thought made him cum, filling your cunt to the brim. His eyes roll back, the bitchiest moan slips from his open lips, and his tails flex to the sky, probably in tune with the roll of his toes.

After a few heavy breaths, the deity pulls out, and you feel his hot cum slipping down your core, wetting your ass together with your own wetness. He is still in front of you to notice that and push his cum back him, with the same two fingers that stretched you before.

“Don’t make anything slip. This is holy cum, it would be a sin to waste it.” Then he lays down next to you.

“Come again next week, don’t make me wait another month. And bring strawberries, next time we’ll eat them together.”

It is an order, and with your mind still fogged by bliss you can only nod, now hugging his warm body in this cold winter afternoon.

[ex--astris--scientia]

C'Thia, Surakian Philosophy, and Vulcan Polytheism

While most would consider Surak to merely be a philosopher and reformer, thereby removing any hint of religion from the discussion and forming instead an idea of both Surak and his philosophy as being, at best, atheistic or agnostic, and at worst, being anti-theistic, I have to strongly disagree with this assessment. Especially when it's used as proof to claim that modern, post-Awakening Vulcans are also at best atheistic or agnostic, and at worst anti-theistic. I believe this comes about due to a commonly held misconception that religion in and of itself is anathema to science, to progress, to intelligence, and therefore, to logic itself. This is, of course, a blatantly false binary and we are shown over and over again in canon that while Vulcans place a great importance on science, education, intellect, and logic, they are also a very spiritual people. Most of the important locations on Vulcan that we see in canon tend to be temples, sacred mountains, or holy ruins. Leaders tend to be high priestesses. Meditation is almost universal for Vulcans, and while it can be argued that it is very much a mental discipline as well, meditation was birthed, and continues to find its roots, in spirituality, and at its heart, is a spiritual discipline. Meditation, after all, was not invented by scientists, but by monks.

In the episode of the Animated Series, "Yesteryear", Spock tells Sarek that he is merely passing through ShiKahr on his way to the family shrine to "honor our gods". This one line proves to me that, at least for Spock, there is no incongruence between his modern Surakian belief and practice of C'thia (commonly this is translated as just "logic" but a more accurate Vulcan translation is "reality-truth") with that of traditional Vulcan polytheistic religious practice. One can assume that this is not, however, unique only to Spock, seeing as shrines require some semi-regular maintenance and he very rarely visits his father's homestead so it is unlikely that Spock alone is the one who maintains them. Sarek also is unsurprised by Spock's actions, which suggests a kind of normalcy to it. One does not get the impression that Spock is doing something rebellious by performing religious rites to Deities.

Likewise, in the Voyager episode, "Hunters", Tuvok receives a letter from his wife. In it, she tells him that she and their children have asked the priests at the Temple of Amonak to say prayers for Tuvok's safe return from the Delta Quadrant. Prayer requires something to which a person prays to and the assumption here is, again, the existence of Vulcan Deities as well as devotional practices targeted toward them existing even until the time of Voyager. While one of the purposes of prayer has to do with the person praying, as in, a benefit to prayer is that it gives the praying person something to do when they may not be able to do much else about a situation, and therefore T'Pel and her and Tuvok's children may be using it as a kind of meditative practice meant to give their grief and worry about Tuvok's safety somewhere to go that may then help them control it, I believe even this would still imply belief in the existence of Deities. One could meditate without the use of prayer involved but that was not the course of action that T'Pel took. She specifically made a trek to a sacred temple with the intention of saying prayers for Tuvok and told him about it, again, just as with Spock and Sarek, showing that there is something normalized about the action. Belief in the Gods and religious practice utilizing them is, therefore, not something performed only in the dark or in secret.

So, Vulcan polytheistic spiritual practice has continued past the Awakening and into the Vulcan Reformation. Is it the same as what it looked like to pre-Reform Vulcans? What's different? I wish we got more glimpses of Vulcan religion beyond mostly backdrop (while we are explicitly shown rituals and ritual locations in episodes like "Amok Time", "the Gambit" and many places in Enterprise, and in movies like "the Motion Picture" and "Search for Spock", very rarely do we see explanations for what the Vulcan lay people and priest(ess)es are doing and why) but that simply means that I instead get to make things up. Which is my favorite thing to do. So while the entirety of this post is built on a core of canon and information from Memory Alpha and Beta, as well as the Vulcan Language Database, most of what follows is my own musings and thoughts.

Firstly, in my research I've established that there seems to be two major pantheons within Vulcan spirituality, the Ka-ta-pak, or Inner Chorus, and the grouping I've named Ek-tam'a-ta, which is where I've placed every other named Deity not belonging to the Inner Chorus. The Inner Chorus, being made up of Deities that seem much more akin to emotional archetypes, become a much more thorny topic to consider when it comes to reconciling the worship, or, at the very least, acknowledgement of these Beings with the rigorous control of emotions that is to be expected within the Surakian cult of C'thia. As such, they are what I plan to focus on here.

The Inner Chorus is made up of the following Deities: Tel-Alep and Alep-Tel, Kir-Alep and Alep-Kir, Valdena and Dena-Vel, Kal-ap-Ton and Tyr-al-Tep, and Ket-Cheleb. Other than the last Deity, each is a part of a pairing where one represents the lighter, more acceptable form of a suite of emotions, whereas the other is the darker, shadow side. It's a concept similar to reading Tarot cards, where a card's reversal typically points to the darker reading of the themes the card communicates when right side up. For example, Valdena is famously the love Goddess and rules over emotions such as joy, beauty, fullness, pleasure, etc, whereas Dena-Vel, her shadow twin, rules over the darker side of love, namely concepts like possessiveness, covetousness, envy, domination, etc. What I would posit as probably one of the fairly radical reforms within Surakian thought, is the idea that C'thia is meant to subjugate and control both sides of what the Inner Chorus represents, not just the shadow side.

Isn't it illogical, however, to worship archetypal manifestations of emotions that one is trying to suppress? This was the big question that came out of my exploration of Vulcan Deities and led me to conclude that there is a difference between how Vulcans interact with Ek-tam'a-ta Deities vs the Ka-ta-pak, wherein the former is treated much more like how one stereotypically interacts with Gods, ie with reverence, worship, offerings, prayers, etc, as well as an understanding of the Deities being Beings outside of the mind in their own rights, while the latter is much more localized and symbolic. The Ka-ta-pak are not so much outward Beings, as they are emotional symbols and touchstones, metaphors to be focused on in meditation rather than as Gods to be worshipped.

Even the name, the Inner Chorus, suggests this kind of community of emotional beings, of aspects of the interior Vulcan mind, and furthermore, points to a need for a harmony amongst them. It is my thought that the Ka-ta-pak are less like sentient beings with personhood and more like the Platonic ideal of the emotion they represent. They are the emotion in its most perfected form and by experiencing this, experiencing the presence of this being, this outward-focused inner spirit, in the relative safety of meditation, the average Vulcan is able to meet that emotion and learn how it manifests within their own body and mind. In this meeting, they are able to name the emotion, learn it, experience it, and understand how to master it so that when they experience it outside of meditation, they need not be conquered by it and brought into chaos but instead are able to hold to order and logic in the face of it.

In the Enterprise episode, "Fusion", we are shown that Vulcans don't typically dream and that meditation has usurped the role that dreaming would usually take in the Vulcan psyche. It follows, therefore, that they process the emotional stimuli of the day through meditation and that symbolism, which is an important language for the sub-conscious and the language that dreams are written in, would probably play a role in that. Thus, the use of the Inner Chorus as a symbol of focus, as the emotional tangle that one seeks, through meditation, to sort out and bring order to, makes sense. I believe that this constitutes some of the work of t'san s'at, or the intellectual deconstruction of emotions that Surak preached. T'san s'at is the study of one's own emotions, and the effects these emotions have over one's actions. The peace and tranquility that lies at the end of t'san s'at is the goal of every Surakian Vulcan, and is a lifelong aspiration. It is through working with the Ka-ta-pak with this goal in mind that brings these ideas together.

Another idea I found interesting about the Ka-ta-pak is that the names of the Deities match the names of the other planets within the Vulcan solar system (according to the Memory Beta article that I believe is based on a Trek inspired ttrpg). A solar system, with its constant routine of stable orbits and cycles, would be an obvious metaphor for the idea of Order. The Inner Chorus strikes me, then, as the microcosm within the Vulcan mind/spirit as connected with the macrocosm of the living universe around them. It is the connection between the Vulcan mental and katric interior space and the exterior physical space. Just as the solar system is in constant harmony, subjugated to the laws of gravity, order, and simply the natural mechanisms of the living universe, one's own interior system should likewise be ordered. That it is called an inner chorus is very telling to me, since when choruses are working correctly, they are making music in harmony, just as the broader cosmos makes the music of the spheres, which is the sound of mathematics purified. It is the goal of every Surakian Vulcan to harmonize their inner chorus (part of which involves meditating on the form of the Inner Chorus) with the music of the macrocosm. In this, I believe the mind, or the reasoning capacity, represents a kind of conductor, who directs the inner chorus of emotions to properly allow for the production of music. The music produced by this harmony is C'thia, which is the same substance that keeps the planets in their orbits and the universe ticking onward.

This post is getting a bit long but there's one last thing I want to talk about and that would be Surak himself. As mentioned earlier, there is a common misconception I've seen that, again, makes Surak some kind of radical atheist philosopher who, in stomping out the violence and ignorance that marked the culture of his planet, must also have gotten rid of its religion, not just superstition or conservativism but religion more generally. Again, this comes more from the mistaken belief that spirituality and science are necessarily at odds. But what we see of Surak doesn't actually support this erroneous belief. Instead, one of the things that Surak is famous for is his pilgrimage. A pilgrimage is a religious journey undertaken for religious purposes. Surak set out to visit many religious orders and temples, before traipsing into the wilderness in places like Vulcan's Forge and Mount Seleya, to learn from and connect with the various priest(ess)es, as well as to connect in solitude with his own mind. C'thia is always shown as a revelation. Surak perceives it for the first time and discerns its meaning while on pilgrimage, while in meditation, while studying spiritual truths. He discovers it, not in a laboratory, but in deep contemplation on a mountain peak. Thus, Surak strikes me as much more akin to a Hindu yogi or an enlightened New Age seeker than he does a Richard Dawkins type. He doesn't dismiss the spiritual lessons he learns from visiting the other religious orders but instead incorporates them into his new cult. I think it's this incorporation of c'thia with traditional polytheism within Surak's own spirituality that allows for modern Vulcans to do the same.

In conclusion, anyone who claims that the post-Reform Vulcans shown in canon are atheists have not been paying attention to the actual canon, first of all, and secondly, are doing nothing more than showing their bias toward the science vs religion binary. I think the Vulcans are a little too smart to fall for this dichotomy, and they are certainly aware of the need for a philosophy to be an open one, if it's to be sustainable at all. I think having access to the neverending mystery of space, peopled as it is with many different kinds of beings, has allowed the Vulcans to be open-minded toward religion and the existence of Gods and other numinous beings. After all, they fully accept the existence of katra and thus, souls, spirits, and the idea of beings existing without bodies. It is not an illogical leap to suppose that since animating spirits (ie souls that are housed by and animate a body) exist, other kinds might also, including Deities. And since Vulcans possess a psionic system, capable of the extrasensory perceptions involved in their version(s) of telepathy, they may be able to perceive these spirits telepathically, even when psi-null folks may not be able to.

So, I don't think Vulcan polytheism is relegated to some point in the planet's distant past but instead continues, alive and well, into the post-Awakening world.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Ch. 1 - The Handsome Stranger

Summary: The year is 1969. The place is the International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an aspiring singer, has a chance encounter with one Elvis Presley in an elevator that will change her life forever. Notes: To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy. Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland, Joyce Bova, and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.

Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969

*

Vegas was shimmering mirage of bad decisions just waiting to snare me—a sucker-punch I never saw coming. The lights, the noise, the impossible promise of it all crashed over me in kaleidoscopic waves as my cab cruised down the strip towards the International Hotel. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching slack-jawed as sequined showgirls and vacationers blurred by in streaks of neon and rhinestone.

The cabbie swerved to the curb with a jolt, snapping me out of my daze. "International Hotel," he barked, his voice an ice bath to my face. I shoved a crumbled wad of bills into his hand and  stumbled out and into a swarm of hairspray and cigar smoke congregating under the hotel's blazing marquee. Blinking in confusion, I took in the frenzied scene unfolding—beefy security shoving their way through the sea of pompadours, vendors hawking glossy headshots, teddy bears and "I 🖤 ELVIS" pins. The realization hit me like a freight train. This wasn't just any weekend at the International. It was the kickoff of Elvis Presley's residency. Ground zero for absolute Elvis mania.

The irritation set in, simmering beneath my skin. "Shit," I muttered, suddenly feeling foolish for forgetting. Of all the rotten luck. Out of all the times to visit Las Vegas, I had unwittingly chosen the kickoff of Elvis's shows—an event drawing crowds I had no desire to mingle with.

I wove through the throng, lugging my cumbersome suitcases behind me. Inside the lobby was even more chaotic—a swirling kaleidoscope of big-haired fans and cigarette smoke lingering over shag carpet. Elvis was everywhere, his angelic face beaming down from posters, gold records, life-sized cardboard cutouts. A veritable religious shrine. Groaning internally, I caught my bedraggled reflection in a mirrored column. Of course I would show up to the Presley Promised Land looking like something the cat dragged in. Normally I'd at least try to pull myself together for check-in, maybe swipe on some lipstick or fluff my chocolate curls into place. After all, I didn't want to look terrible in front of people dressed to the nines. But after the day I'd had, I couldn't muster the effort.

My flight from Chicago had been delayed six excruciating hours due to "mechanical issues," which apparently was airline-speak for "sit tight while we screw you over." By the time we finally took off, I'd already stress-eaten two sleeves of Oreos and read the in-flight magazine three mind-numbing times. To top it off, I'd spilled coffee all over my only nice blouse right before landing. Clearly, some divine power had it out for me today.

Feeling sweaty and vaguely nauseous, I trudged to the front desk. The angular blonde behind the counter, Brenda, barely glanced up from her well-thumbed issue of Variety as I approached.

"Welcome to the International Hotel. Checking in?" She smacked her gum, eyes never leaving her magazine.

"Yes, uh, reservation should be under Deena Lovelace."

That finally got her attention. Her penciled brows shot up as she inspected me, taking in the coffee stains and rumpled slacks. "Wait, you're Deena? The Deena who told me she booked for the Sinatra audition tomorrow?" The doubt was palpable.

I gritted my teeth into a tight smile. "No, actually. I'm her friend Valerie. Deena got sick at the last minute, some kind of exotic flu, so I'm filling in for her."

Suspicion clouded Brenda's face, but after a long beat she shrugged. "Huh. Well, takes all kinds, I guess." She signaled to a bellhop in a red monkey suit and thrust a key into my hand. "Room 2806, elevators are that way. If you need anything, ask for Hector."

Hector the bellhop scurried over and hoisted up my bags with surprising ease for such a slight guy. I made a weak attempt to protest, but he just grinned and ushered me through the cacophonous lobby to the first hallway. The doors slid open and I thanked him, pressing a few crumpled bills into his white-gloved hand.

“I can take it from here, Hector.”

As I walked along, I looked at my reflection in the mirrored wall and exhaled slowly. My nerves buzzed like an exposed wire as I thought about tomorrow's audition. Landing a spot in the Sinatra chorus line seemed about as likely as shooting the moon at this point. I barely knew the song Deena had been rehearsing for weeks, my go-go boots had a broken heel, and my voice was ragged from practicing the whole weekend.

But damn it, this was the first real shot I'd had in ages to claw my way out of the chambermaid grind and actually make something of myself. To prove Ma right for always saying I had stardust in my veins, even when it landed me more trouble than applause growing up. I had to at least try. For all those thankless nights warbling in dim lounges, waiting for my big break. For Deena, who I knew would kill for this chance.

I'd barely begun my little pep talk when someone brushed by me, sloshing their vodka tonic onto my sleeve and snapping me back to the present moment. I weaved through the crowd towards another inner hallway, clearing my throat.

I turned on my heel and started hoofing it towards my room. The hotel's layout was an absolute dizzying mess of twists and turns in every direction. My thudding, ungainly footsteps were muffled by the shag carpet and the dulled roar of fans congregating throughout the hotel.

As I trudged on, the ambiance shifted gradually. The hum of voices faded away, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled I was getting farther away from the bustling core. Exhaustion tugged at my bones while I navigated the maze of hallways. My room was somewhere in this labyrinth, but my bed felt worlds away at this point.

My steps sank into the plush carpet as I drifted into a quieter, dimly-lit corridor that seemed less traveled. Finally, I found myself alone in front of a bank of elevator doors. I stabbed the call button and waited impatiently, my arms aching from the weight of my overstuffed suitcases. God, why did I pack so much useless junk?

"Must be close now," I muttered out loud, my voice barely audible.

With barely a thought, I slipped out of my heels and bent my toes backwards and forwards, allowing my sore feet to relish the heavenly softness underfoot. It was soft, springy, and absolute relief for my aching soles. Automatically, I began humming a familiar, nameless tune under my breath - just a few sweet, absentminded notes I always turned to for comfort when I needed it. The thought of finally washing this endless day off my face and jumping into a crisp hotel bed was the only thing on my mind as the gilded doors opened with a tinny ding.

*

The cab was empty. Relieved to finally have a moment to myself, I dragged my heavy bags inside and slumped against the mirrored wall. As the doors started to slide closed, a large, ring-adorned hand suddenly shot out, halting them.

I straightened up with a jolt, my exhaustion replaced by a flash of irritation. Great, just what I needed, another overzealous Elvis fan trying to cram into my personal space bubble.

But as the interloper stepped into the elevator, my breath caught in my throat. Standing before me, in all his smoldering, technicolor glory, was the man himself. Elvis fucking Presley. The aura he gave off was undeniable, that much was sure. And I recognized his face immediately, the same one splashed all over the posters and knick knacks in the lobby. There he was, outshining the garishly glitzy elevator cab like a supernova eclipsing neon. And next to him, a well-built redheaded man, his hand resting at something shiny on his hip. Bodyguard, most likely. Quickly, I shoved my feet back into my heels, silently cursing myself for having taken them off in the first place.

I blinked hard, convinced I must be hallucinating from sheer fatigue. But no, he was unquestionably real, from the polished black shoes to the perfectly coiffed onyx hair that shone like quicksilver in the light. His lean, powerful frame was draped in an immaculately tailored black suit, a shock of pink peeking out from the silk scarf knotted at his throat. But it was the penetrating, electric blue gaze behind tinted shades that truly unraveled me.

I'd never considered myself much of an Elvis fan. Sure, I could appreciate a catchy tune like "Don't Be Cruel" or "Teddy Bear," but I'd always been immune to the mass hysteria he incited in his besotted admirers. Yet here, in such close proximity to his cosmic charisma and undeniable sex appeal, I finally understood. This man was a force of nature.

The redhead caught my awestruck stare and chuckled knowingly. "I see you've met my friend Jon Burrows here," he said with a wink.

But this was no "Jon Burrows." I knew who it was, plain as day. And his affect on me was immediate. Was I dreaming? My pulse started racing. Should I say something? And just how the hell did this happen? I opened my mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard. Play it cool, Valerie.

Any lingering self-consciousness about my frazzled appearance just evaporated in the sheer force of his presence. Though judging by the unmistakably mischievous curl of his lip, my travel-battered state didn't seem to faze him one bit. His perceptive eyes met mine, always accustomed to the spotlight but now studying me with curiosity. He took in my slumped posture and visible fatigue without a hint of judgment.

"You've had yourself a long day, haven't you, honey?" That voice, richer than a Mississippi smokehouse, sliced right through me.

I could only nod dumbly, a lump forming in my throat. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean... yes, you could say that," I stammered like an idiot. Get it together!

His smile was pure bewitchment. "Well, you'll be tucked in in no time, I reckon. I hear the beds are mighty comfortable here." 

I looked up at the ceiling in silence, tracing the swirling pattern with my mind's eye and trying to give off a vibe of cool indifference. But my stomach was actually rolling.  

To my surprise, he kept talking. "Pardon my manners. My name's Elvis, and this is my pal Red. Who might you be?"

My throat locked tighter than a cowboy's bullwhip. "Valer—?"

"Valerie." He drew the name out, savoring each note and curve as if testing its ring. Each single syllable seemed to undergo some mystical transformation, alchemized to pure liquid amber from his lips. "A pretty name for a pretty little songbird." A ringed hand discreetly adjusted the bejeweled cups shielding his gaze, maybe hoping to make out my sides better.

Elvis was still steadily playing the blue suede shoes off me, from his elegant bent stance to the teasing half-smirk barely shadowing those indolently hungover features—the whole routine daring me to go chasing his bait. But I was far too busy trying not to spontaneously combust. I screwed my eyes tightly shut for a half-moment, desperately grasping to regain some sense of composure with an oxygen-deprived brain. 

How did he know...?

Dumb question, Sherlock. The very notion conjured images of me, sweat-glazed and punchy-tired, mindlessly vocalizing sweet lullabies straight from my Off-Off-Broadway chambermaid days while I waited for the elevator. Of course he would've overhead that.

I cinched my mouth into what I hoped was a blasé half-smile, refusing to come completely uncorked by his pet name. I replayed the embarrassing moment in my head, wishing I could dissolve into the elevator shaft. Every breath I pulled in seemed to crackle with electricity. First I randomly share an elevator with The Elvis Presley, and now he'd overheard my nervous vocalizing and was complimenting me on it?

"Baby." A rich, salt-cured chuckle melted off his tongue, resining deep in my nerve center. "I got ears like a well-tuned radar dish. You in town for a show?"

I shook my head slowly. "Technically yes, but no. Just an audition," I replied, my heart thundering in my ears. I hoped he couldn't hear it pounding.

"Who for, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired with that laser gaze.

I sucked in a steadying breath. Might as well take the bait since I'd already been barb-hooked but good. "I'm here for an audition, actually. Tomorrow. For Sinatra. I'm a singer. I mean, not like you, but hopefully one day..." I paused, unsure of how much backstory was worth burdening Elvis with. "Just got a last minute sub-in for a friend who's under the weather."

Something flickered across Elvis' handsome features before the mask of idle curiosity slid back into place. "Is that right?" His gaze raked over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. "And what will you be singing for Ol' Blue Eyes?"

Shit. Why was he asking me so many questions? My palms started to sweat as I racked my brain for a suitable answer. It wasn't like I could admit that I barely knew the material, that I was flying by the seat of my pants on a far-fetched favor for a friend. So I settled for a half-truth instead.

"Oh, you know. Just a little medley of standards. 'To Keep My Love Alive,' 'I Can Cook, Too,' that kind of thing."

Elvis nodded slowly, a shadow of a smirk still playing on his lips. "A classic set list. I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead, honey."

I started to stammer out a thanks, but Elvis was already moving past me towards the door as the elevator finally shuddered to a stop. He paused, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. There was a new intensity in his eyes when they met mine, a dark promise that made my toes curl involuntarily in my heels.

"I'll be rooting for you, songbird. Break a leg."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in a cloud of his smoky-spicy cologne. I sagged against the wall, trying to collect myself. What in the ever-loving hell had just happened? Had I honestly just been shamelessly eye-fucked by Elvis Presley in an elevator?

More importantly, why had I liked it so much?

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the treacherous thoughts as I finally stumbled out into the harshly lit hallway. It was late, I was tired, and I had an audition to rest up for. The last thing I needed was to dwell on smoldering looks from a celebrity Casanova that I had no business panting over in the first place.

But even as I went through the motions of unlocking my room and sinking face-first into the marshmallowy duvet, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to the electric encounter in the elevator. The way Elvis had stared at me, equal parts scorching and inscrutable, as if he was trying to crack some tantalizing code. There was no way I could have imagined that. The effortless command he'd exuded, the sheer magnetism rolling off of him in waves. How ridiculously, unexpectedly good he still looked, hips swiveling in slow-motion in my mind's eye...

I punched a pillow in frustration, annoyed with my traitorous libido. This was so far beyond the scope of anything I'd anticipated when I'd agreed to sub in for Deena's audition. But one thing was certain—my time in Vegas was shaping up to be a hell of a lot more interesting than I'd bargained for. And something told me that a chance run-in on a hotel elevator was only the beginning.