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lumine-no-hikari · 4 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #9

I was going to go back to my favorite bubble tea shop today to continue to work on the music box for someone in my social circle, but a bit of a weird thing happened today that I'm not yet really ready to talk about. It definitely threw me off my groove, but I'm not about to toss anyone out a window, don't worry, hahaha!

(wait; have you seen that movie that this reference is from? i don't know what stories you have access to, what with you being at the Edge of Creation and all. it's about a selfish emperor who got turned into a llama; shenanigans ensued, and he came through the other side changed for the better - it seems silly at first glance, but… 10/10 would recommend.)

I probably won't respond to the weird thing that happened (or anything else, really) until the resulting adrenaline clears from my body. Bodies are kinda funny in that they'll release adrenaline in response to a real or perceived threat, and being an abuse survivor is kinda funny in that a lot more things end up seeming like threats (even though in normal circumstances, they're totally not), as compared to someone with a less tumultuous upbringing.

The old environment that I grew up in taught me that the thing to do in response to adrenaline is to get all "stabby-stabby" with my words and with my deeds. By having it done to me for most of my life, I understand very well the destructive power of a well-placed insult, the reality-warping abilities of gaslighting, the way the brandishing of anger can inspire fear, and lots of other very unjust, unsavory things that are aimed at establishing a false sense of safety by giving oneself the illusion of control over a person or a situation.

But I am not in the old environment anymore. And I don't ever have to go back there ever again. I'm self-aware enough to understand that if I don't ask for help when I don't know what is the kind, just, and loving thing to do, the adrenaline in my body will hijack the thinking portions brain, and my amygdala will act alone, resorting to playing out the instincts outlined in the paragraph above. I don't want that. I owe it to the people around me not to be that (yes, even when they make mistakes and do hurtful things). And I owe it to myself not to be that, too; after all, it took me so many years to escape living in it - why would I want to become it, and thus have it living inside of me? I kinda wanna wash my brain out with soap just thinking about it; yecchhhh.

I know there are better ways to be, even if I don't always necessarily always know what those ways are. So instead of surrendering to the pain I was in and lashing out, I asked some of the most trusted people in my circle for help. I was gifted with clarity about how I should address the situation - a way to set a boundary without hurting anyone in the process - so that I can protect both myself and the people around me. It'll probably be clumsy, and I'll probably be scared the whole time, but that's okay. Sometimes life is like that, and the only way out is through.

With the help of the hands that are always outstretched to me, instead of falling to my knees as a slave to my old, destructive instincts and fears, and acting in ways that are unbecoming of my innermost nature as a result, I was able to choose something different. I spent some time processing the resulting feelings, making myself some mac-and-cheese, and getting the excess energy out of my body by playing Dance Dance Revolution (DDR for short; goodness me, am I getting old or what??? Hahaha…). I was even reminded to hydrate by a very caring friend; it was good of them to do because I forget all the time, haha… I've uh… I've gotta work on that whole "staying hydrated" thing in general. Whoops…

In any case, I am feeling a little better now. The thing that happened still really stinks, but humans are tough, and we can deal with things that stink. I'll get a good night's sleep and then try to articulate the thoughts rolling around in my head to the people involved. I have a terrible sense of dread regarding this, but at the same time, I know that the people involved are beautiful, wonderful people, so I'll hold out hope that something good will happen.

And even if my worst fears come to pass and bad things happen because I spoke up, I'll have faith that future me can handle the resulting fallout. And if I can't handle the resulting fallout, then I'll trust that my friends will reach their hands out to me and keep me stable until the storm passes; it is the way of things.

I hope that you'll remember, when you're feeling overwhelmed, sad, scared, betrayed, hurt, angry, or what have you… that you're no longer in the old situation. You're no longer a helpless little boy in a laboratory being abused by men and women in white coats. You're no longer in a situation where you're valued only for your power, your looks, or for what you can do for others. You can make a different, kinder, and more loving choice. And if you don't know what the different, kinder, and more loving choice looks like, you can turn to any of the people you love for help. If no one else, you can always turn to me for help; I might be just a silly little derpling running around in a stardust-flavored bone mech with meat armor, but I'll always be right here, waiting.

I don't wanna leave this on a melancholy note, so I'll stick this here. It is relevant to the things I've written, and I hope you'll like it.

youtube

One of these days… I am going to be more like the mole, when he interacted with the fox in the trap. I'm not there quite yet. But I'm working towards it.

I think I might be able to go work on that music box now. Wish me luck, yeah? I'll wish you luck with your things, too. Please do your best to feel the incoming dawn. And please remember that you have all the love and support that you could possibly want, right under your nose.

Your friend, Lumine

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transitofmercury · 1 year

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HH Movie Magazine

A while back I got my hands on pictures of the issue of the Horrible Histories magazine that talked about the movie. I’m still trying to get my own copy, but I’d been looking for the magazine for a while and had like no details on it because it’s only proof of existence (as far as I was aware) was a super zoomed in image on Sebastian Croft’s Instagram, so getting pictures was a big deal. I know very few people will care about this but I thought I’d post the pictures here so people have access to them. They’re kinda blurry and hard to read, I’ve managed to figure out what most of them say and will type up what I think it says so people can read it. (Anything in square brackets is a section I’m not sure on, if you can figure out what it says please let me know.) I’ve focused on getting the interviews down but if anyone wants me to try and do the stuff written around the pages and on the other pages, I’ll do my best. I've also included any thoughts I wanted to add in red, but there hopefully wont be too much of that.

Interview with the Dazzling Director!

From the small screen to the big, Dominic Brigstocke chats to us about his time directing Horrible Histories!

How have you enjoyed your experience working within the Horrible Histories world?

It’s been amazing! When we first started the TV series ten years ago, I think we imagined that we would have to make things up to make history funnier. The more we looked into it, the more we realised that there’s nothing as absurd as what really happened in the past! Together with our amazing cast, who are inherently funny and who actually struggle to not be funny, it was a joy to make the film.

If you had to be a character from the movie, who would you pick?

The trouble with Romans is that they weren't a very nice bunch! Most of the good characters in our film are women - Boudicca is a strong, determined woman and so is Orla. Atti is a sixteen-year-old Roman whose got heart. He's probably the nicest boy in the film so I'd probably have to pick him.

Did you pick up any weird historical facts while filming?

I had always believed that Emperor Claudius was poisoned with a dish of mushrooms, but it turns out that, apparently, he was sick but then he felt much better. Nero and Agrippina finished him off with a poisoned feather, which is how Derek Jacobi plays it in the film. This is obviously an absolutely ridiculous way of killing someone! But Nero is a character that goes to ridiculous lengths.

What is your favourite scene in the film?

That's an easy question! There's a scene where Atti and Orla have to rescue Orla's grandmother who's trapped in a cage. They have to combine their resources - everything that Atti knows about science and technology from living in Rome and all of Orla's native Celtic wit. It's full of [a word that starts with "s", potentially stunts] and adventure!

If you could live in any era from history, which era would you pick?

The more i learn about history, the less I want to live in the past! The Romans were amazingly sophisticated with their legal system, medicine, [society] and the way they built straight roads but you all died horribly! We've never had it so good as we have it now.

If you had to pick a side, would you be a rotten Roman or a cut-throat Celt?

I'm British, aren't I? So I think I'd have to be a cut-throat Celt. My loyalties are divided here because I think the Romans were an amazing civilisation, but I don't think they should have gone around conquering people. My instinct is that I've been a Briton all my life and if someone invaded, I think I'd object.

This features the most interesting thing in this whole magazine (to me), Atti's age. Supposedly, he's sixteen. I guess this makes sense considering that Sebastian Croft and Emilia Jones were both 16 while this movie was being filmed, but I was so sure they weren't sixteen that I initially struggled to figure out what that said. In my head they've always both been 17 during the events of the movie. Anyway, I choose to ignore this, they're still 17 to me. That part about the catapult scene is interesting because, honestly, I've always wished Orla and her (different to Atti's but still there) intelligence featured more in that scene. I suppose we do get to see her quick thinking, ability to boss people around and how much she cares about the people around her (both in her dedication to saving her gran and not leaving Atti to be killed by the Brigantes, which would be a very easy way to deal with the fact that she told her dad she'd kill him and then didn't do that).

Interview with Awesome Atti!

Sebastian Croft talks to us about playing Roman teenager Atti…

What’s the best thing about being involved in Horrible Histories: The Movie?

The whole experience was genuinely amazing. From firing someone out if a catapult, to being in a [not sure of this word at all] battle and sword-fighting [my way out] - we did a lot of very cool stuff! If I had to pick one thing it would probably have to be getting to work all the other incredibly talented people involved in the movie. We really became a family over the course of the shoot and I’ve made good friends for life.

Are there any similarities between Atti and yourself?

Well, while I haven’t been captured by a Celtic tribe or sold someone horse wee in order to to get the latest trainers, I definitely see lots of myself in Atti. I was very adventurous when I was younger and I climbed a lot of trees (and fell out of a fair few, too).

What was your favourite scene to shoot?

I really enjoyed filming the songs. When we filmed the Battle of Watling Street song we had hundreds of people all dressed as Celts and Romans. Kate Nash, who plays Boudicca, started getting everyone pumped up before we shot the battle scene! It was an amazing thing to watch and [3 words]. It felt [electric] to be a part of it in the scene. Although I did pity us Romans who were facing the Celts led by Boudicca.

Did you get to do any cool stunts or action moments?

Yes, I did! We have a chase scene where Emilia is driving a cart which is pulled by a horse and then I fall off and have to sprint to jump back on. Now, while it wasn’t quite a Tom Cruise level stunt, it was very exhilarating and I’m glad we had to film it from so many angles because I got a lot of goes at doing it!

If you could be anyone from history, who would you pick?

Well, I love spy films and used to pretend to be a spy when I was little, so I guess I’d like to have been some kind of international secret agent on the side of good. But then they don’t really get documented by history, do they, because they were so secret!

If you had to pick a side, would you be a rotten Roman or a cut-throat Celt?

Of course I have to say a rotten Roman. Sorry Celts! They were more civilised, had better battle tactics, stronger armour and the best swords! But [let’s] not talk about taking sides. In the end, we all just need to be accepting of others and respectful of our [strengths and differences], right?

I don’t have much to say on this page. Fun fact though, the other stunt in that scene (where Atti and Orla fall out of a tree) used stunt doubles.

Interview with Original Orla!

Emilia Jones talks to us about playing cut-throat Celt, Orla...

What did you enjoy most about being involved in Horrible Histories: The Movie?

Everything! The cast, crew and creative team are really lovely people and it was such a fun shoot. I think we laughed until our stomachs hurt every single day. Nick Frost, who plays my dad in the film, has to be one of the funniest people on the planet. He had us all in stitches constantly!

Are there any similarities between Orla and yourself?

Yes, I think there are quite a few! I’d say that we are both determined, spirited and [word]. Orla is probably more [word] than I am and much [word] which made her a really fun character to play.

Do you have a favourite song from the movie?

I love all the songs! Whenever we filmed a [word, it could be routine but it’s definitely not song cause it’s too long for that], the whole cast and crew would be singing it all day. The music is really cleverly composed and sticks in your head for ages. If I had to pick favourites, I’d probably choose the Boudicca song and the Atti and Orla duet. Although, the finale song was super fun to film as well… see, I just can’t choose!

What is the weirdest thing you learned through doing this movie?

That the Romans ate sows udders and jellyfish omelettes!

Did you have a favourite behind-the-scenes moment?

When I slipped down the hill during one of my [dances] I [word] accidentally hit Sebastian with my sword. My sword skills improved as time went on! [potentially the grammar in that middle part is different to what I think and it’s “…one of my dances! I also…”]

If you had to pick a side, would you be a rotten Roman or a cut-throat Celt?

Well, I’m half Welsh so definitely a Celt… but maybe not a cut-throat one!

I love Orla so much and Emilia Jones always says such insightful things about her so I am so, so sad that this page is the hardest one to read. If you can figure out my gaps in the “are there any similarities between you and Orla?” response, please let me know. I am aware of the fact that I overanalyse this children’s movie, but Emilia Jones plays Orla really well in my opinion and I think it’s clear that she and Jessica Swale (who I presume wrote the story component of the movie, that then got Horrible Histories-ified by the other writers) both mean for Orla to have vunderabilities and be more complex than just a warrior woman trope. Also, when drunk, I once referred to them casting a half-Welsh person as a Ancient British character as being “half-accurate casting”. Orla is almost definitely a Brittonic Celt in my opinion, which makes her Irish (which comes from ancient Goidelic) name pretty wrong. It's also about 1000 years too early for her to be called Orla. Still, all the best characters are called Orla so I don’t care. Atti's name has issues too (where's his praenomen? why do he and his dad have different nomina?) but I'm not even starting with that.

Here’s the rest of the pages

I’m not gonna type them up cause I feel like they’re mostly easier to see but if anyone wants me to type them up I can. The image quality of these pictures when they’re posted will probably be way worse than it is on my phone so if anyone needs me to tell them what something says, I should be able to.

This has been crossposted to Dreamwidth.

#my laptop keeps pointing out my correct British English spelling as spelling mistakes based on American English #you don't notice how many differences there are until your laptop is being a bitch about your use of u's and lack of z's #while I was writing this post out my friend messaged me to remind me about an essay I need to do (haven't started) but I kept doing this #what can I say I'm dedicated #horrible histories the movie #horrible histories rotten romans #horrible histories #orla my beloved #atti my beloved #mercury posting

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rillils · 2 years

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Hello! I’m abusing your ask ox today, but I went to a museum today and saw this amazing mosaic:

And I headcanon-ed Roman!Bucky and Roman!Steve being young and careless in the villa, and Bucky daring Steve to make the Annus he is sketching for the mosaic!master as crossed-eyed as he could.

Steve of course cannot resist the dare, and when the mosaic!master finishes the beautiful job that covers a whole wall, they cannot stop laughing. They name the mosaic Versi (short for versicus).

When Steve becomes emperor, he makes them move Versi To his new headquarters tile by tile because it reminds him of easier times.

(They have a laughing fit the first time Bucky sees Versi after he is saved and safely home again.)

Sorry for the inbox invasion! Just in case it sparks creativity :)

My darling T *____* You can "abuse" my inbox anytime, I promise you it will only make me happy! Just like this headcanon, it's so soft and amazing and I'm 3000000000% in love with it *squealing inside*

I know that you said that there was no need to answer this, but the thing is, I've been thinking about this ever since I saw your ask last night, and I hope you won't mind, but I uh... ended up scribbling this little thing based on your headcanon. Which is weird, since it usually takes me 45 business days to write even 100 words, but I guess for once I just ran with it. It's not refined and it's a little messy, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyways.

There is pleasure in this, too. In the togetherness that comes after passion, when they can lie side by side, soft-boned and content in the low candlelight.

It’s the most terribly self-indulgent thing in the world, and Steve rolls onto his side with that singular purpose, joy thrumming in his veins as he lets himself bask in the sight of his lover.

Bucky lies on his belly; their sheets rucked up messily around his hips. His body is a golden island above them, Venus emerging from a swirl of white sea foam, too inviting not to touch – and so Steve reaches out. Splays his palm over the small of Bucky’s back, watching him arch lazily into it, feeling the sweet hum under his hand.

“My lord’s hunger is not appeased, then,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve smiles – a soft, intimate thing just for the two of them to share.

“Never.”

He makes pilgrims of his fingers, guiding them along the well-known expanse of Bucky’s torso. He brushes his knuckles over the sleep-warm skin, following the long of dip of Bucky’s spine like a riverbed; skims over the frayed edges of a scar, and finds the sinuous slope of a shoulder, all the while wondering if mapmakers, too, ever get this privilege – if they, too, get to trace hills and gulfs and mountainsides with their own fingertips, before they lay it all on parchment.

“Steve.”

He looks up, only to find Bucky gazing back at him from the sheltered lee of his folded arms, where his head is resting. His eyes are bright with amusement, fond in that same way they’ll always be when he cups his palm to Steve’s cheek, says I can’t believe you’re not sick of me yet, whisper-soft in the light of dawn, and then Steve has to explain it to him all over again, one slow kiss at a time, how he wouldn’t, couldn’t grow sick of Bucky if he spent a thousand years just looking at him.

“I know. I can’t help it,” he apologizes, placing a kiss to the curve of Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

“Ah, finally a worthy topic of conversation,” Bucky praises, making a show of turning on his side to face Steve fully. “Please, do tell me more about that.”

Laughter rumbles in Steve’s chest, warm like honey. He kisses Bucky like he can’t help this, either, and presses closer when he feels Bucky’s arm wrap instinctively around him, fingers curling over the nape of Bucky’s neck to tangle in the silky mass of his hair.

“Do you know,” he says after a time, his lips still tingling with Bucky’s taste, “that in my original vision, Versi should have had your likeness?”

“My likeness? My–” Bucky blinks up at him, clearly taken aback by the confession. “You were, you were going to have my face. The face of a lowly body-slave. Inlaid on the precious walls of your father’s house, piece by costly piece? Steve,” he’s laughing then, his chest shaking against Steve’s own, “were you looking to cause a scandal?”

“Yes I was,” Steve grins proudly, sneaking one foot in between Bucky’s ankles, just to have one more point of contact with him, one more spot of warmth shared between them. “I had this grand plan, you see,” he adds, stroking his thumb over the spot behind Bucky’s ear in a slow, gentle rhythm. “I would have had you celebrated as Bacchus, god of winemaking and earthly pleasures, and the whole world would have known how well I worshipped you on my knees.”

He can tell, without even looking, how his words affect Bucky. It’s in the way Bucky’s arm tightens around him, and his hand splays possessively at the base of Steve’s spine; in the way Bucky’s gaze flickers to his lips and lingers there, intent, no doubt remembering just how Steve used to drop to his knees for him, hurried and eager and flushing so prettily in his pleasure, when Bucky was supposed to be the one to serve him, strip him, dress him with caring hands.

How painfully young they were, and how wonderfully insane, drunk on this love and on each new way they found to express it. How they’d had to hide it all away, behind the barn’s closed door, or far, far into the underbrush; in the dense, quiet shadows of Steve’s bedroom at night.

The bittersweet taste of those memories thickens in Steve’s throat, and he swallows hard around it.

“I wanted them to know,” he says, softly. “I wanted them all to know what you meant to me.”

For a long moment, silence stretches between them. Bucky doesn’t say anything, but the familiar weight of his hand over Steve’s chest tells Steve that he understands; that they share no words now, because no words are needed; and that’s all the comfort he needs.

“And what feast would you have laid before me?” Bucky asks, after; his voice gentle like a caress. “Since I was to be Bacchus, and there can be no Bacchus without a feast.”

It’s easy, then, for Steve to smile again.

“I would have offered you what I offer even now,” he says, with all the confidence of somebody who has known the answer to this question his whole life. “It’s not the richest banquet, that much is true, but all of me is yours to feast on.”

“Not the richest?”

It’s such a wounded, mournful sound; so breathless, Steve nearly misses it. But when he looks in Bucky’s eyes, he cannot miss the emotion shimmering there. Nor can he escape the touch of Bucky’s hand, cupping his jaw as delicately as if it were made of glass.

“Steve. When I touch you, when I hold you, I hold the entire world in my arms.”

“Bucky–”

“No, let me– let me show you.” There’s a smile curling on Bucky’s lips as he says it; as he carefully rolls Steve onto his back, and pulls himself up to kneel in the vee of Steve’s parted legs. “Let me show you, love.”

He dips his head low to press a kiss to Steve’s knee, and Steve watches, transfixed, as Bucky trails more along the tender flesh of his thigh.

“Here are the strong pillars of my temple,” Bucky tells him, his broad hands stroking generously up Steve’s thighs, fingers catching in the coarse hair there, and Steve’s heart beats, drums, pulses behind his ribs.

“Here is the cradle where I lay at night,” Bucky murmurs against his skin, nosing along the crease of Steve’s thigh, brushing teasing lips below Steve’s navel, where his happy trail begins.

His fingers skate across Stee’s abdomen, stirring muscles that flit and ripple beneath the shell of Steve’s skin, leaving him breathless in the wake of Bucky’s worship. Steve reaches down to touch him, heart swelling with tenderness for this man – this treasure he’s already lost once, and swore to himself he’d never lose again – and Bucky catches one of his hands in his own.

“Here is the valley where my fruits grow aplenty,” Bucky says with one last nuzzle of Steve’s belly, “and here,” he vows, kissing the palm of Steve’s hand, “my cups of gold.”

And then he’s finally, finally bringing their bodies together, lowering himself into Steve’s waiting arms, lined with him from head to toe.

“And here,” he whispers at last, the tip of his nose brushing tenderly against Steve’s own, “here is the place where I find the sweet wine that drives me to ecstasy.”

He kisses Steve’s mouth with grinning lips, and Steve finds himself smiling too, wider and wider until they’re both laughing in their kiss, giggling in each other’s mouths in between half-smooches, joyful and breathless and perfectly silly, and Steve knows in his heart, he wouldn’t trade this silliness for anything in the world.

“You know,” he pants when they part, both arms wrapped snugly around Bucky’s shoulder, because, because that’s exactly where they should be, “I don’t think my plans failed completely, after all.”

Bucky peers down at him curiously, his eyes gleaming like gems in the dim light. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Versi still bears a striking resemblance to you, despite our worst efforts,” Steve reasons. “I think it’s something about his eyes...”

And if he finds himself tackled to the floor, a mere twenty seconds later, he knows it was worth it.

#otp holic #stucky #roman!stucky #omg i don't even know what the heck happened here #T please forgive me???#if you want me to take this down i swear i will #just!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#*SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*#i love your headcanon so much ;____;#i'm so so fockin rusty and i don't know how writing works anymore but #have a very very hurried attempt #*lies on the floor*#rillers scribbles

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nimedhel09 · 2 years

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Dragon Ball headcanons - Part two (of many more, I'm sure)

And I'm back! I think I'll, once again, talk more about Saiyans than anything else, but can you really blame me?

- Saiyans have to work way more to be able to meditate. Meditation demands to be too still, too calm. Their instincts are not ok with that, since Saiyans have always been more of the physical and instinctual kind of people.

- Yamcha is the most well adjusted out of the whole Earthling Z fighter gang. He has a steady job (which he started doing at the end of DB, and decided to go steady after he was revived after the Namek debacle) and decided to go to therapy for his PTSD (caused by, you know, dying). Although he's not as steady when it comes to relationships. He's not found someone that can understand and accept all facets of him yet.

- And yes, no, Bulma is definitely NOT the most well-adjusted. I mean, for one: she's filthy RICH. Her husband is a genocidal alien prince, she GOES towards danger even though she's weak AF and cannot defend herself (her going to Amenbo island with baby Trunks, anyone????), she bosses superpowered aliens around like it's her job, and she asks the freaking god of DESTRUCTION to babysit her infant daughter??????? A fine queen for the saiyans, though, lol.

- Yamcha is also bisexual. As is Bulma. Ten Shin Han is asexual and aromantic. Krillin and Chaozu are both heterosexual (and Chaozu is an emperor who has a wife, which still boggles my mind).

- Saiyan matings. Yeah, that's a whole thing. There are different levels of commitments in Saiyans and all of them have their significance, and all of them are respected in Saiyan society.

First off, there's the casual hook-up kind. Also the most practiced one under the Cold empire. You get the idea, so no need to explain further. Although I'd say that Saiyans don't care about the gender or sex of their partners. Attraction is attraction, pleasure is pleasure, all that jazz (though they don't have a word for "love" per se, but I'll explain some of their language at a later date. It's still a WIP haha).

Then, there's the more serious kind of relationship, which is usually exclusive to two or more Saiyans. Because, yes, polygamy/polyamory is a thing. Usually, it's several males with one female or intersex Saiyan. The males can have relationships between themselves in those kinds of relationships too, since, you know, Saiyans don't care about gender. Sometimes, polygamorous couples can consiste of only males. It's totally not seen as weird, because pleasure is pleasure, Saiyan is Saiyan, and they are advanced enough to create babies in labs (but they don't do it often, because it's kind of seen as blasphemous to the Moon Goddess, who I need to name at one point).

For more serious relationships, ones that last until the end of a Saiyan's life and are mostly monogamous (though not always), there are two options: the mating or the linking (rough translation from the original Saiyago - which is also a thing that I have thought about way too much lol).

The mating is done when two saiyans have sex and bite their mate's shoulder deep enough that it will leave a scar. It's a relationship that will last until one or both of the Saiyans die (usually, a Saiyan will not take another mate if theirs has died).

The one that lasts until forever, aka the "linking" is also done in the same manner, but the Saiyans also put a bit of their ki in the bite, linking them to their mate. Noone outside of those "linked" pairs really know exactly what it entails, so no Saiyan does that without thinking about it very hard and for very long even. It was quite rare even when Saiyans were at their cultural peak, but it was nearly unheard of by the time of the genocide by Frieza.

- Gine and Bardock are mated, but not linked.

- Frieza, Cold and Cooler are the strongest members of their race, the Arcosian (yes, I'm going with that tidbit in the anime except instead of being weird aliens that work for the Cold Empire, they're actually the ice lizards and I don't caaaare if it's not canon), also known are the frost demons or frost lizards. Their race is on the brink of extinction, though, because of infighting, and also because they breed very slowly, as they are very long-lived.

- On the topic of the Legendary super Saiyan (aka Broly). The green-haired berserker is born with a very high potential, battle power and heightened instincts. If they (and everyone, really) do not want to destroy everything around them and themselves, the Legendary needs to have a particular upbrining where they put a lot of effort into mastering control over their energy, which is horribly difficult, even more so when they are cubs and through their puberty (aka the worst). Both Brolys have not had such upbringing, they never learnt how to harness their potential and strength in a non-aggressive or healthy manner, which explains why they're complete monsters when they go full power. Kale, on the other hand, grew up in an environment that helped her control her transformation somewhat when she did go Legendary. Although no Saiyan of Universe 6 know that she's one (the legends got lost along the way, as did their tails).

- Tsufuls were not the poor victims the North Kai made them out to be. They were warmongering little midgets that used technology to destroy themselves. And then the Saiyans came and they started using them as their weapons, and then became arrogant and started to experiment on the weaker Saiyans, until the stronger ones discovered it and Saiyans lead by Vegeta I led the genocide of the Tsufuls as revenge for their brethren and renamed the planet in his honour and made him the official king of all the tribes (another thing I need to touch on later on).

- Saiyans were also not the bloodthirsty evil eeeeeevil creatures they were made out to be. They didn't really like battling and killing abysmally weaker opponents, but they did NOT have a choice. They were freaking slaves of the Cold empire. They relish in a good challenge, they don't mind killing, they like blood, they are violent, but they're also prideful and stick up to their race. What Cold and Frieza did? It would be seen as heretical, weak and non-Saiyan by the ancient Saiyans.

- Namekians are natural empaths. You're near one of them? They know and feel what you're feeling. You can't lie to them either.

- Saiyans, on the other hand, will smell it if you lie. So don't do it.

- Tails are very significant in Saiyan society. Losing one's tail is seen as a handicap, because it's a member like an arm or leg. It can grow back under certain circumstances. Tails regrow naturally until a Saiyan has gone through puberty. After that, it takes a certain technique of applying pressure on a specific place in the lower back for a tail to regrow (cf. Turles regrowing Gohan's tail). But if the vertebrae near the tail are in any way damaged, it is impossible.

- However, a tail is even more important than that, because it's useful for mating rituals, but also knowing a Saiyan's state of mind. Saiyans don't keep their tails around their waists 24/7. They do that mostly in battle or when they are in unkown environments or don't feel safe. But the tail can unwound itself from the waist if the Saiyan has strong feelings about something. You can know if a Saiyan is feeling playful or annoyed by looking at the way their tail is moving.

- Also, Saiyans will only let a veeeeeery few people touch their tails. Family (if they're close, and usually the cubs, because it's important to create a relationship and they need it to soothe them babies), significant others (if they're really serious and comfortable and trust each other) and maybe, possibly, their crew if they have a close enough relationship (again, trust, very important).

- On the topic of tails, the worst kind of shameful punishment is the removal of the tail. Permanently. It's done for Saiyans who have dishonored themselves horribly in one way or another. Fortunately, it's quite the rare punishment, since Saiyans are such proud people (and value their tails a LOT).

- Gohan is the only hybrid to be born with a tail. Bulma still does not understand why the tail gene is absent from Goten and Trunks.

- Saiyans are very long-lived for hot-blooded, mammalian species. They are in their prime until they are around 80-100 years old, and only then begin to show signs of age. The more powerful, the more long-lived (because a lot of Saiyans kind of die in battle/from long-lasting issues caused by battle).

- Beards/facial hair. So, for a species that tranforms into hairy giant apes, Saiyans are kind of not that hairy? They have hair on their head (but can become bald even if it is quite rare, like Nappa, though they have to be pretty old for it to happen, and Nappa is ancient, though still in his prime by the time of his death), their eyebrows, eylashes and pubic areas, under the arms and a mostly fuzz on their arms and legs (and of course the tails), but they are kind of hairless anywhere else. Some males do have hair on their chest area, but it's not the norm. That is, until male Saiyans get to a certain age. Usually when they hit their 50's (earth age), they begin to develop facial hair, but not all of them, and not always. The legendary, for example (aka the Brocoli bois, lol), will not develop facial hair until most male saiyans will begin to go white or bald.

- Time is counted differently for Saiyans. They don't follow the revolution of their planet around their red sun, but the revolution of the moon around Vegeta. So they count in cycles. Their time keeping also includes their seasons (rain season and dry season).

- The days on planet Vegeta are quite a bit longer than on Earth.

- When the first rain of the season comes, all Saiyans stop working and go out to embrace the rain. Because the rain brings fertile lands, and that's very important in Saiyan cultures. During the Rain Season, festivities are organized. Even Saiyans off-world try to quicken their missions so that they can go enjoy all the fun things on their planet. Cold tried to suppress that tradition, but it backfired spectacularly with a full-on insurrection (and even if Saiyans are weak compared to the lizards, when they band together and go Oozaru, you better believe even the "emperor of the universe" is in dire danger). Cold was able to calm down the warrior race eventually, and decided to just let them to their stupid cultural stuff. That event also spurred Frieza's worry and fear of the warrior race.

- It is believed that children conceived during the Rain season will become exceptional warrior. Broly, Vegeta and Goku were conceived during that period (lol).

- Female Saiyans are very protective of their young (maternal instinct to help their progeny survive and help the species thrive, you know, like in nature). They are extremely aggressive when they have cubs and feel they are threatened. You DO NOT cross female Saiyans if you don't want to lose a limb or die. This also applis to when they are close to somebody. They have no pity. NONE. Male Saiyans are rightfully weary of crossing their females, which also explains why Goku and Vegeta listen so carefully to their wives: survival instinct.

- And yes, even sweet adorable Gine is scary if she's ever mad. She will use her chopping knife and hurt you. It's rare, but it has happened. Bardock likes it when she's mad (not at him, of course). Beware of your tail too, lol.

- With the technological advances of the Cold Empire brought to them, Saiyans were able to put Saiyan fetuses into nursing pods to be fed and such. That made the females and intersex Saiyans ready for more battles, although it also deprived them of the zenkai they got when giving birth naturally and developping the nurturing instincts.

- Cubs, before the Cold empire's enslavement, were taken care of by their whole group. They were also fed by all the Saiyans able to lactate, as the presence of a Saiyan cub in a group would stimulate the hormones for lactation. It was sorely needs, as even infant Saiyans have a huge appetite and their mothers weren't always able to provide enough sustenance for them.

- When I say group, I'm not only talking about familial groups, but something like a clan? But it's more vaporous. Saiyans that had strong bonds would create nests together and live there. Sometimes, the grown up cubs would leave the nest to create or join a new one where they felt more comfortable. Those "nests" vary from as small as 5 Saiyans to around 20. More than that would be unsustainable.

#dragon ball headcanons #saiyan headcanons #dbz #dragon ball #dragon ball z #saiyans #mostly headcanons for the saiyans #broly #Nim rambles #Nim loves dragon ball way too much #Nim loves Dragon Ball #namekians #Saiyan culture #yamcha #bulma #yamcha appreciation #bulma is a queen

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sintreaties · 2 years

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uhm, how about a "sayaka gets possessed by a ghost and her work ethic is thrown into shambles, and her attitude kinda changed too so everyone around is confused" prompt??? i wonder if thats challenging... 😓

I'm taking so long to write these prompts, work is kicking my ass man.

Anyways. The goal of this prompt was to create a character so obnoxious that the readers hate him, but make it so that they keep reading because they want to see just how bad it gets. Came out longer than expected, but it was fun.

So, Sayaka gets possessed by a ghost.

See also: Kirari proves that violence isn't the answer.

It's the solution.

Every story needs a beginning. Although I am an unwilling bearer of this tale, I shall carry on my duty.

I will say, for now, that I do not think of what happened as a mistake, a kink in the otherwise endless, ethereal blade of time. That woman though. I looked at her and saw her true nature: pure Evil.

The beginning, then. I won’t tell you of eons and eons of my noble lineage, of the endless acres of my estate, of the time my Grandfather attended the Emperor’s hunts. You should know all that already. If you don’t, that is merely a sign of your own ignorance. Bear your shame, and listen close.

The girl didn’t know who I was either. A child with black eyes, a shiny, long side-tail under the dust of the warehouse where she found me — or rather, the object that mattered the most to me. The teapot was as ancient as the Earth’s blood. To call my family’s possession trash — the girl was no more.

Speaking of possession, my newfound prowess startled me. To find oneself cramped behind the eyes of a child — what a wondrous feat! Alas, she was so much shorter than what I once was.

I took my first steps in a world that I hadn’t owned for so long. Instinctively, I knew where I was. It was like embracing a child, now turned into a man: the institute I had once founded had nothing to bear but its noble crest. Everything else was warped, changed, as if in a fever-induced dream.

Everybody wore weird garments, everybody looked at me with indifference at best. With hate, in some cases. Boys walked around with short hair, the girls showed legs and cleavages with no regard — ah! If I talk about it I might make myself sick. To think that I, the noble descendant of one of the five regent houses; I—

Oh.

Why, I remember my name, of course. If I refuse to disclose it, it is merely because I don’t deem your ears worthy of being blessed by it.

I shuddered at what I was witnessing in the halls of what had once been the pinnacle of our country’s education. It dawned on me then, what these children were doing clustering about tables, yelling like the monkeys of my gardens: gambling.

I lost myself: I yelled with such fury, and still, they looked at me, indifferent. I cursed them for it, inquiring about their disgraceful practices. They were playing some game that I knew, carried by the mongrels of the ships from overseas. I knew the rules of poker. Thus, in my limitless grace, I decided to show them the wrong of their ways. I played with them, with the goal of defeating them and their wretchedness.

However, the rules must have changed while I was indisposed. One of them asked me if I could pay the 300 million yen debt I wound up in. I threw my cards in her face, calling her with the rightful epitomes.

I walked through the hallways, getting acquainted with my new corporeal form and my ancient uncorporeal sensations. I stumbled into a new room which — marvelous, hateful thing! — was filled with water. The walls were glass. It was like gazing at a vertical pond.

I grimaced at the dozens of fish that swam before my eyes. I had always had a strong dislike of them. My last memory of them in life, then, is the burning of my bowels after consuming a particularly bad batch of them.

If I recall… I wonder…

Of course not. I must have died on the battlefield, like my Grandfather. Remember it, you hear? My biographers will be pleased to have access to this knowledge.

Something came to life against my thigh, a trembling, as if of mortal illness. I shrieked, clawing at my clothes until I found the source of that terrifying shivering. I was faced with a sort of shiny, sleek slab. It would not stop its trembling, so I resolved to smash it against the wall with all my might. The glass wall cracked. So did the slab as it lay in pieces on the pavement, now finally still.

“Sayaka?”

I shrieked again. Standing behind me, a woman with a most astounding hairstyle of looping, candid tresses looked at me. She was wearing Hyakkaou’s crest — my crest! — on the golden buttons on her bosom. What was worse, her height surpassed my own.

“If I may, how are you feeling?”

This was the most polite manner of speech with which I had been addressed so far. Finally, I thought, a woman of culture. Except I had never in my life allowed a woman to talk to me without my blessings first.

I raised my chin, looking at her scornfully.

I don’t deceive you now: she — she chuckled at me! At me!

“Oh? It appears that somebody is in a bad mood today.” Smiling, she circled me, observing the crack on the glass wall. She bent to pick up the damaged slab on the floor. “I suppose that losing 300 million yen at the den might be a good enough reason for it.”

“I don’t recall allowing you to talk to me, woman,” I replied. “You ought to feel ashamed of yourself.”

She arched her brows. Her eyes were so very blue. So very gelid. Something moved in my bowels. “Do I need permission to speak with my Secretary?”

“Your—”

The blood rushed to my head. I would have asked her to repeat the offense, had she had the courage for it. To add insult to injury, she raised a finger. She took another slab from her pocket, an intact one, and brought it to her ear.

“I think you were right. What did Yuriko say? A Goryō? When will the yamabushi be here? That's too long.” She spoke looking at me, and yet as if she was addressing someone beyond me. She concluded her maddening speech by saying, “I’ll handle this myself.”

I snickered. “Only madmen speak as you do. Forgive me, for I mistook your illness for bravery.”

“You see,” —she smiled as she approached me— “as intriguing as this might turn out to be, I’m afraid it wouldn’t do to play around too much.”

To my horror, she touched my cheek.

“How dare you, you wench!” I yelled with shrill, feminine voice, and pushed her away.

She hummed, unimpressed. “Indeed. Of all the people you could choose… You truly are an unfortunate little thing, aren’t you?”

Somebody grabbed my shoulder. I turned around: the scream died in my throat. The face of a demon, as white as death, with the gaping, smiling eyes and mouth of a hell-bringer forced me to recoil as my bowels threatened to burst.

“Ririka,” said the woman, “Glad Saotome warned you at the den. Thank her on my behalf too, later.”

The demon nodded. Its fingers dug in my shoulder: I fell on the floor, my rear end protesting the impact on the cold marble.

“There aren’t many who would stick around for so long.” The woman grimaced slightly as I shrieked. “You have no reason to be here anymore. If all, I’ll give you all the reasons to leave.”

I couldn’t move. My noble blood froze in my veins as she loomed over me; her looping tresses dangled between us. “This country might have changed, but not its ways. I would know.” She smiled. “You are long gone, but your estate, your heirs: it will be easy to find them. And when I do? What do you think will happen?”

Her smile widened. Something warmed my lap as she leant even closer. I could see the reflection of my terrified, borrowed eyes in hers.

“Every acre, every child of your grandchildren. For what you did to my Secretary, I will do what we Momobami are best at: I will devour everything you hold precious.”

She reached for my face as the name of her ancestors burned my nerves. The last thing I gazed upon was the ghoulish white of her teeth. My eyes rolled back in their socket.

—

There’s a lifeless body on the pavement, a wet patch forming on the front of its skirt. The masked demon comes to its aid. I view the scene from above, feeling the terror nestle in the place where my heart once beat.

I gaze at the one who bears the name of my ancient enemies: as my consciousness fades into eternal, black terror, the Momobami girl is still smiling at me.

—

Author’s notes:

Goryō: the vengeful spirits of noblemen. They can be pretty powerful. As our guy died of food poisoning, even he was surprised he had the power to possess a teenager.

Yamabushi: mountain ascetic hermits, needed in order to exorcise the Goryō. Every time Midari chews Nishinotouin’s hair, I can assure you that Yuriko considers becoming a yamabushi too.

#kakegurui #igarashi sayaka #momobami kirari #momobami ririka #saotome mary #sintreatiesreplies #anon #sintreatieswrites

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