#sacred pyre

[scarlettfevor]

Officially #givingup on playing tfbw! It seems like all the reliable links I've found all take from the same, broken source and ppl have been complaining about them not working for months now with no fixes. There's no reason to stress myself out so I'm just gonna hope that dmmd works and call it a day

[haematinon]

Illustration created for my upcoming new book, Ergo Cosmos!

"The first of the alchemists was he who set fire to the pyre upon which the Veiled Lady burned. To atone for such a sin, all those who are privy to the Highest Secrets swear to use the hand of will exclusively to restrain evil, and the hand of intuition only to perform good deeds. From this sorrowful figure derives the name of this sacred commitment, which is commonly known as the Oath of Minos."

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Born to Die (Supercorp half bake)

Lena's family must offer a maiden to sacrfice to protect the realm. Lena is raised for the slaughter, but the community and religion indoctrinates her to believe death is a friend, that it is a privilege for her to serve her community in such a way. She lives her life in service to others-- helping the ill and wounded, feeding the homeless, toys to schools, etc. The realm loves and reveres her.

The first time she doubts her life's purpose is three weeks before her 18th birthday, and the date of her welcome death. She and her brother are arguing, and he says something along the lines of "we won't have to worry about what you think for much longer".

It's the first time her role has been cast in such a light-- so dismissive and cruel. A punishment, rather than a purpose. In the days that follow, she sees her world and her life in a new light. She is honored, yes, but as little more than an ornament with a limited shelf life. She has no real impact, no power-- not even within her own family.

When the time comes, she is taken up to the crest of the sacred hill. She knows she is to be burned-- not a peaceful way to go, but part of the ritual is for her to sip from the chalice, willingly drinking the elixir that will spare her the pain.

Only one person is permitted to accompany her up the hill and light the pyre, long ago decided to be her brother Lex. But when Lena sips from the chalice, she only mimes the act of doing so-- her first act of rebellion, of doubt, to keep her mind sharp.

Lex leads her to the hill. From the crest her pyre would be seen for leagues... a concept that now strikes apprehension into her soul. Is this what fear feels like?

When the pyre comes into view, already prepared with fresh bushels of hay and reads and sticks, Lena stops short. She turns to her brother.

"I can't do this, Lex."

Lex turns to her. "Yes you can. You've got to."

Lena swallows thickly. "I don't want to." She takes a thick breath.

"You don't want to?" Lex's features turn cold, full of icy rage. He leans in close to her fact. "Your whole rotten life you've been treated like a saint, and this is how you repay us?"

"Let go of me," Lena says as his hand tightens painfully around hers. "Lex, let me go--!"

She barely registers the rush of displaced air before her brother's fist slams into the side of her head, knocking senseless.

Minutes later, when she blinks back into awareness, Lena is on the pyre, hands bound around the post pressing against her back. Panic grips her when she sees the lit torch in Lex's hand.

"Brother, please! Please don't do this! I don't want to die!!"

"All your exalted life, you've only ever been good for one thing," Lex says stonily. "And now you won't even do that much."

"Lex!" Lena shrieks, yanking sharply against her bonds. "Don't, please!"

"Time to die, sister."

With a casual toss he lobs the torch onto the pyre. He doesn't even stop to look back when Lena screeches as the first of the flames lick at her bare feet.

---

Unknown to either of the royal siblings, the hill isn't as empty as they believe it to be. A forager keen on scavenging uncommon herbs and plants overhears Lena's shrieks and immediately sprints towards them. She arrives just as the flames catch and climb Lena's shift, reaching almost to her hip as Lena's screams hit a ragged pitch.

Without thinking the forager leaps onto the last patch of uncaught pyre and uses her knife to slice away Lena's bonds. She grabs Lena and pitches them both backwards off the edge of the pyre. She moves quickly to smother the fire that comes with them, clinging to Lena's cloak, but it doesn't take long to know that it may yet be too little, too late.

Lena no longer screams, but her breath comes in short sharp rasps, her body wracking with tremors against the pain of the burns that have blistered her bare feet and legs.

"It's going to be okay," the forager stutters, panic making her own hands shake as violently as Lena's, which curl tightly into the woman's blouse. "I'll take you to someone who can help. Just stay with me."

---

True to her word, the woman manages to carry Lena down the far side of the hill to a small village in the valley beyond. Lena isn't aware of much of the journey nor their arrival. Just the shout of her savior's voice as she calls for another, and the disorientation of being deposited on a small cot.

The pain is all she knows, and the world around her fades in and out, but always a hand grasps hers in a solid, gentle grip. When she has the werewithal to wonder, she thinks this might be what death was supposed to be like: a stranger's hand extended in comfort.

One morning, Lena wakes fully. The pain is still there, low and throbbing and agonizing-- but she can think past it, and experience a world the world that still exists beyond it. She sees a woman next to her cot, slumped dozing in a chair with her ankles crossed and bandages on her hands.

Beyond her, a simple cabin takes shape, slowing coming into focus. Another woman with dark hair busies herself with setting dishes upon a wooden table, and a third, older woman stirs a pot hung above a hearthed fire.

The older woman turns to say something to the dark haired woman-- her daughter, perhaps?-- but stops short when she spots Lena watching.

"Oh! You're awake! Praise the gods..."

The bandaged woman at her bedside, presumably her savior, jolts awake at the exclamation. Clear blue eyes flash towards the older woman, then across to Lena.

"Wh--" Lena's questions dies in her parched throat, consumed by a deep, hacking cough that leaves her winded and gasping.

In an instant, her savior is at her side, lifting a wooden cup to Lena's lips. Cool, clear water coats her tongue and throat, making her sputter briefly before she begins to gulp.

Even that much saps most of Lena's strength. Her eyelids begin to droop even as clothbound palms cover Lena's hand.

"I'm Kara," her savior says, before motioning to her companions, "and this is Alex and Eliza."

Lena's brain struggles to make sense of the names, of her surroundings, of the events that have led her to this cot in a strange hut. Her eyes grow ever heavier, and struggles to remain awake.

"It's all right," Kara murmurs, stroking hair from Lena's sweat slicked forehead. "You're safe here."

Thus comforted, Lena slips back into the embrace of unconsciousness.

[foldbaron]

Small communities hold fast against the darkness of a dying world in Age of Umbra, a dark, survival fantasy 8-part Daggerheart mini-series with Game Master Matthew Mercer coming May 29th with players Ashley Johnson, Laura Bailey, Liam O’Brien, Marisha Ray, Sam Riegel, Taliesin Jaffe, and Travis Willingham. Death lurks around every corner, but five characters of the small community of Desperloch must band together to fight for hope for their community, risking it all for those they love.

Daggerheart is an endlessly flexible system, and Age of Umbra stands as a dark mirror to the brightly playful fantasy of The Menagerie one-shots (during the Open Beta Playtest) or the holiday themes set in the 1980’s of A Daggerheart Critmas Story. Buckle up for a whole new flavor of Daggerheart.

The World of Age of Umbra

Lethal and foreboding, the world of the Halcyon Domain is a world abandoned by gods, where souls of the dead are cursed and reborn into twisted, nightmarish forms. A dark, ethereal mass known as the Umbra roams and holds these fiendish monstrosities, further corrupting anything it touches. But flickers of hope remain—Sacred Pyres keep the Umbra at bay, with small communities enduring and surviving through cooperation. Out in the beyond, whispers speak of ancient secrets and powers, wonders of a lost age, ready for discovery to those brave enough (or foolish enough) to seek them.

Age of Umbra is a playable campaign frame designed by Matthew in the Daggerheart Core Set, but like any Daggerheart game, it is made anew through collaborative worldbuilding of the players and GM.

OUR Age of Umbra: Session Zero Worldbuilding

In a Session Zero airing May 22nd, you can watch players Sam Riegel, Marisha Ray, Taliesin Jaffe, Travis Willingham, and Ashley Johnson work with Matthew to make their characters and tie them into the setting of the Age of Umbra, creating adventure hooks, locations, and campaign elements that will reemerge throughout the mini-series.

Where to Watch & Listen

The 8 episode mini-series premieres Thursdays at 7pm starting May 29th on Beacon, Twitch, and YouTube, with a break week on July 3rd and the finale on July 24th. VODs on YouTube are available the Monday following the premiere. Podcast versions are available instantly and ad-free to Beacon subscribers, or in two parts anywhere podcasts are found: part 1 available the Thursday after the premiere, and part 2 the following Tuesday.

[srbachchan]

DAY 6295

Jalsa, Mumbai May 10, 2025/May 11 Sat/Sun 3:23 am

छुट्टियाँ मानते हुए, उस राक्षस ने, निर्दोष पति पत्नी को बाहर खींच कर, पति को नग्न कर, उसके धर्म की पूर्ति करने के बाद , उसे जब गोली मारने लगा, तो पत्नी ने, घुटने पे गिर कर, रो रो अनुरोध करने के बाद भी, की उसके पति को न मारो ; उसके पति को उस बुज़दिल राक्षस ने, बेहद बेरहमी से , गोली मार कर, पत्नी को विधवा बना दिया !!! जब पत्नी ने कहा "मुझे भी मार दो” !! तो राक्षस ने कहा “ नहीं ! तू जाके, " Modi…. " को बता “ !

बेटी की, मनःस्थिति पर, पूज्य बाबूजी की एक कविता की पंक्ति याद आयी : मानो, वो बेटी "Modi ji …. “ के पास गई, और कहा :

“ है चिता की राख कर में, माँगती सिंदूर दुनिया “

तो “ Modi ji …. “ ने दे दिया सिंदूर !!!

OPERATION SINDOOR !!!

जय हिन्द 🇮🇳 जय हिन्द की सेना 🇮🇳 तू ना थमें गा कभी ; तू न मुड़ेगा कभी ; तू न झुकेगा कभी कर शपथ , कर शपथ, कर शपथ ! अग्नि पथ! अग्नि पथ ! अग्नि पथ !!!

Lost in Translation .. let me help you :

The innocent couple on a vacation holiday in Pahalgam , was attacked by terrorists, posing as Tourist guides .. they pulled them out in the open, asked the Husband to pull his pants down, and when he saw that he was not circumcised, a traditional religious procedure in Muslim men, he told him recite the Kalma .. when the man a Hindu did not know, he set up to shoot him .. his Wife fell at his feet and said do not kill him .. but he mercilessly shot him, and made the Wife a widow in front of her eyes .. the Wife then begged this monster, this demon, to kill her also .. this devil of a man said :

'I won't kill you .. you go and tell Modi .." !!

Feeling immensely for the unspeakable grief of the widow, her mental state and her absolute destruction .. I suddenly remembered a line from one of my Father's poem :

... and this I built ..

the wife went to Modi and said :

this is the line from that poem ..

"है चिता की राख कर में माँगती , सिंदूर दुनिया !!"

the ashes of the funeral pyre are in my hands and the World is asking for sindoor ..

In Hindu religion we burn our dead .. the ashes are recovered from the funeral pyre, as a ritual, collected in vessels, often brass or clay mud , taken to to a sacred river - traditionally the Ganga River - and in particular the portion in the Ganga River called Sangam .. Sangam means confluence .. that place is the confluence of three rivers and is considered the most pious water place .. the rivers are the Ganga, the Jamuna and the Saraswati , which is unseen because it flows below the depth of these two rivers , hidden from site, but religiously existing .. so pouring the ashes at Sangam is considered for the soul to have achieved 'moksh' मोक्ष , a religious deliverance .. a salvation for the soul ..

The Sangam is where the recent World Wide known MAHA KUBH was held ..

Is Mahakumbh is held every 144 years .. that is why this Maha Kumbh was very very special it was being celebrated after 144 years ..FEb 2025 at Prayagraj, the City of my birth ..

To bath at SANGAM, during the timing of the Kumbh Mela is considered the most pious act of salvation for the living .. What is the story behind Mahakumbh? According to legends, Vishnu the God the supreme saviour was carrying a Kumbh (pot) of amrit (nectar), when a scuffle broke out and four drops were spilled. They fell to earth at the four Tirthas, religious spots of Prayag, Haridwar, Nasik and Ujjain. A tirtha is a place where the devout can attain salvation.

so to continue with my story , which I have built ..

when the Widowed Wife went to Modi with open hands and spoke those words that I have quoted of Babuji , he replied

"go .. i have given Sindoor .." !!!

This is a symbolic word build ..

What happened with the Wife at the time of the killing and the words and incident writing earlier is real ..

SINDOOR in our religion is a ritual during the marriage ceremony when the to be Husband, puts the red vermillion on the parting of the to be Wife .. the parting in the hair which is made in the middle of her forehead .. in Hindi it is called 'maang' माँग .. it is an extremely pious moment .. and the Wife wears the 'sindoor ' throughout her life .. its a symbol of marriage and respect ..

If the husband dies before the wife's death , the Wife wipes off the red vermillion from her parting .. and it is a most sad and emotional moment ..

Sindoor being the symbol of dedication respect protection immortally .. prized and displayed with pride , assiduity , commitment , sedulousness

SO ..

What this monster did at the time of the attack, he killed the Husband, mercilessly, despite the pleading of the Wife .. in a sense he wiped away the 'sindoor' from the head of the Wife .. a symbol of religious respect , for a married Woman ..

the words of Babuji were apt when I thought of them ..

I have the ashes in my hand , and World asks for my sindoor ..

The Pahalgam attack where they killed 26 innocent tourists .. all with their families enjoying a holiday , mercilessly, at one spot - even on a couple just married three days ago, who had come for their Honeymoon .. will never be forgotten ..

SO ..

the Government , who have been telling the neighbouring authorities to stop terrorist camps and activities in our Country , has never been heeded ..

Hence Modi and the Government decided to respond to the terrorist base camps in the neighbours and launched a military procedure .. the results of which are well known .. 9 of their terrorist camps and outfits were destroyed .. militarily ..

AND ..

this is important to note .. the military Operation was titled :

OPERATION SINDOOR ..

Brilliant thought .. it signified that the demons wiped out the sindoor from the the married women, made them widows and India through the attack and naming it Operation Sindoor signified symbolically that we shall fight to restore it .. and they did ..

AND here is the best part ..

Two personnel from the Indian Army, were chosen to give a title to the Operation ..

You know who they were ..?

They were two Women Officers ..

A Colonel in the Armed forces and the other a Wing Commander in the Air Force ..

And after the Operation was completed .. the Authorities conducted a Press Conference ..

AND .. they were conducted by these two brave Military Women ..

AND .. finally I shall conclude .. one of the Officers is a Muslim and the other a Hindu ..

You can read about in any information facility ..

The end poem is well know by all .. it is the famous Poem AGNIPATH ..

And I chose to select words from it : as an inspiration and a demand to the Army and all Indians .. to continue the fight !! Against the injustice done to us and in particular the innocent .. !!!

" you shall never stop .. you shall never turn back .. you shall never bend ..

Path of Fire ! Path of Fire ! Path of Fire !!

Amitabh Bachchan

[marvelousbelladonna]

The sacred pyre is extinguished

[shadowdaddies]

Holiday Traditions

Lucien x fem!Reader fluff

Summary: Reader finds Lucien preparing for some of his childhood Autumn Equinox traditions, and decides to surprise him.

Wind whipped softly at your cheeks, late September air bringing a much needed reprieve from the exhausting heat August had brought this year. You smiled at the sight of a leaf, twirling in the breeze as it floated down from its branch to join the others scattered about the forest floor in a kaleidoscope of greens, oranges, and yellows. 

The sound of rustling foliage pulled your attention from the path to the Exiles’ Manor. A familiar head of long flaming hair brought a smile to your lips, his presence drawing you like a moth to the flame. 

Hearing the sound of your approach, Lucien looked over his shoulder from where he knelt on the ground, his returning smile sending heat pooling in your belly. You glanced beyond him to the small structure in front of him. A small structure had been built, its fine craftsmanship an indication of who had crafted the object. Lucien’s golden complexion flushed slightly at your curious gaze, your eyes roving eagerly over the small pyre he’d built, decorated beautifully with an assortment of berries, nuts, and what seized your attention most - two cornhusk dolls laid together at the front.

Kneeling in front of the arrangement, you reached a hand out and twined Lucien’s fingers through your own. “What is this?” you whispered, voice soft with awe.

Lucien squirmed slightly, a rare moment of self consciousness showing behind his charming facade. “It’s a Mabon Altar,” he nodded, reaching out to brush away a leaf that had fallen over the display. “It’s an Autumn Court tradition.”

His gaze flicked to yours, studying your reaction. “Each year, we - they - celebrate the Equinox with rituals, to honor the Mother, and to ask her for prosperity, protection, and balance.” He laughed dryly at his own words, mouth twisting into a wry smile as you carefully picked up one of the corn husk dolls. 

“My mother holds the traditions very sacred. The dolls are supposed to represent those we love, to pray for their good fortune.” Gaze swinging to the other doll which still sat on the earth, amber eye swam with emotion. “I hardly believe that,” he swallowed thickly, “but my mother always made dolls for each of my brothers and me. And one like this.” 

He held the doll, pulling it closer so you could see the intricate details Lucien had worked to cut and carve. The doll was darker than the one in your hand, the corn husk itself nearly as dark as the soil, while parts of it were painted gold as though to resemble the doll’s clothing. You looked to the doll in your own hand, studying the lighter hue of its husk, shades of red so much like Lucien’s. “This one is your mother?” you questioned softly.

Lucien nodded, a mournful smile playing on his lips. “It meant so much to her to create these each year. It makes me feel closer to her - even if I can’t be there in Autumn with her.”

Pulling your hand from his, you intertwined your arms and leaned against his warm frame. “And who is that?” you prodded, gently taking the other doll from him.

“I don’t know. I think it was just an idea of my mother’s - a symbol of hope for protection, or her future.” 

Setting the corn husk back in its place, you leaned to press a kiss to Lucien’s cheek. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I hope I can be here to celebrate the Equinox with you, if that is okay.”

His answering smile stole the air from your lungs, unbridled joy casting a ray of sunshine through him as Lucien stole your lips for another, deep kiss. “I can think of nothing that I would love more,” he purred, your insides melting at the suggestive tone. 

~~~

You were lounging on the pink sofa in Lucien’s lap days later when Twilight began to darken the sky. Flashing a conspiratorial grin to Vassa and Jurian, you excused yourself to your room, smiling at Lucien’s groan when the other two quickly did the same. 

In your room, you hurriedly grabbed the burgundy dress from your wardrobe, applying rouge to your lips before giving yourself an assessing look in the mirror. 

Yesterday during your visit to the Day Court on emissary business, you had asked Helion about the library’s books on Autumn Court’s Equinox traditions. The High Lord had shocked you by knowing plenty about their traditions himself, recalling the feast they had each year with different foods to represent the different Houses.

The way in which Helion spoke about the rituals held such a reverence, you couldn’t help but grow more excited to surprise Lucien with a party. You had thanked Helion - who bid you farewell with a mournful smile that oddly reminded you of Lucien’s - eager to race home and begin planning.

Exhaling a nervous breath, you swiped the final touches of makeup across your eyes before turning back to the living room.

“My vixen, you couldn’t stay away for-“

Whatever witty remark Lucien had planned died in his throat, mouth agape as he took you in. You were indeed the vixen, your dark red lips matching the tight fabric that donned your figure like a siren’s call to the male in front of you. Moving as though in a trance, Lucien swiftly stood from the couch, his hands finding purchase on your waist, shamelessly trailing up your body to feel the curves you’d put on display.

“What is this?” Lucien asked, his voice practically a growl with the self restraint he barely clung to. 

“This,” you purred, stepping back to offer him the full view of your body once more, “is what I wear to a party.” 

“A party?” he echoed, tongue flicking out over his bottom lip in intrigue. You simply hummed in response, lacing his fingers in your own as you led him towards the front door with a playful wink over your shoulder.

Opening the door of the manor, you smiled at how incredibly Vassa had pulled together the evening. Fae lights glowed like fireflies throughout the trees, illuminating the table that was set with an ornate dinner and fae wine. A symphonia played the gentle tune of a familiar orchestra, setting the mood for Jurian and Vassa as they swayed on the makeshift dance floor. 

“What is this?” Lucien breathed, hand still tight around your own. 

Smiling brightly at the wonder in his expression, you led him to the table where the others were now taking their seats. “I learned a bit more about Equinox traditions, and I wanted to surprise you with some new memories of a special holiday for you.”

Jurian coughed from across the table, earning an elbow to the ribs from Vassa and an eye roll from you. “Vassa helped a lot... And Jurian a little bit, as well,” you teased in response to the latter’s outraged expression.

“Thank you all, very much,” Lucien murmured, voice thick with emotion. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek before filling his plate with traditional Autumn celebration foods, laughing and drinking with your friends late into the night until the moon was high in the sky. 

“It’s time,” you whispered from where you leaned against Lucien’s warm chest. As midnight approached, you followed the path to Lucien’s altar, whispering your own silent prayers from behind as he lit the pyre with a flick of his wrist. 

Turning to face you, Lucien stood aglow in the firelight, his amber eyes and bright hair glowing like the sun. You smiled bashfully at his beauty, still in place as he walked up to you, and right past you. 

Stunned, you turned over your shoulder to find him standing on the dance floor, poised in a dramatic bow with his hand outstretched in askance. “My cunning vixen, will you do me the greatest honor of dancing with me?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, earning a mischievous wink as Lucien spun you into his arms, your chest flush against his, hearts beating as one. The fire burned a soft crackle, illuminating the dark night as the symphonia began to play a slower sort of melody. “Thank you for sharing your holiday with me,” you murmured, cheek laid against Lucien’s chest as you swayed.

Lips pressed gently to the top of your head, lingering there for a long moment. Pulling away slightly, Lucien’s hand tucked under your chin as he guided your face to look at his. “Thank you for giving me new, sweet memories, every day,” he murmured, eyes glowing with emotion before they flicked downward, suddenly turning dark.

Wandering hands found their way back to you, Lucien pulling you impossibly close as his hands squeezed your ass appreciatively. “There is one part of you that will always be the sweetest, though,” he purred, leaning down to tug your earlobe between his teeth. “And I won’t be sleeping until I’ve had a taste.” Before you could react, Lucien tossed you over his shoulder, one hand holding you still as the other moved precariously further beneath your dress while he strode back towards the manor.

A Happy Equinox, indeed.

[shaysplanet]

my realities ¡! ❞

organized by genre, dr title, name, & endgame(s)

minishifted ⤑ ꩜ shifted ⤑ ᝰ.ᐟ wishlist ⤑ ‹𝟹

FANTASY

WITCHER ꩜

Xirenia — Geralt of Rivia

SEVEN COURTS ꩜

[unscripted] — Lucien Vanserra

SAVIORS OF ARRAKIS ‹𝟹

Chana Marelus — Paul Atreides

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE ‹𝟹

Daenerys Targaryen — [unknown]

STAR WARS ꩜

Teresa Naberrie Amidala - Anakin Skywalker

SUPERNATURAL

THE FRUIT OF THE POISONED TREE ꩜

Inéz Dubois — Klaus + Elijah Mikaelson

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

AND THE DARKEST NIGHT ꩜

April Du Maurier — Edward Cullen

HYMN FOR THE HOLLOW ‹𝟹

Delilah Blue Bélizaire — Eric Northman

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

NEVERMORE ‹𝟹

Jasmine René-Montgomery — Wednesday Addams

WHISPERING WATERS ꩜

Isla J. Cameron — Rikki Chadwick

SHE WHO BALANCED THE SKY ꩜

Pandora Lake — Percy Jackson

WOLF’S BANE ꩜

Serabine Laveau — Stiles Stilinski

SUPERHERO

PHOENIX RISES ᝰ.ᐟ

Jacqueline Grey — Logan Howlett

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

SILK & SHADOWS ᝰ.ᐟ

Melody Joy Fisk — Peter Parker

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

PUSSYCAT DOLL ‹𝟹

Selina Kyle — Bruce Wayne

HOPE ‹𝟹

[unscripted] — Clark Kent

WIZARDING WORLD

NINE LIVES ᝰ.ᐟ

Vittorina Giselle Zabini — Fred Weasley + Harry Potter

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

MEET ME IN THE TOWER ‹𝟹

[unknown] — Sirius Black

LEGACY ‹𝟹

Estelle — Sebastian Sallow

THE LOVE WITCH ‹𝟹

Carnelia Bradford — Tristan Cartinelli

BOOKS

VENGEANCE MADE FLESH ‹𝟹

Verity King — [unknown]

THE SUMMER OF LOVE ꩜

Erica Ariti — Jeremiah Kimura

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

ROCKSTAR KILLER ‹𝟹

Everly King — Misha Lare

GAMES

CITY OF ANGELS ꩜

Selena Drake — Jinx DeSanta

MATRIX OF LIGHT ‹𝟹

June (Spark) Witwicky — [unknown]

WATCHDOGS ‹𝟹

[unscripted] — Wrench

DETROIT BECOME HUMAN ‹𝟹

[unscripted] — Connor RK800

SHOWS

THE L WORD ‹𝟹

Leni — Shane McCutcheon

ALL THE GOOD GIRLS GO TO HELL ꩜

Victoria Miller - Christoper (Rio)

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

THE WRECK (twin dr) ꩜

Selah James - Rafe Cameron

Summer James - JJ Maybank

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

HIDDEN HEIRESS ‹𝟹

Amelia St. Clair — Nathaniel Archibald

THE LADY’S FORBIDDEN HEART ‹𝟹

Selene Basset — Anthony Bridgerton

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

SEX AND THE CITY ‹𝟹

Cheyenne Pruitt — John AKA Mr. Big

ASHES ASHES ‹𝟹

Willow Graves — Spencer Hastings or Alison DiLaurentis

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

SORRY BABY X ‹𝟹

Corinna — Villanelle

LEGEND OF KORRA ᝰ.ᐟ

Rashei — Korra

BEST OF BOTH WORLDS ‹𝟹

Angelica Reilly aka Angel Ray — [unknown]

CUSTOM

EVA & THE TEMPEST ‹𝟹

Evelyn Alina Gray — [unknown]

OF PYRE & REIGN ᝰ.ᐟ

Pyrina Vangaros — Reign tyr Vomira

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

THE LAST OF US (hybrid dr) ᝰ.ᐟ

[unscripted] — Ellie Williams

UBER MODEL ‹𝟹

[unscripted] — Timotheé Chalamet

MOVIES

2 FAST 2 FURIOUS ‹𝟹

Milena Cruz — [unknown]

CHROMOKOPIA ᝰ.ᐟ

Cinder Calloway — Katniss Everdeen

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

SEEDS OF THE SACRED TREE ‹𝟹

Yuey’stel te Tskaha Mo’at’ite — Jake Sully

about dr ⟿ closet ⟿ aesthetic ⟿ who is she?

dividers : @anitalenia

[serpentface]

Hibrides at the annual Rites to Anaemache on the Brilla River, checking to make sure she's doing this right. (Feat. a rather docile captive-bred leucistic hespaean, which has no fucking idea that it's a valuable offering and is about to die).

The hand position here is one of three key gestures against evil, a basic method of self-purification that can dispel minor evils, in this case being used to purify oneself before entering the sanctified riverbank.

Under normal conditions, yearly festivals are held during the peak of the dry season throughout Imperial Wardin, taking place at one or more temples to Anaemache that can be found on the banks of each major river. Anaemache is the Face of God that looks upon fresh water, rivers, rains, seasonal flooding, cyclic fertility, fertility of wild plants, the fertility of crops, female fertility, and pregnancies.

The rites have a set date at each temple (which may differ across the region due to variance in the average timing of the wet season), and take place over a full day, from one sunrise to the next.

The rites have a dual function. It takes place at the height of the dry season to encourage the return of the rains and the health of the river via the mass offerings that occur, and to impart Anaemache's blessings onto attendants. Most attendees are women, though farmers and other agricultural laborers will often attend regardless of gender. It is considered ideal for all women of marriageable age (a category which includes young girls who have reached menarche) to attend yearly to ensure their fertility, but this often lengthy journey is impractical for the average person to take every year, and in practice most women who attend for personal fertility matters are those who are pregnant or actively seeking pregnancy.

Most bring offerings to the river, the most basic of which can be grains, fruits, spices, or flowers (it must be a seasonal growth, ideally one that requires the rains to occur), and the best of which are sacred animals to Anaemache such as the reed duck or hespaean. Sacrificial stock vendors will often set up camp near the river temples (though are banned from temple grounds) at this time of year to hawk live animals to pilgrims, which can be a very lucrative job when done correctly. Other vendors will sell dried flowers, grains, spices and fruit for the same purposes (a less lucrative but often more stable job).

Offerings of plant matter are cast into the river directly by the pilgrims, while animal offerings are brought to a temple priest (usually set up downriver to the rest of the crowd, they must remain in the river from the start of the rites to the end) to be properly sacrificed. The animal must first be blessed and invoked as Anaemache Itself (as it is replicating God's sacrifice in creation and becomes It at the moment of death). The act is done with a quick and deep slice across the throat, allowing all of the blood to flow directly into the river. A priest will anoint the offerer's tongue with a single droplet- the animal has become the River Face of God and its blood imparts a strong blessing, taken into the body for the effects to become physical and binding.

Important parts of the sanctified body are removed for use among the temple priesthood (in this case, mostly feathers), and the rest of the corpse is placed on a continuously maintained pyre to be burned. The ashes will be collected and scattered into the river after sunrise to mark the end of the rite.

Sacrificial river animals are liable to escape into the river when brought en-masse, and one that does is considered to have been spared and blessed by Anaemache and will be left alone. Populations of water birds around these temples will often display striking and unusual coloration due to genetic input from escaped domestic/captive bred animals.

Regardless of what one offers, the offering must be made before the offerer touches the water. The participant will then remove some or most of their clothing (the minimum is shoes, the maximum is everything BUT underwear- full genital-baring nudity is socially problematic and metaphysically vulnerable when in public, and thus avoided) and enter the water. One should ideally fully submerge themself, but touching the silt with bare feet is adequate. It is then that the participants say their prayers and ask for any specific blessings- a pregnancy, the safe delivery of a child, a bountiful harvest, fruitful trees, clean drinking water, plentiful grazing, a good stock of fish, etc.

After one says their prayers and leaves the water, their part in the rite is over and they are free to go home, or alternatively stop by the celebrations that frequently crop up along the roads. In a good year, food and drink vendors, traders, the mass of pilgrims, and other opportunists will amass and form temporary mini-towns along the roadsides (or temporarily invade nearby villages), which can be excellent places to eat, drink and/or hook up.

Hibrides has shelled out a significant amount of money to a street sacrifice vendor for a near-perfect offering, to pray that she will be blessed with a healthy pregnancy and bear a boy, mostly so that she can be done having children. The rains have been inadequate (or have outright failed) for five years at this point, and the Brilla river is scarcely more than mud. God doesn't seem to be here at all. She doesn't have her hopes up.

[apricitycanvas]

Princess Jambavati

A daughter of Legends

Born of Vyāghrī & nurtured under the watchful eyes of the mighty Jāmbavān, Jāmbavatī’s lineage was etched in the annals of time. The blood of bears & warriors coursed through her veins, yet her grace rivaled the lotus in bloom.

The Jewel of Destiny

Prasena, adorned with the radiant Syamantaka jewel gifted by the Sun God to Satrājit (Father of Satyabhama), ventured deep into the forest. Fate had woven a different tale for him—he fell prey to a mighty lion. The beast, claiming the jewel, was in turn vanquished by Jāmbavān, the venerable king of bears. Yet, the cycle of fate had not ceased. Lord Hari, the eternal protector, overcame Jāmbavān after a relentless battle. As dawn cast its first golden rays, peace emerged from strife—Jāmbavān, humbled, bowed before his master. In deep reverence, he offered both the jewel and his beloved daughter, Jāmbavatī, to the Lord. Thus, she stepped into the sacred city of Dvārakā, as the consort of the divine.

A Legacy of Valor

Sāmba, the heroic son of Jāmbavatī, dared to defy convention, forcefully abducting Duryodhana’s daughter Lakshmana in an act that shook the halls of the Kuru dynasty. Other children:- Mitravan, Mitravinda, Mitravahu and Sunitha and a daughter by name Mitravati. While Shrimad Bhagawatam says “Samba, Sumitra, Purujit, Śatajit, Sahasrajit, Vijaya, Citraketu, Vasumān, Draviḍa and Kratu were the sons of Jāmbavatī. These ten, headed by Sāmba, were their father's favorites”.

A Melody for the Divine

Upon the revered mountain of Raivataka, where the celestial winds whispered the hymns of the ancients, the sage Nārada sought an audience with Shri Krishna. With a heart full of devotion, he spoke of the divine arts, of music that transcended mortal perception. The Lord, in His eternal wisdom, turned to His consort, His voice laced with mirth, “O gentle one, teach this sage the sacred art of the lute, for none are as skilled as you.” With a smile as serene as the moon’s glow, Jāmbavatī, ever devoted, accepted His command. In perfect harmony, she guided Nārada, her notes weaving the celestial tapestry of sound, as the heavens listened in silent admiration.

The Eternal Devotee

प्राज्ञाय देहकृदमुं निजनाथदैवं सीतापतिं त्रिनवहान्यमुनाभ्ययुध्यत्।

ज्ञात्वा परीक्षित उपाहरदर्हणं मां पादौ प्रगृह्य मणिनाहममुष्य दासी॥

With humility as vast as the sky, Jāmbavatī spoke of her father’s battle—twenty-seven days of relentless combat, unaware that the one he fought was none other than the Lord he had once worshiped, the very husband of Sītā. When realization dawned, his mighty form bowed, and with reverence, he offered his daughter and the jewel. “I am but His servant,” she whispered, her voice a hymn of surrender. In the heart of Dvārakā, she remained—forever a queen, yet forever a devotee, her love etched in the eternal embrace of the divine

The River of Devotion

या नारी तत्र देवेशि भक्त्या स्नानं समाचरेत् ।

तदन्वयेपि काचित्स्त्री न वैधव्यमवाप्नुयात् ॥

The call of the Ganges bore tidings of sorrow. Jāmbavatī, the chaste queen, heard of her lord’s passing through Arjuna’s voice, bright and fierce like fire. In unwavering devotion, she kindled the flames of the funeral pyre and, with a resolute heart, surrendered her mortal form. As the embers faded, her essence flowed forth as a sacred river, immortalized in the currents of sanctity. With gentle hands, she gathered the ashes of her beloved and let them dissolve into the ocean’s embrace. Even today, where the Jāmbavatī river flows, it is said that no woman in her lineage shall ever taste the sorrow of widowhood.

🌹···—–—⚜—–—···🌹···—–—⚜—–—···🌹

Artist - instagram • pinterest

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Dictionary of Esoteric Terminology

for your next poem/story (pt. 3)

Esoteric—designed for or understood by the specially initiated alone; may refer to the occult

Athame - a ritual dagger used in Witchcraft and Neo-paganism; has a black handle which is inscribed with symbols

Brahmarandhra - the "Gate of Purity"; a spot at the top of the head described as a hidden aperture; according to some, this spot is the exit for the enlightened soul upon the death of the body

Cromlech - a circle made of vertical stones, associated with Celtic worship of the Sun

Dark night of the soul - a phrase used by St. John of the Cross to describe the depression, isolation, and alienation which afflicts some mystics just prior to the realization of transcendence; hence the saying, "It is always darkest before the dawn"

Dracontia - many temples and sacred sites have been associated with dragons, probably because of their connection with primeval earth forces

Dweller on the threshold - a hostile spirit or being peculiar to each individual, comprised of the accumulated "bad karma" of that individual; such a being could be thought of as the personification of all that holds the seeker back from enlightenment; in this sense, it is like a negative Holy Guardian Angel

Ecstasy - "to cause to stand out"; a state beyond or outside reason and rationality; speaking in tongues may be thought of as an ecstatic trance

Flying ointments - lotion or cremes used to facilitate astral or etheric projection. These mixtures usually contain potent psychedelic agents such as belladonna, henbane, and mandrake

Genii - in Islamic tradition, they are an intermediate race of spirits between angels and people, who ruled the earth before Adam; also known as djinn, genn, or ginn

Hsuan te - virtue through emptiness; the cultivation of one's original nature

I shin den shin - "from my soul to your soul"; direct transmission without words

Khu - literally "clear" or "luminous"; the ancient Egyptian word for the immortal part of the soul; the causal body; symbolized by a plume of flame

Left-hand path - defined by some as the path of black magic; others, as the paths which stress doing and action over being and stillness; most magic systems tend towards the left hand path; most religions tend towards the right-hand path

Lustration - from Latin lustratus, "to brighten"; a ritual purification using water; rituals involving baptism or holy water are examples

Menstruum - an alchemical term for that from which all metals are derived; also mercury wherein gold is dissolved; "Our Water is a fire and a salt. This fire is the true Universal Menstruum of Vegetables, stronger than the fire of wood, since it transmutes the physical gold into a spirit."

Nagas - serpent spirits in Hindu mythology who lived in vast and beautiful temples and palaces beneath the earth

Ouroboros - the snake devouring its own tail; a Gnostic and alchemical symbol of cyclical nature, eternity, or the transcendence of duality; sometimes also used to symbolize the world of illusion

Phoenix - a mythical bird of incredible beauty; is the only one of its kind, living in the deepest desert, until at the end of its 500-year span it dies and is consumed in the funeral pyre of its own nest, then it rises from the ashes in the freshness of youth; generally considered to be a symbol of resurrection, immortality, and spiritual transformation

Prasad - the practice of offering sweets, fruit, or other food to a saint or deity

Pretas - the "hungry ghosts" of Buddhist and Hindu mythology; the ghosts of those who died burdened with great desire and are generally considered to be malevolent; supposedly they are continuously thirsty and hungry, but are unable to eat or drink; described as having huge distended bellies and pencil thin necks

Ruach - breath, wind, or spirit; represents the part of the soul which is the rational mind and the powers of reason; also refers to God's ineffable soul which He breathed into man at creation, thus making man in His image

Secret fire - an alchemical term for the hidden or elemental Fire

Simulacrum - an image used in sympathetic (imitative) magic that is considered to be the magical double of the thing represented; a "voodoo doll" would be an example of a crude simulacrum; in ancient Egypt, simulacra of slaves, animals, and other possibly helpful beings were entombed with their deceased owner; also used by some to describe the visualized vehicle or "body of light" used in astral projection

Speculum - any light refracting or shiny surface which can provide a focus for the attention; mirrors, bowls of water, and crystal balls have all been commonly used as speculi

Theurgy - from the Greek words theos, "god," and ergon, "work"; magic used to grow closer to God or become more godlike, to make changes for personal evolution and spiritual growth; the sacrament of the host could be considered a form of theurgy

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists

[salemisha]

🍎 , 🍀 , 🦋 for the garden ask game!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LORD I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!

(answering as my dr self)

🍎 what is your biggest temptation?

my greatest temptation was never a person, never a calling. it was the idea — the hope — that i could live untouched. that i could escape the fire and the rituals and the eyes always watching, always wanting. i wanted to disappear. i was tempted to be small. soft. unimportant.

but that isn’t allowed for someone like me.

and if you want names? fine.

rahaevaxar. always rahaevaxar. he is not just dangerous — he is sacredly dangerous. mine before i ever understood what mine meant. i shouldn’t have touched him. i shouldn’t have kept touching him. but gods help me, i did. i still do.

there is no life where i don’t answer that temptation. there is no version of me that resists him completely.

🍀 when has luck refused you, yet you did it anyways?

the day i was born.

the day the archons inscribed my name in ash and prophecy.

the day i opened my eyes and the priestess wept, not for love, but relief.

because the convergence had arrived.

i was their answer.

their daughter of breath and blood and firelight.

their promise wrapped in soft skin and chime-laughs.

most say i was lucky.

and yes, i was —

a daughter of the old blood. a saintess. daughter of the lady of memory, who survived the nine rites for the first time in 9 centures, and daughter of a sea blooded psion, deep in trench blood. my conception was engineered. and daughter of a mirdaryon, old very old blood dragonlords. a mirdaryon (targaryens in old valyria were cslled mirdaryons) by birth, but something older by fate.

a soul of divine symmetry enginered to be the convergence of tide and flame.

attended by priests. draped in oils. taught to smile and never say no.

but what is luck,

when the forty think your bones are a map to godhood?

when the temples eye you like a locked door they’re sharpening the key for?

what is luck

when your future is a pyre —

and your best case scenario is being remembered as beautiful while they burn you?

but this life has its beauty. and it's pleasures. its not all sacred holiness and sweating under veils. its beautiful and magical.

it's the little moments.

like the sea rites where i dive deep beneath the waves and touch temples unknown to those not atleast apart of sea caste.

flying on my soul mirror — my dragon — vaelraxyon on dragonback with my brothers. enjoying good food, lazing around in the various private estates the mirdaryons owe. listening to flame philosophy and magick. and so much more. it is not all doom and holiness.

🦋 is your path made from destiny, or is it carved?

they made me in prophecy’s image.

they sang me into being with oil and salt, and flame poured down my throat before i could say “no.”

i was born the sacred daughter. taught to fold my hands and glow. to smile with my mouth shut. to let the flame pass through me, not from me.

but—

they forget silk can hide steel.

and the blade i carry does not always gleam. sometimes it is soft. sometimes it is patience.

sometimes, it is surviving in beauty, when the world wants to devour it.

i did not choose my path.

but gods, i walked it. with bloody feet, and a smile they called divine.

i carved where i had to. i endured where i couldn’t. and when they said i could not bear a sword, i burned one into my soul.

so yes —

it is both.

destiny gave me the script.

but i rewrote the tone.

and i will never, ever be soft in the way they think i am.

not anymore.

[keysatthecrossroad]

Hail Hekáte, Helios Pyre,

She who burns the witch's fire,

Through Her sacred smoke I am cleansed.

By the bright of Her flame I banish all harm.

Within Her magical ash I am transformed.

Hail Mother, Your smoke, flame and ash, come alive!

[vigilskeep]

why the kirkwall chantry is dedicated to hessarian, and why that gives us more than just a cooler name for it with a sexy accusatory nickname for anders in there somewhere: an illustrated guide!

(wait, wait, please remind me who hessarian even is, i hear you ask. hessarian was the tevinter archon who ordered andraste’s execution on the pyre. but struck with guilt at the last minute, he mercifully (i GUESS) killed andraste with a sword rather than let her suffer in the fire. he converted to andrastianism a decade later and took the rest of the imperium with him. he’s really popular in tevinter because, you know, he kind of improves their whole role in the story, and the chantry there likes to think he’s the most important disciple. you may recognise him from being one of the spirits in the urn of sacred ashes gauntlet, from the lore behind the blade of mercy gift for fenris, and the ‘blades of hessarian’ group on the storm coast in inquisition.)

okay, let’s first get the basics down: why do i think the kirkwall chantry is dedicated to hessarian? merrill, our glamorous tour guide to andrastian nonsense, is going to show us why

here’s merrill examing the architecture of the kirkwall chantry. and it’s covered in this guy!

how do we know this guy is hessarian? let’s compare it to some other, canonical andrastion depictions of the latecomer disciple. hessarian is typically depicted with some type of crown or headwear to demonstrate his status in tevinter, robes to denote him as a mage, a long beard probably also symbolic of tevinter culture at the time, and, of course, his blade of mercy. we can see all of these on the figure repeatedly shown in and outside the kirkwall chantry, as well as a certain similarity in the face to the other depictions.

here’s another variant of how the kirkwall chantry depicts the blade of mercy! these are Everywhere, including right over the doors.

and here’s more variants of the same figure inside. he’s carrying some kind of incense burner instead of a sword here, but it’s clearly the same face with the same crown and that classic hessarian beard. note his position of power flanking the enormous andraste figure.

so... why does that matter? isn’t it just a repeated asset?

no, it’s CRAZY actually. and here’s a couple reasons why!

(fascinated by genitivi’s word choice of glitzy mansions, btw.)

firstly, the kirkwall chantry’s dedication to hessarian’s figure is one of the biggest markers that it, along with the gallows and the darkspawn, is a legacy of tevinter. as i said, he’s the favourite there. kirkwall was once emerius under tevinter’s rule, and from the moment we see the weeping twins that welcome you into the city, we’re supposed to remember that the city of chains has not changed all that much. just as emerius’ prisons now incarcerate mages, its industry is now powered by refugees, and the worst parts of its lowtown hold elves probably just as they once did, its magisters’ estates continue to hold the most powerful voices in the city: in this case, that of the chantry and grand cleric elthina. the hessarian statues that demonstrate the chantry’s wealth and power are inarguably either tevinter made or at least made in their style, with such similarity to the statues of slaves that terrorise the gallows courtyard. hightown is no more free of that inheritance than the circle.

secondly, the focus on hessarian can’t be an accident in dragon age 2, a game obsessed with the mercy kill. “without an end, there can be no peace,” says flemeth. somebody has to kill wesley rather than watch him turn into a ghoul. anders has to kill karl. hawke possibly has to kill their other sibling if they catch the taint in the deep roads. varric can kill bartrand when he goes insane. killing the serial killer of elven children rather than letting his madness continue is one of the most universally approved decisions in the game. in her last words, leandra thanks you for ending the mage keeping her alive with twisted necromancy, even if, and especially because, it means the end of her suffering in death. merrill has to kill a possessed keeper marethari. many more can be killed for being “too dangerous” to live, like the blood mage idunna. orsino is slain by hawke after transforming into a monster he would never have wanted to be. there’s probably a dozen more examples i can think of. and of course, in one of the most game-defining decisions hawke has to make, there’s the option to kill anders after the destruction of the kirkwall chantry. merciful is not the word i would use for that, but it has certainly been framed that way. i suppose that’s the same as what i think of hessarian’s actions, isn’t it? (we’re focusing on the andrastian relevance here and not the godawful treatment of mentally ill people in this game, btw, although. yikes.)

“don’t compare yourself to andraste,” says sebastian to anders. he could try telling the game that. hawke gets cast into a lot of roles, but when anders believes they will kill him, he’s casting himself as the martyred andraste, dying to burn rebellion into the face of thedas, and hawke as his hessarian, quick with the merciful blade. i suppose it’s fitting that the kirkwall chantry should be consecrated in the image of its champion. and that the chantry covered in that image gets destroyed moments before hawke makes their choice, if they decide to make a different one. it’s also worth mentioning that meredith is a mimic of andraste, too, with her stolen crown, making anders and meredith obvious combatants for andraste’s legacy in the game. hawke doesn’t get much command of the narrative, but maybe they can at least dodge being anders’ hessarian, if they choose.

idk i think it’s really fucking cool and we should talk about it more, basically! there’s a lot of other angles to take. hessarian is such a fun lore figure to explore. for example, i didn’t even get into the prominence of an andrastian mage figure here, or that the blade of mercy is the symbol of the templar order and was invoked even earlier, in dao, as the “blade of mercy” by traumatised mages who desperately sought to be purified by the templars’ judgement.

also, i think ‘the chantry of hessarian’s mercy’ sounds good. maybe ‘the chantry of our lady’s spilled blood’? that could be sexy. whatever. i’m workshopping it

[vlepkaaday]

In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war... and Pokémon battles. Sister Miriam of the Order of the Sacred Pyre was preparing for a grand Pokémon tournament on the planet Sanctum Prime. Clad in her battle armor adorned with holy symbols, she turned her attention to her three trusty Pokémon: Dragapult, Servo Jigglypuff, and Spewpa.

Dragapult hovered menacingly in the air, its translucent, spectral form now gleaming with custom stained-glass decorations and the Inquisition’s insignia. „You’re a beacon of the Emperor’s light, Dragapult,” Sister Miriam said, admiring the way the stained glass cast colorful reflections on the grimy walls of the training chamber.

I already did a similar picture some time ago butnie was black and whites I liked it so much I redid the whole thing in colour. I especially like the servo skull jigglypuff xD

______

[wincestybitch]

I love the way Bobby is so careful and reverent in the way he talks to Dean about disposing of Sam’s body in season 2. He gently brings it up, (after what must have been multiple days based on the amount of food on their table) suggesting burial first in case Dean can’t stomach the thought of burning his baby brother on a pyre. He refers to the body as “Sam,” not “Sam’s body, Sam’s remains, or the body,” and when Dean stares daggers at the mention of burial, Bobby tries to suggest something else and Dean interrupts with a flippant “what? Torch his corpse?” And Bobby is so taken aback by the way Dean said it, forsaking all the reverence with which Bobby was speaking about it. Referring to Sam’s body as his corpse, calling Sam’s sacred hunter funeral a torching of his corpse as if Sam is just another set of bones that needs to be burned on a hunt. Bobby should’ve known then that Dean had no intention of burying, burning or otherwise disposing of Sam’s body. He was either going to bring him back or go in the grave with him.