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inoreuct · 7 months

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Since it’s spooky season, may I request a demon Sanji offering Zoro some food?

i was supposed to post this for friday the 13th, but it got way more dramatic than i planned… thank you for the ask!

Y’know, when Sanji became a demon, he hadn’t expected to have to deal with moss infestations.

He is aware that that sounds rather ridiculous and makes little to no sense. The long and short of it is, he got himself cursed. Dumb, yes, he’s aware of that too, but how was he supposed to have known that the rare herb garden he’d stepped into was guarded by a territorial (and rather unhinged, in his humble opinion) occultist?

But as far as curses go, this one really isn’t so bad. Sanji had just sort of… accepted it, after a while, and it certainly hadn’t hurt that the whole becoming a demon gig came with its own massive underworld castle filled with invisible servants. He shudders, peering into a mirror and brushing an invisible speck of dust from his horns. He could have been turned into a goat, or something. How the hell would he cook if he was a goat?

Back to the topic at hand, he has a visitor. A human, of all things! Wandering about the underworld! Sanji’s scrying bowl had offered him a view of short green hair and three swords hanging from a belt, and honestly? He doesn’t know what to make of it, and now the man is hovering in his entryway, poking at a 6th century vase that Sanji is fairly sure holds some Roman emperor’s dead body. He checks his reflection one last time, sucking at his teeth before he phases into shadow, hovering just outside the edges of the foyer. The flames of the candelabra flicker in an invisible wind and the man whip his head around, looking for a threat that isn’t there—

And Sanji coalesces right behind him. “Hello, little huma— Ack!” A sword swings for his neck in the space of a breath and he leans back on instinct, not putting much effort into it—

The tip nicks his throat and draws blood.

Sanji’s eyes go wide. Oh, this just got interesting.

Regular blades can’t hurt him. Can’t even touch him; they pass right through his form like he’s made of liquid shadow, but he feels this cut. The faint sting, the hot trickle over his tendons, the smell of his own blood thick in the air. He hadn’t even heard the sword unsheathe.

The man is backing away, eyes wild; Sanji huffs a laugh and melts into the shadow again, reappearing just in time for the man to bump into him with a loud swear. Sanji needs to stop calling him The Man. “What’s your name?”

The Man scowls as he holds his sword ready, and it pulls at the vertical scar over his left eye. “Like hell I’ll tell you. I’m not gonna let you use me for whatever— witchy shit you wanna do.”

Sanji raises an unimpressed brow. “First of all, I’m a demon, not a witch. And second, it doesn’t work like that. You need my name for spells and such.”

“Which is?”

“Now why would I tell you?” He grins, sharp and sweet like the song of a blade through the air. “You’ll know mine when I know yours, Marimo.”

“Marimo?” his visitor scoffs, and Sanji shrugs with a genial smile even as Marimo bristles. Better than The Man.

He turns around, gliding through the foyer more for the sake of having something to do than actually trying to go anywhere, and of course Marimo follows. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” he sighs, side-eyeing the man as he squints warily at a bust of some sort of cat with seven eyes.

“Nope.”

“What’s the deal, then? A human all the way down here? Hell isn’t exactly the most popular vacation spot, y’know.” Sanji pauses and gives a pointed look to the weapon that had drawn his blood. “And that is not a normal sword.”

Marimo’s eyebrows twitch, the only sign Sanji gets that he’s surprised. “Cursed blade,” the man grumbles, rubbing a thumb over the hilt. “And I’m looking for someone.”

“…In Hell.” Sanji’s skeptical.

“My best friend got himself kicked through a portal, alright?” Marimo protests, lip curling in irritation.

“Ha! Good luck with that,” Sanji huffs, walking again. “Nobody new’s been down here except—” Wait. He spins on his heel, and Marimo narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Dark hair, chatty as anything, about… yea high?” he asks, lifting his hand as an estimate, and he lurches back when Marimo leans all up in his face with his eyes like sharp granite.

“You know something.”

“One of my… acquaintances said something about it, yes.” Mihawk had mentioned a guy suddenly popping up. Monkey something-or-other. Loofah? He opens his mouth to speak right as he hears an odd growl, and Marimo pulls back with the tips of his ears turning red. A huff of a laugh slips out without Sanji’s permission. “Alright, come on,” he decides, creating a shadow door and waiting for the other man to follow. “Can’t find your friend on an empty stomach.”

They walk straight into the kitchen, and Sanji gets to work whipping up a plate of omurice. He was a chef before, and he still is one; he’ll feed anyone who’s hungry. He might not be human or alive (or is he? He still isn’t sure) anymore but he refuses to let go of the values that he’d lived and breathed by, no matter how… questionable his unexpected guest may be.

He is done in a matter of minutes. “Eat.” The plate scrapes as he slides it across the countertop with cutlery, but Marimo just glares. “What? Don’t like eggs?”

“Isn’t there some rule about getting trapped here if you eat?”

Sanji resists the urge to roll his eyes, because Hell’s bells, this man is stubborn. “Look, that’s all bullshit, alright? Eat, or I’ll make you. This is the only place around for leagues that has food you could possibly digest. Or would you rather go hunt for elephant scorpions?”

The man recoils. “The fuck are those?”

“You don’t wanna know.” He nudges the fork and spoon closer, crossing his arms with an expectant eyebrow.

Marimo raises one right back, but he hesitantly picks up the cutlery and digs in. “…So you eat human food,” he mutters after a while, and Sanji looks up from where he’s washing the dishes.

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno,” the other man muses, taking another bite. The dim light of the wall sconces makes his three golden earrings gleam, highlighting the gnarly scar across his chest. “What with the whole demon thing.”

“Not all of us have a taste for mortal flesh,” Sanji sniffs, examining his cuticles coolly before getting back to scrubbing.

He’s feeling a little strange. Maybe it’s the human interaction after so long of being down here with just his invisible friends and other demons for company, but it’s making something hurt right behind his ribs, where his heart beats more slowly than it has any right to. He’d missed this. Cooking for someone else. Banter. Companionship.

He takes a shaky breath and plunges his hands into the water, grabbing a frying pan and scouring it viciously. No use reminiscing and chasing pipe dreams.

“Oi.”

Marimo’s voice catches his attention, and he rinses the sponge. “Hm?”

“How’s the—?” The man gestures vaguely to his neck, and Sanji’s fingers fly up to his throat to feel for the cut.

“Oh, that.” It’s already mostly healed, and he tilts his jaw to the side to show it. “S’fine. See?”

Marimo grunts, turning back to the last bites of his food. “Sorry.”

Sanji stills, something wild flaring hot in his ribcage before he mentally wrangles it into submission. He wouldn’t have expected an apology from anyone— much less this man. “It’s no big deal.”

“Still,” Marimo says gruffly, sliding the plate back over, the ceramic scraped clean. “And thanks.” He blinks for a second before nodding to the empty plate, as if it isn’t clear enough. “For the food.”

What the fuck. Sanji takes it, feeling like he’s in a bit of a daze. Marimo had seemed like a bit of a brute at first, with his scars and his close-cropped hair and his physique and the stupid shirt that was open halfway down his damn chest (Sanji, don’t look, it doesn’t matter how many muscles he has), not to mention the three swords. He’s bullheaded but obviously skilled, and— who the Hell is this guy?

“Who sent you,” Sanji breathes as he sets the plate down, something sinking in the pit of his gut. He readies one hand behind his back. There has to be a catch.

Marimo frowns. “Nobody sent me, I told you I’m looking for my—”

He lunges. His claws are around the man’s neck in less than a second, digging up into the soft part of his throat. Marimo’s Adam’s apple bobs against the pad of his thumb. “Who sent you,” he hisses again, and it comes out less steady than he likes.

Sanji doesn’t know why he’s affected. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He has not fallen so far that the thought of this small bit of— of courtesy, of company, being a farce should feel like such a betrayal.

So why does it?

He tightens his grip, gaze boring into eyes that have gone granite-dark in the low light, and yet Marimo does not pull away. The man tips his chin up, allows the point of Sanji’s claw to dig just beneath his trachea. “Nobody sent me,” he repeats evenly, chest rising and falling with his breaths, and Sanji holds back a snarl. He has been alone for too long for some human to come waltzing in and fucking up his life with— whatever this is, only for him to get butthurt because it wasn’t real. It’s not even that big of a deal and he feels fucking ridiculous.

“If you’re lying—”

“I’m not.”

And it seems like he really isn’t. Marimo’s pulse is rock steady, his gaze unflinchingly neutral, tracking Sanji across the room even as the demon slowly pulls away.

“I’m sorry,” Sanji mutters, leaning back against the sink and pressing a hand over his eyes with a tired exhale. “I apologise, I— I lost myself.”

“S’okay,” Marimo says cautiously. His swords clatter against each other as he stands and pushes the stool in with his knee. “I should… get going.”

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, Sanji shakes his head a little and smoothes his hands over the front of his blouse. He snaps his fingers, and a shadow door materialises in front of the other man. “This will take you to the acquaintance I was talking about, Mihawk. He’s your best bet at finding— What’s his name?”

“Luffy.”

“Luffy. Right.”

Marimo hesitates, and Sanji feels like something’s gotten caught in his throat.

“It gets lonely here, doesn’t it?” the other man asks abruptly, turning to face Sanji properly.

He swallows. “…Sometimes,” he concedes, keeping his tone light. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Marimo gives an aborted jerk of his head, like he hadn’t been able to decide whether to nod or not. “Luffy’s appetite is crazy. He’ll be hungry when I find him.”

Sanji can’t help but laugh. It seems to be becoming a recurring problem. “You asking if I’ll feed him?”

“Yeah. Because I think you’ll say yes.”

A smirk pulls at Sanji’s mouth, and he lets it lean sharp. “Do you have a death wish, planning to come back to a demon’s castle?”

“Maybe,” Zoro mutters, but he matches Sanji’s expression tooth for tooth. “But the food’s good, and the company’s… decent.”

Sanji really does roll his eyes this time. Unbelievable. “You’ve got some nerve, Marimo.”

“Zoro.”

Zoro. It echoes around in his skull, sets something sparking up under his skin. “Zoro,” he tries, cocking his head before he nods to the shadow door. “Get going, idiot. That isn’t going to stay open forever.”

Zoro takes a step backwards. “You haven’t told me your name.”

Sanji purses his lips to hide his chuckle. “Come back with Luffy, and maybe you’ll find out.”

The last thing he sees is the swordsman’s grin before the door dissolves, leaving him alone in his kitchen with a feeling in his chest that he hasn’t felt for ages. Fuck, this Zoro is trouble.

Sanji drags his hands over his face and groans, but he’s smiling.

All he does in this damn castle is laze around and cook for himself. If it means cooking for someone else, and decent company… Well, a little trouble couldn’t hurt.

#zosan #zosan au #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #zoro #one piece #ino’s ask box

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theotherwesley · 1 year

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I am delighted that Newt the Cat has so many new admirers on the internet! (Newt the Cat:)

Now is the perfect time for me to shame him publically.

Let me tell you a fact about Newt the Cat. Newt the Cat has a particular obsession with toilets. Yes, he will drink from them, but more importantly, he will gaze into them-- like an alchemist divining the secrets of a scrying pool.

He will bring offerings to the toilet, usually hair bands, and sometimes, unfortunately, mice, dropping them into the bowl and waiting patiently with his paws on the rim, to see if the vortex will accept them. He has learned that when people sit on the toilet and leave things in it, there is a magic whirlpool that takes them away, and this is deeply entrancing to him.

Each time he brings a vanquished rubber band to drop in the bowl, he is hopeful that it will activate the exciting water feature. This is why everyone in the house has to remember to check for Newt Surprises before using the toilets, and if they lose the game, then Newt gets his wish.

#Newt the Cat #lifeblogging #cat shaming

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lyss-butterscotch · 11 months

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So I adopted that design for the broadcast iterator and now they're an actual oc. First iterator oc i guess???

This is Wishful Omnipotence, I know it's still WO for short but it kinda stuck when I first thought about it, or Omni for short and their facked up cat, Skorpios.

Stuff about them cuz i wanna ramble : (same stuff as the previous ref plus some)

General lore info :

They're the Solstice Local Group Senior (aka Suns and Sliver's senior)

Their job is to make sure iterators in the local group don't get drunk in power and start a cult, because Solstice LC has some of the most religious colonies in the world.

Have given up on the Great Problem but encourage people to keep at it so the Ancients won't pester them

Their goal now is to find proof that a true god exists in the world

About them specifically :

They are that one teacher who gives an assignment then doesn't care what the class does for the rest of the period, unless something specific ticked them off

They love astronomy, it is genuine

They are superstitious because scientific means of solving the Great Problem has been fruitless

They don't like the Ancients, barely talks to their colony, can careless about them

Collect white iron rings to help ward off bad omen

Also has a demon's eye charm to ward off bad omen

The giant orb on their staff is a massive pearl that can project the star/constellation map

Also uses said orb to scry

Has taken down 2 iterator cults

Often checked on by Suns to make sure they haven't went nuts themselves

They enjoy hearing stories from Sliver about her freaky colony

They do not have the same senior priviliges and administrative directives as Moon

About their cat :

A mix of slugcat and conflux spider

Capable of manually editing memory confluxes

Last resort sent to deviating iterators that cannot be reasoned with

Its name is from the constellation Scorpius. It tells the tale of a scorpion sent by Gaia to slay the giant Orion, who threatened to kill all beasts in the world

Otherwise it acts like a ferret

#i guess i have an iterator oc now #yeah this WAS wandering omen but a heavily fanonized one #then fae said not to use them so i revamped them #the design is far enough that i didnt need to change much i think #anyways yeah first actual iterator oc lets goooooo #oc: the counter #iterator oc #slugcat oc #rain world #gijinka #my art #oc: wishful omnipotence #lyss art #travel puppet au #lore art

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starcurtain · 3 months

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Silly DiluVen Fic I Want to Read

That feeling when Jean shows up at your bar with your two-inch-tall fairy archon in the palm of her hands because apparently he's sick??? (Mona, please scry, can cat scratch fever actually kill someone--)

And apparently the Knights of Favonius Headquarters is not an acceptable place for him to recuperate because Klee exists? ("Hmph, a fair point. Kaeya is there too." "Wowwww.")

So the only reasonable alternative is to keep him at the Dawn Winery??? (Is this actually reasonable? Diluc doesn't think so, but then again he also thought a four-year-long murder spree was reasonable, so he is, perhaps, not the best of judges.)

Or: Google doesn't exist in Teyvat anymore, so Diluc just spends a week searching for cures and experiencing exponentially-increasing stress levels, because archons aren't supposed to get sick, they're definitely not supposed to turn into handkerchiefs with delusions of grandeur, and it turns out that it is much, much harder to keep comatose fairies out of trouble than anyone could ever have imagined.

(Also known as: "What do you mean you LOST him--" + "Lisa, what do wind sprites even eat--" + "My archon cannot be this cute" + "Is that our god in your pocket or are you just happy to see me" + "Die" + "I assure you, this is a doll. I just like dolls now. Please stop asking questions." + "This is weird" [builds a pillow nest anyway] + Of course he gets the human body back on the one night I cradled him in my arms--)

#genshin impact #diluven #diluven fic ideas #I have no time #but I sure do have a mighty need to see Diluc cuddling wind sprite Venti #when he thinks no one will notice #just casually taking god to work in place of your vest handkerchief #nbd #is Diluc a capable archon babysitter?#no #is he somehow still more capable at it than everyone else in Mondstadt?#yes #(Actually Kaeya would have been the best but for some reason nobody asked him)#(so rude)#look is angst great #also yes #but comedy??#even better

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solbeans · 6 months

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What do you think a pink drink cat would look like...

well obviously u want to emphasize the strawberry chunks and nice creamy pink, i think cloudy/day or calico/day with mayhaps a deep pinky-red overgrowth (leaves or flowers whenever those are out). and i think venus ragdoll would be sooo cute but mayhaps prowler instead for the thin coat since its more of a summertime drink.

and heres what this lil Pink Drink girl would look like with the current demo

#paw borough #image propaganda #employee writes #very good prompt ty anon #i am So Excited to scry cats like this in the demo update #and to be able to spin them around in my head when they show off more genes #im absolutely going to make a pink drink pair when the game is out #what do you think for pink drink breed #short furred cat like prowler or the supreme girly girl ragdoll #solbeans

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gilly-tamar-w1tch · 6 months

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Samhain is approaching and the veil is thinning. It’s the time to connect with the ancestors and collective dead. It’s the time to practise scrying or divination.

For your altar, decorate with natural things from your areas to honour the local land spirits and dead. Fallen leaves, acorns etc. carve or decorate a pumpkin for your altar or windowsill. Gather some local grave yard dirt for your altar if permission is given by the graveyard grim.

Practice divination with any tool you are drawn to. Traditionally it’s a time of scrying and all you need is a dark colour bowl filled with water and a darkened room lit only by candlelight (ensuring candles are not near anything flammable and secure in holders). The water you gaze into should be reflected by candlelight, soften your gaze as you look into your scrying bowl, it does take time and practice but stick with it and keep a note book close by for journaling.

You can also practice your tarot technique as well. Do a reading for yourself or even for the energy of the season. Maybe gather some friends together and do a group reading too.

Honour your ancestors by placing photos of passed loved ones on an altar for the ancestors. You could also add graveyard dirt,found animal bones, herbs associated with the dead etc and can be as simple or as fancy as you like. You can even offer the ancestors an offering. I often do one of incense, candle light and blessed water. I often do this around the dark moon and say the following to them during my offerings

On my ancestor altar (above) I have my late husband, my father and grandparents, aunts and uncles and even a passed beloved pet cat!

I give my offerings and say my words which I share with you here.

“Ancestors, I call to you now to be here with me now and always. Accept these offerings with the love they are given. I offer you Earth the grounding element to secure, I offer you water, the spiritual pure element. I offer you incense the air element for communication. I offer you a candle, the fire element for light and warmth. Ancestors accept these simple offerings in love and remembrance. Beloved Ancestors feed on this earth, smoke, water and light to nourish and strengthen you. Blessed be”

You can tailor the words to suit you and your ancestors and doing this on Samhain and every dark moon helps to strengthen the bond.

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wishful-seeker · 4 months

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How to Make Your Own Spells

(Or at least this is how i do it)

What makes a spell?

In my opinion, a spell or ritual is the physical act of manipulating the energy around and within us to achieve a specific goal. A spell can look like anything from a few spoken words, like a prayer, to weeks long complicated rituals. You can attempt to cast a spell with nothing but your voice and some intent, or a whole pile of ingredients and tools.

How do spells work?

If we look at rituals in folklore there are a few characteristics that most spells share, but every one is unique, and spells have worked for a looong time even with no set rules for them. In folklore, witchcraft has reoccurring traits, like the number 13 "dance around X 13 times", dancing is also mentioned often, and black animals like black hens, black cats, and black goats. But times have changed, we aren't okay with harming animals for spells, and thousands of people don't use the number 13 or dancing. So why do spells still work even though they all look completely different?

I like to think we as humans have innate power within us that we can choose to utilize in our own unique way. Some spells work really well for the people who made them, but don't do squat for others trying to cast them. I think this is because the act of making a spell or ritual personal, whether you made it from stratch or altared someone elses, is similar to signing a piece of your artwork. You create a bond with those specific actions with you energy, like putting a spiritual signature on it. I think this allows us to utilize our personal magic easier.

I think spells work no matter how they look because the one thing each spell has in common is that we are making a petition to the world and ourselves that we want to make something happen, and because we all have a little bit of magic in us, we can make these things happen.

It doesn't hurt to get friendly with the land spirits of your home, or your ancestors or what-not to help you preform magic. Its very likely outside help will increase spell success.

So how do i make a spell?

You can either be simple or extra with this.

First decide your goal or intent. The more specific, the better. I believe magic follows the path of least resistance so if you aren't very specific with your ask, things might happen in unpredictable ways. Saying "I want a promotion in my current job and enough money to move to a better place." Is better than "i want a better life."

Secondly decide if you want ingredients or tools. This could be herbs that you research correspondences for or crystals you research the metaphysical properties of. This could be items like a skeleton key, a feather you found, maybe a letter someone wrote. I find spells to be more powerful and easier to enjoy and connect with if you use sentimental items you feel particularly drawn to. You don't always need ingredients that have set correspondences, its okay to use things just because you have a good feeling about it or to put your own personal correspondence on things including trinkets, herbs, and crystals. When it comes to tools, like a pendulum, wand, or scrying mirror, you can use these if they feel fun, but they are not always necessary. Some tools can be very helpful in spells, pendulums and scrying mirrors can be used to speak with spirits during your ritual.

Next figure out what you want the spell to look like. This is where your creativity shines. You could do the classics everyone knows: spell bottles, spell candles, and sachet spells. Or you can do what intuitively feels right to you. I personally arrange my ingredients in a pretty way intuitively on a plate then light a candle on the plate, but spells can look like anything. Like i said before, in folklore there is a lot of dancing. A spell could be a dance you do around a fire, or for astral travel dance until you fall and leave your body. A spell can be an art project, perhaps a collage of pictures of things related to your spell. A spell could be something you cook and eat. Let your imagination go wild.

Next thing is optional but i feel like it helps. Im sure you have heard of wiccans casting a circle before each spell to trap certain energies in for the spell. You can do this but i personally like the opposite: creating a liminal space and thinning the veil to really open up to all the energy around me. You can create a liminal space either by being in one ex: at a crossroads, in the woods, at midnight, dusk, and dawn. Or you can make one by creating a 3 or 4 crossroads shape like you would cast a circle. These are both optional though.

Next lets talk about charging your spell and how to actually put energy into it. Again, you can do anything you want. You can charge by dancing, moving clockwise, singing, playing an instrument, meditating, visualizing energy coming from your hands or wand, anything you feel drawn to. For me personally i have to speak my intent allowed and imagine what it'll look like when my spell succeeds to charge it.

If you need inspiration for spells, folklore, fairytales, and stories in general can give you a good idea on what would be fun to do.

Hope this helps, stay punk.

#witchcraft #witchblr #folklore #spells #how to make a spell #rituals

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